----

Bootlicking: behaving in an excessively obedient or servile way as a means of gaining favor.

----

“Hello!” Novarra chirped.

She had practiced in her mirror, to get into the role of a new neighbor.

The only thing her father had ever praised her on was her two-facedness.

Of course, it hadn’t been a compliment, but she took it as one.

Varra had knocked on the door of the nice-enough looking house beside her, and was faced with a gruff-looking merchant.

“We’ve just moved in next door, and we’d like to get to know our neighbors!” shegave a cheerful smile. It was so wide that it stretched her muscles - not that she had any. Ordered Belluse to purchase some fruits from the market that very morning, the expensive apples had been bought for this very task.

Novarra thrust a basket of apples in the merchant’s hands, who looked bewildered at the sudden present.

Bootlicking. Establishing relations.

“Feel free to come by for dinner,” she added.

The merchant looked confused. “Who’re you? One of those tresne?"

“Oh, yes, I haven’t introduced myself! How rude of me.”

Novarra curtseyed.

Carefree noble. Carefree noble. Carefree noble.

She was a carefree former noble now.

“I’m Ingrid Signia, of the Signia Bar-” Varra pretended to mess up.

Carefree noble who just lost her family. Carefree noble who still thinks she’s a noble.

“Er, you can just call me Ingrid. We’re neighbors now!” She pointed to the shiny mansion opposite the house. Novarra introduced Belluse. “This is my... friend, Lucia.”

The merchant wouldn’t be dumb. It was evident due to the size of his house.

He would know that she was a noble, likely from the crumbling Resilia.

And the girl beside her was likely a servant based on her posture, most likely a maid.

His expression shifted.

“I see...” He pushed his hand forward. “I’m Sigmund. Sigmund Laver. It’s nice to meet you.” He emphasized his last name, which meant he was probably important.

Novarra cringed internally. So direct... You sound like a rich person on a blind date. I would know...I've been on those blind dates.

After exchanging a small conversation, Varra headed over to the next target.

She had planned to collect as much data about the hierarchy of Rook as possible, but no one was willing to fork over gossip to foreigners. First, she would establish her presence and integrate herself in the community. Backers would be necessary.

She knocked on the next door and did the same thing.

It was a middle-aged woman this time.

“Oh, hello.” The lady smiled. She seemed pretty friendly, but she had picked up on the fact that Novarra was a noble. “I’m Alessia Rook.”

The mayor? Jackpot.

Novarra did a double take, batting her eyes innocently. “Are you the mayor of Rook?” she asked, mouth forming an ‘O.’

“Ha, at least that’s what they call me.” Alessia smiled casually, accepting the basket of apples. “Thank you for your consideration. It’s much appreciated, Lady Ingrid.”

You better. I wasted a lot on these fruits.

Novarra smiled. “It’s the least I could do.” Her smile was as genuine as she could force it to be. “It was nice to meet you.”

After a conversation, she struck gold.

“Oh, and also,” Alessia added, “I’d like for you to join us at a community gathering this week. Nothing too formal, of course. Just a meet-up between friends.”

Varra beamed. “I’d love to!”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Novarra and Belluse both returned home to the mansion.

Novarra propped a piece of parchment up on the wall like she was giving a presentation.

“Our official social debut-” she pointed at the center of the paper “-will be two days from now. But in order for us to have connections within the community, I’d like for you to get chummy with those at the local market. Make friends. Spread gossip. Sellers have the biggest mouths.”

Belluse nodded, understandingly.

“I might have to bootlick the merchant a bit, but while you’re at it, could you figure out more about Alessia Rook’s influence and the Lavers? I can’t go out myself, because we’ll have to masquerade as a noble-and-servant masquerading as an ordinary pair. I’ll have to seem incapable of keeping up our facade, but let it slip that I’m good at investments. You know, the mentally-capable type of noble.”

Novarra had always been good at bullshitting. It had been one of her hidden talents.

It had come in handy in high school art class, where she had splashed paint on a canvas and managed to convince the art teacher it was a representation of modern society.

The good old days.

Varra pointed at the three circles she drew.

‘Rella’ was scrawled in the top circle, ‘Rook’ in the second, and ‘Laver?’ in the third.

“Obviously the highest power in Rook would be the Rellas and those related to them.” Novarra pointed at the top circle. “We have to discreetly avoid them at all cost. Alessia might have ways to contact them, but a small-town mayor shouldn’t give us too much trouble if we tell her to keep it a secret.”

“But having a noble in town would be something beneficial to draw people to Rook.” Belluse frowned. “Why would she keep it a secret, Your Majesty?”

“I’ll push the ‘from the shadows’ agenda,” Varra answered, smiling, “she’s not dumb. She’ll threaten to reveal my existence if I don’t help her flourish Rook, and obviously, she’ll take the credit while I do some grunt work.” She bit into a leftover apple. “With a little push in the right direction, our plans might just work out.”

Novarra owned two moral lines she pushed upon herself. The left was murder, and the right was manipulation. Once you crossed the murder line, she would be stuck in a physically morally grey area. She preferred not to stay there, so the left line was a touchy subject. Oftentimes, she pretended not to cross it.

There was no good or bad, only different shades of morally grey to different people.

Once you crossed the ‘manipulation’ line, Novarra would be stuck in a ‘mentally’ morally grey area, which was, for her, easier to stay in.

It wasn’t that she was above crossing those lines. In fact, she had crossed the right line several times in both lives. But she had pushed upon herself criteria of when she could and could not cross them.

Would she be in danger or would her endgame be obstructed if she did not cross those lines? If not, then she wouldn’t.

Self-control was necessary when crossing lines. If possible, Novarra wanted to maintain her morality and sense of ‘human self’. She would do what she had to do, but she wouldn’t look down on others that did the same. If they had different moral lines? Or if they had none?

Then she would avoid them if possible.

But to reach her endgame of living a peaceful life, she knew she couldn’t stay in her usual zone.

In her first world, her endgame was also living peacefully. If possible, she didn’t want to die. After all, if she died, who would continue supporting her kpop groups and hobbies? She wanted to stay alive to read the ending of One Fragment.

Belluse understood. “But what image are we pushing to Rook, Your Majesty?”

“The noble who brought over riches while migrating is probably the most suited. I’ll sew up a nice-looking dress and show it off a little at the meeting. We’ll pretend like we’re rich so we get more trust. But you can twist it however you’d like. I trust your competence.”

Novarra placed the apple core on the table.

Only after she had planted her roots in Rook would she be able to stand tall and grow her branches as freely as possible.

----

The party was successful.

“Ah, you look wonderful today, Miss Rook...really, I can call you Alessia? It wouldn’t be too rude?”

Ha, it’s been a week...you’d think we’d talk as equals by now…

“Oh, Mr. Laver, it’s nice to see you again! How are you?”

Is that vomit on your shirt?

“Hello, my name’s Ingrid Signia, but Ingrid’s alright. How do you do?”

Are you drunk?

Lying was in her usual zone. For Novarra, occasionally changing faces or personalities, or lying, was perhaps close to the right line, but not past it,

Varra’s smile got faker and wider the more people she met. The corners of her lips hurt as she grinned and shook hands. Most of the around ten people who had attended were influential in Rook, most of them being either merchants or successful local business owners. Novarra’s status as a Resilian noble had undoubtedly given her a free pass in.

Ha, the privilege.

Some of them were even cunning enough to probe at Resilia’s current state, which Novarra evaded with ease.

After all, her aim today was just to get a candidacy as an administrator under the mayor.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I need to get paid.

Alessia Rook. The current mayor of Rook, a small town that was barely a speck on the map.

A subordinate under Orion Delacartes, the head of the Rella Duchy’s capital city, Delacia, according to Belluse. The Delacartes were an influential viscounty, a vassal of the Rellas. If Novarra wanted to remain unknown, they were second on the list of ‘people to avoid,’ as they had direct contact with the current Duke Rella.

Although Rook was under the Delacartes, Alessia would likely be just a pawn in the Delacartes’ chess game, and nowhere near the Rellas’ board.

But, known for her shrewd wit, it was inevitable she would aim for higher.

She was an almost perfect person to back. She was smart - but she wasn’t talented.

Being smart and talented were two different things, and Alessia’s ambition and political aptitude didn’t make up for her incompetence in administration. She had, according to Belluse, only recently came into office, so the administrator position was still empty.

An insignificant leader.

A backer.

The forty-seven-year old was quite friendly to Novarra, especially when Varra had revealed her own competence.

“Ingrid, how are you settling in?”

Alright, I guess. Nothing very significant.

“Great, actually. All the people are very friendly.” Novarra beamed.

The attendees had already left, and only Varra and Alessia remained.

The gathering had been hosted at Alessia’s house, and tea had been served. It was more of a tea party-slash-social coffee circle, but it was comfortable enough for the mayor to probe Novarra’s intentions.

“Mmm, the atmosphere is very open here, isn’t it?”

Ha, you finally get to the point.

“It really is.” Varra smiled, finishing off her tea.

Alessia brought up a vague topic. “But it’s only here. Sadly, this doesn’t apply everywhere.”

...What, do you want to bring an open atmosphere to Hell?

“Mmm.” Novarra set down her teacup. “But if you wish to spread something, it will spread. If rumors can be spread, then why not an open atmosphere?” she proposed, gently.

Of course, they weren’t talking about an open atmosphere.

Good thing I watch a lot of dramas.

“It will be difficult, will it not? Rumors travel through ears. Atmosphere travels through the entirety of an area.”

Public support is needed.

“Then you will need someone who can travel through the entirety of an area, and bring the atmosphere with them.”

“But how will you know that they are capable of bringing said atmosphere?”

Alessia’s face was smiling, but her eyes were tense.

“I, personally, feel that their capability is better proven through actions than words, Miss Alessia.” Novarra smiled. “After all, you never know what one person brings to the table until they reveal all their cards.”

Ah, this sounds so cliche.

“Mmm, is that so.”

Alessia remained unperturbed.

I just want to get this over with.

Novarra continued. “I came here for a peaceful life, Miss Alessia. But no one can be truly at peace until they have the ability to strike down those against them. I believe you know my meaning.”

“I guess I do.” Alessia leaned back, and smiled. “It’s getting late.”

Novarra gave a small nod. "Yes, it is. I should be going now."

A simple, yet mildly talented person.

That was the image Novarra was going for.

But she would keep Alessia’s ambition under control.

After all, she wanted a peaceful life. But she couldn’t have it if she didn’t have enough power to keep the flies away.