[V4C15] Are You Stupid?

Once Bernie escorted Monica to the entrance of the waiting room, Monica let go of Bernie’s arm and gave a deep bow.

“Um… Thank you for escorting me, Count Ambard.”

“You’re welcome, Mage Countess Everett.”

Bernie put on a prideful smile before returning to the venue. As a count, he was likely busy with all the greetings he had to exchange.

After watching Bernie turn the corner of the corridor, Monica opened the door to the waiting room.

She had forgone knocking, assuming the room was empty. However, once she entered, Monica found Clifford sitting comfortably on the sofa.

He had changed from the indigo robe seen on stage to a well-tailored outfit befitting a secretary, and he wore his usual large round glasses.

“Um… Where’s Lana?”

As Monica timidly inquired, Clifford stared at her with the gray eyes behind his glasses before answering.

“Lana is running around the venue. She was excited because we got increased orders for robes.”

“I-Is it okay for you to not be with her?”

“Apparently, I was deemed unsuitable for negotiations. She told me to wait here.”

Indeed, with his gruff manners and unwelcoming attitude, Clifford likely could not handle negotiations. Monica wondered if such behavior was acceptable for a secretary.

Meanwhile, Clifford asked, “Aren’t you going to sit?”

There were two sofas in the waiting room, separated by a low table. Clifford sat on one of them.

Lacking the courage to sit right beside him, Monica murmured, “Excuse me…” and sat on the opposite sofa.

Clifford, with his arms crossed, observed Monica without blinking. As Monica shrank back from his impolite gaze, he started talking again without any preamble.

“By the way, why is a mere magic enthusiast like you present in this venue?”

“…Huh?”

“You must have begged Lana to let you come along. How shameless.”

Apparently, Clifford hadn’t realized that Monica was one of the Seven Sages.

Naturally, Monica had been officially invited and had every right to be present. Clifford’s complaints were entirely misplaced.

As Monica hesitated about how to respond, Clifford continued speaking indifferently.

“Lana is too lenient with you. I don’t like it… You must be my biggest rival.”

“…R-Rival?”

What could they possibly be competing for? Puzzled by the one-sided declaration of rivalry, Monica asked hesitantly.

“Uh, um… Do you… like Lana?”

“You should be able to tell by just looking.”

Monica was about to say “I don’t really understand”, but she swallowed those words. From what Monica had observed, Clifford frequently insulted Lana by saying things like “you’re stupid”. It didn’t seem like he had much affection for her.

When Monica gave Clifford a doubtful look, he reclined on the sofa and put on an arrogant aura.

“Lana has always been selfish and showy.”

“…”

“Especially when she finds something she likes, she immediately wants to flaunt it, and brag about it.”

Again, Clifford seemed to be belittling Lana. However, before Monica could counter, Clifford explained.

“I don’t have any likes nor dislikes, but even I saw what Lana bragged about as sparkling.”

Monica let out an audible gasp.

Because she was exactly the same. As long as there were numbers and magic, other things didn’t matter. She had never been interested in fashion or food.

Monica only started caring about fashion when Lana taught her how to braid her hair. The Monica of the past only thought of meals as a source of nutrition, until Lana paid attention to her preferences and remembered her favorite foods.

Every time Lana proudly said, “Isn’t this lovely?” with a smile, the world seemed a bit brighter to Monica.

“I kind of… understand that feeling.”

Monica looked down, fidgeted with her fingers, and continued in a soft voice.

“I like it when Lana talks about the things she likes.”

Clifford stared at Monica in silence for a while, then nodded with a seemingly convinced expression.

“You truly are my rival. Would you give up your time with Lana for three large gold?”

“No, never.”

Monica replied with an unusually assertive tone. Clifford muttered, “A formidable foe,” and gave Monica a piercing gaze before continuing.

“By the way, I don’t dislike many things, but I do dislike you, my rival. And that man who pointed a gun at me.”

“Oh, um, but you pointed a gun at him first…! Ike isn’t a bad person!”

Clifford glared at Monica. Undeterred, Monica pursed her lips and glared back, mustering the most intimidating expression she could manage.

As they continued to lock eyes, the door to the waiting room swung open with force, and the jubilant Lana jumped in.

“I’m back! …Oh? When did you two become friends?”

Given Clifford’s general indifference to others and Monica’s shyness, Lana thought the two were getting along well. (Though in reality, they were glaring at each other.)

“You’re as blind as a bat. We’re not getting along at all,” declared Clifford.

“Uh, you see… We’re rivals,” explained Monica.

“…For what?”

Lana tilted her head in confusion, but decided not to dwell on it too much. She was fidgeting at the corner of her mouth, seemingly eager to convey something.

“More importantly, Monica, listen, listen! I just heard from Mrs. Walton!”

“…Huh?”

Lana placed her hands on Monica’s shoulders and spoke with excitement.

“It seems that Ashley-sama’s engagement has been broken off!”

Even though Lana’s words reached her ears, Monica couldn’t react immediately.

(…Cyril-sama’s engagement… is broken off? Cyril-sama is not engaged anymore?)

And then, slowly taking her time, Monica finally understood the meaning of Lana’s words and…

Her face turned pale in despair.

“…Monica?”

Noticing Monica’s visibly pale face, Lana furrowed her brows.

Monica remained seated on the sofa, sluggish. She bowed down, covering her face with both hands.

“…I am the worst.”

“Huh?”

In response to Lana’s surprise, Monica mumbled as if confessing a sin.

“When I heard that Cyril-sama’s engagement was broken off… I-I was happy…”

Indeed, at the moment Monica heard Lana’s words, she did feel relieved.

——Oh, that’s good… she thought, and she despised herself for that.

As the successor of House Highown, Cyril’s engagement was a good thing for him. Instead of celebrating his engagement, Monica not only didn’t bless him, but she was actually happy to learn it was broken off.

(…I’m sorry, Cyril-sama… I’m despicable.)

Monica respected Cyril a great deal. How could she find joy in his engagement being called off?

Feeling like she had become an awful criminal, Monica hung her head, and Lana observed this reaction with a furrowed brow.

In the midst of this, Clifford was the first to speak.

“Are you stupid?”

To be honest, Monica thought that the insult was too mild. Taking pleasure in someone’s engagement being broken was her lowest point as a human being.

The kind Lana wouldn’t criticize Monica, but Clifford had declared his hate for her. He would surely say what needed to be said.

She deserved to be scolded and berated. Willing to accept whatever came, Monica listened intently to Clifford’s next words.

“I would do my best to interfere if Lana gets engaged to anyone other than me.”

“Excuse me!?”

“And I’d raise a toast once it’s broken off.”

“Hold on!?”

Even as Lana angrily raised a chorus of objections, Clifford began asserting something outrageous.

The bewildered Monica turned to face Clifford, asking, “Why…?”

“Why, you ask? If you don’t understand something like that, you really are stupid.”

Clifford puffed out his chest, as if he had nothing to hide.

“Because, I wouldn’t like it if Lana married someone other than me.”

And then, Clifford pointed firmly at Monica and said it…

“Which means you like this ‘Cyril-sama’ guy, and you got jealous of the young lady who was rumored to be his fiancé.”

Lana yelled, “No, you idiot!” and covered Clifford’s mouth, but it was already too late.

(Me? Jealous?)

Monica widened her eyes, frozen with her mouth slightly agape. Her face gradually turned red.

Her heart thumped loudly. Her pulse grew erratic without any apparent reason, and sweat began to form over her entire body.

She pressed her hands against her cheeks, realizing they were incredibly hot.

“What am I… going to do…? What do I do…?”

To the perplexed Monica, Clifford continued with an air of importance.

“Anyway, when the next engagement candidate appears, you should try appeasing her with money.”

“Cliff, just shut up already!!”

Their voices no longer reached Monica.

Monica’s mind was filled with the words “what do I do, what do I do,” swirling around like a vortex.

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