MGN | Chapter 11

After Philippe, who could barely stand, left with Charles supporting him, the crown prince took a sip of his newly served martini and started complaining without picking up his cards again.

“So annoying. Acting all high and mighty when he almost lost his succession rank. Can’t we just get rid of him? When I become the grand duke, I should exile him somewhere far away. Got any country recommendations?”

“America. They love exiled European nobles.”

Yves replied indifferently. His talkative half-brother seemed to have no intention of focusing on poker again. Judging by his track record, it seemed like he just didn’t have a good hand.

Expecting a long rant, Yves took out a cigarette. As soon as he took a puff, the crown prince’s irritation flared up.

“If we send him to America, won’t he just go on some ridiculous show and talk nonsense? He should’ve just died during surgery. It’s so frustrating that he survived.”

Philippe had undergone multiple surgeries since childhood due to lung issues. Each surgery was life-threatening, and the rehabilitation periods were long. Naturally, photos from that time mostly featured his younger brother, Felix.

Philippe never set foot in the military, which was essential for ascending the throne. A future commander-in-chief who had never been in the military. A crown prince who had to see people’s startled faces every time he spoke due to his breathing issues.

In a world where blue blood was just a symbol, what kind of symbol would a sick grand duke become?

If his behavior had been decent, it might not have been a problem. However, Philippe, as if compensating for his repeated hospitalizations and rehabilitation, created serious issues. Leaving blue bruises on the bodies of those he met, like a seal.

After his last surgery, Philippe gave up his position as crown prince. Once he had to bow to his two-year-younger brother Felix, the hush money secretly handed to Philippe’s victims by the grand duke’s family changed in scale.

Well, at least according to the information Mikola brought to Yves.

“Do you know what really pisses me off? He still seems to covet my position. He cried and declared his abdication as crown prince, but when I said his descendants wouldn’t have succession rights, he threw a fit, saying he’d die. If he has kids, they’d be next in line after me.”

Felix shook his head as if it was absurd and gestured with his finger. A bodyguard approached immediately.

“Make sure the martinis keep coming. What about my brother?”

“Duverger the lawyer has safely moved him to the Presidential Suite. The lawyer said he’d return after confirming he’s asleep.”

After the report, Monaco’s top security personnel moved to fetch the martinis. Yves flicked the ash from his cigarette, and Felix muttered.

“Charles is strange too. He used to love women, and now suddenly it’s Maël? What’s with the serious dating? He didn’t even tell me anything.”

Charles always glared at Yves with blatant hostility whenever they met.

Today, too, he seemed quite smug as he eyed Yves. It was like a dog sticking out its tongue. Especially since it marked its territory while peeing.

It was clear what that blond young man imagined. And what role Yves played in it. Imagination was free, but how it would affect the situation was another matter.

While Yves was pondering, Felix downed his martini in one go and chewed on an olive.

“Yves, you kept looking at Maël during tennis too.”

Did he?

Yves removed the cigarette from his lips.

Maybe he flinched while dodging the ball, mistaking the sport. Maël’s racket swings were quite accurate, despite his lack of athleticism. Above all, he couldn’t hide his expression of boredom and irritation.

In the last set, he showed his skills as if he had no choice.

Perhaps his gaze wandered a few times. It was absurd that he only seemed to enjoy it when he wasn’t supposed to win.

Yves stubbed out his cigarette and replied.

“I have eyes too, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Can’t deny it looks good, can you?”

It was a simple statement of fact. Whatever part of it was amusing, the tipsy crown prince laughed, gasping for breath.

“Hahaha. What, you like Maël? You’re a step too late. Should I tell Charles to back off? I saved Riviera, so I could do that much. He listens to everything I say.”

“More than that.”

He was a half-brother who got close out of necessity. There was no need for a long friendship. Cutting off uninterested words, Yves flicked a chip.

“You lost at tennis, so you owe me something.”

“Eh.”

Without looking, he tossed a two-thousand-euro blue chip. Felix caught it and mixed it with the scattered chips in front of him. A variety of colors spread across the green table.

“Yves, it’s already over. You should’ve said something then. Saying it now isn’t fun.”

Despite being too drunk to stand, he slipped away smoothly. As Yves watched silently, Felix staggered a few times before standing up.

“If you’re disappointed, want to bet?”

With the cards and chips all mixed up, there was no room to place anything in front of him. When he looked up, the voice returned.

“But no poker. You’re practically a pro, right? They say you bought our hotel chain with poker winnings.”

“Then Seven Card.”

“I don’t want to. You’re probably good at that too.”

In a space meant for betting, he could’ve picked anything, but what kind of bet was he thinking of with that not-so-bright mind? Just as Yves was losing patience, the crown prince smirked.

“Let’s go with something simple. Hmm… like guessing how long Charles and Maël have been together. The one who guesses closer wins.”

The crown prince’s position must be incredibly boring if he’s curious about how long someone else has been dating. However, Yves nodded instead of showing it.

“You pick first, Your Highness.”

Playing along appropriately, winning appropriately. Using what he gained to create an advantageous position was what he needed to do now. Yves raised his whiskey glass and swallowed the lukewarm liquid.

“If Charles says it’s been a long time, it’s really been a long time. But I went to the Bahamas with him last summer, and we partied with women. If that doesn’t count, nine, ten, eleven… about six, seven months? Seven months! I say seven months.”

Whether guessing something he already knew could be called a bet was uncertain. Yves still vividly remembered the homo love drama from back then.

“Was it a year?”

Saying that and winning. It was simple.

There were many demands to make. Like asking for an invitation to the dinner Lucien III would attend, or a seat near the grand duke at the upcoming Only Watch auction or Grand Prix. It was funny that he could only win a chance to meet through a gambling bet, but still.

Well, an opportunity was an opportunity. And something that came easily wouldn’t be called an opportunity.

“Three months.”

Despite knowing better, what slipped from Yves’s lips was a period cut down to a quarter of what he knew.

“Oh. Is that how long the executive director of the Riviera Hotel chain’s serious relationship lasts? That’s harsh.”

“I doubt he has such a strong stomach.”

Without specifying which side he meant, Yves recalled.

Light-colored eyes. The words to let him win. Asking what’s the point of beating the crown prince. Saying it’d only be a hassle. Maël, who spoke like that.

“Maybe I’ve heard the name too much while at the casino.”

It was an incomprehensible choice, but Yves dismissed it as a momentary mistake.

It didn’t matter if he got fooled once. He’d won with his demands before, so this time, he thought he’d listen to the other side.

Just then, Charles entered the private room, rotating his shoulders. Felix shouted as soon as he saw him.

“Hey, Charles, how many months?”

“…What?”

“How long have you been dating Maël? Tell me straight, okay?”

“Well, since the Rose Ball last year. So, about a year?”

The blond man replied, scratching his cheek. Felix chuckled and tossed the chips toward Yves.

“Did I win? I won, right?”

For some reason, he threw a handful of chips into the air like confetti. The drunken revelry of the victorious was unsightly and unending. Charles blinked and asked.

“But what… what did you win?”

“That’s not the point. Hahaha, hey, Charles, what are you going to do? Yves says he likes Maël too. Can’t take his eyes off him.”

Felix, laughing as if he’d run out of breath, rolled his eyes. After the unpleasant laughter ended, Charles twisted his lips and spat out.

“If you like him, so what? Only a poorly raised bastard drools over what someone else is eating.”

Ha, Yves laughed lightly at that.