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“GOOD morning, Lady Violette.”
“…Good morning, Master Alaban.”
Ismail didn’t seem to enjoy being called by his surname. Or, rather, it was the “master” and not “prince.” If it bothered him that much, he could just not respond to it each time.
“Please, just call me Ismail,” he said.
Though, he looked like he didn’t want everyone around to realize he was so hung up on his blood and standing. What a tedious personality.
It doesn’t matter whose blood you have in your veins; if you win, you can silence your opponents and rewrite things so you’re in the right. There’s no need to be so hung up on things.
The only people who did that were the ones who were aware they were so weak they could never be the winners. Meaning that Ismail was one of those people.
“Boy toys are everywhere,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to cause trouble for our guests from another country by causing inappropriate rumors.”
“…I appreciate your concern.”
For him, having those rumors would be a huge win. He had been making passes at other noble ladies, but the reactions hadn’t been very positive.
Of course they hadn’t. All the high-ranking noble girls he was targeting already had fiancés or were in the running to marry Evan. Even if they were to step out of those arrangements, no noble would want to have a relationship with someone like Ismail, whose position was unstable and whose very existence was a powder keg due to his royal blood.
“By the way, Lady Violette, I’ve noticed you seem to have grown quite close with Prince Shaghad. Has something happened?” asked Ismail.
“As the daughter of a duke and candidate to marry Prince Evan, I am in a somewhat similar position to Prince Shaghad if you’ll excuse me for comparing myself to royalty. That perhaps allows us to be more open with our concerns with each other. Besides, considering his status, there could be no ridiculous rumors that he’d become my boy toy, meaning there is no issue with us being friendly.”
Two types of men became boy toys: the first aimed to destroy the woman by spreading inappropriate rumors, while the second was what was called a “sugar baby,” a lower-ranking man who was financially supported by a higher-ranking woman.
If you put what I said previously and what I said just now together, I told Ismail: “I have no intention of becoming your sugar momma, and you and Shaghad are in different positions. Wake up.”
Though he only had the status of his viscount family, Ismail had some twisted pride over the royal blood in his veins, meaning he would find being treated as a sugar baby an insult hard to endure.
I imagine he wanted to scream at me for insulting royalty.
I’d received information from Rick on Ismail’s personality that said he was quick to lash out at people and things that displeased him in his home country, but he couldn’t do that now. This wasn’t his home country.
While the king there didn’t acknowledge Ismail’s blood, it seemed Ismail’s royal blood made him act haughty, and he went quite hard at the high-ranking nobility. But if he did that in another country, it would be his head rolling on the ground, not the other person’s. It didn’t matter how much royal blood he had; in terms of rank, he was no more than the grandson of a viscount.
“I don’t want you to see me as a toy,” he said. “I want you to see me as a beast.”
Of course, even though he understood his position, he wasn’t going to forget to flaunt his masculinity at me.
“You’re not the only beast, Master Ismail,” said Evan as he came from behind and stepped between Ismail and me. It was a rather rude thing to do, but Ismail could only frown, considering who Evan was. “All men are beasts. And you, in particular, seem to find it hard to be a gentleman.”
For some reason, after he said that, Evan took a lock of my hair and kissed it as if in show for Ismail.
Squeals erupted from the noble girls nearby who had nothing to do with this situation, though I felt their hostility turn towards me at the same time.
Looks like I have to deal with even more annoying things.
Evan likely did that as nothing more than a show in the same way I was taking jabs at Ismail, but I wished he’d chosen a different method. One that didn’t involve me, if possible.
I casually slapped Evan’s hand away. He seemed to expect it, though, because he just shrugged and smiled in frustration.
“Gooood morning, Prince Evan!”
And then things got louder.
Aisha came running up, loudly calling as she did, and then clung to Evan’s arm. Instantly, the hostility from the nearby noble girls turned towards her.
“How unladylike, speaking that loudly,” muttered one.
“Look. How dare she touch someone of the opposite sex like that who’s not her fiancé. When did this turn into a brothel?” said another.
“I don’t even want to look. It will sully my eyes.”
“The mere granddaughter of a viscount, too. She should know her place. This is what makes her an uncultured lower rank.”
We could hear their conversations, but Aisha didn’t seem to care. In fact, she had a full-faced smile of pride as she pressed her chest against Evan’s arm.
She seemed to mistake the Academy for a brothel. Though, she would never be a prostitute. At least not a high-class prostitute.
Most nobles looked down on prostitutes, but those women couldn’t survive if they weren’t quick-witted. They needed manners and culture to survive in the world because they could easily lose their job or even life if they offended a noble client.
Aisha, on the other hand, wasn’t aware of her status and standing. She was overly confident she could get any man to fall for her, and so was touching Evan, a royal, without permission. But if Evan got angry at her for insulting a royal, she could lose her head. That was what this society built on status was about. That world order was everywhere except Rienbul, where she was wrongfully defended.
“Miss Alaban, could you please let go?” Evan asked.
“Oh, but I wanted to be with you more,” she said, clinging even tighter to his arm.
She’s basically crushing her breasts against his arm. Well done.
Any normal man would at least be blushing at this point, but I looked at Evan, and he just had his usual cool smile.
“Miss Alaban, you are not my fiancée, nor are you in the running to be my fiancée,” he said, implying that she shouldn’t touch him so casually, but she still didn’t change her behavior.
She started cozying up to him more, making me wonder if she had a death wish.
“Don’t say such lonely things. I want to get to know you better, Prince Evan.”
“There are others you should be getting to know better rather than me.”
“I do want to be better friends with Lady Violette, but—”
A burst of laughter escaped me at her utterly off-the-mark response.
“What is so funny?” asked Aisha.
Beside me, as I laughed, Evan was exasperated. With Aisha, of course.
But Aisha’s attention was on me, meaning she didn’t notice his exasperation or realize what caused it.
“Should I congratulate you for your laudable wish of becoming my friend?” I asked. “I’m not sure what it’s like in your country, Miss Viscount’s granddaughter, but here in Astra, people generally interact with those of the same status. There are friendships that surpass the boundaries of status, but even then, people always know their place.”
“It’s wrong to discriminate by status,” said Aisha. “If that’s how it was done, Prince Evan would always be alone, never able to make friends since he’s royalty. And that would be sad.”
Criticizing status was one step away from criticizing the monarchy. Saying that was like loudly declaring you had intentions to commit treason. On top of that, it would be hard for Aisha to play it off as a lack of education since she only had the status of a member of a viscount’s family despite her royal blood, which the royal family didn’t acknowledge.
She obviously didn’t intend that statement to be taken like that. She didn’t have the brains to. It wasn’t like she truly wished to abolish status discrimination. Of course she wouldn’t. I’d heard that in her own country and even in Astra, she took advantage of the royal family’s authority to act with arrogance. It was laughable to think someone like that would say it’s wrong to discriminate based on status.
“That’s not for you to decide,” I said.
In the end, she was just trying to show herself as a good person, not obsessed with status, but it was the wrong move. If she were a high enough ranking noble, people might let it slide and take it the way she hoped, but being from a viscount’s family meant she just came off as a girl lacking in manners and culture whose head was filled with dreams.