9th Grade Civil Servant In Another World Chapter 64 - Another World Con Artist (1)

At the end of 1901, the night streets of Rubellia’s ancient capital ‘Le Chapen’ glittered brilliantly.

Warm light flowing from streetlamps and buildings sparkled like stars, while drunken people burst into cheerful laughter and threw their arms around friends’ shoulders.

The world was still peaceful and the nation prosperous. There was no reason not to be happy.

As flakes of snow fell adding to the nighttime atmosphere, a luxury hotel in the district near the royal palace.

In the elegantly decorated grand banquet hall, people sat in small groups of three to five around dozens of small round tables, chatting in hushed tones.

The lightly excited atmosphere made hearts flutter. Staff moved between tables pouring drinks or filling plates with light refreshments like cheese and crackers.

When people had moderately filled their stomachs, the banquet hall’s lights dimmed to create a subdued atmosphere. A spotlight illuminated the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting! We will now begin the ’52nd Panelon Arts Foundation Auction’! I am Didier Bell, the first-class auctioneer handling today’s auction.”

As the neatly dressed man offered his greeting, cheers and applause filled the banquet hall.

“The auction will proceed with competitive bidding, with bids continuing until a winning bidder is determined. Now, let me introduce today’s first auction item.”

When the auctioneer removed the black cloth, a large painting was revealed.

“This is ‘The Coronation’ by the artist Lucy François, who sadly passed away last year while battling illness. The artist’s childhood memory of witnessing Her Majesty the Queen’s coronation has been elevated into a single painting through warm and elegant colors.

This is an early work by Lucy François, who was beloved by the people, and it has great value as it vividly captures Her Majesty’s appearance from 60 years ago.

‘The Coronation’ hung in Lucy François’s estate hall for over 40 years before being transferred to our foundation after her death.

With the artist having passed away, who will become the first owner of this work? The starting price is 1 million rickels, with bid increments of 100,000 rickels. Now, let the auction begin.”

No sooner had the auctioneer finished speaking than placards shot up from various locations.

“1 million, 1.1 million, 1.2 million… 1.7 million. I’ll increase the bid increment to 150,000 rickels. 1.85 million. 2 million.”

The experienced auctioneer orchestrated the people’s competition and psychological warfare.

“I’ll increase the bid increment to 200,000 rickels, ah, the gentleman over there?”

“4 million.”

A leisurely voice echoed through the hall. All eyes turned in that direction at the dramatically jumped price.

The person holding the placard was a petite but handsome young man. A dangerous atmosphere emanated from his sharp gaze and confident demeanor.

“Excellent. Then I’ll call for 4.2 million. 4.2, 4.4—”

“5 million.”

When a competitor appeared to continue the contest, the young man raised his placard once more and crushed the competition.

Slight puzzlement appeared on people’s faces.

Lucy François was a fairly famous and recognized artist, but she couldn’t exactly be called a master. Moreover, this was an early work from before her style was even established—5 million rickels?

Did this young man have some connection to François? Or was it simply the money games of the nouveau riche?

In the high-end auction house where people who knew each other usually gathered, the unfamiliar young face created fresh ripples.

“Are there no further bids? Yes, then 5 million rickels, 5 million rickels, 5 million rickels.”

Bang!

The auctioneer brought down the gavel.

Staff came out to carefully move the painting, and a new auction item was brought to the stage.

“A record by Luc Carol, known as the nation’s singer, limited production with only 10,000 copies made…”

“1.3 million.”

“This is an antique book donated by Seron Monastery. A natural history research book containing knowledge from 250 years ago…”

“2 million.”

“For our final auction item, we introduce something rather special.

Do you perhaps know of ‘Tears of the Moon’? That diamond that captivated people with its brilliant and enchanting light?

You’ll remember the tragedy when a renowned jewel craftsman attempted to craft it using even magic, but it shattered into pieces when excessive magical stones were introduced.

We acquired fragments of ‘Tears of the Moon’ and succeeded in re-crafting it. Though countless pieces were lost, its beauty has only deepened. The necklace ‘Tears of the Moon’. Starting price is 5 million rickels, with bids of 500,000 each.”

By this point, everyone’s gaze was focused in one direction.

The young man casually raised his placard and spoke in a relaxed tone.

“12 million.”

After the auction ended, a glamorous party was held.

Rich foods kept coming out, and a band took the stage to play lively tunes. The distinguished guests busied themselves moving around with wine glasses, chatting or dancing.

Of course, the person receiving the most attention was predetermined.

The petite young man who now had one hand in his pocket, sipping lemon soda by himself.

While everyone watched him carefully, one guest approached and struck up a conversation.

“This seems to be your first time at a Panelon auction?”

The young man nodded with a slightly smiling face.

“Yes. I only recently arrived in Rubellia.”

With that as a starting point, people of all kinds gathered around him.

“I’m called Lucas Redan. No, I’m not from the provinces—I’m from Schufaben. Haha, please call me whatever’s comfortable. In Rubellia pronunciation, it would be ‘Luca’, wouldn’t it?”

With somewhat awkward pronunciation but nearly perfect vocabulary and elegant gestures, he answered people’s questions one by one.

“What great insight could I possibly have to buy those artworks? Just a bit of interest, that’s all. Yes, Rubellia’s art is magnificent. I’d toured all the art museums in Le Chapen and was feeling a bit empty when I heard about the auction. I thought I might discover rare works not found in museums—”

The man who introduced himself as ‘Luca from Schufaben’ was pleasant, eloquent, and possessed rich experience and extensive knowledge.

Sparkling eyes and youthful vigor, an attitude that revealed the leisure characteristic of a wealthy young master.

Before long, a group formed around him, and people enjoyed their conversations.

“Come to think of it, I think I’ve heard the surname Redan before!”

A young lady, red-faced from drinking, made a fuss.

“Wasn’t it quite a prestigious family in Schufaben?”

“Ah…”

‘Luca’ smiled awkwardly.

“I didn’t expect anyone would remember. I’m embarrassed to say, but I’m from the royal family.”

Instantly, whispers spread among the gathered people.

“Oh my, why didn’t you mention it?”

“Haha! Coming all the way to a foreign country and talking about bloodlines would only make me look foolish, wouldn’t it? It’s a branch family that split off long ago anyway, and I’m the only one left, so it’s a meaningless story.”

“You should take pride in your roots. Though times have changed greatly, not all royalty committed sins deserving divine punishment.

Just look at our Rubellia—while the Prime Minister is the head of government, our kind Queen serves as a solid pillar of support for the people.

Seeing your demeanor, Mr. Redan, I immediately recognized you came from an excellent family. There’s no need to disparage your family out of false modesty.”

A middle-aged man who appeared to be of noble descent stroked his mustache and spoke graciously. The young man, Luca, smiled and nodded lightly.

“Thank you for the advice. I love my family too, but I simply wanted to succeed through my own abilities rather than family prestige, so please understand.”

“Well, you hardly need to apologize…”

“By the way, did you come to Rubellia just for sightseeing?”

“Ah, that’s not it. I’m thinking of starting a business, but Schufaben has a somewhat oppressive atmosphere toward those of royal blood. I was wondering about establishing a company here.”

The longer the conversation continued, the more people showed favorable looks toward this modest, confident, and pure royal descendant.

***

I walked the night streets pretending to be moderately drunk and humming cheerfully.

When I was confident no one was following me, I slipped into an alley and arrived at a shabby inn.

“You’re back?”

Daniel and Erika, who had stayed up late, greeted me.

“Did things go well?”

“Mm, well, roughly?”

I answered vaguely while taking off the cumbersome tailcoat.

“I spent all the money, but I don’t know yet if it’ll actually be effective. Well, they definitely fell for the royal thing.”

“Idiots.”

Erika sneered cynically.

We’d been staying here in Le Chapen for nearly three months now.

This place was different from Schufaben.

Very, very different.

If Schufaben people were strong and cautious, Rubellia people were spontaneous and passionate.

Perhaps because the climate was mild with plenty of sunshine, it overflowed with people who had optimistic life philosophies.

The capital’s atmosphere was also quite distinctive.

Schufaben’s capital Lüdelheim was a collection of modernist architecture.

Though there were no skyscrapers, achromatic concrete buildings filled the city in neat squares. It was characterized by monotonous straight roads and train stations maintaining precise intervals.

In contrast, Le Chapen had a more classical and romantic charm.

In a word, elegance.

Proper district planning hadn’t been done, so old houses and winding roads were scattered about chaotically.

Hotels and mansions often featured designs emphasizing flowing curves, and every house planted flowers in their windows.

If I’d come as a tourist, it was a beautiful enough city that I would have taken countless photos in admiration.

Anyway, perhaps because these two countries were so different, a rivalry had continued between them since before the empire was established.

They barked at each other about killing and sparing, yet met most frequently and influenced each other the most.

National sentiment hit rock bottom after the war 200 years ago, but was gradually softening with time.

However, it had been slowly worsening again recently—because of that root of all evil, Supreme Leader Kruger.

Fanatics had been mass-produced who demanded even foreign nationals praise the Supreme Leader, so it was inevitable.

For me, it was a boon.

The goodwill I’d earned tonight was also thanks to sympathy votes for the royal figures killed by Kruger.

Though the continent had become chaotic due to revolution, in Rubellia where regime change had occurred moderately, respect for the royal family still remained.

Thirty-some years ago.

Rubellia’s Queen Marianne I quickly compromised with the revolutionary forces. The royal family that gave up power could avoid the madness by remaining only as a symbol of the nation.

So even though the class system was abolished in Rubellia, titles and honors didn’t disappear, and the glamorous court culture and customs of inquiring about others’ family backgrounds survived.

‘You stupid pig bastards! Not knowing the Supreme Leader’s grace or the greatness of revolution, such vulgar creatures!’

Ah, seeing the Lucas inside me come back to life and squawk, my mental state must have become somewhat livable again.

Anyway, we decided to exploit Rubellia’s culture.

We stayed up all night discussing how to find a way to kill Kruger.

What should we do?

Various ideas came up, but the conclusion was one.

‘We need to build strength.’

Unlike our rapidly risen fame, our actual power was too weak.

No, to be blunt, we had nothing in our hands.

We’d blown up the Ossel headquarters, but the truth about that was quietly buried.

Though Bletter continued playing outlaw under the inverted name of the White Raven Order, that was limited to killing and kidnapping people.

We needed to broaden our scope.

Money, connections.

And a bigger, utterly undeniable… presence than anyone else.

That’s what was needed at this point.

Not the presence of the criminal group White Raven Order, but presence as individuals who could act freely.

As our hollow fame spread, many attacks would come. In fact, they’d already begun.

So, let’s temporarily remove the White Raven Order mask. Now was the time to quietly hide and build strength.

Oscar, Georg, and Richard returned to Schufaben.

With the threat of Colonel Eric Klein gone, they would operate under Johann’s powerful protection.

While the three pretended nothing had happened and gathered information, Erika, Daniel, and I officially crossed the border.

We weren’t seeking asylum.

I hid the fake identification Philip had made in my bag.

We would evade Kruger’s eyes in a foreign country while revealing ourselves at the appropriate time.

Renting a room at an inn in Le Chapen, I learned Rubellia language from Daniel and Erika.

It would have been impossible if I were Korean. However, Schufaben and Rubellia had similar language systems, and many citizens could speak each other’s languages.

Since the original Lucas also knew it haltingly, studying until my nose bled allowed me to achieve some proficiency.

Meanwhile, to avoid suspicion, I exchanged checks several times and went around five or six banks for currency exchange.

Rubellia’s currency, the rickel, was cheaper than Schufaben’s pelt. The exchange rate was about 1 pelt to 1.1 rickels.

It wasn’t a big difference, but converting all my money turned 20 million pelts into 22 million rickels.

I’d thrown most of that into today’s auction.

I would infiltrate high society.

And I would seduce the nobles to raise my reputation.

Now my profession was con artist.