Surviving as a Terminally Ill Heiress - Chapter 50

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

Chapter 50

Alec relaxed his shoulders and glanced back at Lavigne, his eyes asking what they should do.
Thinking they needed to hurry, Lavigne gestured for him to open it.
Whoosh!
The curtain flew open at Alec’s touch.
The intimate space lay utterly exposed.
Clothes scattered across the floor, employees with their cheeks swollen red, and Johanna standing before them like a guardian.
The picture told itself in an instant.
“What in—!”
The boy who’d been sprawling on the sofa like some nobleman lurched to his feet.
He still looked awkwardly young.
“Isn’t that In-young from Gallager?”
The young noblewomen murmured with discomfort.
He must be famous, apparently. And not for anything good.
‘The boy’s picked up some terrible habits.’
Lavigne’s eyes had gone dull.
Yes, she knew the type. The kind who’d summon an employee, and when the manager came, demand the owner, and when the owner came, demand the owner’s grandfather.
Once they got wound up, they knew no limits.
“Hey, what are you— why are you just standing there?”
“Young Master, please stop this harassing—”
The boy snapped at his bodyguard, who fumbled for words.
The shop grew louder and more chaotic by the moment, and other customers began drifting into the lobby to see what the fuss was about.
Johanna, the owner, pressed her forehead in her palms, at her wit’s end.
The shop was upscale enough to have security, but laying hands on a customer was never simple.
Finally, unable to bear it, Alec stepped forward.
“Other esteemed patrons are finding this distressing. I suggest you desist from further commotion.”
The boy spun around to face Alec and Lavigne’s group.
This was coming right on cue.
“Do you know who I am?!”
There it was.
Lavigne laughed outright.
She’d almost forgotten how satisfying this was to hear. Well, not really satisfying, but close.
“…You’re laughing?”
The boy caught sight of Lavigne for just a moment before striding toward her.
Alec moved to block him immediately, but the boy’s bodyguard—brutally rebuked moments before—grabbed him instead.
Pepper, whose actions always came faster than words, rested his hand on his sword hilt in warning.
One spark would ignite everything.
“You’re mocking me?”
The boy’s menacing face grew more threatening the closer it came.
The large scar across his forehead only sharpened the effect.
Blood seemed inevitable.
But then Lavigne suddenly pointed at Clara, who stood with arms crossed.
“Do you happen to know who this person is?”
“…What?”
“Well, she would be the second daughter among the second and third sons and four daughters under Wagner’s fifth prince—”
“Three sons and four daughters.”
“Ah, yes—three sons and four daughters. The second daughter of that line.”
What was she talking about?
The boy and the onlookers blinked stupidly.
Regardless, the two girls—different in bearing yet both striking in beauty—conversed with casual composure.
“Your parents do seem to have a lovely relationship, don’t they?”
“It runs in the family. I wish it would run a little less vigorously.”
“Won’t you visit your newborn siblings?”
“Have you lost your mind? Force me back to that place—”
Both girls were utterly indifferent.
He’d been ignored.
Realization dawned on the boy’s face, which flushed from white to crimson.
“How dare you—!”
“How dare I?”
Finally, Clara responded.
“Did you just say ‘how dare I’? Since when can a minor noble of Atela speak down to a princess of Wagner?”
Clara’s gaze and voice turned cold as winter.
For all that Wagner was weaker than Atela, it remained the most militarily formidable of the neighboring realms.
Moreover, Clara carried Ambrose blood.
In Atela, only the Royal Family could claim supremacy over her by bloodline alone.
And beyond that—
“Moreover, a true man ought to be taciturn and noble as a mountain, the way the legendary Gillian is said to have been—clearing a thousand Magical Beasts with his own hands. Even my newborn siblings don’t whimper so pathetically.”
The stubborn Wagner princess had equally uncompromising tastes.
It meant she was pitiless toward any suitor who failed to measure up in her eyes.
Those who knew her well regarded the boy with something approaching pity.
Lavigne, meanwhile, smiled thinly at Clara.
“You really do like Gillian, don’t you?”
“…Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not what you think—I simply admire him.”
“Of course.”
Lavigne nodded carelessly.
Gillian was legendary among heroes, particularly famous for his musculature. Especially across the chest.
Young, but her tastes were certainly fixed.
“Y-you—!”
The boy now trembled from head to toe with indignation.
But instead of railing at Lavigne or Clara, who had humiliated him, he turned his fury on Johanna and her staff.
“I’m going to sue you! How dare you offend a customer? I’ll sue you so thoroughly your whole business will be finished—”
“Please do.”
Lavigne replied flatly.
The script was too predictable to hold any interest.
She’d seen it happen countless times: when two customers quarreled in a shop, it was always the employee trying to break it up who ended up taking the beating.
In the end, they just vented their rage on whoever was defenseless.
“In fact, I’ll file a countersuit.”
“Wh-what?”
“Let’s see: disrupting business through rioting, extortion, property damage, and assault.”
Lavigne pointed slowly from the boy to the scattered clothes to the employees with their swollen cheeks.
Yet her voice and expression were disconcertingly gentle, entirely at odds with the severity of her words.
Thrown off by the mismatch, the boy only realized what he’d heard a moment too late.
“Don’t be absurd! What do you think you—!”
“Me? I’m the chairman’s granddaughter.”
Silence.
Lavigne closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the thrill, then added quietly:
“Well, technically not quite.”
And she turned to apologize to Johanna, who’d just been stripped of her shop’s ownership in her mind.
“I’m sorry. I’ve always wanted to say something like that once.”
“Oh no, well… it’s not entirely wrong, conceptually speaking… honestly, I’ve thought about it myself.”
Johanna and her employees nodded in understanding.
The young noblewomen weren’t much different in their reaction.
Atela was a rigidly hierarchical society, but this was an age where capital’s influence grew ever more formidable.
Thus, one who held both the highest rank and vast wealth was nearly absolute.
“Now, would you leave our shop?”
For example, someone like Ambrose.
Alec and Pepper resumed the movements they’d been suppressing.
With the owner’s command to evict, there was no longer any reason for restraint.
They simply lifted the dumbfounded boy and his bodyguard and threw them out with ease.
‘Ah, the taste of money. The taste of power.’
This was it. This was exactly it.
Lavigne’s eyes drifted peacefully shut.
Clara looked down at Lavigne, who—despite appearances—was thrilling in her own curious way.
She really was a rather odd child.
And yet the feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Rather than an obstacle to her life, Clara found herself seeing her differently now—or at least, she might in time.
“Well then, since we’ve met, shall we dine together this evening as a special—”
“I’m afraid I’m busy. I’ll be going now.”
Infuriating, at least, would never change.
Clara’s grip tightened on the Fan in her hand.
Lavigne simply hurried away.
Soon, freed from their shock, the young noblewomen began twittering—their envy and spite driving them to tear down this thorn in Clara’s side, hoping to score points.
“Really, it’s astounding. There’s not a shred of a lady’s refinement to be found, no matter how hard you look!”
“Exactly. She doesn’t even try to hide her lack of breeding…”
“And look at her—already so brazenly exploiting her position! How utterly shameless.”
“Whatever could Her Majesty the Empress be thinking, visiting her so often?”
“Duke Ambrose does the same. I understand the joy of having found kinship, but one must also think of the family’s honor.”
“Letting someone like that go unchecked damages not just the Imperial house and Ambrose, but the entire dignity of the nobility—”
“Now that I think about it, that does sound rather concerning.”
Click.
Clara’s Fan snapped shut decisively.
The young noblewomen faltered at the gesture that cut off their words.
“If you’re worried the nobility’s dignity will suffer, perhaps you should first address what In-young of Gallager has been doing.”
“W-well, that’s true, but—”
“And your remarks just now were rather suggestive of something troubling.”
“I… what do you mean?”
“It rather sounded as though you were implying that Her Majesty the Empress and Duke Ambrose lack sound judgment.”
“N-no! We would never—!”
The young noblewomen leaped to their feet.
They nearly fell backward in their denial, and Clara surveyed them with a cold gaze.
“Then I trust you’ll all be more careful with your words going forward. As befits ladies of noble blood.”

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