“My lord, he’s here.”
Eugene, who had been leaning an arm over the back of his chair and gazing out the window, rose at those words. A servant soon opened the door, and a tall old man entered, his blond hair gone white with age.
“Lord Monat.”
“It’s an honor to meet you.”
“The feeling isn’t mutual.”
Lord Monat was a fallen aristocrat who possessed nothing but the hollow title of baron, yet he served as the representative of the largest Elders’ Council in Oxpin. He stood facing Eugene in an old black suit with padded shoulders, not even bothering to smile at Eugene’s casual greeting.
When Eugene extended a hand toward the velvet sofa in invitation, the baron walked over with a slightly irritated stride, sat down, and got straight to the point.
“Why did you demolish the Mart Theater without permission?”
“Because the owner changed.”
Ah. So that was what this sudden summons was about. The theater they had begun demolishing today. Faced with the baron’s sharp, almost interrogative question, Eugene answered without hesitation. The baron seemed to be suppressing his anger with the last scraps of his dignity.
At the word permission, Eugene let out a quiet laugh. The aristocrats had clearly misunderstood something yet again.
“So now everything belongs to you? Don’t fool yourself. To be precise, those things were built by your father and your ancestors.”
“That may be true, strictly speaking.”
“You’re ruining your family.”
“It hasn’t even been a century yet. You seem to have very little faith in me.”
“I didn’t come here to trade clever words, Mr. Chase.”
Before the composed Eugene, Lord Monat snarled like a toothless tiger. How dare a man like you… Though fallen, he was still a proud aristocrat, and he did not seem inclined to hide the thoughts beneath his words in Eugene’s presence.
The Chase family was not aristocratic, but as an established family that had protected this city for centuries, they had practiced noblesse oblige.
Eugene’s adoptive parents were teachers, and his grandfather had been a politician in the House of Commons. He had everything one could ask for, including a fortune that in no way fell short of his honor, and could hold his head level with the aristocrats. But after even his father died, Eugene saw how the upper classes subtly changed their attitude toward him because he was a person of color.
“My apologies. I had no intention of offending you.”
Of course, he could pretend to be magnanimous right in front of the old man without so much as blinking. Meeting the old man’s fierce glare head-on, he continued.
“I hear the central government is purchasing land. A theater site in the red-light district would be subject to Senate regulation, so it wouldn’t be suitable.”
“So what do you intend to do now?”
“It isn’t a matter of what I intend to do. As you said, I’m trying to protect what my father built. I’m going to build a dormitory there.”
“And that’s not all. You’re turning all of Oxpin upside down!”
“I gave you a sufficient explanation about that, but the Anglican Church chose to play dirty. Rumors without evidence are always full of hot air. Overhauling everything that’s outdated may create some noise along the way, but it isn’t a problem.”
Having provided a reasonable basis for every question, the old man fell silent as though his mouth had been stuffed with honey. Eugene had never conducted his affairs based on anyone else’s approval, but he had no intention of making an enemy of the Elders’ Council itself.
A shield or two might prove useful in case of trouble. The looks directed at him were laced with envy as well as inferiority. Eugene knew what they wanted.
“Oxpin is my home. I don’t want to ruin it, either. If you’ll trust me, I’ll take responsibility for the Elders’ Council you represent.”
“Are you trying to take the Elders’ Council into your hands and make it dance to your tune now?”
“I wouldn’t dare intrude where such esteemed gentlemen gather.”
“I hear your daughter is getting married. You’ll need money and resources.”
“I’ll provide them. In return, I need the support of men like you, Baron. Help me.”
Eugene saw the baron’s brow draw together. Presented with an offer to exchange wealth for the loan of his honor, the baron slowly nodded.
To people who practiced deception as easily as they ate, it must have been an irresistible proposal. After a moment, the old man rose and said,
“I’ll be watching you.”
“It’s an honor.”
Though Eugene was not using the words in their literal sense, he cheerfully played along. The side of the baron’s jaw bulged as though he were grinding his teeth.
“Come see it when we put on our first performance. My productions will become the standard for all of Europe.”
“All you have is your mouth.”
The baron continued sneering until the very end as he passed through the door the servant had left open. The world was changing by the day, yet the foolish aristocrats were the only ones who didn’t realize they were going under. Eugene let out a scornful laugh.
“Mr. Han, I’ll send in the next applicant.”
“I don’t understand. If all you’re going to do is follow orders, then why dance at all?”
“…Excuse me?”
“Is there no wine? Bring me more wine.”
Goddamn useless aristocrats. As Eugene cursed with a scowl, the teachers seated beside him busied themselves watching his mood.
Ballet had long been the exclusive property of the upper classes, so perhaps it was only to be expected. Still, he was growing sick of seeing the same dull, indistinguishable dancing from every applicant he auditioned. Once he finally had a glass of red wine in hand, Eugene seemed especially sour that day.
Then the girl entered. Instinctively, Eugene’s eyes swept quickly from her head to her toes. At first, perhaps because the alcohol had begun to take effect, he felt an unbearable disgust.
Black hair and black eyes, a face like his own. He had seen it a few times as a child. They were the Roma he had passed in the slums while walking through the city with his father. Seeing them dressed like beggars, kneeling before him and begging for alms, had sent him home to suffer nightmares that lasted for days.
It had felt like his own fate. Even to a child, the discrimination and class barriers that could never be crossed had been starkly evident. He had realized from the distant reaches of childhood that he would become a permanent outsider in this place.
“My name is Gina Grinnell.”
He frowned at her shabby, untidy appearance, at an outfit that lacked even the basics. Yet her roughly brushed hair, braided long and hanging down her back, and her dark, lively eyes held his gaze fast. Before long, the girl began to dance to the accompanist’s music.