The next day, Lady Manny arrived as Gria had said. Yet for a merchant guild heiress wealthier than many kingdoms, her entourage was surprisingly modest—just a few dozen people. Rick, observing closely, noticed many bore fresh wounds.
"Even great figures have their troubles." Blending into the crowd, Rick was stunned by her ethereal beauty but saddened by her plight. Escorted by her retinue, Lady Manny slipped into the city and went straight to the Pai Mansion, beginning the guild's elaborate reception ritual—meeting each senior guild member stationed there. As she greeted them, Rick watched their expressions from the crowd. Notably, an old man named Fane showed intriguing reactions during his audience. From yesterday's files, Rick remembered Fane as the guild's chief inspector at the Pai Mansion, overseeing branch lords.
Recalling Fane's profile, Rick smiled meaningfully. "A special envoy from the guild's inner circle? Hmm... An awkward position indeed." He made a mental note of Fane. By now, the lengthy reception neared its end. After a warm hug with Gria, the last to be received, Lady Manny was led to the sixth-floor master suite.
Rick noticed she'd remained seated throughout the reception, only insisting on walking upstairs—slowly, aided by maids. "Is she injured?" he wondered. Her personal file had been the vaguest—just a portrait, no details.
"Hey, what are you staring at? Come with me—forgot about your official appointment today?" Gria hissed, spotting Rick lost in thought.
"Just deep in thought." Rick rubbed his head.
Perhaps tense from Lady Manny's arrival, Gria asked anxiously, "Did you find something?"
"Sort of, but I'm more curious why Lady Manny has trouble walking. Is she injured?"
Gria's expression fell. "No... Lady Manny was born unable to walk. A strange toxin settled in her legs at birth. We've been treating her with 'fighting poison with poison'—injecting venom to counteract it. It's helped, but... I don't know how much longer it can last."
"I see." Rick patted Gria's shoulder reassuringly. "Let's go up."
Under Fane's sharp gaze, they ascended. The sixth-floor suite door remained shut after Lady Manny entered; even Gria, as steward, had to knock respectfully.
A sweet voice called from within: "Is that you, Uncle Gria?"
"Yes, my esteemed Lady Manny." Gria bowed through the door, confusing Rick.
The ornate door opened to reveal two beautiful maids flanking it. Lady Manny sat curled on a scarlet sofa in the parlor, legs drawn up, flanked by four statue-still guards. The moment Rick stepped in, four piercing gazes locked onto him. He met them head-on.
Sensing the hostility, Lady Manny waved gently. "Uncle Gria is my most trusted confidant. His friends deserve my trust too." Her words eased the tension, though it didn't vanish entirely—likely due to his mask. No one had ever met Lady Manny masked.
"Uncle Gria, please have a seat." Lady Manny gestured for Gria, who stood respectfully before her, to sit.
Gria nodded slightly and took a seat, while Rick swaggered onto the sofa, drawing another round of glares from the four "statues" beside him.
"Lady Manny, how are your legs feeling?" Gria's worried gaze fell on her exposed, faintly purple calves.
"Thank you for your concern, Uncle Gria. I just received a wasp venom injection—no pain now." Lady Manny smiled sweetly, then turned to Rick curiously. "My legs must look awful. Did they scare you?"
"No, not at all." Rick admired her iron will. He'd just learned her toxin-riddled legs ached constantly, yet she still smiled so brightly. Such resilience deserved respect.
"Why do you wear a mask?"
"Because..." Gria glanced at Rick, smiling wryly. "My friend here, like you, struggles with a toxin."
"Ah?" Lady Manny gasped, covering her mouth. "May I... see?"
"Sure." Rick removed his mask boldly. His horrific features made everyone in the room—except Gria—blanch.
But Lady Manny recovered first, rising apologetically. "Forgive my rude request. If I've hurt you, please accept my apology."
"No, compared to you, this is nothing." Rick meant it sincerely.
Perhaps sensing a bond through shared suffering, Lady Manny warmed to Rick, much to Gria's astonishment.
Though surprised, Gria hadn't forgotten their purpose. "Lady Manny, forgive my presumption. Mr. Rick is a bodyguard I specially hired. He'll serve as the Pai Mansion's personal escort, ensuring your safety in Ison."
At Gria's words, suspicious stares returned to Rick.
Rick replaced his mask, nodding firmly. "Yes, I'll be responsible for your security."
Lady Manny recovered from her brief surprise, nodding with a smile. "Thank you, Uncle Gria. I'll follow Mr. Rick's arrangements."
Her reply eased Gria's tension. He pulled a schedule from his pocket. "According to this, you'll visit Palais Saint-Rosel this afternoon to meet His Majesty Arthur. Rick will accompany you, so please prepare."
"Understood."
"You'll also attend a banquet there tonight, where His Majesty and Ison's high officials will greet you."
"Any other arrangements?" Lady Manny jotted notes before asking.
"Oh, right. The head of Ison's Insect Hunter Branch sent an invitation recently, requesting a meeting. What do you think..."
"Let's arrange it immediately. I'd like to conclude it before heading to Palais Saint-Rosel."
"Understood."
Gria and Lady Manny quickly finalized the day's schedule. After excusing herself to Rick, Lady Manny, assisted by a maid, entered the suite's reception room with Gria to await the Insect Hunter Branch head, leaving Rick alone in the parlor.
"May I get you anything, sir?" A pretty maid asked after Lady Manny left.
Rick thought briefly. "A glass of wine, please."
"Wine?" The maid looked astonished, likely unprepared for a bodyguard to drink on duty.
"What, no wine here?"
"No, we have it. One moment, please."
She returned quickly with a glass of red wine. Rick sipped it, finding the taste bland after hard liquor, so he set it down and rose to inspect the room's layout, window positions, and other details. The other maids and guards instinctively kept their distance, clearly not yet accepting Rick as a colleague.
About twenty minutes later, the meeting ended. Lady Manny, in a wheelchair, was wheeled to her private room to prepare the gown for her audience with Lord Arthur. During this time, Rick had marked several sensitive areas in the suite—only her bedroom remained unchecked, which he planned to request access to later.
Soon, Lady Manny emerged in a water-blue silk gown, her golden hair coiled in an elegant updo, exuding nobility. Had it not been for the wheelchair, Rick was sure all men would fall at her feet.
"Does it look nice?"
"Stunning. Absolutely stunning." Rick smiled.
"Good to hear. I'm so nervous—what if Lord Arthur dislikes me?" Lady Manny showed a girlish apprehension.
"Don't worry. I doubt his taste is that odd."
"Eh?" Lady Manny gaped at Rick—she'd never heard anyone comment on Lord Arthur like that.
But Rick saw nothing amiss, rubbing his nose. "...
Palais Saint-Rosel.
After Rick's endless banter during the journey, Lady Manny's entourage finally arrived. Her attendants' irritation with Rick had spiked—they'd never met such a chatterbox. Accustomed to silence, they longed to gag him. But they knew Lady Manny would protest: today, her genuine smiles outnumbered those of the past decade combined.
No one had expected such rapport between two from such different worlds, least of all Rick. He'd braced for a picky, demanding heiress, but found a girl next door—her innocence and vivacity stifled by her status and pain.
After waiting at the palace gates, the herald announced Lord Arthur's approval. The massive doors creaked open on ancient mechanisms, revealing a palace of unimaginable splendor: murals, sculptures, fountains—every corner opulent. A scarlet wool carpet stretched endlessly, its length incalculable.
"The old bastard lives like a king," Rick muttered, scanning the layout to match his mental map.
Soon they reached Arthur's study. A fair-complexioned attendant opened the door. Since only Lady Manny was admitted, Rick and the others waited outside. As the door opened, Rick caught a glimpse of the legendary ruler: silver hair combed back, neatly trimmed white muttonchops, and piercing eyes that commanded respect. Yet Rick felt a strange familiarity—where had he seen this face?
"Weird."
Like the other guards and maids, Rick sat on a corridor sofa, sipping tea, nibbling pastries, and feigning interest in the priceless murals. Restless, he paced, feeling time wasted. No assassin would strike in Arthur's study—only a fool would. His mind wandered to sneaking off to locate the palace dungeons, maybe even take a "tour."
Noticing his agitation, a palace attendant approached. "May I assist you, sir?"
"Need to piss," Rick blurted, inspiration striking.
The entourage cringed, pretending not to know him, but Rick ignored them, eyeing the attendant expectantly. The man, taken aback, recovered quickly. "This way, please."
Rick trailed after him. A guard stood, seething under his breath: "Has Gria lost his mind? Hiring this oaf as a bodyguard? Doesn't he know who we're protecting?" The others shared his disdain—any hope of camaraderie was gone.
Rick didn't care. He followed the attendant to a corridor corner, where a restroom awaited. "Fancy even for a pisser," he thought, eyeing the gold-inlaid fixtures. The attendant stood by the ceramic sink with a towel, adding to the oddness.
"Um... could you step out for a second? I can't pee with you standing there. Also... I can wash my hands myself. I'm hygienic."
The attendant opened his mouth, but thought better of it, bowing out respectfully. Inside, Rick finally relieved himself into the ornate urinal.
After finishing, he merely dipped his hands in the water and called it clean. Stepping out, he slung a damp hand over the attendant's shoulder. "Do you guys use this restroom too?"
"Eh?"
"What, you never need to piss?"
The attendant squirmed awkwardly. "We have another facility."
"Truth be told, this toilet's too fancy. Especially that urinal—almost felt bad peeing in it." Rick, oblivious to the attendant's annoyance, kept chattering. "Is it always this spotless? Look at the carpet—no dust. No wonder you all walk so stiffly. Must be tiring."
The attendant, at a loss, pressed his lips together, eager to send Rick back. But Rick wasn't done. He glanced around. "Anywhere less... stuffy here? This place is too restrictive."
"You mean... dirtier areas?"
"Exactly. Something like that."
"The dungeon!" The attendant snapped, fed up.
"Dungeon?" Rick's heart leaped, maintaining a neutral face. "I've never seen one."
"Hmph. Keep up this rudeness, and you'll see it soon enough." The attendant's warning was plain—Rick had just flicked water onto a mural, an affront to Lord Arthur in his eyes.
Getting the message, Rick released the attendant's shoulder. But passing a junction, his 余光 (peripheral vision) caught a figure hurrying down a corridor.
Lothar. Rick was certain. The underground vendor now wore palace livery, haunting the forbidden halls of Saint-Rosel. This confirmed his earlier suspicions.
"Despicable bastard... you'll regret this..." Rick muttered, face darkening as he trailed the attendant back to the study.
Another hour passed before Lady Manny's audience with Lord Arthur ended. She emerged in her wheelchair, face slightly disappointed, escorted by Arthur's personal attendant.
"Lady, His Majesty invites you to the banquet prepared especially for you tonight. He will be in attendance. Please rest in the side hall for a moment; the banquet will begin shortly."
"Thank you."
Escorted by Rick and the others, Lady Manny followed the attendant to the VIP antechamber for banquet guests. Though called a "side hall," it was vast, stocked with food and drinks for attendees and their retinue.
Leaning on a maid's arm, she braced herself onto a sofa, face pale. With the maid's help, she injected a vial of coffee-colored toxin into her calf. Her trembling subsided as the venom took effect.
Watching her pain, Rick felt a tug in his chest. "Do you have to take many injections every day?"
"Yes, every six hours—four times a day." Lady Manny winced, touching the needle mark on her calf.
"What happens if you skip one?"
At Rick's words, Lady Manny shuddered, hugging herself. "It hurts... terribly..."
"Is there no cure?"
"I don't think so." She smiled bitterly.
Rick thought of Lav. "I have a friend, an expert on insects. Maybe she can help. She'll come to Ison soon. If you want, I could—"
"Thank you." Lady Manny rested her head on the sofa cushion, eyes closed. "Rick, let me rest a bit. Later... will you accompany me to the banquet?"
"WHAT?!" The guards around them nearly jumped, then fell silent, realizing their impudence.
"Is that okay?" Though her eyes were shut, she seemed to await his answer.
"I... I don't know etiquette..." Rick hesitated, unprepared for the request.
"I can't dance anyway. Just stay by my side, please?" Her loose bangs hid her expression, but Rick sensed her expectation—and fear of rejection.
"Alright." Finally, Rick agreed, steeling himself.
"Thank you..."