Noble Upbringing

Lynch was filled with apprehension.

The sun had already dipped low in the west. Evening had arrived, and dinner was already set on the table.

The dinner was actually quite sumptuous.

The main dish was fresh leg of lamb. Mrs. Maggie had made a special trip to a butcher shop in the Crown District several kilometers away to buy it, as a slum like the King District had no such fresh, high-quality lamb for sale.

Lynch had sneaked a glance during the cooking process. The tenderest cuts of lamb were simmered for an hour in a freshly opened bottle of ordinary red wine, before small chunks of carrots and potatoes were added. He watched as the thick gravy bubbled gently over the hearth fire, with brown chunks of meat, red carrots, and yellow potatoes—large pieces of ingredients bobbing up and down in the churning broth.

As the surface churned, a rich aroma wafted through the air. Accompanied by the bubbling sound of the boiling broth, anyone who smelled and heard it would instinctively imagine the tender, rich, and melt-in-your-mouth yet chewy texture of the lamb.

Also purchased from the Crown District was soft, freshly baked bread from Vic Bakery, paired with the freshest seasonal vegetables from Charles Square just outside the door. For a commoner's family, this was a luxury they wouldn't even dream of, even during the holidays.

Yet, Lynch still felt a sense of unease because he had accidentally invited Miss Valente to dine with him.

After they finished discussing the case in the afternoon and decided to visit the Black Cat Theater after dinner to gather more information, Lynch had instinctively asked her on a whim if she would like to join him for dinner. If she did, he would let Mrs. Maggie know to prepare extra.

This would normally be a very standard thing. When he had first moved in, Officer Natalie had come over for dinner. During the period she was nursing her leg at home, that woman had practically come over every single day to freeload on food and drinks, leaving Lynch too intimidated to complain. Thus, Lynch had asked casually, but the moment the words left his mouth, he regretted it.

This count's daughter was born into high nobility. Any random item she pulled out was a brandless, custom-made luxury, and she even brought five or six servants with her when dispatched to Rhine City. Was it truly appropriate to keep someone like her at his home for dinner?

Lynch didn't know either. He had simply had a momentary lapse in judgment when he extended the invitation. Only afterward did he recall the behavior of the nobles he had seen at the banquet the night before.

Particularly Princess Chloe's haughty, overbearing attitude, as if she were superior to everyone else. As a fellow high noble, Lynch was deeply worried that Miss Valente would display a similar attitude toward Mrs. Maggie and little Martha during dinner.

That would be incredibly unpleasant, and he did not want to hurt Mrs. Maggie and little Martha.

But the invitation had already been extended, and the kicker was, the young lady had actually agreed.

Didn't her family have personal chefs on call twenty-four hours a day? Why would she agree so easily to a commoner's casual invitation? Why was she so eager to freeload at a commoner's home? Where was her noble reserve?

But things had already come to this. No matter how anxious Lynch felt, he could only brace himself and begin the dinner.

The food was indeed delicious, especially the lamb, which did not disappoint after Mrs. Maggie's half-hour trek. However, to Lynch, it tasted like cardboard; his attention was entirely focused on the three ladies.

The two blonde ladies, one older and one younger, had no idea who this beautiful, unfamiliar guest was. They only knew she was someone of status—or, in little Martha's words, “one of those people from the outside.”

Perhaps for this reason, the two ladies initially harbored a faint hostility toward Miss Valente. Little Martha in particular glared at Miss Valente as if she wanted to bite her. Lynch couldn't very well scold the child in front of a noble lady, so he could only threaten her with sharp glares from time to time, which only made the little one's expression look even more fierce.

Soon, however, Lynch's worries eased, and the attitude of the two ladies visibly softened.

This was because Miss Valente actually ate with great gusto. Not only did she show no disdain for the ingredients, tableware, chairs, or the environment, but she even asked for another bowl of soup.

My lady, you really did just come here to freeload.

Catching the mischievous look Miss Valente secretly shot his way, Lynch suddenly smiled.

He realized that she had probably seen through his anxiety long ago but chose to keep quiet just to tease him. Annoyed, Lynch immediately grabbed another piece of bread in mock outrage.

It had to be said that when nobles wished to be agreeable, their social skills were simply far beyond what commoners could handle. By the end of the meal, Mrs. Maggie and little Martha had already taken quite a liking to Miss Valente. Little Martha had even proactively invited this “outsider” to come over and play more often, which startled Lynch so much that he quickly shooed the little girl away.

Their lifestyles were too far apart. If someone was willing to adapt to your habits, it was a sign of their good upbringing, but it would be wrong to take their kindness for granted. One had to maintain proper boundaries, and it was better to let things develop slowly.

It was the first time he had ever tried to reason with the little thing. Little Martha only half-understood, but she still nodded vigorously before retreating into the kitchen with her mother.

After leaving the 221 apartment, neither of them exchanged polite thank-yous. They simply shared a knowing smile, and Miss Valente said softly, “Please don't misunderstand. A princess like Chloe still carries a heavy merchant attitude and is closer to a parvenu. You shouldn't assume all nobles are like her.”

“Flaunting wealth before the poor, flaunting health before the sick, flaunting strength before the weak—a true noble of Middle Earth disdains such ill-mannered behavior. Some call it the unique, condescending arrogance of the nobility, but I believe that even if it is arrogance, it is the kind of arrogance most people are willing to see, and an arrogance worth upholding.”

“So...” Lynch looked at her with a highly suspicious glint in his eyes. “You did that on purpose, didn't you?”

“Hehe, who told you to worry that I would behave rudely?” Miss Valente walked with light, brisk steps, her hands clasped behind her back. She turned around with a bright, clean smile. “Since I have been a guest at your home, it means we are already friends. Next time, it's your turn to visit my home. Hehehe, it would be terribly rude of you to refuse now.”

Shoot, I've been tricked. This noble lady is truly cunning.

Lynch gazed at the sly, joyful smile before him, looking like a forest elf, and found himself momentarily lost in it.

“Ahem!”

Hss, this old codger is a real nuisance.

Jolted back to reality by the vigilant glare of the old steward, Louis, Lynch glanced at the revolver tucked inside the old man's coat and decided not to stoop to his level.

It wasn't that Lynch hadn't thought about inviting the old steward inside earlier. Even if the man insisted on keeping to the rules and refused to eat, he could have rested in the living room. However, the old steward had declined, claiming he needed to watch the carriage. He spoke as if the carriage would vanish the moment he turned his back. Well... then again, considering the public safety in the King District, Lynch kept his mouth shut. He handed a few pieces of bread he had brought out to the old steward, who had been waiting all afternoon, tipped his top hat to the old man with a nod, and climbed into the carriage after Miss Valente.

In June, darkness fell early in Rhine City. It was barely seven o'clock, yet the streetlamps were already lit, and the crimson moon was beginning to peek over the horizon.

Outside the Black Cat Theater in the Crown District, carriages were already starting to accumulate. Elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies were converging from all corners of the city.

Since they weren't here to socialize tonight, the two didn't make a grand, showy entrance as was customary. Instead, they had the carriage drive directly up to the theater entrance. Lynch hopped down first to fulfill his gentlemanly duty, helping Miss Valente step down from the carriage.

Yet, just as they came to a halt at the entrance, the theater manager they had met once before appeared in front of them.

He wore the same distinctive yellow robe, his head perpetually lowered with his hood pulled up to conceal his face. Only a pair of green, slit-pupil eyes darted back and forth from beneath the hood, scanning Lynch and Miss Valente's faces.

“Lady Valente, Mr. Lynch Levive, please both of you...”

Mid-sentence, a pungent, fishy odor suddenly wafted toward Lynch from behind.

The theater manager in the yellow robe, who had been keeping his head lowered, suddenly snapped his head up and stared in the direction of the fishy smell.

At the same time, Lynch felt a bizarre and dangerous aura rapidly approaching from behind.

What was that?

Lynch whipped around, reaching inside his coat to grip his revolver, his gaze locking onto the space behind him.