Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 32: From Frugality to Luxury, an Easy Descent
When the door opened, sunlight spilled into the room. Along with that golden radiance stepped in Adela, balancing a wooden basin brimming with clear water. A folded towel floated gently at the surface, while over her slender arm hung a neatly pressed coat.
“Adela, what are you doing with all that?”
Marlon squinted slightly against the light, his very first words carrying both surprise and a trace of weariness.
Glancing around as though to make sure no one was eavesdropping, Adela carefully set the basin down in front of her. Her tone was respectful, though quickened by urgency:
“Master Marlon, Mayor Kachibu and Secretary of State Augustin von Newvently’s convoy has just arrived outside the orphanage gates. It seems they’ve come especially to commend you for what you did last night. Mr. Bernard asked me to fetch you, so that you might go and greet them, and… manage the courtesies.”
Marlon muttered under his breath, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Adela, you know how I hate these kinds of formalities… though I suppose I’ll have to get used to them. Sooner or later, they’ll only become more frequent.”
Despite his complaints, resignation soon softened his features. He accepted the coat without resistance, shrugging into it while Adela efficiently adjusted the collar and smoothed the sleeves with practiced motions. Somehow, without noticing when it had happened, Marlon had already grown accustomed to Adela’s quiet, almost natural devotion—like a lady-in-waiting who had chosen her role willingly.
As she worked, another thought surfaced in his mind.
“And Ester? How is he doing?”
The image of the minotaur boy he had saved flashed before his eyes.
“At dawn,” Adela replied smoothly, “Mr. Carnegie arranged for him, along with others who required priestly healing, to be taken to the Temple of the Earth Mother. By now, he should have received proper care and regained consciousness.”
Competent, precise, unfalteringly attentive—Adela always had the answers ready, as though she had anticipated every question he might ask. Her hands moved deftly, straightening his attire, then reaching into the basin to wring out a warm, damp towel. She handed it to him with a faint smile.
“Young Anvi has already made some new playmates,” she continued, “and Inspector Bernard assigned a guard to watch over him, so you needn’t worry.”
“And earlier, an airship of the Sky Guard hovered above the slums. Once dawn broke, many of the refugees who followed you here began returning to their homes. They say that by the latter half of the night, both the National Defense Army and the National Guard had regained control of most of the city.”
“Still… the northwest district suffered heavily. Many perished. Nearly all the rebelling Durel slaves were slaughtered, but before they died, they burned nearly three-quarters of the Oshanah Quarter. Two to three thousand citizens are said to have lost their lives. Even the masquerade at Lake White Sand City—hosted by Secretary Augustin von Newvently—was attacked. Rumor has it two prominent figures were killed, one of them the elder Gavi-Riley. Thankfully, Miss Ivna and Mr. Sols remain safe; both sent word of their well-being.”
By the time Marlon had finished wiping his face with the towel, Adela had already provided every detail he might have asked for, neatly arranged as though from a prepared report.
He couldn’t help but chuckle, admiration slipping into his voice.
“Adela, you’re far too considerate. Any man lucky enough to marry you one day will surely be blessed with happiness bubbling over like spring water.”
Her hands froze. For the briefest moment her eyes widened before her cheeks flared crimson. She scolded him, flustered but earnest:
“Master Marlon! What nonsense are you saying? What you should be thinking about is what to say when you meet the mayor and the secretary in a moment!”
What should he say, indeed?
Heh. They had come all this way to commend him. What else could he say but the usual words of gratitude?
Yes… just the typical phrases: Thanks to the nation, thanks to the government, thanks to the esteemed leaders.
In truth, their visit was not about him at all. It was about shaping last night’s bloody chaos into a convenient achievement. Secretary Augustin von Newvently, Marlon guessed, wanted to gild his reputation with a sheen of heroism and order. Mayor Kachibu, meanwhile, likely only hoped to prevent this catastrophe—occurring under his administration—from prematurely ending his political career.
Marlon had never worked as an official, but he had read enough political novels to recognize the games. He knew full well: White Sand City was bound to change mayors after this.
Still, the fact that the mayor and secretary had come together… that hinted at something more, perhaps a delicate relationship between the two.
Ah well, no point speculating. Soon enough, he would be able to “observe their words, and watch their deeds” in person.
With that thought, Marlon stepped out of the workshop and strode quickly toward the orphanage’s makeshift gates.
Even before he reached them, he could already see the figures approaching: Mayor Kachibu and Secretary Augustin von Newvently, flanked by soldiers of the National Defense Army armed to the teeth. They were accompanied by the old paladin, Inspector Bernard, and several other attendants.
Marlon recognized Mayor Kachibu from old newspaper prints. The man’s skin was carefully maintained, yet his eyes now brimmed with bloodshot weariness, his shoulders sagging beneath the invisible weight of responsibility. Clearly, he was still consumed by the aftermath of the Durel slaves’ rebellion.
Walking half a step ahead of him was a slightly stout man clad in an immaculate cream-colored suit, his every gesture radiating polish and authority. He conversed amiably with the paladin and Inspector Bernard, always smiling, yet the aura of a seasoned statesman—a man long accustomed to command—clung to him unmistakably.
There was no doubt: this was Augustin Augustin von Newvently, Minister of Culture of the Republic of Loring and executive member of the Postwar Reconstruction Committee.
Strange… no sign of that old Delft fellow, Marlon thought, filing the observation away.
Yet as Marlon discreetly studied the two great men drawing near, they, too, studied him with curiosity.
Here was a boy of only fourteen, born in the slums, who had stunned the world by publishing nine books in one breath—fairy tales and novels that earned royalties of five hundred Lants per ten-thousand words. He had purchased The Book of Aery for the staggering sum of one hundred and ten thousand Lants, only to donate the remainder of his fortune to charities for war orphans and veterans. And last night, when blood and fire engulfed the city, he had unhesitatingly offered up The Book of Aery as bait, saving nearly twenty thousand slum-dwellers and leading them to safety.
Such deeds—were they truly the work of a mere adolescent?
Naturally, such a youth would draw their scrutiny, their admiration, and perhaps even their ambition.
“Gentlemen,” Secretary Augustin von Newvently was the first to speak, his voice warm and theatrical. “Look who walks toward us. If I am not mistaken, this must be White Sand City’s pride—our young Marlon, am I right?”
He beamed a smile so approachable it seemed crafted for the stage.
And as he spoke, his right hand, which had been holding nothing more than a cane of golden nanmu wood, suddenly produced—like a magician revealing his trick—a thick, familiar tome.
Marlon’s breath caught. The Book of Aery.
“Our young Marlon,” Augustin von Newvently said, eyes glinting, “this book should belong to you, should it not?”