Chapter 54 – Cross-Server Chat
Lars's hand froze awkwardly in midair, unsure whether to move forward or pull back.
The confident smile on his face stiffened as if someone had smeared paste across it.
The girl stared at him. The cream at the corner of her lips shifted slightly as she spoke.
"Who… are you?"
The aristocratic youths and companions gathered around, who had been expecting a good show, couldn't help but sneer. Watching the famous "Estut Casanova" stumble was far too entertaining.
Lars felt his cheeks burning.
This wasn't part of his script.
According to his expectations, this unknown young lady should have blushed shyly and lowered her head—or at the very least appeared flattered—after hearing his elegant greeting and magnetic opening line.
Instead, she was staring at him as if he were an idiot… while still holding a half-eaten piece of crab.
But this was merely a small setback.
His mind, sharpened by countless romantic victories, quickly processed the situation and produced a reasonable explanation.
Was she pretending to be foolish?
No… those brown eyes carried a kind of transparent stupidity that didn't seem fake.
Then that meant—
Naivety.
Yes. Pure, genuine naivety.
In an aristocratic circle filled with hypocrisy and arranged political marriages, a girl who didn't even know basic etiquette—and who showed no respect toward the planetary governor's second son—was strangely refreshing.
Rebellious. Free.
Like a fresh breeze sweeping across a stagnant pond.
Lars felt that his pride wasn't hurt at all. Instead, a brand-new sense of excitement stirred within him.
"Ahem."
He gracefully withdrew his hand and adjusted the collar of his expensive tuxedo. His smile broadened, now carrying a faint hint of indulgence.
"My apologies for the sudden approach, beautiful lady."
Rather than becoming angry, he stepped back slightly and performed a more formal bow.
"Allow me to introduce myself properly."
Lars straightened, placing one hand on his chest. His voice rose and fell like an operatic performance.
"In this sector, the surname Valanta represents the law and order of this world. My father is the governor of Chetland in the Estut sector, appointed by Holy Terra—the guardian of this prosperous domain."
"And I, Lars Valanta, am his second son. A humble explorer beneath the stars, seeking all the beauty the universe has to offer."
He finished speaking and looked expectantly at Eileen, waiting for her expression to change.
Eileen finally stuffed the piece of crab meat into her mouth. As she chewed, she frowned slightly while trying to process the long speech.
Law? Guardian? Governor?
The unfamiliar concepts flashed through her mind before being translated by her extremely simple logic.
"Hmm…"
After swallowing, she casually wiped her greasy fingers on her trench coat—an action that made Lars's eyelids twitch.
"So you mean," she said, pointing first to the ground beneath her feet and then to Lars, "your dad is the gang boss who runs this territory?"
Lars paused.
The description was… crude.
Yet strangely difficult to refute.
"An… interesting interpretation, madam."
"Then that means…" Eileen's eyes lit up with sudden understanding. "You're the boss's son—the one who'll inherit this territory later, right?"
"Pfft—"
This time even several noble girls passing nearby couldn't hold back their laughter behind their feather fans.
The boss's son?
Since when did the Imperial Governor's mansion become some sort of criminal hideout?
Lars's lips twitched slightly. His prestigious noble title had somehow become gangster slang in this girl's mouth.
Still, he chose to forgive her.
After all, the way she chewed her food was oddly charming—especially through the strange psionic "filter" everyone seemed to perceive around her.
"A very creative way of addressing me," Lars chuckled awkwardly. "If you prefer to call me that, I would consider it an honor. Now then—may I ask your name, Miss?"
"Eileen."
She answered directly, her eyes drifting toward the enormous chocolate fountain on the buffet table.
"No surname?" Lars asked.
"Just Eileen. Old Joe used to call me 'that trash-picking kid,' or 'hey you, you know, that one,'" she said casually while grabbing a skewer of marshmallows.
"Eileen… such an elegant name. It reminds me of noble ladies in ancient legends," Lars said, attempting to steer the conversation into cultured territory.
He gestured toward a large oil painting hanging on the wall.
The painting depicted a dark, chaotic scene filled with figures wearing numb expressions. The atmosphere radiated despair.
"Miss Eileen, look at this painting."
Lars approached it, assuming the posture of an art connoisseur.
"This is an original work by the famous Imperial expressionist master Jane Racky Zander. Observe the distorted lines and the deconstruction of suffering… it expresses the poignant beauty and emptiness of pain in this universe."
He turned to Eileen with a thoughtful gaze.
"As a philosopher once said: we seek meaning in nothingness and redemption through suffering. Can you feel the power hidden deep within the soul?"
Eileen picked up a piece of fruit and looked at the painting.
But what she saw there felt… extremely familiar.
People missing limbs.
Distorted faces.
Expressions of agony.
Wasn't this just everyday life?
Weren't those the same people fighting over half a piece of rat meat?
"Uh…"
Eileen hesitated, increasingly convinced the boss's son had something wrong with his brain.
"Isn't that just someone who starved to death?"
She pointed at a figure in the painting whose mouth was wide open in agony.
"Look at his stomach—it's completely sunken in. He hasn't eaten in ages. And that guy with the broken leg? The mine overseer probably beat him."
She looked back at Lars with genuine confusion.
"This kind of stuff is everywhere. Why paint it and hang it in a dining hall? Doesn't it ruin your appetite? You rich people have weird hobbies."
Lars froze.
In her mouth, "art" had become nothing more than hunger and being beaten by foremen.
This… this was—
Returning to the essence!
Lars screamed internally.
By the Emperor! Such profound insight!
This girl had seen through the illusion immediately!
Suffering was suffering. Hunger was hunger.
What brutal honesty. What piercing understanding.
"You… you're absolutely right!" Lars said excitedly, his face flushing.
"We've been too superficial! To beautify suffering is itself arrogance! Miss Eileen, your insight is incredible!"
Eileen stared at him while chewing fruit.
Then she asked Old Huang in her mind:
"Is this guy sick?"
Old Huang burst into laughter.
[He's just overthinking everything. Ignore him and keep eating. Whatever you say, he'll think it's profound.]
Meanwhile, on the other side of the banquet hall, Roboute Guilliman was drowning in social obligations.
"Your Highness, regarding the tithe from the Fourth Sector…"
"Your Highness, my merchant fleet requests authorization…"
"Your Highness, this is our contribution report for the past several years…"
Guilliman maintained a flawless diplomatic smile, occasionally nodding or offering vague but encouraging replies.
Behind that calm expression, his superhuman mind was processing thousands of data streams.
One thread remained focused on Eileen.
He had clearly seen the young noble approaching her.
For a brief moment, Guilliman's fingers twitched with the urge to punch the pig trying to steal his cabbage.
But he restrained himself.
Eileen seemed completely uninterested and continued eating.
Their absurd conversation reached his ears.
The corner of Guilliman's mouth twitched slightly.
Eileen possesses tremendous power and the Emperor's affection, he thought.
But she lacks political awareness. She must eventually learn how to deal with nobles and bureaucrats.
This Lars fellow may be foolish, but he doesn't seem malicious. As long as he behaves himself… he might serve as practice.
With that decision made, the Regent calmly returned to discussing promethium trade taxes with a shrewd merchant representative.
---
Back at the buffet table, Lars realized something troubling.
Despite his "artistic" strategy working perfectly in his own mind, the girl in front of him showed no romantic interest whatsoever.
She was still eating.
In fact, she was eating faster—as if worried he might steal her food.
So Lars changed tactics.
If she admired raw survival and wildness… she must respect strength.
"Actually, Miss Eileen," he said in a deeper voice, "aside from art, I'm also passionate about more… intense sports."
He mimed holding a sword.
"To be precise—the ancient art of gladiatorial combat. A fusion of strength and beauty. Sweat and blood."
Eileen stopped mid-bite.
Her ears perked up.
"Gladiator combat?"
"That's… fighting, right?"
She remembered the training sessions with Cato Sicarius.
"You mean… dueling?"
She turned toward Lars for the first time, eyes shining.
"Like when people fight for honor and just start hacking each other with swords?"
Lars's heart leapt with joy.
Exactly!
This wild girl loved fighting!
"That's right!" he said proudly.
"My father commands the most elite guards on this world. Some of them are champions from gladiator arenas!"
"They wear full ceramite armor—ordinary bullets can't even penetrate it. They wield power swords purchased from a Forge World. One strike can split rock!"
"Each of them is a veteran who has fought countless battles—even alien beasts!"
He waited for Eileen's admiration.
Instead—
"Tch."
Eileen curled her lip.
"That's all?"
She waved a greasy finger dismissively.
"Wearing armor makes them elite? And they can cut rocks?"
"Let me tell you something."
She thought about Sergeant Varo's armor and Sicarius's massive sword.
"If my brother's underlings show up…"
She tapped the table with her finger.
"They wouldn't even need weapons. Just one finger."
"With a little push…"
"All those 'elite troops' you mentioned would be pinned to the ground and unable to get up."
Lars's smile stiffened.
Boasting, he thought.
This girl was interesting—but that was clearly exaggeration.
Even elite soldiers wouldn't dare claim something like that.
She was probably just bragging about her family's bodyguards.
She must like me, he concluded.
A girl's adorable attempt to show off.
"Hehe. Miss Eileen is quite amusing."
He leaned closer.
"How about we make a bet?"
"In two days, at the arena in this garden estate… shall we hold a friendly match?"
"You bring those incredible bodyguards of yours."
"And I'll bring my guards."
"Just a sparring match. How about it?"
Eileen's eyes lit up instantly.
A fight?!
In Ant Lane, that meant territory and reputation!
"You mean… I bring my guys, you bring yours…"
She chopped her hand through the air.
"And then we fight?"
"Something like that," Lars said elegantly.
"A clash of honor and skill."
"Deal!"
Eileen slammed the table so hard the plates rattled.
"I'm in!"
Her face flushed with excitement.
Since following Guilliman, everything had been massive wars or boring training.
But this?
This felt like the old days—leading her gang to challenge another gang.
"Two days. Right here."
She pointed at Lars arrogantly.
"Anyone who doesn't show up is a coward!"
"It's a deal," Lars said with a confident smile.
Inside, he was delighted.
When the time came, his father's guards would crush her bodyguards, and this wild girl would surely fall for him.
A flawless plan.
---
Several Hours Later — Shuttle Landing Platform
The banquet had ended.
Guilliman, smelling faintly of perfume and clearly exhausted, escorted Eileen onto the shuttle returning to the Radiance of Macragge.
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Eileen?"
Guilliman loosened his collar and rubbed his temples.
"Yep! It was fun!"
Eileen sat across from him, swinging her legs while clutching a stolen dessert.
The Thunderhawk roared into the night sky.
Eileen stared at the galaxy outside the window while the governor's palace shrank below.
Her mind was already planning the upcoming fight.
"Old Huang! Old Huang!"
"That guy said his people have armor and weapons!"
"If it's a gang fight, it's about reputation! We can't lose!"
"I'm calling reinforcements!"
Old Huang chuckled.
[So who are you inviting?]
Eileen began counting on her fingers.
"Hmm… I'll have to ask who's free."
"Uncle Sicarius loves honor duels! And he shouts really loudly—he'd be perfect!"
"And…"
[What about your brothers Robert and Mortarion?]
"Forget it. They're too busy."
"Maybe Uncle Varo is free…"
She took a bite of an apple.
A wicked grin spread across her face—the grin of Ant Lane's former gang leader.
"Hmph."
"That brat is asking for a beating."
"You'll see in two days…!"