* * *
Watching the house of the Viscount Everdeen being treated as a clueless nouveau riche who only had money and power?
I’d rather be shoved off a cliff.
This wasn’t just a matter of protecting the reputation of House Yudenet; it was about my pride as well.
After all, I’d be accompanying Hernan into the hall.
Witnessing the destruction of people’s expectations, their hope turning to disappointment and scorn, in real time?
That would be unbearable.
“What time do you usually have dinner?”
I pushed him with the intensity of an interrogation, and Hernan forced a strained smile, his previously calm demeanor beginning to waver.
“Are you offering to join me for dinner?”
“It means I want you to come to my office after you’re done.”
I calmly stepped on his foot again, pressing down firmly.
Dust puffed off his shoes, evidence of a day spent running around. Not that it mattered to me.
“Eight to nine o’clock every evening would be ideal. One hour a day. If you’re late, it’ll push back my bedtime, so make sure to be punctual.”
Covering the basics of etiquette and providing a crash course on the capital’s noble families was a tight schedule.
I assumed House Yudenet had at least taught him the fundamentals of northern customs and regulations when they prepared him for the position of Grand Duke.
One hour a day should suffice—if he weren’t still a freshly grown-up child pretending to be an adult.
Seeing my strict expression, Hernan stared at me for a moment, then curved his lips into a sly grin.
“Could I interpret this as a date proposal?”
Absolutely not. I glared at him with as much disdain as I could muster.
“I’m only ensuring you don’t embarrass yourself in public.”
Helping Hernan debut in society was my way of repaying both the trouble he caused in the north and the fact that
I had saved him during that perilous situation.
If it also doubled as good publicity for the future Velon branch, boosting my profits, then all the better.
As I snorted and turned away, a timely knock came from Hawthorn.
“Come in.”
With my permission, Hawthorn entered, gasping for breath, his face flushed.
“I’ve spoken with the butler and gathered all invitations that haven’t expired yet…!”
He held up a box so large it could’ve passed for a recycling bin.
“I apologize if some expired ones are mixed in—I didn’t have time to check thoroughly.”
Hawthorn looked visibly shaken, as if even he hadn’t expected such a massive pile.
Though I’d suspected there’d be some interest in the young Grand Duke of House Yudenet after rumors spread about me hiding away in Velon, I hadn’t anticipated this volume of invitations.
Even I didn’t recognize some of the family names.
My jaw dropped.
“How long have you been ignoring these?”
I looked at Hernan in disbelief, but he avoided my gaze with a feigned nonchalance.
“Because they weren’t worth responding to?”
I fixed him with an even sharper glare.
“Do you even understand the word diplomacy?”
“Of course. I learned the imperial language as a child.”
And yet, this principality hadn’t collapsed.
Remarkable.
The northern regions survived thanks to their resources, military strength, and harsh climate, but without those, they might’ve been quietly absorbed into the empire long ago.
“If you’re satisfied with maintaining the status quo, then by all means, keep doing what you’re doing.”
I exhaled sharply and said what I needed to say.
“But you came to me because you wanted things to change, didn’t you? In that case, locking yourself away and pretending you don’t care about the outside world won’t work anymore.”
He had the potential to do well if pushed.
He had a face that was not just passable but annoyingly likable, and it would be a waste not to use it.
“For now, let’s sort through this list. That way, we’ll know where to start.”
As Hernan blinked at me with his usual sly expression, I looked at the mountain of invitations in the box with a headache already forming.
It was over an hour later when I finally finished opening and reading through the pile of invitations that had accumulated on my desk.
Why must people attach such an overabundance of flowery rhetoric to these things?
What exactly is the point of the event anyway?
The sheer number of letters that only got to the main point after two or three pages of odd poetic musings made the task take even longer.
Among the invitations were not just those from noble families, but also dinner invitations from trade guilds interested in importing resources from Velon, as well as courtesy letters from foreign envoys.
Velon, despite being a part of the Empire’s territory, maintained its status as an autonomous state.
The Ducal family of Yudenet had sworn fealty to the Imperial House, but Velon’s resources were still under its own control.
[His Majesty Gilar III wishes to strengthen the bonds of friendship with Velon and proposes to open a new chapter of cooperation…]
In short, it was all blatant attempts to gain access to Velon’s abundant mineral resources at a lower cost.
While the Empire took an annual tribute of minerals as a form of tax, it did not own the rights to Velon’s resources.
Foreign nations, unable to procure these high-purity resources without going through the Empire, were desperate to establish direct trade routes.
“This could easily be leveraged to secure a far more advantageous position,” I thought with a pang of frustration.
Despite the wealth of opportunities at my disposal, the resources were being left untapped simply because it wasn’t deemed necessary.
As someone hailing from a small rural estate with nothing to its name but a few orchards and tourist spots, where cultural assets had to be painstakingly developed, I couldn’t help but feel envious.
What annoyed me even more was knowing exactly how the others would react if I asked why these resources were being left idle.
Their response would undoubtedly be:
“Well, Lord Everdeen, perhaps you could manage Velon as its master yourself.”
Why should I?
For whose benefit?
Suppressing the rising heat in my head, I began categorizing the invitations and noting their sources—until I stumbled across a name I couldn’t ignore.
My hand, which had been moving briskly across the paper, froze.
“…?”
Perhaps noticing my sudden stillness, Hernan glanced between my face and the letter in curiosity.
[Evelyn Denoir Phelticia]
The invitation had been sent just this past Monday.
Sensing something was wrong, Hernan lowered his voice cautiously.
“Is there an issue?”
An issue?
If I had treated this like the rest of the invitations and ignored it, it would have been a huge problem.
It was sheer luck that I caught it in time.
“What were you planning to do if I hadn’t told you to bring me these invitations?” I asked, not even a hint of humor in my tone.
I was giving him one last chance to explain himself.
With his usual calm demeanor, Hernan replied, “They’re made of flammable material, so I was going to use them as kindling for the fireplace.”
Blinking as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb, he looked at me nonchalantly.
Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I swatted at his shoulders and arms with the invitation still in hand.
“Who in their right mind uses an Imperial birthday invitation as kindling?! Do you have any sense at all?”
It might have been fine in the past, but now that we had to engage with the outside world, such negligence was no longer an option.
“Why should I attend the birthday of someone I don’t even know?” he said, voice utterly unbothered.
The nerve. I pinched the bridge of my nose to calm myself and smacked him lightly again.
“Do you think anyone else who attends actually knows them either?”
Hernan, as infuriatingly as ever, simply quipped, “Oh, I thought they did.”
One more hit for good measure.
I resisted the urge to hit his smug face with the invitation itself and instead sighed deeply.
“Hah…”
Wasn’t he supposed to be a serious and reserved individual before showing his true colors?
How well he had deceived me.
My irritation peaked as Hernan, ever so casually, wrapped his hand around mine and smiled.
“I have many shortcomings, my lord, so I’ll be relying on your guidance,” he said with a playful tone that made it impossible to discern where sincerity ended and teasing began.
If I could just get out of this binding agreement, I’d run away without looking back.
Grinding my teeth, I turned my head away from him.
Looking into those big, innocent eyes that practically screamed “I was abandoned as a child, I don’t know any better” would only tempt me to smack him again.
* * *
🤣🤣🤣😂😂