[Volume 1] Nebula: Villainess of Never-ending Beyond

19. Closer to Reality (3)

On the fourth day, a bard held his harp over the platform on the central trading sector of the empire and sang with a pale face and designed clothing marked with sweat. He was a special guest hired by the empire to envelop the glory of the king to the citizens.

"In a realm where justice reigns, my king stands strong, alleviating pains. Every citizen, a precious soul, he shields with love, making them whole. My king, our protector, our guide, for the glory of the empire, you preside. With unwavering resolve, you strive to spread your rulings, and justice to thrive."

I've never heard such perfect nonsense in my entire life until now. Through shifts of sudden goosebumps, his baritone became a squeal of a tenor. I, who enfolded myself with a hooded veil, departed from the commotion with a clack as I stared at the visible palace over the nearby plateau. "Tsk!"

The Wallenstein's manor neighbors the Dark Lair Forest. A river where I was once before fashioned transport conveniently. To infiltrate the empire, I needn't be shy. A rice-filled cargo would be my best disguise for entry. Some citizens knew Quimora, but our hair difference and her death gave me more freedom for my plans.

Due to the library being accessible only to nobles, I only had the tavern to gather information. However, unlike any other taverns I encountered before, nobles in their teens made up most of its population. Not to rant, but this made blending into the crowd easier.

"Are your family also invited to the grand bowl that will happen next Sunday?"

"No doubt! My father shall set his triumphs amongst his other fellows along the ranks."

"I have a doubt though. If the place only invites nobles, who will cook then?"

"The servants!"

"Are there any servants that are nobles?"

"Maybe the wives then."

"My mother doesn't know how to cook."

"So as mine."

Both of the teenagers sighed before they drank their chugs of drink, and uttered, "Whatever. It's not our problem."

These renaissance kids have never encountered Gen Zs yet. In this case, the food may be pre-cooked before the ceremony starts. However, I can't infiltrate the palace easily to poison the food. From the frequency of guards within the castle, and through this frail body, this is mission impossible.

While I fidgetted my fingers over the table I was in, a wench in a waitress suit appeared before me. She gave the menu from her arms and asked, "Good day, esteemed guest! I'm Cyrill, the waitress at the tavern. May I inquire about your preferred selection from our delectable menu?"

"Do you have any ice cream?"

"I'm sorry, madam. I've never heard of such a delicacy before."

"Your godly sweet and delicious unknown was a famous dessert from our hometown. The breeze of scraped ice mixed with cream freezes every hotheaded being existing. Wherever you put it, or whatever fruit, shrimp, or exotic chemical you put over it, the freshness will completely pull your soul up to nirvana. Have you not heard of this enchanting pud before?"

"I completely apologize. Although I may not have heard of it, I would love to taste it."

"A room."

"I'm sorry, what?"

I removed my hood and remarked, "A completely private one. Let me stay in a room in this tavern for two weeks. As long as you have the ingredients, I suppose I'd be willing to provide you a recipe to a delicacy where your business will go 'Boom!'" I exclaimed, clapping my hands and whispering 'Woo.'