IWTGHFW CHAPTER 24

Episode 24

Hearing Ron’s words, I wore an even more baffled expression.

Wait, the one who asked me to investigate was Missy, right?

So the person trying to dig into Cary’s Bar is the Crown Prince?

But Marquis Barrel is one of the Crown Prince’s people?

My head tilted further and further until Ron reached out to support it. Feeling his warm palm stuck against my cheek, I returned my head to its normal position.

“If they’re connected to the Crown Prince, it’s tricky to touch them. If we act rashly, the Metailer family could be misunderstood as showing political alignment. If we’re mistaken for supporting the Second Prince…”
Shawn muttered with a grim face, “…it would be dreadful.”

Um, excuse me.

Just my hunch here, but I have a theory with a veeeery high probability of being true.

I think the Crown Prince and Missy are pretending to be on bad terms.

Meaning, Missy’s intentions are basically the Crown Prince’s intentions.

But Ron and Shawn, not hearing my internal screaming, remained locked in deep, serious contemplation.

“Lady Ail, you said it was the Second Prince who asked you to investigate Cary’s Bar?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Why would the Second Prince entrust such a major matter to you?”

Not really expecting my answer, Shawn stared into the air, lost in thought again. I watched the two men breathing out heavy tension, then lowered my gaze to the floor.

‘Come to think of it… why did Missy ask me to do this?’

From the start, Missy already knew Cary’s Bar was a slave market. She couldn’t act herself and had no one else to ask, so she requested I confirm it.

But if the person trying to raid Cary’s Bar is 99.9% likely to be the Crown Prince, couldn’t he just send his own people to check? Why me?

As these endless questions ran circles in my head, Shawn broke the silence.

“The Second Prince doesn’t have his own faction, so maybe he asked you to help… perhaps to use it as a means to check the Crown Prince?”

“That does sound likely.”

Thanks to Ron and Shawn’s completely off-base speculation, all my questions went poof from my head.

I stared at them, lips pressed tight, as they gravely discussed the Second Prince starting a succession fight.

‘No, that’s not it.’

Granted, my theory isn’t 100% certain. Maybe the Crown Prince and Missy really are on bad terms, and Missy used me to hit the Crown Prince. That’s possible—maybe even more reasonable.

But for some strange reason, I just know they’re close.

Amid their weighty discussion about the Metailer family’s political stance, future moves, Second Prince support, and succession struggles, I decided to jump in.

Both Ron and Shawn’s eyes immediately turned to me. Under their piercing stares, I let out a quiet sigh and spoke.

“Would you listen to what I have to say first?”

[Accidental Underdog]

It had been a while since I last saw Count Poison, and he still radiated the same kindly air. He looked less like a powerful noble at the heart of the imperial succession struggle, and more like a grandfather sitting under a tree in a peaceful village, chuckling away.

When he entered the drawing room and saw me, his face crinkled into a wide smile.

“It’s been a while, Lady Ail.”

“Yes, it has, Count.”

“Do you still visit the western annex often?”

“I was there just yesterday.”

“Hoho, then I’ll have to prepare another diamond.”

At the word diamond, my eyes must have lit up because the Count let out a hearty laugh.

He took a sip of the tea the servant had brought, then looked back at me. His warm eyes seemed to have no place for political scheming.

“And how is the child there?”

“They’re doing fine. You needn’t worry. His older brother drops by from time to time as well.”

“How nice to see such brotherly affection.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Through just that short exchange, the Count realized I knew Missy’s true identity. He smiled knowingly, and I grinned back.

That was all the confirmation I needed—if Missy had a brother, it would, of course, be the Crown Prince. The Count had just confirmed my hunch. I felt oddly relieved.

As we were enjoying a pleasant conversation, the door suddenly burst open and Ron and Shawn walked in. Shawn sat next to me while Ron naturally took the seat of honor.

“Thank you for coming such a long way, Count.”

“If the Marquis calls, of course I must come. I’m only worried because so many eyes are watching.”

“You needn’t worry. We’ve shaken off all tails.”

“Animals have more than just tails, Marquis—they have eyes and ears, too. In noble society, there’s no such thing as a perfect secret.”

Ron frowned, shooting me a look as if to ask, Is he really as good a man as you said?

The Count chuckled at the silent exchange between us.

“So, by calling me here, am I to understand the Metailer family is no longer remaining neutral?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“People will think so nonetheless.”

“I don’t care what they think.”

“Hoho, if only noble society were as soft-hearted as you, Marquis.”

A vein seemed to twitch on Ron’s forehead. Knowing his temperament, I could tell he despised these flowery noble exchanges.

Ron seemed done with beating around the bush. Sitting up straighter, he stared at the Count and asked:

“I’ll ask plainly. Is His Highness the Crown Prince only pretending to be at odds with the Second Prince in order to check His Majesty the Emperor?”

“Is that an important question?”

“It is.”

“May I ask why?”

The Count seemed a little thrown by Ron’s bluntness and glanced away, sipping his tea. Ron watched his every move carefully, then said in an uncharacteristically calm tone:

“The Second Prince is investigating Cary’s Bar.”

“I see.”

“But Cary’s Bar turns out to be a slave market.”

“I see.”

“And the one backing it seems to be Marquis Barrel.”

“I see.”

Ron growled at the Count’s parrot-like replies.

“Count, did you know this?”

Smiling gently, the Count replied, the momentary fluster gone.

“You already know as well, don’t you, Marquis? It’s one of those things everyone knows but pretends not to.”

“Then why did the Second Prince have me investigate Cary’s Bar? Lady Ail nearly got hurt because of it!”

“…”

The room went silent.

Uh, Ron? You’re getting mad about the wrong thing here.

Wasn’t the whole point of calling the Count to confirm the Crown Prince–Missy connection?

The Count seemed amused by Ron’s misplaced anger, and this time he burst into genuine laughter—not the polite, dignified chuckles from before, but a real belly laugh.

Shawn, embarrassed, lowered his head.

After wiping away a tear from his eye, the Count said:

“I know Marquis Barrel is the real owner of Cary’s Bar. He hardly hides it—most nobles are aware.”

…So I didn’t actually bring back some ultra-exclusive intel? Tch.

But if most nobles know, then how did Ron, a Marquis, not know?

When I glanced at him with that thought in mind, he awkwardly looked away.

Ah, so you’re a noble society loner. Don’t worry, I’m a loner too.

While we exchanged this silent banter, the Count continued:

“Although slavery was abolished years ago, Marquis Barrel is earning vast sums through this slave market—and openly at that.”

“Then does that mean the Crown Prince is in on it too? Is the Second Prince investigating to attack him?”

“Well… His Highness dislikes breaking the law.”

“Then why would the Crown Prince keep such a man close—”

“I understand.”

Ron looked bewildered at Shawn’s sudden interruption. Pushing up his glasses in that smug, top-student way, Shawn’s violet eyes gleamed coldly. I almost teased him for being obnoxious, but decided against it.

The Count smiled.

“Sir Shawn, you are a capable advisor.”

“You flatter me.”

“That’s all I can say. I hope you’ll understand an old man’s position.”

“Of course. This is more than enough.”

The Count and Shawn exchanged words only they seemed to understand. While Ron and I sat there, lost, the Count rose to leave. Ron reached out to stop him, but Shawn signaled him to let it go.

If looks could kill, Ron would’ve unleashed a torrent of curses just with his eyes.

Ignoring Ron’s burning glare, Shawn called for the butler to escort the Count. Before leaving, the Count looked back at me. A warm smile spread across his wrinkled face.

“I’ll send your gift soon.”

Snapping out of my daze, I bowed deeply in thanks.

If the gift meant the diamond he mentioned earlier, then—yes, please.

I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear, which made Ron tap my shoulder.

Once the Count left the room, Ron turned to me.

“Gift?”

“Oh, just… Anyway, Sir Shawn, what exactly did the Count mean? I didn’t understand a thing.”

Ron’s gaze clung to me, but I ignored it just like Shawn had earlier. No matter how scary he tried to look, it was still Ron—so not scary at all.