Chapter 42

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 42

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Iona whispered just loud enough for the other tables not to overhear.

"Did you see his face?"

"Yeah, we can tail him when he heads out."

"When you meet him, act like you're graciously extending a favor from our side. Make it seem like you're just trying to impress the family of your future wife, nothing more than that—no ulterior motives."

Iona had already sufficiently softened the ground, so now it was Leroy's turn to play his part.

Once he heard about the recent incident, the owner of that problematic land would see it as an unwanted headache dumped in his lap.

It was only natural that a mere landowner wouldn't want to incur Count Modroff's displeasure over something like this. But at the same time, he couldn't very well hand over his hard-earned property for free just to do Nils a favor.

'That's when the duke swoops in like a savior, offering to buy the land at a fair price. Like he's just cleaning up his future brother-in-law's mess to score some points.'

Leroy had been acting the whole time like a man eager to impress his bride-to-be, and he was wealthy enough to whimsically purchase some worthless barren plot if he felt like it.

His good intentions probably wouldn't be questioned.

Iona and Nils were infamous for their bad blood, but Leroy, who hadn't frequented the capital for long, could plausibly be unaware of just how deep it ran.

The man would likely grow even more desperate to close the deal before Leroy caught on.

Leroy didn't seem particularly worried about failure either; he looked intrigued as he asked about the next step.

"So, what do you plan to do with that played-out mine whose veins have gone dry?"

When he'd asked about the purpose of the 100,000 gold earlier, Iona had only explained that she'd buy up land that would gain value later to put the count in a bind.

But that it was a silver mine in the Siam region...

He was curious what value Iona had spotted in that abandoned pit.

Iona answered with a straight face.

"The vein itself isn't dry; it's just that mining costs too much to turn a profit. If we can increase output, we could restart operations."

"There must have been good reasons it was shut down and left to rot all this time. You have some groundbreaking solution to overturn that?"

Leroy looked puzzled as he awaited an explanation, but Iona's lips stayed sealed.

He narrowed his eyes and asked,

"Trade secret?"

"I just happened to learn a new extraction method by chance—I'm no expert myself. If you're curious, I can introduce you to someone later."

Iona shrugged lightly as she brushed it off.

Spouting knowledge even specialists didn't have could invite unnecessary suspicion.

She simply knew in advance how this mine would be revived in the future.

Though her vague attitude left some doubts lingering, Leroy didn't press further.

Instead, he casually pushed a crystal ashtray toward Iona from nearby.

Her cigar had burned down to the very end.

"Ah, thank you."

Iona tapped off the ash by gently rolling the foot.

It was a smooth, practiced motion far beyond a beginner's.

Leroy, who had been intently watching her fingers, suddenly asked,

"Are you an aficionado?"

"Not really. But in situations like this, it helps build rapport quickly."

"Where'd you learn?"

"Well..."

Iona hesitated, unable to answer right away.

Mentioning his silence in this context didn't seem wise.

"I got an early start in society, that's all."

Leroy silently stared at Iona for a moment as she dodged the question.

He had a strange feeling he already knew who had taught her to smoke cigars.

He'd brought up the question precisely because he'd half-expected the answer.

When Leroy had met privately with the Crown Prince and heard about his hidden lover, the prince had been puffing on a cigar then too.

Suppressing a queer sense of displeasure, Leroy extended his hand to her.

"Lend it to me for a sec."

There was no object specified, but Iona understood perfectly.

She furrowed her brow slightly.

"I've already put my lips to it."

"Doesn't matter."

Fair enough.

Iona obediently handed him the cigar.

She'd never seen him smoke one, so she'd assumed he was a nonsmoker—had she just not known?

Iona racked her brains, combing through past memories for any overlooked clues.

That was why it took her a beat to notice how oddly clumsy he looked smoking it.

"It's harsh—makes my throat itch."

He grimaced, his critique blunt as he twisted the cigar this way and that, inspecting it like some alien object.

Iona's eyes widened in sudden realization.

"...No way. Is this your first time?"

Leroy merely nodded.

Iona jumped up in alarm and reached for him.

"Give it here."

Leroy easily kept it out of reach by stretching his arm back.

Iona approached his seat and tried again, but failed once more.

Snatching it wouldn't be hard, but she hesitated, worried he might burn himself on the ember.

Iona said in exasperation,

"It's addictive—nothing good comes from picking up the habit. If it's not something you usually smoke, don't bother."

"Isn't it used in medicine too?"

"I've seen rats die gnawing on cigarettes in the mines. No way something like that is good for you."

"You do all sorts of harmful things to yourself, yet you treat me like a baby."

He muttered as much, then demonstratively inhaled a long drag, a wry smile playing on his lips.

Tilting his head slightly, he asked,

"Why?"

"..."

"It's like I'm more precious to you than you are to yourself..."

He hadn't really meant it that way. He was just teasing her overreactive response.

If he had to worry about whose well-being mattered more between them, it was hers, not his. Unlike Leroy, she was the one who often came back from outings covered in scrapes.

Caught off guard by his assumption, she froze in place with a stiff expression.

Now that he thought about it, it put her in an awkward spot—neither affirming nor denying would work easily.

Leroy knew well enough that she wasn't truly by his side because she liked him.

Rather than put her further on the spot, he decided to back off.

"I'm kidding."

"..."

"If you think it's bad for you, you'd best quit it too. It won't be easy, but..."

"Understood."

Leroy trailed off mid-sentence and looked up at Iona.

It was a suggestion born purely from his distaste for the traces another man had left on her, and he knew full well it stemmed from petty spite.

He was plenty aware of how dependent the smokers around him were on the stuff.

But contrary to his expectation that she'd be put out, Iona agreed without hesitation.

Leroy blinked dumbly.

"...What?"

"If that's what you want, I'll quit. I only ever touched it occasionally when needed anyway. It won't be hard."

She added a brief condition.

"In exchange, you do the same, Your Grace."

Leroy met her eyes and slowly swallowed.

She really had a talent for leading men astray.

"...Guess you weren't that attached to it after all."

He said it laced with intent.

Iona let it slide and seized the opening while he was off guard, snatching the cigar from him.

She dropped it into the crystal tray and doused it with water for good measure.

Leroy remained frozen in place until she finished and returned to her seat.

He blinked a few times, then lightly clenched his empty hand as if registering its absence.

Just then, the others who had stepped out returned.

Straightening his posture, Leroy found himself wondering if perhaps the Crown Prince and Iona's relationship wasn't as deep as he'd assumed.

'I wonder what he thinks of it.'

He'd gone out of his way to shower her with gifts in the most gossip-baiting manner possible.

By now, rumors about her and him must have spread to the deepest corners of the palace.

Leroy was curious if the Crown Prince could remain so nonchalant after hearing them.

"You're not the type with the stomach to embrace my woman, after all."

Recalling how the prince had underestimated him, Leroy let out a scoff.

To pair up a man and woman in their prime and expect no sparks to fly—what naive judgment.

If it were him, he'd never do something so idiotic as marrying off the woman he loved to another man. He was already losing his composure at the mere thought, nowhere near bold enough for such recklessness.