Black Sail

The next day.

At six in the evening.

Only two hours remained before the party at Doringger’s grand, luxurious estate.

Black Sail Inn, sixth floor.

Inside Liszt’s private room.

Dreya was helping him with his clothes, adjusting the collar, fastening the cufflinks, and also sizing up Liszt in the full-body mirror.

The banquet two hours later was of great importance.

Now no longer a nobody, he was a big shot who would confront Doringger on equal terms, so naturally, he couldn’t wear ratty leather armor to the banquet. Respect starts with your attire, and if you dress shabbily, you’re not qualified to attend this meeting.

Liszt only cared about one thing: appearance.

He must outshine everyone fiercely, especially Doringger—in attractiveness as well. This was not to be compromised.

A spotless, pure white tailcoat, impeccably tailored, appeared to be welded to Liszt’s body. His trousers and boots were also white. Those in the know would understand he was a pirate; those who didn’t, would mistake him for some noble, an idler with nothing better to do than to dress up for social appearances.