Starting Today I'll Work As A City Lord

A hundred silver coins were the equivalent of a single gold coin. That was the going rate in this world. Unsurprisingly, quite a few knights in the room had begun to grow visibly restless—after all, their monthly pay was usually just a few hundred copper coins at best. Only the most exceptional among them ever came close to earning silver-level wages. And even then, only the elite knights who served directly under the Royal Order were privileged enough to receive a full silver coin as part of their monthly compensation.

"Truly insatiable," Mina sneered, her voice laced with icy disdain. With a practiced motion, she pulled a coarse hemp rope from her pocket, tied it securely around the gold coin box, gave it a quick toss and an experimental shake, then slung it casually over her back like a seasoned street vendor who'd just packed up shop.

"Catch her! I'll pay three gold coins!" Came the urgent cry of another count, his voice high-pitched with desperation. The divine wine's rumored anti-aging properties had clearly gotten to him. It wasn't hard to see how the mere thought of eternal youth—or even just a few years spared—was enough to send the aging nobility into a frenzy.

Take Count George, for example. If he hadn't been tied up with guarding Amos Notes so closely, there was a very real chance he would've leapt forward to claim the wine first.

"…" Nicole's brow furrowed as she watched the situation escalate, her expression darkening with concern. She turned to Lucas, her eyes silently conveying urgency, anxiety, and the unspoken question of whether things were still under control.

"It's fine," Lucas said quietly, his voice a calm whisper amidst the growing chaos. He gently patted the back of Nicole's hand with reassuring ease. Everything was unfolding just as they had planned. Nothing had veered off script.

Though, to be fair, the final auction price of the divine wine had surpassed all their expectations. They had not anticipated that the nobles' fear of aging—and more specifically, of dying—would manifest so strongly. If any of these self-important lords and ladies were to discover that the wine's fabled anti-aging effects were in fact minimal, practically negligible, who knew what kind of uproar would follow?

To actually see any anti-aging benefits, one would need to drink the wine regularly over an extended period of time. Otherwise, it was nothing more than a pleasant-tasting beverage—an expensive novelty with little more than placebo charm.

But the allure of three full gold coins was no trivial matter. It was a kingly sum. For some knights, it was more than an entire year's wages. That temptation was enough to make even the most loyal of them hesitate. And hesitate they did—a dozen or more knights slowly began to move, subtly shifting their positions, inching closer toward Mina like wolves closing in on their prey.

"Three gold coins?" Mina let out a derisive laugh, her eyes narrowing into slits as she swept her gaze coldly across the room. Then, suddenly, she tilted her head upward toward the rafters and called out, voice sharp and ringing, "Hey, are you gonna help or not?"

Above, perched among the shadows of the ceiling beams, the tavern assistant—who had, until moments ago, been content watching the spectacle unfold while scheming about how to snag a bottle of the divine wine for himself—suddenly froze. He blanched as Mina's piercing gaze met his own. Dread flooded through him like ice water. She'd seen him. She'd dragged him into it. There was no escape now.

"What? There's someone up there? An accomplice?" The knights tensed up at once, alarmed. They looked up sharply and spotted the assistant just where Mina had indicated.

"There's someone on the rafters!" Another shout came, and suddenly, swords were being drawn all around the room.

Count Hudson's expression darkened like a brewing storm. It was already bad enough that some hideous woman had the audacity to peddle divine wine in his presence—now it turned out she wasn't acting alone? That there was someone hiding in the rafters right under his nose? It was an unforgivable insult.

"Capture those thieves for me!" He bellowed, face twisted in rage. "I want every last one of them caught! No exceptions!"

"Such a pathetic excuse," Mina said coldly, scoffing under her breath. She could see through them easily. They weren't chasing her because of justice or loyalty—they simply wanted to claim both the profit and the glory for themselves. Greedy. Short-sighted. Foolish. They were dreaming far too big.

She had bought enough time. Reaching into the wine box now strapped to her back, the cat-eared girl pulled out a small, palm-sized object—a round, white smoke cake, looking almost innocent in her gloved hand. This was the secret tool her young master had entrusted to her.

The white smoke cake—usually used for stage effects and dramatic illusions.

"Break it into four pieces, right?" she murmured, recalling Lucas's instructions. Without hesitation, she cracked the cake into four equal parts, two in each hand, and held them over a flickering candle flame.

Smoke burst out instantly, thick and white like cloudstuff. Mina blinked in surprise at the speed of the reaction. A quick smirk crossed her lips as understanding dawned. So that's how it worked.

"What is that? Why's it giving off so much smoke all of a sudden?!"

"A-Are we still going after her? This feels… wrong…"

"…"

The knights, who had just moments ago been confidently closing in, now froze in place, their weapons half-raised, as they stared uncertainly at the growing fog.

"Not coming up? Then it's my turn." Mina grinned viciously, hurling the two active smoke cakes directly into the midst of the crowd. With the remaining two still burning in her hands, she charged forward.

Within seconds, the auction hall was blanketed in a dense white fog, and with it came the inevitable wave of panic and confusion.

"Cough, cough—open the auction hall doors now! I have to get out—I can't breathe in here!"

"Damn it, open them now! I said open the doors!"

"…"

One after another, the nobles began to scream, pushing and jostling as they demanded someone open the doors. Some shouted at the knights to break them down. The unknown nature of the smoke had triggered a primal kind of fear.

"Aahhh—!"

Shrill cries rang out, heightening the chaos to new heights. Even Count Hudson's composure cracked as he roared, "Open the damn doors already!"

Creeeak~~

Eventually, the doors groaned open, pulled wide by the knights stationed outside. As soon as they did, the crowd surged like a flood, pouring out of the building in complete disarray.

Lucas and Nicole, both calmly wearing gas masks, remained seated amid the commotion, listening to the cacophony of screams, shouts, and curses as they echoed off the walls.

"Who—damn it! Amos's notebook has been stolen!" Came the sudden, frantic voice of Count George, loud enough to cut through the fog.

Mina, still wearing her own gas mask, seized the moment. Lighting another smoke cake, she tossed it outside, adding to the already spreading fog. Then she dashed out with the fleeing crowd, weaving skillfully between people and ducking into the shadows of nearby buildings. Her path curved away from the main roads as she moved swiftly toward the edge of the city. Only when she reached the hidden boat waiting for her would she be truly safe.

"No one leaves this hall! Do you hear me? No one!" Count George roared, frantic with rage and disbelief. His precious Amos Notes had vanished right from under his nose.

Lucas chuckled softly as he heard the echo of the count's voice. Shaking his head, he turned to Nicole and said in a low voice, "Let's go. It's our turn to leave."

"Mhm," Nicole replied with a nod, still marveling at the fog around them. She hadn't expected the young master's secret weapon to be this powerful. It was amazing—just a few little cakes, and the entire hall had plunged into chaos.

"Sir, please follow us," Number Five said, his deep voice steady and commanding.

He and Number Six moved into formation, clearing a path ahead. Anyone who stood in their way was shoved aside or roughly forced to move—no apologies, no hesitation.

After several tense minutes, the group of four made their way outside. By then, Lucas had already removed his gas mask. He had no intention of being associated with the cause of the white smoke. That would only paint a target on his back.

Outside the auction hall, Count George was pacing with wild eyes, scanning each emerging face. Several bodies already lay on the ground, a testament to his fury.

"…" Lucas said nothing. He had no idea who exactly had stolen the notebook—but whoever it was, they had nerves of steel.

"Let's head for the city gates," Lucas murmured, leading the way to their waiting carriage.

"Yes," Nicole said again, her quiet voice full of trust as she followed him.

Number Five and Number Six drew their swords without hesitation, taking front and rear positions. The atmosphere was charged with tension, ready to ignite at the smallest spark. Count Hudson had fallen during the chaos, shattering his precious wine goblets in the process. His pride was wounded beyond repair.

But no one dared obstruct Lucas and his companions. Blending in with lesser merchants and minor nobles, they slipped quietly into the departing crowd, heading straight for the city's edge.

By sunrise, many others would be leaving Pentos City as well. The disappearance of the infamous Amos Notes was sure to send new ripples of unrest through the city.

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