Judging by its craftsmanship and opulence, this wine cup was clearly no mass-produced nobleware. It resembled a custom piece commissioned by some fabulously wealthy aristocrat. That single cat’s-eye gem alone could buy a dozen carriages—enough to replace every gilded cup ordinary nobles owned.

No peasant farmer could possibly own such a thing. They likely had no clue of its worth—otherwise, they’d never leave it so exposed.

The young noble’s eyes darted. A clever idea struck him. The corners of his mouth twitched upward uncontrollably.

“My guards are curious about this corn. Let’s ask the household if they’d sell us some.” He strode toward the cottage and knocked.

“Coming, coming… who is it?” An old man in a straw hat opened the door. Seeing the extravagantly dressed noble and his guards, he froze.

*What on earth? Distinguished guests out here?*

“Pardon the intrusion, elder. Does this cornfield belong to you?” Chris spoke with polished courtesy.

“Ah, yes. And you are?”

“My apologies—I’m Chris Buckley, eldest son of Earl Buckley. Merchants passing through. Might we ask a small favor?”

“Oh? What favor?”

“My men find corn novel. I’d like to try it too. How about this—I’ll buy the entire harvest. Just pack it up.”

“Huh? The whole field?” The old man blinked, doubting his ears.

“Indeed. I’ll pay thirty percent above market rate.” Chris’s tone was gentle, refined—every inch the well-bred young master.

“What?!” His eyes lit up. “Y-you’re serious? …Ah, I mean—of course! No problem!”

*What luck! Has Torenia finally blessed us?*

*Just yesterday, mountain rats raided the field… and now someone’s “sharing the burden”?*

Beaming inwardly, the old man led Chris outside, enthusiastically praising his crops—unaware Chris’s attention was elsewhere.

“Oh, elder—what’s that hanging by your house?” Chris feigned casual curiosity.

“Ah, that? My son found it in the cornfield. Some chamber pot. Useless. Just hung it there.”

*A chamber pot?!*

Chris barely suppressed a laugh. Disdain swelled in his chest.

“Hmm… craftsmanship isn’t bad.” He carefully showed interest.

“Dunno who lost it. Worthless. Take it if you like—saves space.” The old man waved dismissively.

Chris nearly grinned but kept his face neutral.

“Oh? You mean it?”

“Eh, useless thing. Consider it a freebie with the corn.”

“Generous! I’ll buy extra crops too—wouldn’t want you to lose out.”

*My, what an honest noble!*

The old man’s heart bloomed with joy.

Both felt they’d struck gold. Crops sold. Cup acquired. Win-win. Bright futures.

“Young master… keeping the cup?”

“Keep it? Do you know its worth? One gem could buy a villa!” Back in the carriage, Chris fondled the cup eagerly.

“Then…?”

“Short on funds. Why else risk this backroad? To smuggle goods like this into the city.”

“Tsk—top-tier merchandise! Black market fortune!”

“…But it doesn’t look mass-produced. What if the owner traces it?”

“So what? It’s the black market. Unless she’s the Empress, how? And we bought it fairly—perfectly legitimate.”

“Besides, do you think I’m foolish enough to sell it whole? We’ll dismantle it. Cup and gem—separately.”

“And who knows? Maybe the owner discarded it. We did nothing wrong—just bought it fairly. Problem?” Chris shot his subordinate a look.

“Uh… when you put it that way… I guess you’re right.” The man scratched his head.

Deep night. Twilight draped the White Stone Church in silence.

*Gurgle~*

Stirring groggily, the armored figure rolled over, sensing a strange shift. Kicking off the heavy armor, she sat pigeon-toed on the pew, bewildered. Moonlight spilled over silvery-white hair—smooth as satin—cascading to her shoulders.

*Ahh… What’s going on?*

Feitao sighed, hands rising to her head. Sure enough—fluffy ears greeted her touch. Behind her, a plush tail, soft as a quilt, swayed with her mood.

She hadn’t channeled mana… Had the Nine-Tailed blood within her stirred overnight?

Blinking her heterochromatic eyes, her petite frame contrasted with fox eyes radiating quiet allure.

*Whatever. Awake anyway. Bathroom break.*

“Hu hu…” Rubbing sleepy eyes, Feitao pulled a tissue from her sleeve and darted to the church restroom.

Unfastening her robe, she squatted.

*Pitter-patter…*

So troublesome, hu hu.

Nearly a week had passed, yet she still wasn’t used to this.

She’d been a girl once—long ago. Twenty years of war, plus her deep aversion to the Nine-Tailed bloodline, had cemented her male identity. Switching back now? Far from easy.

The pendant helped by day. But natural bodily functions? No deception there.