Please Repay Me with Marriage! - Chapter 34

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Please make sure the reward is marriage!
Chapter 34
Before long, Zenis shook her head.
‘No way.’
She doesn’t even seem to want to get close to me, so why would she bother?
Zenis tipped back the rest of her cider, trying to shake off the stray thought.
The crisp apple fragrance lingering in her mouth was so refreshing that she could understand why Elisabeth had been so reluctant to let it go.
“By the way, Lady Zenis, I imagine the sudden invitation must have been quite a shock, so thank you for accepting so graciously. Surely Sir Hawk didn’t commit any rudeness?”
“Not at all. I’m not sure if you heard, but I actually received a great deal of help from him. If you hadn’t sent Sir Hawk, I would have been in serious trouble. My belated thanks to you.”
Zenis pressed a hand to her chest and bowed her head, and Irene waved her hand, telling her there was no need for that.
“We’re going to be family, after all. If you ever need help with something, or if anything is inconvenient while you’re staying here, don’t hesitate to tell me.”
“Yes, thank you for your kindness.”
“You don’t have to be so formal, you know.”
The eyes that smiled at Zenis were full of goodwill.
How could she look at a stranger like that?
Suddenly, her late mother came to mind, and Zenis’s chest fluttered.
“Um… my brother went to Miles County to repay the debt, didn’t he? Do you happen to know when he’ll be back?”
“He should be back soon, shouldn’t he? Considering the distance to Miles County, he should have arrived by now…”
Where on earth is he, doing what?
Irene let out a long sigh, then smiled at Zenis as if to tell her not to worry.
“He’ll be back before long. At the very least, he’ll arrive before the wedding.”
“…He won’t be late, will he?”
“Hm? Elli, did you say something?”
“It’s nothing.”
Elisabeth shook her head vigorously and glared at the steak on her plate, sawing at it with rough, violent strokes.
Her movements were forceful enough to draw the eye, but Zenis deliberately kept her gaze fixed on her own plate.
Unlike Irene, she had heard what Elisabeth muttered.
‘He isn’t after my sister’s money alone, is he?’
Surely my brother wouldn’t do such a thing.
Still, as she turned over that muttered remark in her mind, Zenis grew a little frightened.
It was because she remembered very clearly the intentions her brother had carried when he debuted in high society.
‘Marrying a woman who’ll pay off your debts—that’s the most likely scenario under the present circumstances. Well, what else could he do? He has to make the most of the face his real father handed down to him, even if it’s only this much.’
No matter how you look at it, hasn’t he made rather too good use of that face?
Without realizing it, she stole a glance at Irene, and when their eyes met, Zenis offered an awkward smile.
“I’m not sure the food is to your liking. If there’s anything you’d like to eat, just say so. I’ll have the chef prepare it.”
“No, it’s fine. Everything is delicious.”
Even now, the look Irene gave Zenis held nothing but fondness, which only made her more uncomfortable in this seat.
‘Brother… where exactly are you right now?’
In more ways than one, Zenis prayed and prayed that he would arrive here soon.

* * *
Inside an upscale restaurant where the doorman checks each guest’s status and admits none but nobles.
Amid the splendid, elegant atmosphere, where a massive music box played a shimmering melody, a battered man who looked utterly out of place scowled deeply and spat out a complaint.
“Ugh! Damn it… This meat is way too big! Can’t you see my lip is split? I told you to cut it small!”
Cutting food that had already been served was not the staff’s job to begin with.
Not only had he grabbed an unlucky waiter and forced him to cut the meat, but he had even struck the man on the head for cutting it so large.
It was an outrageous, unforgivable act that could have gotten him thrown out on the spot, but a person’s status was always the trump card, wherever they went. The waiter quickly dropped flat to the floor before he could be given another excuse to be blamed.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir! It was by no means intentional! I’ll bring the meat back at once, cooked small and thin!”
“How do you expect to be paid for doing a job this sloppy…?”
As Harry gulped down cold water as if trying to cool his temper, the waiter quietly backed away, silently cursing him out a thousand different ways in his head.
Unaware of this, Harry grit his teeth and prodded the wound at the corner of his mouth, which was healing slowly despite the expensive ointment he’d applied.
“Damn it, they said it would heal in a day if I applied it…”
If anything, it felt like the wound was getting worse. Why had he trusted some quack of a doctor from a backwater village that didn’t even appear on the map?
While he was seriously debating whether to march back the way he came and either kill that doctor or spare him, the knight he had sent on an errand returned.
“Huff, huff. Young master!”
“Well? What happened?”
Giving in to Harry’s pressure, the knight had covered the round trip of one hour in just thirty minutes, and now he gasped for breath.
He wiped the sweat running down his forehead and stared longingly at the water glass on the table, but instead of giving the exhausted knight a drink, Harry flew into a temper.
“I asked you what happened.”
“Y-yes! The cheque was not a forgery!”
It had taken a while to verify the cheque’s authenticity, but that was standard procedure for every cheque that passed through the bank.
The moment the cheque was confirmed genuine, the bank opened an account under the name Harry Miles.
Harry stared at the bankbook the knight handed him, at the thirty million rarc printed on it, and his jaw went slack.
“The cheque’s really genuine…?”
Beside him, the knights widened their eyes as well. One of them, rubbing his eyes hard with his knuckles, let out a whoop and started clapping.
“Congratulations, young master!”
“Huh?”
“You’re rich now, aren’t you? Thirty million rarc! That’s enough to buy a house in the capital without breaking a sweat!”
The knight offered his congratulations again, wagging his tail, but the greed he couldn’t quite hide flickered openly in his eyes. The kind of greed that itched to pick up whatever crumbs fell nearby.
Catching sight of that look, the other knights came crowding in, each one fawning over him.
“Congratulations, young master!”
“Congratulations. Treat us to a meal, won’t you?”
“Look at these idiots… Don’t you remember what that bastard said?”
‘Mark my words. If Count Miles repays his debts and you spend that cheque without permission, House of Blair will charge you with fraud.’
He had just been warned by his father over a recent blunder that had caused real trouble.
‘This is the last time I’ll overlook it. Make one more mistake, and I’ll strike you from the family register, so mark that well!’
The Miles County title would pass to his elder brother as the firstborn, but his maternal grandmother, who doted on him dearly, had promised to bequeath him a viscount’s title after her death.
But that was only true so long as he carried the Miles name.
Lose the Miles name, and the viscount’s title would vanish with it. So he had to keep his head down and behave until his grandmother passed.
‘But…’
Thirty million rarc, sitting under the name Harry Miles.
It would be a shame to give up money that had already landed in his hands. Yet it was far too much to swallow without a word.
Unable to shake off a greed that had already become part of his body, he dithered, neither here nor there. Just then, a voice that sounded terribly tempting reached Harry’s ears.
“What? He tripled his money?”
“A guy who only ever lost money every time he set foot in a gambling hall? How on earth?”
“Oh, there’s a way.”
It was a voice you simply couldn’t pretend not to hear.
“Ever heard of the Sure-Win Method?”
“What a crazy thing to say. Since when is there a sure-win method in gambling?”
“Why wouldn’t there be? I’m living proof right here.”
The man sitting at the table across from him, puffing himself up with obvious pride, was someone Harry knew well.
‘Rodrigo Yulpis.’
They weren’t acquaintances. If they had been, Harry would have greeted him the moment he walked into the restaurant and spotted his face.
They were only the sort who recognized each other’s faces and names from crossing paths now and then. And where had they crossed paths? At the gambling hall.
Harry wasn’t exactly lucky himself. But Rodrigo had practically no luck at all.
If he walked in with a 100,000 rarc stake and walked out with a mere 3,000, people called it a lucky day for him. Need I say more?
“So what exactly is this Sure-Win Method?”
“Well, you see…”
Rodrigo, shoulders swaggering as he glanced around, met Harry’s eyes head-on.
Realizing Harry had heard every word he’d said, Rodrigo’s one eye narrowed with displeasure.
He cleared his throat briefly, then turned to his friends and murmured something to them.
His voice was so low that Harry couldn’t make out what he said. But the startled cry from his friend in response came through clearly.
“What? Seriously? Just doing that guarantees we’ll win money?”
“Ah, keep it down. You’re bothering the other diners.”
“…Right. Right. Sorry, I got too excited there.”
With Rodrigo at the center, his friends leaned their heads together and began whispering something among themselves.
Now Harry couldn’t hear Rodrigo’s voice or his friend’s voice anymore.
Still, judging by the twitching corners of their mouths and the flush blooming across their cheeks, it was clear the “Sure-Win Method” Rodrigo had mentioned was no empty boast.
‘No, it’s not just that it isn’t nonsense, but…’
It must be a story convincing enough to tempt someone after hearing only a few words.
Harry stared hard at the figure on the account he was holding.
Thirty million rarc.
If Rodrigo had earned three times his stake, then surely he could make four or even five times as much.
In that case, the amount printed on this account would surpass 100 million rarc…
‘One hundred million rarc.’
Merely rolling that phrase over his tongue sent a thrilling shiver racing up his spine.
Before he knew it, Harry was wiping his clammy palms on his trousers, thinking.
‘I have to hand this thirty million rarc over to Father.’
Turn that thought around, and every rarc left over after the thirty million would be mine to keep.
Shoving the bankbook into his breast pocket, Harry gulped down cold water in long, greedy swallows.
Then he rose from his seat and headed toward the table where Rodrigo was sitting.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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