MGN | Chapter 12

Felix was the one having a blast. He blinked slowly, then finally managed to lift his upper body with a clumsy gesture and chuckled.

“Did you hear that, Yves?”

“I heard.”

“What, aren’t you upset?”

Yves, who wasn’t into guys, had declared himself gay as a strategic choice. Just like Felix lamented about being a stud, the most important thing for the grand duke’s position was producing heirs.

Felix was particularly annoyed with Philippe because he already had a child. Anyone with the grand duke’s blood was a potential threat to the crown prince or his future children.

You didn’t have to look far; the current grand duke, Lucien III’s grandfather, was the illegitimate child of the Duke de Broglie. With no one else to inherit the dukedom, the position passed to his son, Lucien III’s father.

Illegitimate children couldn’t inherit the grand duke’s position. They were just an embarrassing nuisance. However, the children of illegitimate ones became a sharp blade threatening their position.

I won’t be a threat to you.

That was the message Yves had to continuously send to the grand duke’s family until he was recognized as an illegitimate child. Only then could he hope to gain that damned recognition and plan for the future.

“Yves, aren’t you going to fight back? He called you a bastard.”

The noble upper class might have the luxury to worry about honor and insults. Yves skimmed through the pile of meaningless words and laughed.

“Was it Charles? He didn’t say anything wrong.”

Yves looked at him with a sidelong glance. The eyes of the young man, who seemed to have grown up delicately in a greenhouse, looked like they might pop out.

“What?”

“I am a poorly raised bastard.”

Yves continued with a hint of laughter.

“And I do drool.”

Though it was a different kind of drooling than what that blond head imagined. There was no need to make that clear.

Maybe it was after watching a love drama he didn’t want to see, but the mistaken territory marking was amusing for a while.

“But are you sure it’s still in your hands?”

Charles, who had been striding toward Yves with snorting breaths, halted.

It seemed Charles was trying to gauge what Yves knew, and Felix, who had been giggling and watching, grabbed Charles’s arm.

“Take it easy. I’m a bit sleepy now. Make sure to finish the fight when I wake up. I have something to get from Yves since I won.”

Even as he mumbled, the crown prince, who had emptied another martini, swayed in his chair, holding onto Charles. He furrowed his brows and muttered.

“Yves, send me something like a watch… you know, the one that Spanish tennis player wears? But don’t send the cheapest one, like a hundred thousand euros, or I’ll be disappointed.”

“I’ll send it within the week.”

As he answered, Yves clicked his tongue lightly. He shouldn’t have trusted the lawyer who introduced himself as Maël Moon.

Spending money wasn’t an issue. It was just that letting someone win was equally bothersome. It was the result of a foolish attempt to believe in something wrong out of a whim.

“Oh, wait, is this the first time I’ve beaten Yves? I’m thrilled.”

Just when he wished the drunken antics would end soon, Felix glanced around the casino hall.

“Yves. Since I’m in a good mood, should I let you have the wedding reception here? At the Riviera Hotel. For Philippe and Manon, I mean.”

He mumbled as if doing a favor. Yves, who was leaning his chin crookedly, raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a bit much to have the reception at the grand palace when my brother is getting married before me. Where would I have mine when I get married? I haven’t even married yet. Dad seems uneasy about it too.”

It was Charles, supporting Felix, who hurriedly tried to stop him.

“Uh, Your Highness. Is it okay to decide something like that now? The wedding is soon, and there are already preparations underway…”

“So?”

“Pardon?”

“Charles. What does it matter if there are preparations underway?”

Felix’s murky gaze fell coldly on Charles. With a hand that had waved through the air, Felix flicked Charles’s forehead. Charles clenched his jaw but managed to keep a smile on his face.

“I’ll… inform Serge. Then His Highness the Grand Duke will know before breakfast tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. Charles, if it doesn’t work out, it’s your fault, okay? The Riviera Hotel is nice. We should give it some support. It was my business. Yves, you’ll get a call by tomorrow.”

It was an announcement that didn’t even require a response. Yves nodded slightly, skillfully hiding his slight agitation.

Without needing to step forward, everyone from the grand duke’s family would come to the Riviera Hotel. That was a stroke of luck Yves hadn’t expected.

“Is that lawyer really lucky?”

Or was it simply the result of coincidence and good judgment?

It didn’t matter either way.

Maël Moon, the lawyer who had introduced himself, came to mind, along with those who cheered after betting on the number he mentioned at the roulette. Yves let out a hollow laugh, feeling like he was part of that group for a moment.

Felix, swaying from intoxication, fumbled with his free hand to grab the stem of the martini glass and commanded.

“To the grand palace.”

With that one word, not only the drunkard and his friend but also the numerous bodyguards surrounding them disappeared in an instant.

Mikola, who was stationed as a dealer inside the Riviera’s casino, glanced at the chips scattered like colorful petals on the black carpet and asked.

“Partner, will you go with Lawyer Montmatier?”

Yves pondered for a moment.

Just claiming to be gay wouldn’t be enough; he’d have to show he was in a relationship to be believed. Preferably seriously, before the paternity suit.

So it was a matter of who to place by his side. The plan had been set long ago; he just needed someone to fill the role.

It didn’t have to be Maël, but the answer came easily despite the silence.

“Why not.”

“There are easier people.”

In other words, Maël wouldn’t be easy.

Gambling was ultimately about predicting the future, and Yves’s secretary, picked up from the gambling scene, was skilled at predictions based on statistics. Well, it didn’t require incredible stats. Maël’s temperament alone suggested the answer.

“I know.”

“The likelihood of him agreeing is extremely low. Even if he is a male homosexual. Even if you chose him because fewer people know about the plan, it’s reckless.”

Uncharacteristically, Mikola spoke at length. Yves slowly drank the remaining liquor in his glass and said.

“It’s not about how many people know.”

“…Then.”

“I like lucky people.”

Would that be a convincing answer for Mikola, who lost a hand due to a poorly placed bet and bad luck that defied statistics? The secretary opened his mouth but remained silent, and Yves gestured with his eyes at the chips scattered on the floor.

“Gather those and buy the watch to send right away.”

Unclaimed chips belonged to whoever picked them up.

Yves stood up and slowly headed for the large window attached to the wall.

The first rule of casino design: don’t have windows, clocks, or mirrors. Gamblers should lose track of time to benefit the casino.

It was a well-known commandment now, but there was an exception here. Addicts didn’t need to forget time. After all, in a single gamble, money that ordinary people would never touch in a lifetime was exchanged.

Beyond the window, below the cliff, the waves crashed sweetly. Yves laughed as he opened the window and enjoyed the sea breeze brushing his cheek.

“Luck, my foot.”

He had just realized that supposed luck. Even so, the answer of luck was more of an excuse for Mikola. Yves had simply reached out and grabbed Maël because he was the knife placed before him.

Manon’s brother, a handsome gay man, who happened to be in the smoking room where Yves hit the jackpot, and whose lover or whatever bared their teeth in front of his half-brother. That was all.

It was the product of coincidence, and there was no grand meaning to the choice.

“Ah, is there one thing I’m hoping for?”

Didn’t that blond young man say he was the son of the company’s chief lawyer? The guy who made a fuss about firing him if they broke up. Yves hoped that guy would put on a good show.

So that Maël would be cornered.

When cornered, people become desperate, and when desperate, their vision narrows. Then they become sharper.

Based on past experiences, tools were easier to use when they were sharpened.

Yves liked that sort of thing.

With that thought, he tore his gaze away from the sea that seemed to swallow everything.

* * *

“Can I help you with your reservation?”

“Oh. Um… just a moment.”

Maël hesitated, and the reservation manager at the French restaurant ‘Le Louis’ on the ground floor of the Monte Carlo Hotel nodded smoothly with a smile.

Maël, looking around awkwardly and even checking his watch, was due to the envelope left on his desk around lunchtime today after he finished his meal.

After confirming the office door was properly closed, he peeked inside the envelope to find photos he had to face eventually.

And a hastily scribbled post-it note attached to the top photo.

[19:20, Le Louis]

A note without even a date or name.

Was it a suggestion to coordinate details since he’d handed over the photos he needed to receive? Maël guessed as much and made time to come here.

But until this moment, 19:19, he hadn’t spotted the man who sent the envelope anywhere near the restaurant entrance or the hotel lobby.

He couldn’t just go in and wait. Le Louis was a restaurant with three stars in a gourmet guide magazine, with reservations booked at least half a year in advance.

‘There’s a phone number.’

It was a number given for client communication at the office. While debating whether to contact and ask where he was, the numbers on the clock changed.

19:20

And someone’s hand landed on his shoulder.