Chapter 104: Chapter 104 The Root Of The Problem Wasn't Vivian

Delier wanted to personally exact revenge on the thugs who had nearly ruined his handsome face, but Lady Vivian didn't give his request much thought. In her eyes, this was just how Delier was unable to differentiate between important and trivial matters, and never learning the kind of tolerance that only upper class people possessed. So, without hesitation, she agreed to his request.

To her, this was truly a minor issue.

"This is my card. Take it to the district police station and look for Chief Pronto. State your request, and he will help you settle the score," Lady Vivian said as she pulled a gilded card from her small handbag. Casually, she grabbed the pen from Delier's chest pocket, where it served as decoration, and wrote her name and the date on the card.

In upper society, men liked to use calling cards, which they designed in various ways to reflect their personality. Some cards were grand and ostentatious, while others were subtle and restrained. There was even a book once published, titled Personality Through Cards, which sold well for two years.

Women, on the other hand, preferred using calling cards, with one letter's difference in the term between men and women, yet a vast distinction in meaning.

Calling cards for men had their own set of rules—size, thickness, even the colors and embellishments all followed specific guidelines. But calling cards for women were much more flexible, aside from a few essential considerations. For example, Lady Vivian's card was about eight centimeters wide and twelve centimeters long, made from soft yet resilient paper.

The edges were gilded with gold leaf, forming a vine pattern that represented her noble lineage. According to the rhetoric of the New Faction, only a decayed aristocrat—at least of earl rank—had the right to emboss their cards with gold.

At the top of the gilded vine was a blooming flower, the crest of Lady Vivian's family. Inside the vine were images of a green field and a blue sky that took up most of the space.

She signed her name and wrote the date, which was key. Before the New Faction overthrew the decaying feudal regime, aristocratic calling cards had a fearsome authority and influence.

Once, a farmer who had never attended a single day of school managed to obtain the calling card of a high-ranking imperial figure and used it to scam his way through a remote area, eventually making off with tens of thousands of gold coins.

Since then, aristocrats began signing and dating their calling cards.

After the New Faction toppled the old feudal system and established a new order, dating these cards lost much of its significance. Official matters were now handled through more formal documents, and aristocratic calling cards had lost their former power. Nonetheless, many aristocrats still signed and dated their cards out of nostalgia, as a symbol of maintaining their noble status.

A pitiful symbol.

Delier took the card and left. Not long after, "Jon" appeared before Lady Vivian's eyes. She smiled and walked toward him. "Have you been waiting long?" she asked, her hand gently smoothing a small crease on his collar. Then she affectionately linked her arm with his and walked with him into the art gallery. "Sorry for calling you here so suddenly.

I just didn't know what else to do…"

The two gradually disappeared into the depths of the gallery, and when the heavy bronze doors closed shut behind them, not a sound could be heard. Sёarch* The nôvel_Fire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Meanwhile, Delier, holding the calling card, found Pronto. Pronto took the card and carefully examined it several times before reluctantly confirming it was indeed Lady Vivian's card. He had his methods of verifying such things, and as the district police chief, it was a skill he had to have.

After placing the card in his drawer, Pronto leaned back, his hands resting on the desk, and looked up at Delier. "So… what is it you want from me?"

Delier touched his cheek, feeling a sting that made his eye twitch slightly. He still hadn't forgotten how those three thugs had suddenly jumped him, beating him up and robbing him of the "hush money" he had received from Julian. The physical pain and financial loss filled him with hatred, and to Pronto's surprise, he actually smiled. "I want to see those three guys suffer, do you understand?"

"Which three?" Pronto asked impatiently. He was well aware that Lady Vivian was a powerful figure, far more influential than he was. But that didn't mean every person holding her card could come in and push him around—he was, after all, the district police chief! But just as he furrowed his brow, a cold sweat ran down the side of his face.

Everything had happened so quickly, as if that drop of sweat had been waiting for this very moment. experience NovelFire,mp|y|r

Delier's next words confirmed Pronto's fears.

"The one with three moles on his face, and his two accomplices!"

Damn it!

That was Pronto's first reaction. To avoid trouble with Gador, he had subtly suggested that Gador find three random people to take the blame. He planned to turn a blind eye, make a gesture, and everything would be brushed under the rug. And besides, Lady Vivian's description of the suspects had been so vague and abstract, resembling modern art more than an actual portrait.

Since she wasn't likely to personally follow up on the matter, Pronto had figured that as long as he fudged the details, it would all blow over.

He hadn't been wrong—Lady Vivian had nearly forgotten about the issue by the next day. It was such a minor affair that she didn't feel the need to keep it in mind. If she hadn't seen the bruises on Delier's face, she might not have even remembered it at all.

But the root of the problem wasn't Lady Vivian—it was Delier.

Pronto's gaze grew sharp as he glared at Delier. Usually, Delier was the type to raise his chin arrogantly, mutter something about "vulgar commoners," and leave with a haughty air, refusing to stoop to Pronto's level. But now, under the intense stare of the police chief, Delier shifted uncomfortably and averted his gaze. "You mean Corder…" Pronto began.

Delier nodded, and Pronto continued, "I'm afraid you're too late. They've already been transferred to Ternell City's district prison. Without the warden's permission, not even I can see them."