Chapter 57: Social Skills and Stones
Strohn and his companions watched George and his companion leave until their figures disappeared at the staircase. A noble young man asked, “Did they swim up?”
“Not likely,” Strohn, with his red hair resting on his chin, said, “From my years of experience, they must have walked on water to get here.”
“What?”
“You’re not bragging again, are you?”
“Hmph.” Strohn glanced at them with disdain and said, “Didn’t you see their feet were wet? I heard that in the ancient East, there are martial monks who can walk on water. In the deep water city across from us, there are also people who can ride the waves.”
The group nodded, half believing it.
“Really, their feet are wet.”
“But why would Knight Bartow have such extraordinary abilities?”
Strohn replied, “It must be either an extraordinary item or magic. Also, who told you he has to be Knight Bartow?”
They suddenly realized, “Oh.”
Strohn became amused and said, “You are still too young. You should go out and see more of this vibrant world like I do.”
“Impressive.”
“Strohn really lives up to his reputation.”
In a round of mutual bragging, someone interjected, “Why don’t we ask someone else?”
Strohn paused for a moment; he had been too busy bragging to think of this simple and effective method. But he quickly composed himself and said,
“Isn’t this me teaching you ‘Adventurer Insight’? That’s an advanced skill; experience, intuition, and logical analysis are all essential.”
“Strohn’s amazing,” Strohn’s friend laughed.
After the bragging, these young people politely asked a nearby noblewoman, who was holding a glass of orange juice. She was nearing middle age, with deep laugh lines around her eyes, which stood out on her powdered face.
She slowly took a sip of orange juice, walked to the railing, and pointed at the boatman struggling to scoop water, saying, “He jumped up with a girl.”
“Jumped up?”
Strohn repeated incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Really? That’s a hundred meters away.”
“If you don’t believe me, you can ask someone else,” she said, shaking her hand.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Honestly, these young people nowadays.” The noblewoman shook her head, “So inexperienced.”
Saying that, she placed her glass of juice on the maid’s wooden tray and walked away.
“Strohn~~” Strohn’s friend dragged out the last syllable, patting him on the shoulder.
“Bragging king,” another person said.
“Been a year, and your bragging skill has improved quite a bit.”
“Advanced Adventurer Insight,” someone remarked in a sarcastic tone.
Strohn’s thick neck turned red as he said, “Why do you accuse me of bragging? In matters of adventurers, is that bragging? That’s called analysis, insight, and reasoning!”
“Oh, oh, oh, the advanced adventurer after a year and a half.”
Strohn’s neck bulged as he argued the definition of bragging with his friends.
The noblewoman had just set her empty glass on the maid’s tray.
Beside her, a young noblewoman enviously said:
“Darling, the oranges grown by Lady Blanché must make the juice taste excellent. I drank a glass last time and wanted more, but the yield is too low. I really envy your good relationship with Lady Blanché.”
“In an hour, you won’t be envious anymore.” The noblewoman smiled, her deep laugh lines stretching.
Before the young noblewoman could ask further, the noblewoman turned to the maid and said, “Did your mistress agree to my request for more juice?”
The black-haired maid was still confused as to why the noblewoman was using honorifics and hesitantly replied, “She invited you to her garden.”
“Perfect, I don’t really like noisy banquets.” The noblewoman glanced at Strohn, who was arguing with his friends, “It’s bothersome. Now, lead the way.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The maid took the noblewoman toward the garden on the boat, passing by the noisy young nobles.
The noblewoman was in a good mood, took a gold coin from her pocket, and skillfully flipped it in her fingers, spinning it on her thumb. When she flicked her thumb, the spinning coin flew into the air and landed back in her palm.
Strohn just happened to see this scene and felt it looked somewhat familiar. However, he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind and continued proving to his friends that he was not the bragging king.
…
…
The brilliant and warm sunlight shone down from the clear sky, making the white deck somewhat dazzling.
Gima and George followed the footsteps of a servant dressed in black. They reached the shaded area at the stern of the ship, where a long table was already set, and servants were busy serving dishes.
The male servant brought them to a round table at the boarding area, bowed, and gestured, “Please.”
Following the servant’s gesture, the two approached a guestbook on the round table. Guests attending the banquet were expected to write down their esteemed names in person as a sign of respect for their benefactor, rather than having a servant do it.
George bent over, picked up a pen, and wrote his true name: “George Hammer.”
Gima looked at him in surprise and then wrote below George’s name, “Gima Aotian.”
Now it was George’s turn to look at Gima oddly.
“Ahem, guests please take this seriously.” The professional smile on the servant’s face slightly distorted.
“What? My original surname is exactly that.”
Gima said, glancing sideways at George.
George could tell this was a lie. But he didn’t realize that it was a lie and also the truth.
“That is clearly the surname of the great demon king Gima,” the servant couldn’t help but say, “Sir, you don’t need to write down the true name of the brave George.”
“That’s right,” George said.
“What’s wrong? Do you know our names better than we do?”
Gima asked with her hands on her hips.
The servant thought the two guests were expressing their dissatisfaction with the banquet and accompanied their comments with a smile:
“Then, may I show you to your seats?”
The seating was divided into an upper table and a lower table. The upper table, located in the living room of the ship, allowed guests to sit face to face with the benefactor. All were high-ranking individuals.
The lower table was situated under the awning outside. The farther from the door leading to fame and fortune, the lower the status it represented.
Naturally, the food and service were not of the same standard.
Although this banquet was not serious and didn’t have many rules, some protocols still needed to be followed.
Gima and George’s seats were the farthest from the door. At the edge of the awning, Gima sat at her seat, sunlight falling on her shoulder.
Gima didn’t complain much, resting her hands on the table, waiting to eat. This banquet had little to do with her; George was there to expand his “network” to find someone named New Delhi.
Bored, she watched the banquet in front of her.
Servants came and went, those nobles, rich merchants, and warriors mingled in circles according to status and friendship, all wearing eager smiles, expressing their concern with warm inquiries and striving to show their attention through words.
Boredom—she thought the large social gatherings were nothing fun. Aside from boredom, it was just boredom.
Gima supported her chin with her hands and started to fantasize about how she would take revenge after regaining her powers.
Starting from Shalin City, trapping the benefactor’s entire family on a ship, making him guess how he offended her. If he guessed right, she would set fire to the ship, burning his daughter’s relatives first. Let everyone know that her money was not easy to take.
This benefactor, who had brought prosperity to Shalin City, must have started off very strong and unyielding. She would kick him in the balls first, then…
As Gima was lost in her fantasies about how to make the benefactor submit, George suddenly patted her shoulder.
“Ah?” Gima jumped in surprise, turned her head, and found George still sitting next to her, asking, “Why haven’t you gone to mingle with the righteous people of Shalin City and discuss the weather?”
“Gima, let’s change seats.”
Gima realized that the exposed part of her wrist from her long sleeves had already been sprayed with fine sweat.
“Oh.”
After the two switched seats, Gima felt much cooler, the heat dissipating from her left arm felt pleasant.
George sat upright, his eyes fixed on the bustling crowd in front of him. Gima sensed he was bored too and started a conversation, quietly asking:
“Sir, why did you use your real name just now?”
“Written words are an extension of speech.”
So, it can only be the truth?
George continued, “You reacted quickly just now, thank you.”
It referred to me misleading the servant into thinking we were writing random names… Actually, I thought you were just trying to show off to provoke me, and I couldn’t fall behind, so I wrote my real name but not my original surname.
Gima nodded as she learned from George, generously saying, “Hmm, no need to thank me.”
“I’d like to ask you something.”
“What? Did I hear you wrong?”
“You must have memories of succubi mingling in the human world in your inherited memories,” George lowered his voice and asked, “In this situation, how can I discreetly inquire about ‘New Delhi’ without attracting other people’s attention?”
Gima was taken aback, instinctively asking, “You haven’t been to a banquet before, have you?”
“I have, in the Hall.”
Attending a banquet thrown by a group of otherworldly “tri-body people,” if he attended too many, he might find his social skills reduced to nearly that of a stone.
“I’m still a child and haven’t inherited any social memories yet,” Gima said truthfully.
George hesitated and asked, “Should I ask one by one if anyone knows New Delhi?”
“That way, even a fool would think you have issues,” Gima said softly.
George became restless, feeling tense. He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead and kept muttering softly to himself, “Then… then…”
It seems George’s social skills are really about as good as a stone. They’re even lower than mine, who has mild social anxiety.
Gima secretly mocked in her heart and asked, “What was your original plan?”
“The book says that a person’s clothing represents their social status, and high-status people will have someone buttering them up. The plan was that someone would strike up a conversation with me, and then I could naturally inquire about the representatives of the magician group, integrate into the circle, and then…”
At this point, George sighed, “But no one has approached me.”
Gima’s gaze fell upon George’s luxurious embroidered golden silk robe. It was very expensive, adorned with beautiful gems that sparkled in the sunlight, clearly not suitable for someone like George, who lived a simple life.
So, it was all to gather information about New Delhi and to release himself from the contract, he wasted his hard-earned money. Although his social skills were about the same as a stone, he truly tried his best.
Gima felt somewhat moved; in a moment of impulsiveness, she said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
