Kwon Minseong smacked his forehead.
He had been so overwhelmed by the flood of patients that he had completely forgotten about the VVIP staying on the second floor.
"Um... the patient upstairs, by any chance..."
"I made sure all meals were delivered. Breakfast, lunch, and even snacks."
Ian answered mechanically.
"And did you happen to see the patient..."
"I only left the food outside the door. I never saw his face and did not speak with him."
As expected of Ian.
Kwon Minseong let out a relieved breath.
For a moment, his heart had nearly dropped into his stomach at the thought that Aswin's identity might have been exposed, but fortunately Ian had shown no interest in the VVIP on the second floor.
"Ten more patients and we'll be done soon. Tell the next one to come in."
"Count Visha."
Just as Kwon Minseong turned back toward the consultation room, two nurses hurried over and stopped him.
"These just arrived for you, Count."
One of the nurses handed him an envelope.
Kwon Minseong took it and examined both sides.
Blue sealing wax.
An eagle clutching a sword in its beak.
A letter from the Imperial Palace.
The other nurse held out a blue box tied with a silver ribbon. The box was so large that it practically required both arms to carry.
Kwon Minseong read the Emperor's handwritten letter first.
"Wear this to tomorrow's ball... no matter what? What ball? I have a hundred and thirty-two patients. And what exactly am I supposed to wear?"
The moment Kwon Minseong accepted the box, a patient entering the consultation room widened their eyes.
The patient slowly backed away with the expression of someone who had just overheard something they were never meant to hear.
Then, despite being heavily pregnant, the patient sprinted toward the waiting room and shouted:
"A ball! The Imperial Family is holding a ball!"
One minute later, a tremendous cheer erupted from the garden.
News that the Imperial Family would host a ball spread across Elunem within a single hour.
As the date approached, nobles flooded clothing shops, ribbon boutiques, fan stores, shoe shops, and jewelry stores. Merchants cried tears of joy.
The busiest place of all was the atelier of Zigbird, the most sought-after tailor in Elunem. The crowd was so large that the building seemed ready to burst apart.
While selecting a decorative pin for his chest as he waited in line, one excited noble asked:
"This is the first ball since His Majesty ascended the throne, isn't it?"
Another noble, who was examining hats nearby, nodded.
"His Majesty became Emperor at eighteen. So it's been seven years. Seven years without a ball. He's remarkably indifferent."
"Is that really something to criticize? Balls aren't mandatory."
"You don't understand. Without balls, how are young nobles supposed to debut in society? Thank goodness Marquis Orphes continued holding them regularly. Otherwise, the young nobles of Elunem would have remained unmarried and grown old as bachelors and spinsters."
"Marquis Orphes truly is remarkable. Even though His Majesty despises balls, he still hosts one every month."
"Maybe he's already fallen out of favor and decided he has nothing left to lose."
The nobles burst into laughter.
At that moment, Ian passed by them.
He appeared to be staring straight ahead with no interest in worldly affairs, but Ian's ears were always open, and his eyes missed nothing.
As the nobles had said, Tillio hated Imperial balls.
The Emperor had once dismissed them as "places where people obsessed with flaunting their Derfyu and mating gather together."
Considering that he had unwillingly been drenched in an Omega's pheromones during both his first ball and his coming-of-age ceremony, it was hardly surprising that his opinion of balls was abysmal.
He was not entirely wrong.
At least, that was Ian's opinion.
A ball was ostensibly a gathering for dancing.
But was dancing all that happened there?
Absolutely not.
Once the Imperial Family announced a ball and set a date, the Imperial Event Management Committee would begin touring the commercial districts of Elunem.
Their first destination was always the food markets.
Although the Imperial Palace's chefs prepared the dishes themselves, the palace could not realistically supply every ingredient from start to finish.
The committee inspected shops throughout the capital, selected the finest goods, and delivered them to the palace.
After food came decorations.
No grand ballroom could be complete without flowers.
Even when flowers could be obtained directly from the Imperial Gardens, the committee still purchased additional flowers from private businesses.
That was simply how the Imperial Family operated.
And there were industries that benefited from increased demand even without direct involvement from the committee.
The most obvious example was clothing.
Nobles lined up outside tailor shops to commission new uniforms and dresses.
Fashion trends changed at least twice before a ball was held, so nobles generally required three sets of clothing at minimum. Wealthier nobles sometimes commissioned as many as seven.
Nor were tailors the only people profiting from the occasion.
Leather craftsmen who made shoes, jewelers who created accessories, and artisans who produced lace all benefited enormously.
Materials unavailable in the city were sourced from surrounding regions. Materials unavailable there were brought from even farther away.
Trade between towns increased, and the Empire's economy flourished.
Of course, if someone like Marquis Orphes hosted a ball every month, luxury prices would simply skyrocket.
But holding one or two balls a year undeniably stimulated economic activity.
If only the Emperor paid as much attention to Elunem's commercial districts as he did to the military, perhaps he would have recognized the positive effects of such events.
Ian was thinking exactly that as he exited the shop.
Then one of the nobles whispering behind a fan called out to him.
"Ian. What brings you here?"
Ian stopped and offered a stiff bow.
"Oh, look at that. Are you attending the ball too? A ball held after seven years really is attracting every drifter in the Empire."
"Don't be ridiculous. He's probably here to arrange Count Visha's clothing."
The nobles rolled their eyes behind their fans and laughed.
Ian possessed no title.
No land.
No prestigious family name.
He had once served as Reiner's assistant, and now he stood closer than anyone else to Kwon Minseong, the central figure of Elunem society.
Yet because he lacked rank and noble status, aristocrats naturally looked down on him.
The only people who recognized Ian's true worth were the Omega patients who had received his miracle injections.
"His Majesty personally gifted the outfit Count Visha will wear to the ball. A crimson uniform with a pearlescent corset that shines in rainbow hues. It is the most beautiful garment I have ever seen."
"Ah... right..."
"Well... congratulations, I suppose..."
Ian praised the Emperor's gift, yet not a trace of genuine admiration appeared on his face.
The nobles failed to notice the subtle discrepancy.
They were far too busy fanning their flushed faces, consumed by jealousy and envy.
Ian slowly looked them up and down.
Shiny fabric made from cheap silk.
Loose clothing without the fashionable corsets currently dominating society.
Sleeve ornaments already two years out of fashion.
One glance told him everything.
No matter the country or era, not every noble was guaranteed luxury.
Many titled aristocrats earned less annually than Zigbird, Elunem's greatest tailor.
Such people survived by marrying into wealthier noble families.
The two men blocking Ian's path were likely examples of exactly that sort of lower-ranking nobility.
To them, Kwon Minseong was both a role model and an object of envy.
A mere doctor had risen overnight to become the future Empress Consort.
How could they not resent him?
Ian despised people like this.
Still, they were not entirely useless.
Lifting the box in his arms, he said,
"This outfit is for one of our hospital patients. It was completed today, so I came to collect it."
"Patient clothing? Don't patients already have clothes?"
"This is not ordinary patient clothing."
"Oh? Not ordinary? Explain."
The moment he said it wasn't ordinary, the nobles raised their voices.
Before long, every noble in the shop was paying attention.
Everything was proceeding exactly as Ian intended.
"It is a special outfit for guests of the annex opening next month."
"The annex...? Ah, that place people have been talking about lately. What was it called? A postpartum recovery center? Well, perhaps commoners desperate to experience noble life would be interested."
"Indeed. It hardly seems like the sort of place suited to people like us... hahaha..."
Though they were dying of curiosity, the nobles stubbornly clung to their pride.
Their thoughts were so transparent that Ian almost had to lower his eyes.
"I agree. It would not suit either of you."
Then he immediately offered a polite bow.
The gesture clearly signaled that the conversation was over.
"The membership fee is quite expensive, after all. If you'll excuse me."
The nobles had just been struck by a direct hit.
Behind their fans, their mouths twitched.
Humiliated in front of their peers, their faces turned red as paint.
One of them even looked close to tears.
Ian felt not the slightest bit of sympathy.
If someone offered affection, he returned affection.
If someone offered contempt, he returned humiliation.
Input produced corresponding output.
Nothing more.
Time passed swiftly, and the day of the ball finally arrived.
From early evening onward, an endless procession of carriages rolled toward the Imperial Palace.
Yet the most magnificent carriage of them all had been sitting motionless in front of Kwon Minseong's hospital for two full hours.
Ian watched the luxurious cobalt-blue carriage for a moment before drawing the curtain shut.
Then he turned to his employer.
"Are you truly planning not to go?"