Chapter 456 - 253: Changing the Red Wine to Coke (2)

In the Inner Side, beyond its multiple meanings of love, beauty, and allure, the rose also symbolizes the spirit of a Knight and is known as the Knight’s Flower.

And in London City, everyone knew that the Silver Rose was the symbol of the Knight Clan of Lancelot.

Everything Freya said was indeed true. Their suits were, in fact, from the tailoring house of Lancelot’s Family.

Hilde thought, ’This is bad.’ It meant that from this moment on, the tables had well and truly turned.

’This must be what it’s like to try and show off, only to run into a true expert in the field,’ Baron silently commented to himself.

Freya said, "If I’m not mistaken, the suits you’re wearing are the lowest tier from our workshop... the kind made for people from the Outer Side. They don’t use any Alchemy Fabric, and there’s no waterproof and fireproof Alchemy Matrix specially inscribed by an Alchemist inside the clothing."

"A suit that doesn’t even have basic functions like being waterproof and fireproof could never sell for ten thousand pounds a piece," Freya sneered. "The tailors of Lancelot’s Family would never do something so demeaning to our name."

"And fifty thousand pounds is even more absurd."

Freya took a glass of red wine from a passing Maid and, to the gasps of the female guests, splashed it onto her own dress. However, there was no wet-cloth temptation to give the men a feast for their eyes. The small gems on Freya’s evening gown suddenly emitted a faint glow, absorbing all of the spilled red wine.

After doing this, she looked at Hilde and said coldly, "This dress I’m wearing is only worth twenty thousand pounds. Mr. Hilde, what is the meaning of this slander against the workshop of Lancelot’s Family?"

"Are you trying to make an enemy of Lancelot’s Family?"

Freya’s gaze swept over the young men beside Hilde. These people weren’t even Law Enforcers; how could they dare to look directly at a Black Iron Mage like her? They could only lower their heads and silently look to Hilde.

The tables had turned.

Hilde’s consistently gentle, calm, and reserved expression vanished, replaced by a pallor—a helpless, ashen white.

He opened and closed his mouth, unable to think of a single thing to say in rebuttal. Finally, he just forced a smile. "It seems we may have mistaken the bill... My sincere apologies..."

He returned the Storage Stone to Windsor and apologized to both her and the somewhat bewildered Pound standing beside her.

"I can tell you, sir, that basically all the workshops in Inner London that produce high-end custom suits are under the jurisdiction of Lancelot’s Family."

Freya remained haughty. "However, you are still a senior of mine from the Edinburgh Wizard School. I can forgive you this time, but I hope I won’t be hearing any more slander against Lancelot’s Family from you in the future."

’Most of the high-end suit workshops in Inner London are under the Lancelot Clan... They’re obscenely rich. No wonder Lancelot’s Family lives in Buckingham Palace. For them, it’s basically like having a license to print money.’

Baron knew from his past life just how ridiculous the market share for this kind of high-end custom tailoring was. For example, for a time, the richest person in the world had made their fortune selling luxury goods.

While it wasn’t entirely fair to lump high-end custom suits in with luxury goods, in essence, there wasn’t much of a difference between the two. What they were selling was ultimately emotional value and service.

It was like the hand-stitched details Rolls-Royce always marketed in his previous life—the whole "custom-made by a master artisan with decades of experience" spiel. In reality, it wasn’t necessarily better than something machine-pressed. What it provided was simply the emotional value that came from the "hand-crafted" gimmick.

Hilde nodded, gave Pound a deep, meaningful look, and then departed.

Having seen the drama unfold, the crowd dispersed on its own.

On the edge of the crowd, Isabella stood with Kesha, who was also from the Demon Hunter Association. Kesha said, "Miss Lancelot really is just like the rumors say—so straightforward."

Isabella said flatly, "She’s just a child who’s been too well-protected by her family. To put it nicely, you’d call her straightforward. To put it bluntly, she just acts recklessly without a thought for the consequences."

’Miss Isabella seems to have a real problem with Miss Lancelot,’ Kesha thought to herself.

Elsewhere, Pound wanted to thank Freya for stepping in, but Freya, with her attitude as proud as a swan, said:

"Don’t flatter yourself, sir. I didn’t do it for you. I did it purely for Miss Windsor."

While Pound was still stunned, Windsor sincerely thanked Freya. Freya accepted, glanced in a certain direction, and then drifted away. Jill hurried to follow, leaving behind a Pound who still hadn’t processed what had just happened.

Pound said, "Windsor, I’m sorry. I... I really didn’t expect things to turn out this way."

Windsor shook her head and just said, "Pound, let’s go check on that lady first. She seems terrified."

Pound looked toward the hostess. She smoothed her bangs, leaned on the unremarkable Attendant to stand up, and gave Pound a very sincere thank you.

Pound gazed into the hostess’s eyes. He found her azure eyes so deep, so captivating, as bright as a cloudless night sky, as if a shooting star might fall from them at any moment.

With that, the strange resentment that had been building up inside him dissipated, drowned in the sea of stars that was the woman’s eyes.

’Do they really look alike?’ he asked himself. In truth, they didn’t look alike at all; even the color of their eyes was different. Yet Pound always seemed to see a vision of that other girl in the hostess’s eyes.

Perhaps it was because both of their gazes seemed so mysterious, so beautiful, like shattered crystal—a beauty that brought sorrow.

He wanted to take the woman’s hand like a gentleman, but he felt that doing so would be too forward. Besides, he was a Law Enforcer of the Constantine Family; to stoop like this would be to lose face for the Constantine Family.

So he put on a stern face and said, "Ma’am, it’s good that you’re alright... Hey, Attendant, there’s nothing for you here. You can get back to your duties now."

He waved his hand, signaling for the unremarkable Attendant to hurry along. For some reason, just looking at this Attendant gave him a very bad feeling.

This feeling grew even worse when he saw that the hostess’s hand was still resting on the man’s shoulder.

"No," his sister Windsor vetoed his command, stopping the unremarkable Attendant. "Sir, are you Miss Lancelot’s Attendant?"

The unremarkable Attendant nodded.

Windsor gathered the hem of her skirt and gave him a curtsy. "Thank you for helping my brother and me out of that situation."

Pound was completely baffled. "Windsor, what are you talking about? Didn’t Miss Lancelot say she did it for your sake? Besides, he’s just an Attendant. You have to remember, you’re from the Constantine Family..."

"Brother," Windsor interrupted him calmly. Pound froze, because his usually gentle and sweet sister was looking at him with an expression of disappointment.

Pound thought about his actions that day. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he lowered his head like a child who had done something wrong.

Windsor’s expression softened slightly. After thanking Baron again, she pulled a reluctant Pound away from the main hall.

Baron wondered to himself how every woman in the Inner Side had observation skills comparable to Sherlock Holmes. ’If that’s the case, then why is the rate of infidelity among the nobility still so high?’

He was fairly certain that Windsor had probably seen through his identity as well.

"Mr. Attendant, I’ve sprained my ankle. Could you help me over to the bar for a drink?" the woman in the red dress whispered, her breath warm against his cheek.

Baron nodded. He glanced around at the crowd, who were still casting subtle glances their way, then offered his hand to the woman in red. He puffed out his chest and straightened his back as if he were the finest Attendant in the entire venue.

"It would be my pleasure, my lady."

He led the woman in red to a seat in a corner of the bar. There weren’t many people around, just a few gentlemen and ladies whispering sweet nothings. The rest were doing the same on the dance floor.

The woman in red asked a waiter to bring two Cokes. In truth, the bar at this auction served only local red wine from Bertelili Town, and the woman had intended to taste it.

But Baron stopped her, so she changed her order from red wine to Coke.