The hunting tournament is undeniably one of the most obnoxious events in high society.
To be precise, it's more of a competition where participants try their hardest to brag.
The wealthy flaunt their well-trained horses, hunting dogs, and equipment; the strong intentionally strip off and carry deer on their backs; and the popular, regardless of gender, walk around with their noses in the air.
Nevertheless, it's still a major event.
Even those who were angrily debating May's banquet earlier have already switched to discussing the hunting tournament.
"When should we place our bets for the hunting tournament?"
"Last year, the topic came up around mid-June. It'll probably be around the same time this year."
"We need to start preparing at our house too, and I'm already exhausted just thinking about it."
"Have you prepared your hunting dogs? Breeds good for catching rabbits are…"
It seems there's still a long way to go before the actual betting starts.
Since I'll end up as the winner again anyway, maybe I should focus on figuring out how to pass the time during the tournament.
Tristan will be running around, completely engrossed in hunting game to present to Maria, so there's no need to worry about him.
I just hope my parents don't pester me again about charming the young duke…
As I sipped on the second juice I had ordered and pondered this,
"Excuse me. Didn't we meet last week? May I join you?"
A familiar figure cast a shadow before me.
The man, presumed to be Rick Rey, wore a skull mask.
Honestly, I wanted to refuse—
'But I owe him for helping me last time.'
I couldn't outright reject someone who had been my benefactor, so I nodded awkwardly. He placed his cocktail down and sat across from me.
He was the first to speak.
"If I'm not mistaken, you're the lady who visited for the first time last week, correct? You've adapted to the salon remarkably quickly. You even won the bet."
I was just lucky. And I owe my quick adaptation to you, sir. Truly, thank you.
…That's what I would normally say.
But let's remember—don't let it slip! In the Sacred Salon, I have to maintain a different persona!
"I was nervous after hearing all the extravagant rumors, but it turns out the depth and content of the bets were unimpressive. The only thing worth appreciating here is the drinks."
"You're quite confident. You were impressive earlier as well, when dealing with those nobles."
"I merely gave those who boost their self-esteem by judging others an opportunity for self-reflection. I would've even evaluated them myself, but I feared their fragile egos might dissolve into tears."
"Hahaha! So you're saying you could've made them cry?"
"Oh dear, the more I talk, the more I sound like the villain. Let's hear your story now."
I sipped my drink and asked, "You referred to them as 'those nobles' earlier. Aren't you a noble yourself?"
"Ah… Well, yes. A slip of the tongue. You're aware this salon isn't exclusively for nobles, right?"
Most of the guests at the Sacred Salon are nobles, but entry isn't strictly restricted to them. The salon selects its patrons based on criteria like social standing, wealth, and influence, which naturally increases the proportion of nobles.
"I know. I just found it interesting how you spoke as if you dislike nobles."
"Well… You see, I work in a field related to nobles, so I might've built up some frustration over time."
"I understand."
I winked.
"I dislike nobles too."
"…Pardon?"
"Most of them strut around as landowners while rarely fulfilling their duties as lords. They just siphon off interest from the efforts of primary producers."
"…"
"Though more nobles these days run their own businesses, their capital often comes as gifts from their parents. It's not their fault they were born with silver spoons in their mouths, but their condescending attitude toward commoners can be a bit infuriating."
"…Wow."
The skull mask-wearing man let out an admiring sigh, a mix of laughter and exasperation.
"I've never met anyone who speaks so candidly about this. You must not be a noble yourself."
"That's a secret. Don't get your hopes up too much."
Even if my soul, which once belonged to a commoner of the 21st century, vents its frustrations, my current self is a noble.
Still, his gaze clearly carried goodwill. He even adjusted his posture to sit more comfortably.
"My lady, you placed your bet on 'Maria-Tristan' at the royal banquet in May and won, correct? Could you share what wisdom you used?"
"You're being quite blunt about digging for information."
"As someone not skilled with words, I've tried my best to sugarcoat my sentences. But would you prefer I be more direct?"
"'Repay the debt you owe me for saving you from those scoundrels'?"
"…I didn't mean to be that direct."
I could almost imagine his face flushing red beneath the mask. Laughing heartily, I replied, "It's fine! It was a significant favor, after all. I can offer you a free lecture once—choose your topic. The noble mindset toward marriage? Ball etiquette and ambiance?"
I recalled the etiquette books I'd read from the Redfield household.
Yet his reaction seemed lukewarm.
"Rather than wanting to know about nobles… Actually, if I could ask one honest question, I'm curious about who Lady Maria will dance with."
"…"
Ah, so you are Rick Rey.
In the original story, Rick spent more time dealing with men who had ulterior motives for Maria than revealing his feelings to her.
For instance, guys like Tristan, the third prince, or my fiancé—those who ogled Maria based solely on her looks.
Throughout the original, I always thought his timing for rescuing her was uncanny. Turns out he was gathering intel here at the Sacred Salon.
And this time, he had managed to find the perfect advisor.
Feigning innocence, I asked, "Sir, are you here for betting advice, or do you need help with romance?"
"Ahem! This is absolutely not about romance. I'm merely trying to understand the psyche of one of the most frequently mentioned prospects after the young duke."
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say. I won't pry."
Your love life is doomed. Stay strong.
"So, who did you think Lady Maria would dance with at the May royal banquet?"
"I bet on her not dancing with anyone."
"Oh? Did you deliberately take a gamble?"
"No, it's just… I couldn't imagine a woman who seems more suited to picking wildflowers in the countryside dancing with city men…"
"…"
Wow, this guy's a lost cause.
"Lady Maria has danced at least once at every banquet she's attended so far."
"Of course. I know that, in my head…"
"Do you really? Or do you leave your common sense at home? We humans have this excellent brain-carrying device called a skull, you know."
"You're brutal."
"Your reality is more brutal."
What am I supposed to do with this guy?
Wildflowers, seriously.
It's like he's trapped Maria in some idealized fantasy.
Particularly one based on his idea of an "idyllic hometown."
I get it, though. Rick doesn't really have a hometown.
After being driven out of Blue Atrium with his mother, he was forced to wander the world, never settling anywhere.
The first semblance of stability came when he was 18, when he happened to find work in Baron Meyer's domain and met Maria.
For someone like Rick Rey, who had lived a harsh life, trusting no one, Maria must have been his light—and his new home.
Even so, it's giving side-character energy.
Feeling a little bitter, I said to Rick, "I don't know what kind of relationship you have with Lady Maria outside the salon, but don't trap her in some idealized image. You can't exchange love or friendship with a painting in a frame."
"A profound piece of advice. But what I want is—"
"To find out who might try to get close to Lady Maria next, right?"
"Correct."
"You're quite the twisted one."
"A seed growing on the edge of a cliff either twists or dies."
His voice carried a hint of self-deprecation. After a brief pause, he added, "Maybe I've had too much to drink. Sorry for rambling nonsense."
"Don't worry. I'll forget it."
I clinked my glass lightly against his, offering a small gesture of encouragement.
"That said, I don't have any immediate information for you. After the major May events, it seems like most activities will be smaller in scale for a while."
"What about the June hunting tournament?"
"The participant list for the hunting tournament hasn't even been released yet. I'm not a fortune teller. I'll advise you once more details are out."
I vaguely remembered there being a minor character who tried to flirt with Maria during the hunting tournament. I'll check the participant list later.
Not that it matters, since that character got dragged off by Rick in the original story anyway.
"Thank you. I'll be looking forward to it."
"Sure. See you next time."
I've run out of social energy for the day. Time to wrap this up.
But before I could leave, Rick briefly stepped away and returned to place a glass of water with lemon in front of me.
Nice touch.
"Thanks."
Of course, that thoughtful gesture wasn't free.
"Earlier, you said you can't exchange feelings with a perfect picture in a frame. So, what do you think one should do?"
"Hmm… Show each other your flaws."
"Pardon? I don't quite follow."
How should I explain this?
I tried organizing the great wisdom I'd read in various psychology books, but gave up.
I'm out of patience too!
"Basically, familiarity breeds fondness."
"Pfft!"
"I'm not saying you should pick fights on purpose, but that's how the world works. Small acts of kindness mean more between people who bicker occasionally."
"Hmm."
"Here's an example. Say, a man you found insufferably arrogant turns out to have been quietly protecting your family. Or, someone you can't stand somehow always notices when you're hungry and sneaks you your favorite snacks…"
…Wait.
The first example is straight out of Pride and Prejudice. But where did that juvenile second example come from?
(T/N: hun we all know where it came from HAHAHA)
"Ah, no! Forget the second one! That doesn't exist! It's way too childish!"
"It's fine. I get the gist."
Behind the skull mask, his green eyes narrowed in a sly smile.
"For instance, maybe I'll find myself more drawn to the person in front of me, who made sharp remarks about skulls, than to the 'idealized lady' in my mind."
"…"
"Hah, what a ridiculous joke."