ISTL CHAPTER 28

As the play began, Max focused on the stage for a while and subtly shifted his gaze.
“She’s not even trying to hide it anymore.”
Anaïs had her binoculars pressed firmly against her face, as if she were trying to bore a hole through them. Max wondered how she managed to secure a seat in such a prime location. Maybe the reputation of Amour wasn’t all just talk.
Contrary to his earlier annoyance, the play turned out to be easier to endure than the café encounter. At least here, Anaïs couldn’t overhear his every word, so there was no need to maintain any pretense.
“If she wanted me to watch the play, she shouldn’t have spoiled it first.”
Thanks to her incessant recounting of the plot, Max knew the story inside out. He could practically recite it from memory, knowing exactly what would happen next, which was supposedly necessary for him to execute his plan without being too shaken.
“What is she looking at now?”
Max, now peering through his own binoculars to observe Anais, noticed something peculiar. Instead of spying on him, her gaze was oddly askew.
Following her line of sight, he realized that she had become completely engrossed in the play, forgetting all about her original intent. Max internally scoffed.
“Who’s actually here to watch the play, I wonder?”
Her lips were pursed tightly, and her brows were furrowed in deep concentration. The sight amused him.
“She’s focusing that hard on just a play?”
He found it amusing and strange. Despite his bemusement, Max couldn’t take his eyes off Anaïs. The play, which he found dull, was infinitely more entertaining when viewed through her reactions.
Because he could tell exactly what was happening on stage just by watching her face.
When she wore a serious expression and then suddenly burst into a smile, it meant a funny scene had just occurred. If she furrowed her brows and pouted, the villain must have appeared.
Then, at one point, she was so startled by something that she literally jumped in her seat, causing Max, who was watching her, to flinch as well. By the time the much-anticipated goodbye scene, which she had emphasized as the climax at least three times, arrived, her eyes had turned as wide as a rabbit’s, and tears began to flow down her cheeks.
“Oh dear. It’s so sad,” Roxanne’s tearful voice suddenly broke the silence. In that moment, Max remembered Anaïs’s voice from earlier.
“When a woman sheds tears over a heartbreaking love story, just quietly hand her a handkerchief…”
Anaïs, completely forgetting that this was the critical moment in their plan, made Max smile in triumph.
“Even though no one’s watching, is it really necessary?”
Max didn’t even glance at Roxanne or move his binoculars away from his eyes.
Roxanne, who had been watching Max, was left bewildered by his complete disregard for her. His demeanor was so different from the café encounter.
Had he been offended because she hadn’t shown proper respect to him as a prince? She tried to reason through a few possibilities, but none seemed plausible considering her status as Roxanne de Bastien.
Her pride was subtly wounded.
She concluded that he had been too engrossed in the play to hear her voice and leaned slightly toward him.
“Your Highness. Isn’t it truly sad? The way Nina and Jerome are parting like this is just absurd.”
“Ah, sure.”
His half-hearted reply left Roxanne speechless.
If someone asked whether Max had been all warm and friendly during their café encounter, the answer would be no. He hadn’t showered her with frequent smiles or excessive kindness.
“But still…”
Where had the restrained admiration he had shown her gone?
Their gazes had sparked something at Maison Planais, or so she thought. But today, had his eyes even taken her in properly, just once?
She had encountered many attempts to orchestrate meetings under the guise of coincidence, and she had even considered rejecting the advances of the youngest prince of Barbier, assuming his pursuit would be as troublesome as that of the crown prince.
She was confident in her instincts, which had never failed her before. And yet…
Roxanne wondered if Max was upset because she hadn’t shown him the proper respect due to a prince. She considered a few other possible reasons, but none seemed adequate given her status as Roxanne de Bastien.
Her pride was subtly wounded.
She concluded that Max had simply been too engrossed in the play to hear her and leaned closer to him.
“Your Highness, isn’t it truly heartbreaking? Nina and Jerome parting like this is just unbelievable.”
“Ah, sure.”
Roxanne was left speechless by his indifferent reply.
If asked whether Max had been entirely warm and kind during their café encounter, the answer would be no. He hadn’t been constantly smiling or overly friendly.
“But still…”
Where had the restrained admiration he once showed her gone?
Their eyes had seemed to spark at Maison Planais, but today, had his eyes even properly seen her, just once?
She had experienced many attempts to orchestrate meetings under the guise of coincidence and had even considered preemptively rejecting the advances of the youngest prince of Barbier, thinking his pursuit would be as troublesome as that of the crown prince.
Her instincts had never been wrong before. And yet…
“Could all of this truly have been a coincidence?”
Roxanne quietly recalled the rumors about Prince Max.
As a child, he was somewhat clever, but as he grew older, he became the subject of ridicule in the royal family. He was often described as the black sheep, unable to match the crown prince Quentin, or even the second prince, Jacques.
He was known as someone who could make anyone, regardless of gender, suffer greatly if they crossed him.
She had encountered him briefly a few times when they were younger, but it was at Maison Planais where she had truly met the grown man he had become. He had become more imposing, with a more defined jawline and sharper features that left a strong impression. Although he had an intimidating presence, he didn’t seem to fit the image of the reckless person the rumors suggested.
“So it wasn’t because it was me?”
Roxanne pressed her lips together, giving up her subtle glances at his profile and instead focusing on the stage.
The play was now entering its final act, hinting at the tragic conclusion awaiting the protagonists.
Max was counting the different expressions on Anais’s face—joy, sadness, delight, anger, contempt. By the time he had counted five, he noticed a man entering the royal box where Anais sat alone. Max narrowed his eyes.
The man, drenched in sweat and continually wiping it with a handkerchief, struggled to pull up his trousers as he sat down next to her. Anais looked startled as she recognized the man’s face, clearly someone she had never met before.
The man then removed the hat he had been wearing, and when Max finally saw his face, his brow furrowed deeply.
“Otto Joslain?”
The man with the partially bald head, who was wiping sweat off his face with a wide grin, was none other than Otto Joslain. He seemed utterly uninterested in the play and was already chatting away with Anais.
Anais, showing remarkable patience, endured the unwelcome interruptions to her theater experience, occasionally even smiling at him.
“Heh. What’s the big deal? Just grab her and… then she won’t have a choice. Just pin her down and…”
Max recalled Otto Joslain’s crude words from before. Anais, oblivious to Otto’s true intentions, was smiling politely, which annoyed Max greatly.
“Tsk. What a fool.”
Max clicked his tongue, watching the scene unfold. How long had he been observing?
Suddenly, Otto Joslain grabbed Anais’s hand.
***
To be honest, this was the first time Anais had seen the play properly. It was so popular that ticket prices were exorbitant. Although she had managed to get hold of the script and familiarize herself with the story, the live performance, with its vibrant characters, captured her attention fully.
So much so that she had completely forgotten to keep an eye on Max and Roxanne, becoming entirely engrossed in the play. Watching the actors perform was a different kind of thrill from reading the text, no matter how many times she had gone over it.
Because of this, she didn’t notice when someone approached her. By the time she realized, the mysterious figure had already seated themselves beside her.
“…!”
What startled her the most was that the royal box she was seated in had been entirely reserved for her. There was no reason for anyone else to be there.
She had spent a considerable amount of money for the peace of mind of being able to observe Max in comfort, enjoying the spaciousness of the empty seat next to her. And yet…
“Who are you?”
She asked the question in surprise, and the man responded with a grin, revealing his teeth. His face seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. While Anais was still trying to recall, the man removed his hat with his hand, which was adorned with multiple rings.
“Lady Brienne. Finally, I’ve met you.”
“…!”
It was only then that Anais remembered who the middle-aged man was.
He was the man who had lost badly in a billiards match to Max at the Armand Tea Party, leaving him furious.
“Count Otto Joslain, wasn’t it?”
Even knowing who he was didn’t clarify the situation. She had no idea why he had come here to greet her.
“Hmph. Too skinny. But… just right.”
Joslain muttered to himself as he looked Anais up and down.