How to Handle a Courtesan Opponent – It’s Impossible
After dinner, Roan and Bianca left without lingering.
They were no ordinary guests.
One was a member of the royal family, the other the daughter of a great duke.
With such figures gone, the stiff tension that had settled over the entire estate gradually eased.
The servants moved carefully, removing the silverware and dishes, and the once-garish table began to return to its usual quiet state.
Angela stared blankly at the scene for a moment, then finally headed to her own room.
There she summoned the maid she had spent the longest time with—White.
“Miss, is there something I can do for you?”
“That is… White, do you know anything about the Rosefield family?”
White blinked once.
It was rare for Angela to bring up noble family affairs first.
She was usually more interested in things than in people.
But today was different.
Angela had finally realized.
The Rosefield in the novel had been simple.
One of the Five Dukes of the Human Empire.
The greatest lord aside from the Emperor himself, capable of fielding the strongest army.
A wealthy house that turned the golden grain poured from vast farmlands into actual gold.
A family that possessed wealth yet simultaneously wielded the power of crimson destruction.
And the place that had birthed the villainess—the kind of place reminiscent of the Demon King’s Palace.
That was more than enough.
In a women’s romance fantasy, the most important thing had been intense emotional arcs and the plausibility to drive them.
But this world was no longer something one could simply read and discard.
Angela would have to live inside it.
She had decided to step onto the political stage.
The most exhausting, the most filthy, and the most lethal of all.
Family politics.
To keep the wife and her lover from fighting each other, communication, flattery, and negotiation were all required.
And Angela knew perfectly well that she was sorely lacking in every one of those areas.
If one didn’t know something, one learned it.
So she had memorized noble names and summoned White, who could organize the details beside her.
White considered for a moment, then spoke calmly.
“The Rosefield family is one of the Five Dukes of the Human Empire. Of course you know that.”
“Yes.”
“And in the early days of the Human Empire, the Rosefield family supported the royal house.”
“Eh?”
Angela blinked.
This was news to her.
The relationship she had known between the Rosefield and the Imperial Family had been one of mutual restraint—too powerful to be touched casually.
It was awkward, threatening, and therefore one of the things they both pretended not to notice.
As Bianca had once said, it would be troublesome if Roan were to marry someone whose interests directly conflicted with those of the royal family.
According to that logic, the Rosefield should have been far beyond the Emperor’s reach, operating in a realm where other powers held sway.
Yet they had supposedly cooperated together in the past.
White continued her explanation.
“At the time, Emperor Constantine carried out many campaigns to establish legitimacy as the ruler of one half of the divided nation. One of those was the great expedition to subdue the nomads.”
“Oh…”
The nomads.
Endless hordes that flowed endlessly from the north and the desert.
Like locusts that could be killed and would keep coming back.
Even so, after the Emperor led one massive expedition, the movement of the nomads had fallen silent for a full ten years, he had been told.
During that time, the Rosefield family had aided the Emperor.
When the Emperor turned his army in another direction,
and when he shattered the heads of rebellious nobles.
Thanks to that cooperation, the Rosefield had earned strong respect and rights from the royal house.
White summarized the core point clearly.
“So the Rosefield family is still respected by the Imperial House today. Unlike the other duke families, they are the only one that never betrayed the royal family in a crisis.”
Angela remained silent for a moment.
Betrayal.
In this world, the word was not special.
It was a phenomenon nearly as common as natural disasters.
It happened at any time, by anyone.
So to have not betrayed during a crisis?
That was an achievement one could hardly deny.
In other words, the Imperial House would find it difficult to touch the Rosefield before the latter crossed the line first.
Angela’s spine grew cold.
“So… I’m supposed to collide with the daughter of a family like that?”
Suddenly the reality hit her with full force.
When she had imagined it with her eyes closed, she had thought she would merely bump into a wolf at worst.
But now that she had opened her eyes, the opponent was no wolf.
It was a monster that bit and chewed.
Something like Fenrir.
Angela shook her head hurriedly.
“No, no. Why am I already thinking about fighting?”
“The reason I’m going isn’t to fight, after all.”
“Rather, it’s to properly connect Roan with Rachel.”
Thinking that way, she felt a little calmer.
…Just a little.
White tilted her head.
“But why were you asking about the Rosefield family?”
“Hm? Well, that is…”
Angela considered for a moment, then pulled out a modern strategy.
Selling her friend.
“Bianca mentioned that extraordinary daughter, and I got curious!”
White nodded without suspicion.
“I see. So it was Lady Lasca’s report.”
The Angela she knew originally cared nothing for people.
She spent her days locked in the laboratory.
So for her to take an interest in noble daughters’ affairs, it was only natural that it had to do with the Bianca she had met today.
“What kind of person is the Rosefield daughter?”
“I heard she has a very kind personality.”
“Ah… kind?”
Angela’s expression subtly hardened.
A villainess who is kind?
That sounded as strangely as explaining why poison-filled cake tastes sweet.
White added,
“I received the details from letters sent by friends who work in the northeastern fief. So the credibility is high, I think.”
“Ah… so you have friends?”
“Of course.”
White asked back in the most natural tone imaginable, and Angela felt as though someone had hit her on the head for no reason.
Her gaze slid almost imperceptibly toward the stack of letters White held.
One, two, three…
Eleven, twelve…
Every one had a different color.
“My god…”
“You don’t mean you have more than ten friends?”
Angela quietly accepted defeat.
White, unaware of her internal surrender, returned to the main topic.
“At the banquet, she would protect someone who made a mistake and, on occasion, teach the same young lady how to dance.”
“Dance?”
“She personally took on the male role and led the dance herself.”
“Oh…”
Angela immediately recalled the nickname that often appeared among girls.
Prince.
A type completely different from the easygoing, quickly friendly sort.
That was just a comfortable person.
The ones who received the title of Prince were usually different.
Sharp, pretty features.
Tall, slender build.
A calm indifference that never easily took offense at others’ words.
Yet somehow possessing an innate ability to show subtle consideration.
In short, she was mature.
Angela recalled herself.
…No.
She was not the Prince.
She was simply simple and pure.
In polite terms, pure; in rude terms, short-sighted.
Comparing the two, hers was far more pathetic.
White continued.
“Furthermore, as the sole successor of the Rosefield family, there must have been many discussions regarding marriage.”
“It’s not decided yet?”
“Yes. If the Rosefield family decides to marry, the news will spread everywhere.”
The information Angela heard was almost at the level of a perfect daughter.
Mature personality,
noble bearing,
dignified,
wealthy,
and about to inherit an enormous position.
It was strange that she had no popularity.
Angela unconsciously imagined the scene.
What if she faced this woman head-on?
“…Would I really win for sure?”
The weight difference was obvious.
She felt like a lightweight standing in front of a heavyweight.
All she could picture was being hit once or twice and collapsing.
But soon another thought rose.
“Still, Roan didn’t seem to like Rachel.”
“From the memories, it felt like she was too proper or something.”
Completeness as a woman is lost.
That she would admit.
But in the family, winning ultimately depended on how much affection the head could draw.
And Rachel…
did not possess a personality that Roan would like.
Angela asked carefully.
“Since she’s a great duke, there must be a lot to protect, right?”
“Probably. It’s a family with a history as long and deep as the Imperial House, so it will be complicated.”
“Raising it while keeping all that in mind?”
“That is the destiny of someone born into the Rosefield family.”
Hearing that, Angela naturally recalled Roan from the evening meal.
He had barely observed table manners.
It had been obvious he was doing it on purpose.
Because in the capital, the rumor of the mad prince had already spread, behaving that way would only end with “He really is crazy.”
But what about Rachel?
Angela could easily picture the scene.
Rachel would definitely demand that he observe etiquette.
Softly or firmly, either way, she would say something.
But would Roan fix it?
Never.
He would likely ignore it and act as he pleased.
Then Rachel would accumulate resentment.
Rachel was the legitimate successor; Roan was a royal with his power greatly reduced.
In terms of authority, Rachel might be stronger.
But Roan was a madman.
He was not the kind of person who could be swayed by normal persuasion.
No matter how right Rachel’s words were, in the end Roan would not listen.
Then their clash would deepen.
Their pride would collide,
etiquette and dignity would be shattered,
and eventually Roan would lose affection for Rachel.
And such a person usually finds an escape.
In the original story, the saintess would have taken that place.
But in the current situation—
“…Could she come to me?”
Angela bit her lip at the thought.
Rachel would find it difficult to vent her anger directly at Roan.
Their relationship was one of political marriage, and the other party was a royal.
So she would look for someone easier.
Who would that be?
“I’ll attack me.”
Angela reached that conclusion, and her head began to throb.
The problem was that she herself could not fully empathize with Rachel’s side.
She knew customs, etiquette, and dignity were all important.
But from a modern person’s standpoint, it was exhausting.
To be honest, even Angela wanted to live freely like Roan.
Ignoring the tedious rules and doing as she pleased.
So if Angela sided with Roan,
or if she followed him and acted freely on the spot,
it would be far too obvious to Rachel.
Angela was inciting Roan.
She was deliberately stirring up the family’s rules.
Declaring that she would clash with the wife.
That could only be interpreted that way.
Angela murmured slowly.
“So… I need to make sure Prince Roan learns proper etiquette?”
The moment the words left her mouth, even she felt her expression turn strange.
Roan, wielding a sharp sword at the banquet and striding around.
Roan, whose upper body had been almost exposed in an outrageous outfit, tearing at everyone’s gazes.
Could she correct such a mad prince and make him observe etiquette properly?
It sounded ridiculous.
Angela collapsed onto the bed with a thud.
All that came to mind was not a solution, but a catastrophe.
Roan would not listen,
Rachel would look too powerful,
and she herself would be caught in the middle of the two.
No matter how she thought, she could not picture a way to survive.
She covered her face with both hands.
“…It really looks doomed.”
It was a sentence dripping with sincerity.