Seeing the bewilderment on Reyn's face, Viola herself felt a moment of embarrassment. Even on the way here, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling of something unreal about it all. Sitting beside him, she thoughtfully furrowed her lovely brow.
"Besides the fifty percent stake and fifty thousand gold shields for expenses, Her Grace the Duchess demanded nothing more?" Reyn clarified.
"No," Viola shook her head firmly.
She concentrated, recalling the events:
"As soon as I arrived at the Tower of Mages, Her Grace received me immediately. I showed her the phonograph, outlined its operating principle and the company's prospects in broad strokes. The Duchess immediately proposed those terms, without the slightest hesitation, and handed me the gold right then."
With these words, Viola pulled out a hefty stack of gold banknotes. Each worth a thousand shields, fifty in total.
Their gleam illuminated the room.
Reyn saw so much cash for the first time, and his gaze was involuntarily drawn to the stack.
Visually, these notes were far less impressive than a pile of fifty thousand gold coins, but anyone who knew their true value couldn't help but linger on them.
Reyn averted his eyes, still puzzled.
The Silver Star Duchess had so easily relinquished part of a vast fortune falling into her lap. What could have shaken her to her core?
Suddenly, Viola's face lit up.
"Her Grace asked who the phonograph's inventor was. I seized the opportunity and introduced you to the Duchess. She smiled then and asked about you in detail. It seems you made a very good impression on her."
"Is that so?" Reyn felt a slight pressure.
The attention of a Holy Soul mage boded nothing good, especially since he himself had his eye on Her Grace's great-granddaughter.
It felt like the prospective groom was being interrogated with bias in the bride's home.
"I recently destroyed the Abyss Gate and rendered great service to Longsand," Reyn explained. "It's only natural the Duchess remembered me. Plus, at the God's Birth festival, I'm to be knighted as a baronet."
Viola nodded in agreement, not attaching much importance to it.
Tucking away the banknotes, she said:
"When the prayer ritual ends, I'll devote all my efforts to creating the company. The remaining fifty percent of shares we'll split equally. What do you think of that?"
"Isn't that too much for me?" Reyn was surprised.
Managing the company held little interest for him; in the future, Viola would handle most of it. He planned only to occasionally advise on phonograph production technology, not wanting to spend much time on it.
Moreover, he hadn't invested any capital. Getting twenty-five percent of shares just for the initial prototype, then stepping back entirely—it didn't seem entirely fair to him.
Viola would toil tirelessly, yet her share would be only a quarter of the profits. That would be unfair and could undermine her enthusiasm.
"Not at all. Without your invention, there'd be no company," Viola seemed to have decided long ago. After a pause, she added: "Between us, I don't think we need such precise calculations. What's mine is yours. No matter how much I earn, part will always be yours. Besides, thanks to the phonograph company, I'm quite likely to get a county. And that's the greatest reward already."
Viola radiated confidence, as if she already saw herself as Countess Winter Thunder.
"Alright, have it your way," seeing her firm resolve, Reyn nodded in agreement.
He himself had slightly revised his initial decision: once the company was formed, he'd try to devote more time to it, to help Viola and share some of her burdens.
They discussed details for a while longer and decided to name the company "Silver Star Recording Company."
Since they planned to use the Silver Star Duchess's prestigious name to ward off competitors, the company name should be simple and clear, unambiguously indicating Her Grace's patronage.
As for establishing sales channels, phonograph production, record recording, advertising campaigns, and the like—Viola already had a well-thought-out plan; the strategy was mature enough that Reyn didn't need to rack his brains over it.
The biggest challenge was setting up a mechanical factory for phonograph production. Viola lacked experience in this area and would need to find a mechanic to collaborate with.
Reyn immediately thought of Kenji.
Kenji was a high-rank mechanic with rich experience managing factories, held a prominent position, and was vice-chairman of the Mechanics' Guild. Several previous meetings convinced Reyn that Kenji was a reliable partner. If they could bring him into "Silver Star" and establish cooperation, there'd be no better candidate.
However, Reyn only mentioned Kenji to Viola, not insisting on him, just suggesting consideration.
The final decision rested with Viola.
Unknowingly, the discussion stretched into the deep night. Wishing each other good night, they parted to rest.
For the next few days, Reyn spent his days hauling books from the Great Library of the Silver Star, and evenings returning to discuss various aspects of company creation with Viola.
During this time, he joined his Demon Extermination Squad comrades on one mission, but without much success.
This continued until the day of Viola's prayer ritual.
Rituals in honor of the Long-Haired Lady were usually held in the evening. After dinner and a brief rest at home, Reyn changed into the custom-tailored strict black suit prepared for him by Viola and waited in the first-floor hall.
Soon, Viola appeared on the staircase.
She too was in festive attire: a luxurious sapphire-colored dress accentuated her tall, proud figure. Her face was lightly made up, pearl earrings gleamed in her ears, her long golden hair was tied back with a scarlet silk ribbon. A white round hat crowned her head, from whose brim a thin veil cascaded, making her exquisite face appear and disappear behind the gossamer fabric.
Reyn watched as Viola descended step by step, like a figure from the most beautiful dream, and for a moment froze, enchanted.
Only when Viola approached and extended her slender hand in a lace glove did he snap out of it.
"Ahem!"
Reyn took her hand, bowed, and lightly brushed his lips against the back of her palm, sincerely admiring:
"You're beautiful!"
"You're very elegant too," Viola laughed softly, her voice full of joy and happiness.
With these words, she took Reyn's arm, and they left the house. Under the watching eyes of housekeeper Abigail and the servants, they got into the car waiting at the entrance and departed the Vigo estate.
The ritual venue was the temple at the Grand Ode Theater in the Silver Star District, not far away.
In the car, Reyn felt Viola squeeze his hand tightly, their fingers interlacing, and she held on for a long time, her heart beating noticeably faster than usual.
"Are you nervous?" Reyn asked caringly.
Viola gave a barely perceptible nod, squeezing his hand even tighter.
Reyn understood her state. This ritual was incredibly important to her: it concerned faith, divine arts, love, and the most unforgettable first experience of her life. This day was more important than a wedding!
Anyone in her place would struggle to stay calm now.
Truth be told, Reyn himself was a bit nervous, especially at the thought of soon standing before the gaze of a deity. A slight anxiety grew in his soul.
However, as a man, he had to step up.
He stroked Viola's hand, leaned to her pointed ear, and whispered a few ambiguous jokes. Viola giggled. It worked wonderfully, and the tension quickly eased.
Soon they arrived at the Grand Ode Theater.
That evening, the theater hosted a grand opera, and outside bustled with activity: cars and carriages streamed from all sides, filling the theater parking.
On Ellunes, opera as an art form remained a privilege of the nobility.
Commoners not only didn't understand opera but lacked the leisure or mood to spend considerable money on tickets to sit in a theater for hours watching an incomprehensible and boring performance on stage.
Reyn himself had no particular interest in opera, but for Viola's sake, he accompanied her to the reserved box, awaiting the start of the show.
Even on the way to the theater, he noticed several unusual glances.
People recognized Viola and seemed aware of the evening prayer ritual. Both men and women cast him curious or envious looks.
Reyn activated the Voice of All Things and listened in a bit. Indeed, they were members of the Arts Association who had heard about the ritual and were now gossiping about them.
At least a dozen people quietly discussed them with their companions.
Some slandered him, calling him a kept man living off Viola; other men expressed envy and frustration, wishing they were in his place; there were women discussing his appearance and figure, highly approving of Viola's taste in men.
Whether kind, malicious, ill-intentioned, or well-meaning—these gossips were laced with the poison of envy.
Reyn listened to these bitter remarks from the envious, holding Viola's hand and unabashedly admiring her peerless beauty, a sense of pride swelling in his heart.
It felt like drinking a huge glass of ice-cold soda on a scorching summer day—refreshing, inexpressible pleasure.
Before the show started, people approached Viola one after another to exchange greetings.
Those who could afford opera tickets at the Grand Theater were wealthy or noble. Viola comported herself impeccably with them and introduced Reyn with great courtesy.
Reyn disliked such social gatherings, but not wanting to let Viola down, he kept a smile on his face and maintained the conversation.
Thanks to the Eye of the Soul, he saw people's true feelings at a glance: who was friendly toward him, who harbored malice, and who was just greeting Viola without much thought.
Among them were several Arts Association members who approached specifically to mock him, then gossiped as soon as they left the box.
Reyn pretended not to notice.
"Viola."
A soft male voice sounded, and a tall but somewhat gaunt elderly man entered the box.
His gray hair was in artistic disarray, lending him a bohemian air of carelessness. He wore a strict black suit, with a noble insignia on his chest. His face beamed with a warm smile, his eyes, slightly clouded by age, hidden behind pince-nez whose lenses were attached to his collar by a thin gold chain. His entire demeanor breathed the wisdom of an elder.
Reyn looked at the newcomer with some surprise.
On Ellunes, old people were rare; even superhumans seldom lived to advanced age.
The Eye of the Soul showed this elder was a high-rank mage. His soul, though somewhat weakened, remained strong and utterly untouched by the Bloody Soul Curse. Judging by the fire of faith, he was a follower of the Long-Haired Lady, and his faith was exceedingly fervent, almost fanatical.
Viola rose immediately:
"Chairman Hasilin, good evening."
Then introduced him to Reyn:
"Reyn, this is the chairman of our Longsand Arts Association, His Grace Count Hasilin Folstaber."
"Your Grace the Count, good evening," Reyn greeted him very politely.
He had heard from Viola before that this elder was a most extraordinary figure.
The position of Arts Association chairman was just one facet of Hasilin. He was also a full-fledged Longsand count, owning a small city of several tens of thousands in the south. This title was hereditary; Hasilin's ancestor, a legendary mage, had been a pupil of the Silver Star Duchess but died many years ago.
Moreover, Hasilin was dean of Stuhol Academy, one of Longsand's three main educational institutions.
In Longsand's noble circles, he enjoyed immense authority and was among the richest and most influential aristocrats, excluding the ducal family.
However, Hasilin prided himself not on his power, nearing legendary mage level, nor on his count and dean titles, but on his high reputation in the Empire's literary-artistic circles.
This elder had devoted his life to literary creation, writing numerous resonant works, as well as dozens of widely known poems and essays. He was also an outstanding playwright, excellently versed in music, painting, and sculpture—a rare all-around gifted artist for the human race, a true titan of literature.
Though not a legend himself, Hasilin wielded considerable influence in the Church of Beauty and Good.
According to Viola, persistent rumors held that Chairman Hasilin was the Chosen One of the Long-Haired Lady's God. He neither confirmed nor denied them, so the truth remained unknown.
"So you're Reyn?"
Hasilin looked at Reyn, his gaze through the pince-nez full of intense scrutiny.
Only after six or seven seconds did he nod and smile:
"Not a bad young man. Excellent appearance and figure, good manners, calm and decisive, and no lack of power—otherwise he couldn't have destroyed so many demons."
Reyn couldn't help but smirk.
His Grace the chairman spoke too bluntly, appraising him to his face like a work of art, somewhat breaching noble etiquette. Moreover, he knew the true backstory of the Abyss Gate events.
Hasilin, utterly unembarrassed by his tactlessness, added:
"Viola, I initially feared your taste had failed you, but now I see my concerns were unfounded."
Viola, beaming, approached and took Reyn's arm:
"Thank you, Chairman, for permitting the prayer ritual."
"You earned it with your diligence. Over half the priests in the Association agreed; of course, I wouldn't obstruct," Hasilin sighed and said: "I wish you a successful ritual and divine blessing!"
As he left, he suddenly winked at Reyn and playfully tossed:
"Lucky guy, do your best, don't disappoint Viola, heh-heh..."
Hearing this, Reyn mentally called him an old fox.
Turning, he saw Viola had blushed deeply, her ear tips trembling faintly, looking incredibly alluring. He was just about to tease her when music sounded on stage, the curtain rose, and the opera began.