The Lord Demon King is Unfathomable!

"I heard you are a Councilor of the Third Level Conference, and I have a humble suggestion. Could you propose a bill requiring all gentlemen of Ryan to carry a refined tissue or handkerchief in their pocket? This is not only a necessity for hygiene but also the baseline for maintaining our social etiquette, and it reflects the dignity of our Ryan Kingdom..."

Mr. Newcastle almost burst out laughing upon reading this.

"Haha."

Saint Sis above, he had initially thought that all of Ryan's funniest actors were gathered in Your Majesty's Summer Palace, but apparently, one slipped through the cracks.

In these times, when every piece of bread is measured precisely, this noble lady is actually concerned about the tissues in their pockets.

She should be thankful that the gunsmiths in Roland City cannot produce firearms that fit into pockets; otherwise, the irritable citizens would certainly stuff them in.

Just as he expected, the Knights of the Land of Knights are sincerely humorists.

Of course, as a "model of the Land of Knights," he wasn't too shabby either.

"Bring me a piece of letter paper and a pen," Newcastle straightened up, looked at his servant, and handed him the letter.

"Also, place this letter in a frame in the living room. Especially the fire wax seal on the envelope, make sure it's facing forward so guests can see it without it seeming deliberate."

The servant slightly bowed and quickly returned with paper and pen.

Newcastle picked up the feather pen, pondered briefly, and quickly penned elegant and graceful script.

"Dear Miss Mare Langbane—"

"Your letter is like a breath of spring breeze, dispelling the haze over Roland City. Your suggestions are filled with subtlety and compassion, reminding me of our revered Princess Erin. You possess much of her elegance, yet also carry the humor she lacks. Although we have never met, I believe you are undoubtedly a match for Princess, being the most ladylike Ryan lady I have ever encountered..."

Pausing here, Newcastle's lips curved into a playful smile, and he elegantly continued writing.

"I believe you earnestly proposed this suggestion, but please allow me to explain a small predicament. Your Majesty's subjects are currently losing weight, fearing they lack the extra energy to appreciate the beauty of art."

"However, I don't see this as a loss of dignity; dignity comes in many forms in this world. For instance, Thunder City might not have as many lavish churches and palaces as Roland City, nor as many fire extinguishers and gardens."

"And Your Majesty's subjects are the true gentlemen, willing to turn themselves into firewood, using their meager wallets to guard our nights."

He subtly persuaded Lady Langbane to abandon that whimsical petition; now is truly a terrible time.

Though he isn't a good person, he has to mind his own windows, lest a stone flies in while he's soundly asleep.

Then he changed his penmanship, placing his real intention after the "also" phrase.

"Besides, I never expected you to be a theater enthusiast; what a coincidence, the Colin Grand Theater is right at my doorstep at Thunder City! We surely must have topics to discuss."

"I heard the Saint Roland Grand Theatre is premiering a new play, if you don't mind, we could enjoy it together. This world isn't limited to Thunder City for theaters; I mean, there's beauty close by, perhaps."

Praise the unseen Thunder City Councilor! Praise the bell of Mr. Colin!

And those dignified Thunder City citizens!

Mr. Newcastle, who had never loved them for a minute, had never felt so thrilled to be a Campbell person as today!

After all, before, fellows like him, no matter how wealthy, had no chance to connect with ladies beyond their social level.

But now, he might really score a knightly title!

Nowadays, business in Roland City is exceedingly difficult, even with backing, one must manage all aspects thoroughly.

And a noble title of sufficient weight could significantly enhance his sense of security, his wife's surname can be a powerful backing.

This is much more effective than a Councilor's title.

Those folks are almost turning into gourmet enthusiasts.

Signing off, Newcastle dried the ink and spritzed a bit of his own perfume onto the envelope.

Looking at the graceful script, in good spirits he suddenly found himself inspired by another thought.

Miss Langbane provided him with a new trajectory: rather than discussing how Ryan—oh no, squab—should be cooked at the conference, he could be a friend of the ladies of Ryan Kingdom.

Anyhow, the title surely sounds better than "chef."

Besides, this counts as a modest contribution to Roland City using his otherwise idle title.

Humming an off-tune ditty, Newcastle tucked the perfumed letter into his coat's inner pocket and picked up the cane hanging on the rack.

Earlier, while writing the letter, the household servant had gone to the market for some shopping.

Since no one was running errands for him, he had no choice but to personally go to the post office.

But as he pulled open the heavy oak apartment door and was about to step out, two dark shadows, like two walls, blocked the doorway.

Before Newcastle could see their faces, two rough hands pressed on his chest, a surge of great strength forcibly shoved him back into the hallway.

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