ISTL CHAPTER 17

No way.

Elise was certain that Max probably didn’t even know what Roxanne looked like until he read the survey titled “Who is the best woman in Barbiere?”

Roxanne de Bastian.

Isn’t she the most formidable and completely out of his league?

It was a tactic Max frequently used—pretending to reluctantly yield to her wishes and follow her instructions only to make the other person realize his limits and give up. It was a strategy he employed often.

He did the same when he was urged to re-enroll in the Royal Academy or when a private tutor was assigned to him.

“The stubborn guy who resisted was labeled as the biggest troublemaker in society.”

His strategies were always successful, and eventually, Elise gave up on pushing her youngest grandson into social events. In the end, nothing ever went according to her plans.

Even though she knew very well that he wasn’t inclined to try, she still hoped, albeit faintly, that there might be a chance.

That poor aide might not have understood what she saw, but it was probably right to assume that Max was only disheartened because he couldn’t make a scene.

Unaware of Elise’s true thoughts, Anaïs continued to passionately explain why she felt that way.

‘Should I say this? Or not?’

While hesitating to speak out, Elise decided to keep the truth buried a little longer.

“Well then, keep up the good work.”

Elise looked somewhat pityingly at the aide’s determined back as they left with a somewhat relieved expression.

‘If she keeps going step by step, there might come a moment when she realizes things. Who knows? Maybe she’ll find a good match along the way. Whether it’s Roxanne or someone else, it doesn’t matter, just get him married!’

***

As soon as he returned to the palace, Max was greeted by Camille Descent, who had caused a stir with the wedding news and grabbed the queen dowager’s attention. Seeing Camille sprawled out and sleeping on the reception room couch as if it were his own home, Max clicked his tongue.

“Your home, is it?”

“Oh, you’re back?”

Camille stirred and yawned as he woke up to Max’s presence. After a big yawn, a tear hung at the corner of his eye. He soon fumbled under the cushions on the couch and pulled out an envelope containing some documents.

“Here. The materials you requested.”

 

Max, who had settled onto the couch across from Camille, pulled the envelope over and opened it. A rather bulky stack of documents emerged into his hand.

With his long legs crossed and his back relaxed against the couch, he focused intently on the documents. The sound of pages turning continued for a while. Max didn’t set the papers down until he had thoroughly examined every last page.

“This is good. With this, securing the exclusive rights shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Of course. Who do you think found the information?”

Camille, who had been basking in his own praise for his hard work, rested his chin on the armrest and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

“By the way.”

“……?”

“You did what you were supposed to do at the party yesterday, right?”

“Ah, well, somehow.”

He hadn’t intended to listen to any awkward praise for helping someone. Was the news of his rescuing Pierre already spreading outside?

“Right. It’s just that, making people respect you is your specialty, isn’t it?”

“……You mean the Otto Joslan incident?”

“Is there any other story?”

Whether it was due to Joslan’s lack of discretion or Descent’s impressive information network, Max wondered. He was well aware of the latter.

“Anyway, Camille Descent. Sometimes your information network is truly chilling.”

“What a compliment.”

Camille grinned widely.

“By the way, why is that? You’ve never had any grievances with Count Joslan, have you?”

Hmm. Grievances…… No, not until before I entered that private room.

Max pondered the events of yesterday.

“Anyway, now you and I are in this together. Like comrades heading into battle, perhaps?”

“There are only the two of us here. Let’s help each other and navigate this party successfully, okay?”

Reflecting on Anaïs Brien’s words about being comrades and allies, Max smirked.

He had thought he might escape his grandmother’s nagging for a while, but he had been dragged into this kind of party instead. In no time, Anaïs Brien had secured her position as his grandmother’s aide.

Indeed. Was this a warning from his grandmother not to treat her lightly?

Although Max had no intention of simply following her lead, he planned to spend today quietly, hoping to gauge Anaïs as best as he could.

With no one coming within three meters of him, Max could enjoy his drink in peace.

How much time had passed? When the giggling of women strolling outside through the open window reached his ears, that was when Joslan began to irritate Max.

“Look over there. Over there.”

“Where?”

“That short, fidgety woman.”

“Next to Lady Patrice?”

“Yes. Anaïs Brien.”

The familiar name jumped out. Although Max had been uninterested in anything before, he couldn’t ignore a name he recognized. He spotted a man leaning against the window frame not far from him.

Despite his small stature, the man had a rather imposing presence due to his build, and he was pointing at Anaïs with a smug expression. He was making bold claims in the midst of the ladies who were enjoying their walk.

“My ‘thing.’”

The meaning of his words was clear to those around him, who reacted with surprise.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Your ‘thing’?”

“Not right now. But it will be soon. Heh heh. I’ve had my eye on her for a long time.”

“Explain further. It hasn’t been long since you lost your wife. That young lady looks much too young for you. How will you manage?”

When a neatly dressed man expressed doubt about Joslan, Joslan grumbled irritably.

“I almost had her, but I missed out. But there are still ways.”

“What ways?”

“Heh heh heh. Nothing much. Just, well… act decisively and… do it… will it make any difference? Just force her down and…”

Crash!

“……!”

The sudden sound of a bottle being slammed down by Max filled the room with eerie silence. Joslan, who had been whispering darkly, flinched noticeably.

“What, what is this?”

When the youngest prince’s contemptuous gaze, which carried ominous rumors, landed on Joslan, Joslan forced himself to show a strong displeasure.

“Hmph.”

Otto Joslan. It hadn’t been long since he lost his wife, and he was known for frequenting auction houses to buy slaves.

“Looks like Lady Armand’s judgment is a thing of the past.”

It seemed that the plan to stay quiet for now had gone awry. Max let his lips curl into a grimace.

“Count Joslan. How about a little bet with me?”

Camille, who had been waiting for Max’s response, gave a wry smile.

“A bet? You’re talking about ‘not showing up in high society’? Is that all you have to bet on? Oh, I see. Joslan must have really been irritating to you, huh?”

“It was annoying. Just seeing him acting disgracefully nearby was, well, revolting.”

Certainly, there are many nobles who spout ignorant and vile remarks, but Max reflected on why he had stepped up as if he were a crusader of justice.

Anaïs Brien was someone his grandmother had appointed. If he let Joslan approach her with impure intentions, he might get caught up in this affair himself.

Also, Max needed Anaïs Brien. He wanted to show his grandmother that he was making a proper effort, and to escape her watchful eye, even though the process was a bit bothersome.

Thus, if anything were to happen to Anaïs Brien, it would clearly put at least two people in trouble, and since those two were the Queen Mother and Max himself, there was plenty of reason to deal with Joslan.

“Well, Joslan does have a certain sinister side. He’s surrounded by all sorts of vile rumors. It seems he was completely outplayed in a billiards bet and has been going around acting like a victim.”

Max thought of Anaïs, who didn’t even know what Otto Joslan looked like.

To be the target of someone’s one-sided and twisted attention, and to be almost flaunting that she was almost in his grasp, with such an innocent face that clearly knew nothing.

“By the way! How is it? The talent brought by the Queen Mother. Do you think she’s truly talented?”

“Talent?”

Max shook his head firmly.

“Talent, my foot.”

He muttered to himself, hoping that nothing worse would happen.