Chapter 130: Gossip News

“Mutual Aid Association?” Alphonse was stunned. “The Handicraft and Labor Mutual Aid Guild?”

Speaking of that long name, he finally remembered it.

A guild by that name had indeed registered last month.

Because they had provided enough money, the usually sluggish bureaucrats had processed the paperwork exceptionally quickly.

At the time, he had even felt a sense of disdain for the Kingdom’s corruption.

The boy reminded him, “Yes sir, the one who funded it was Viscount Bernard de Laval.”

‘Bernard de Laval? The new Minister of Finance?’

A roar sounded in Alphonse’s mind as countless seemingly unrelated clues instantly connected into a clear line.

‘Did he register this guild truly for charity, or was it for political achievements and fame? But who could have known back then that he would become the Minister of Finance?’

A terrifying thought surfaced, turning Alphonse’s hands and feet cold.

‘Could it be… he has been laying the groundwork for today since that time? Did the fall of the previous Minister of Finance, Marquis Fugger — also have something to do with him?’

Alphonse immediately connected the recent rapid rise of the Laval House, the Crown Prince’s contradictory attitude (first forcing him to become a Tax Farmer, then showing favor), and the “Neutrals” leaning toward loyalty to the King…

‘Is all of this, perhaps, the handiwork of His Majesty?’

Since Viscount Bernard funded the Mutual Aid Association, and they placed people into the Royal Chartered Publishing Company…

Then the Royal Chartered Publishing Company was also very likely an industry of the Laval House.

For the Viscount to dare use “Royal” as a company prefix, he naturally had the tacit approval of His Majesty.

‘Is His Majesty using this newcomer and this cheap newspaper to play a world-shaking game of chess?’

Alphonse felt his breathing grow ragged. He felt as if he had glimpsed the staggering truth beneath the tip of the iceberg.

‘But… that’s not right?’

‘If the Laval House is the King’s pawn, why would the Count of the Borderlands, a die-hard Royalist, be at the point of a duel with them? How could this marriage contract, which should have been a powerful alliance, turn into a fight to the death?’

‘It makes no sense at all!’

‘Is this a clash of tempers between young people, or… has a crack appeared within the Royalists?’

Carrying these massive questions, Alphonse turned his gaze back to the report about the duel in the Lucerne Daily.

“I see. So there was such a hidden story behind the duel? Miss Livia and her fiancé’s personal maid are actually childhood friends… How truly tragic.”

This eye-catching piece of gossip was written by Allen himself.

He vividly described Livia’s life story and her conflicts with her family, even adding embellishments to portray the “more than friends, but less than lovers” relationship between Livia and Marianne.

With Allen’s skill in writing Yuri novels, this half-true story was written to be lingering, romantic, and sad, enough to make any reader shed a tear of sympathy for these “childhood friends toyed with by fate.”

As for himself, the other protagonist of the duel, he was perfectly hidden within the report.

After reading this report, everyone would naturally assume that Livia had initiated the duel to elope with her “childhood friend,” to resist her family’s arranged marriage, and to pursue freedom.

With this, Livia’s path of retreat was completely blocked.

If she won and took Marianne away, it would only confirm the “deep sisterly bond” mentioned in the newspaper, effectively making her conflict with the Stern family completely public.

For Livia, this was no different from a public execution.

If Allen won, he would rightfully keep Livia by his side, and people would only gossip about her “story” with Marianne.

Meanwhile, as the “pitiful” fiancé caught in the middle, he would actually garner quite a bit of sympathy.

As a man caught in the middle of a Yuri relationship, the lower his presence, the less malice the world would show him.

Regardless of the duel’s outcome, Allen could leave Livia in a dilemma where her only choice was to stay obediently by his side.

Of course, the only side effect was that once Livia found out Allen had framed her private life this way, her favorability toward him would likely plummet to the center of the earth.

But was that bad news?

No, it was perfect!

Allen had no interest in romancing this protagonist. He only wanted to live peacefully and, while on the path to saving humanity, occasionally enjoy the relationship between Livia and Marianne.

Livia likely never dreamed that her opponent was not just a fellow reincarnator, but a transmigrator who knew the entire plot of Starlit Romance.

She could not have predicted how her popularity in the Capital would ferment after this report.

She thought the duel she initiated was her chance to choose her fate.

But Allen had simply flipped the table, using the mass media composed of printing presses and newspapers to tell her — you have no choice.

When the entire Capital is discussing your “love story,” does the truth of the matter even matter anymore?

After Alphonse finished reading the scandalous report, a sound that was somewhere between disdain and a sigh escaped his throat.

He originally intended to put the paper down and head to work, but his gaze was caught by a title — The Count of Monte Cristo.

“What kind of title is ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’?”

He muttered to himself, reading on as if possessed.

With just the opening, his heart was captured by the story filled with exotic flair and bizarre conspiracies.

The Pharaon, the young first mate, the jealous colleague, the despicable informant…

His limbs, which had been cold from glimpsing the dark secrets of the Kingdom’s power, now grew hot again because of a fictional story.

He became so engrossed that he forgot to respond to the greetings of his colleagues who arrived for work.

“Phew…” It wasn’t until he saw the words “To be continued” that Alphonse let out a long breath, feeling his long-tense nerves relax significantly.

‘This story has magic in it.’

He continued to flip through with lingering interest.

On the Superiority of the Four-field Crop Rotation, A Glance at Grain Prices in Each District of the Capital, How to Use Lime Water to Prevent Chicken Plague.

These unheard-of titles broadened his horizons.

If the Four-field Crop Rotation were promoted, how many more people could it feed? If lime water to prevent chicken plague was truly effective, commoners could eat meat more often!

Especially the grain prices; if they could be seen every day, how could those black-hearted merchants who hoarded goods manipulate the market?

This was practically digging up the roots of the grain merchants!

Turning further back, there were crossword puzzles for both adults and children, and a caricature of the former Minister of Finance, Marquis Fugger, falling into a latrine.

In the drawing, Marquis Fugger was covered in filth with a fly landing on his head, his expression both terrified and hilarious.

Alphonse could no longer hold it back and let out a pffft of laughter, drawing curious looks from several colleagues nearby.

‘Incredible!’

These two newspapers essentially had a person’s physical and spiritual needs completely sorted out.

There was serious news for nobles and officials to speculate on the King’s intentions, practical knowledge for the common people, and entertainment that could immerse anyone.

The gloom in his chest caused by Fugger’s downfall seemed to dissipate with that laugh.

A new, vigorous sense of excitement took its place, giving him some expectations for the future.

“By the way,” Alphonse looked up, his eyes shining as he looked at the newspaper boy, “do you come to sell these every day?”

The boy had been watching him quietly and now revealed an understanding smile.

“Of course, sir! The Lucerne Daily is a daily paper; there is a new one every day. The Lorraine Gazette is a weekly paper with more detailed content. If you want a long-term subscription, we can deliver them to your door daily.”

“Deliver them to the door?” Alphonse’s eyes lit up. “Good! Excellent! Two newspapers — I’ll subscribe to them both!”

He took out his coin purse, then thought of something and told the boy, “Give me twenty more copies of yesterday’s Lucerne Daily.”

His colleagues should also see Marquis Fugger’s unsightly state and exchange information on grain prices and the King’s new movements.

This stuff was much better than listening to those baseless rumors in the taverns.

He thought his son, Philip, might also like these novel scientific technologies.

Holding a large stack of newspapers that still smelled of ink, Alphonse left feeling satisfied.

The newspaper boy’s business was unexpectedly good; before noon, the hundreds of copies he brought were snatched up.

And delivery boys like him were scattered throughout every street and alley of the Capital.

The newspapers printed in a rush yesterday were almost unable to keep up with demand.

In the printing factory, the workers worked in three shifts, never resting through the night, and the roar of the machines almost never stopped.

But the newspapers that had just been printed would be divided up by the newsboys waiting at the door in the blink of an eye.

“Give me fifty copies! No, 100 copies!”

“Did you hear? The Count of Monte Cristo updated today; that first mate successfully escaped from prison!”

“What’s all this about love? I just want to know if the price of goods dropped today!”

Whether it was decently dressed gentlemen, grease-stained craftsmen, or even housewives carrying vegetable baskets, everyone was crazy for this unprecedented novelty.

In the taverns of the Capital, what people debated was no longer ethereal rumors, but the editorials in the newspapers.

At the afternoon teas of noble ladies, the topic changed from whose jewelry was more magnificent to the “tragic love story” of Miss Livia and that poor maid.

A brand-new way of life was quietly arriving along with these thin sheets of paper.

Soon, merchants who saw the business opportunity carefully loaded bundles of newspapers onto carriages, transporting them to the vast world outside the Capital.

The Lucerne Daily and the Lorraine Gazette quickly became important windows for local nobles to peer into the Capital’s affairs and for commoners to learn about national matters.

Outdated newspapers were resold at high prices, even landing on the desks of the Empire’s rulers, becoming a source of intelligence they had to reference.

The private goods Allen smuggled into them — those ideas about livelihoods, rights, and science — were like dandelion seeds, riding this east wind to every corner of this era.

The secret of the printing press could not be kept for long.

But before Allen actively shared the printing technology, this precious time was enough for the Laval House to rely on Allen’s foresight to grow into a media giant that no one could ignore.

He was using ink and paper to define the future of this world.

However, at this moment, the one defining the future had no time to think about those grand ambitions.

The morning light pierced through the window, falling on his Black Sword which seemed to absorb all light, without a single reflection.

The day of his duel with Livia had arrived.