Chapter 188: My Older Sister Can’t Be This Scary [1]

"If you understand even half of what I’m saying, then you’ll call it off."

Anastasiya rubbed her forehead, clearly having reached the limit of how much more of this conversation she was willing to endure.

"Now stop making this harder for me. I have to prepare for our guest tomorrow, and I’d rather not spend the entire night explaining to my idiot brother why marrying an Imperial Princess might have consequences."

"I can’t do that."

Anastasiya stopped. "For God’s sake, Ilya!"

She spun around so quickly that the hem of her clothes followed a moment later, whatever little composure she had managed to recover disappearing all over again.

"What part of anything I’ve said are you still failing to understand? Do I need to draw it for you? Should I find a piece of paper and start connecting names with little arrows until that slow brain of yours finally realizes how badly this could fuck us?"

"I understand what you’re saying."

"Then act like it!"

"I said I understand. I didn’t say I agreed to call it off."

"...."

Anastasiya stared at him as though she couldn’t quite believe the words that had just come out of his mouth.

Her lips parted, closed again, and for several seconds she seemed to be searching for something to say that wouldn’t immediately turn into another insult.

"You stubborn little shit."

Unfortunately, she failed.

"I’ll deal with the problem myself," Ilya said, making it clear from his tone that there was little point in continuing the argument. "You don’t need to convince Father, and you don’t need to involve yourself any further. Whatever happens with Liselotte, I’ll handle it."

"Fine! Do whatever the hell you want, then!" Anastasiya snapped, throwing her hands up in frustration as she turned away from him. "But just so we’re clear, there is no fucking way I’m cleaning up your mess again when this blows up in your face!"

"I don’t remember asking you to."

"You never fucking do!"

Her footsteps struck heavily against the floor as she stormed down the hallway, and Ilya watched her go without making any attempt to stop her.

Anastasiya didn’t look back either, disappearing around the corner only a few moments later and leaving him standing alone in the suddenly quiet hallway.

"...."

Ilya remained there for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"What a pain in the ass."

Then he turned around and headed for his room.

* * *

That morning, Ilya was just about to leave for the academy by himself.

Recently, he and Anastasiya had gotten into the habit of traveling there together, something that would have been almost unthinkable only a short while ago.

After their argument last night, however, Ilya was fairly certain his sister would rather die than share a carriage with him.

"Huh?"

To his surprise, Anastasiya was still in the living room when he came downstairs.

She was already dressed, although not in her academy uniform, and from the documents laid across the table in front of her, she clearly had no intention of attending classes that morning.

Ilya briefly wondered why she was still home before remembering what she had mentioned during their argument the previous night.

"Ah."

They were expecting a guest today. Ilya didn’t particularly care who it was.

After everything that had happened yesterday, the last thing he wanted was to spend his morning entertaining another noble visitor, especially when he still had classes to attend.

He gave Anastasiya little more than a passing glance, and she returned the favor by continuing to read whatever document she was holding without acknowledging him.

Apparently, neither of them intended to apologize.

Fine by him.

Ilya blew air through his nose and continued toward the entrance, already reaching for the door when a firm knock suddenly resounded from the other side.

Knock—knock—knock——

His hand stopped just short of the handle.

Behind him, Anastasiya lowered the document she had been reading.

"They’re early."

Ilya glanced over his shoulder. "Your guest?"

"Your guest."

"...?"

His guest?

Ilya turned around properly this time, finally noticing that Anastasiya’s expression had changed. Whatever irritation remained from their argument was still there, but it had been pushed aside by something far more serious.

Before Ilya could ask, one of the servants approached the entrance and opened the door.

Several figures stood outside.

The man at the front was older, dressed far too formally for an early morning visit, with the kind of carefully maintained appearance expected of someone representing a noble household rather than himself.

The crest displayed on his clothing was enough for Ilya to recognize the affiliation before anyone announced it.

Volnograd.

"...."

Ilya’s expression flattened.

Well. That explained why Anastasiya had stayed home.

The servant stepped aside after a brief exchange, allowing the visitors into the mansion, and the moment the older man’s eyes landed on Ilya, his steps slowed.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Ilya had already dealt with Mikhail. As far as he was concerned, what happened afterward was no longer particularly relevant to him, whether the Belozersky Council chose to strip him of his position, punish the Volnograd branch, or somehow allow the entire matter to disappear quietly.

Apparently, House Volnograd disagreed.

"Young Belozersky."

"Margrave Oleg."

The older man lowered his head in greeting, and Ilya returned the gesture with a slight nod of his own.

There was none of the hostility he might have expected from the father of the boy whose future Anastasiya was currently attempting to destroy, although that hardly meant Oleg was pleased to see him.

"Please, come inside, Margrave," Anastasiya said from behind him. "There is much for us to discuss."

Oleg Volnograd stepped inside, and Ilya moved out of his way before glancing toward the open door.

For a moment, he wondered whether he should take the opportunity to leave while Anastasiya handled the matter herself, but considering this entire situation directly involved him, walking away now would probably cause more trouble than simply staying.

Besides, he was curious.

Ilya glanced at the clock hanging nearby and silently reconsidered his schedule for the day. He could simply skip his morning lectures, and if this conversation didn’t drag on for too long, he could still make it to the academy in time for his afternoon classes.

Then, his gaze landed on Anastasiya. Anastasiya looked back at him. The two didn’t exchange a single word.

Meanwhile, Oleg’s gaze moved between the two siblings for a moment, undoubtedly noticing the atmosphere between them, but he had enough sense not to comment on it.

Later on, Anastasiya led them into the receiving room, where everything had apparently been prepared before Ilya even woke up.

Ilya sat down right next to Anastasiya. Oleg took the seat opposite them, although he remained silent even after one of the servants poured tea for everyone and withdrew from the room.

The Margrave looked considerably more tired from this distance, with dark shadows under his eyes that his otherwise immaculate appearance did little to conceal.

For several moments, nobody spoke.

Ilya had met Oleg several times, although never under circumstances like these.

The Margrave was the head of the Volnograd branch and therefore subordinate to the main Belozersky line, but that did not make him insignificant, especially when his family governed its own territory and had served under the Grand Duchy for generations.

Now, however, he was here because of his son.

Oleg finally broke the silence.

"I assume you both understand why I’ve come."

"I assume you both understand why I’ve come."

"Spare me the pleasantries, Margrave."

Anastasiya dropped all pretense of respect the moment she spoke, her voice carrying none of the courtesy she had shown when welcoming him into the mansion.

Then again, Ilya couldn’t say he was particularly surprised, because Anastasiya had never held much respect for anyone outside their immediate family in the first place.

To her, even the Belozersky branch families were little more than nuisances she would eventually be forced to manage once she inherited Father’s position.

They governed lands beneath the Grand Duchy, carried Belozersky blood to varying degrees, and could certainly make themselves useful when necessary, but Anastasiya had never mistaken any of that for equality.

Oleg was a Margrave and the head of Volnograd.

Anastasiya was the future Grand Duchess of the North.

As far as she was concerned, that settled the difference between them, regardless of the difference in age.

"Very well," Oleg said. "Then I won’t waste your time."

"I would appreciate that."

"My son returned to Volnograd yesterday," he said. "He told me about his encounter with the two of you, as well as what happened when he attempted to stop your carriage."

"He threw himself in front of it," Anastasiya corrected. "Don’t make it sound more dignified than it was."

"...."

Ilya reached for his tea.

"Lady Anastasiya."

"Just to be clear, Margrave, did you come here expecting sympathy?"

"...."

The question came so bluntly that even Ilya paused before taking a sip.

Anastasiya leaned back in her chair, staring across the table at Oleg with an expression that made it perfectly clear she wasn’t interested in hearing excuses.

"Your son deliberately targeted a member of the main household, spread rumors about him throughout Holy Trinity, and continued interfering with his affairs until people associated with him were dragged into the consequences. Now that I’ve submitted everything to the Council and Mikhail has finally realized his family name won’t protect him, he crawls home crying to his father."

"I’m aware of what my son did."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you here?"