A Mastermind? No, I'm just the Live-In Son-in-Law-Chapter 36: Supervisor

“Another correct answer. Haha.”

Murmuring as he looked at Sasha—who was tearing up so much she looked genuinely sorrowful—Pierre clenched his jaw tightly.

“I already knew... that the amount of money Sasha was sending to the family had increased exponentially.”

“Right?”

“I also knew it wasn’t the kind of money you could earn from just menial labor.”

Hearing him say that, hands clenched tightly, it was clear that the family’s situation was quite dire.

“No matter how many times I asked what she was doing, all I ever got was a letter saying she was doing well.”

“My, how admirable.”

I found myself muttering with a fond expression as I looked at Sasha.

“But unlike the content, those letters were always soaked with tears.”

“Well, Sasha is a bit of a crybaby, isn’t she?”

I tried to lighten the mood with a gentle smile, but—

“Let me ask you just one thing.”

Pierre’s face, which had grown even paler as he looked at me, now showed signs of strained breathing. Then he asked, firmly:

“What exactly is my sister doing?”

What Sasha usually does, huh. If you don’t count the recent unavoidable secret missions, then... washing dishes, cleaning, and occasionally bringing me tea?

Come to think of it, she doesn’t really do all that much for someone who’s supposed to be a personal maid. But that’s only natural. The role itself had been hastily made up to give her a way out of her desperate situation.

“...Do you want to know?”

But explaining that myself would hurt her pride, so I decided to give her the chance to speak for herself.

“Then why don’t you ask her directly?”

With that decision, I nudged the still-sniffling Sasha toward Pierre, then stepped back a little to give them some space and smiled contentedly.

“I’ll give you two some time alone, so... go ahead.”

I had stepped far enough away that I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but staying too close would’ve made the moment feel insincere.

‘Well, Sasha will probably explain things just fine, right?’

Considering how many plates I’d let her break already, it’d be nice if she included that too.

***

A few hours earlier, before Whitney and Meredia arrived at the Academy.

“...I apologize. It was my mistake.”

-.......

“It was impossible to block Lady °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Meredia’s appointment as a judge.”

Pierre, an executive member of the Commoners’ Assembly, stood in the Chairman’s office, sweating coldly as he communicated with someone via crystal orb.

“But Lord Maier... even if the Assembly has unprecedented power, overturning the decisions of the Student Council and the Board is not something we can do so easily...”

That figure was none other than Meredia’s older brother, Maier Embergreen.

Contrary to Whitney’s suspicion that the Emperor had interfered, it was Maier—gritting his teeth in an effort to reclaim his standing within the Black Magic Federation after their previous failure—who had been pulling strings behind the scenes.

—I'm starting to doubt whether you're even worthy of my support.

“L-Lord Maier...”

—You do realize your usefulness is running out, given how the Chairmanship rotates monthly?

Maier had contacted Pierre, who was as desperate as Sasha to support his family, but blocking the now-established Meredia had proven impossible.

“P-please, just give me one more chance! I won’t disappoint you again!”

—Haa...

As Pierre, in a state of growing panic, pleaded for mercy, a long sigh came through the crystal.

—...Fine. I’ll give you one last chance.

“Th-thank you!”

At last, the voice that had remained silent for so long offered him another opportunity, and Pierre let out a visible sigh of relief.

—Block the appointment of Whitney Ringaarden as judge.

“...What?”

—I can handle Meredia, but that guy seriously rubs me the wrong way.

Maier’s next order was just as daunting as the last.

—Make sure he doesn’t get involved in the Prodigy Selection Tournament. Understood?

“Uh...”

—Why aren’t you answering?

Now Pierre was being ordered to go against someone appointed directly by the Crown Prince himself—currently the Empire’s top hero. Cold sweat beaded down his back as he fell into a troubled silence.

“He’s not as dangerous as Lady Meredia, right?”

—This isn’t the time for you to be making judgments.

“S-sorry!”

Pierre ducked his head in panic at the frosty scolding that followed his cautious question.

—Well, he’s probably easier to deal with than that damn Meredia.

“I-I see...”

—But don’t take him lightly either. You need to be careful.

Maier’s mumbled warning left Pierre tilting his head in confusion.

—That bastard... I don’t know what it is, but he’s seriously dangerous.

Even if Maier’s obsession with the selection of the judges was suspicious enough to make one wonder what he planned to pull during the tournament, that last line still didn’t sit right.

‘Why would someone known as the Empire’s hero be considered dangerous?’

Whitney’s image in the papers, aside from his rumored involvement with Meredia, had been remarkably positive.

‘...Well, whatever. As long as my family’s safe, that’s all that matters.’

At the time, Pierre had simply brushed it off as petty spite toward someone Maier didn’t like.

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He wouldn’t realize the true meaning behind those words until a few hours later.

“B-big brother...”

“Sasha...”

Back to the present.

The little sister he’d been so worried about—unsure what dangerous work she’d been doing to support their family—was now...

“I-I’m living a wonderful, happy life at Young Master Whitney’s mansion.”

Holding back tears at Whitney’s command, she awkwardly smiled as she approached him.

“That’s a lie. Then what about those tear stains...”

“Th-the Young Master treats me well. He made me sign a weird contract called ‘insurance’? And sometimes he makes me do scary and difficult things, but...”

Pierre had tried to question her, face pale with suspicion, but what Sasha said next left him speechless.

“He gives me a lot of money when that happens, so it’s okay.”

After staring blankly at her for a long moment, Pierre swallowed hard and asked in the softest voice he could manage:

“...Sasha. What exactly are those scary and difficult things?”

“T-that’s... um...”

Sasha glanced at her master, then turned her eyes away from Pierre and quietly answered:

“It’s... a secret.”

Washing Lunelle while pretending not to see the slave mark engraved on her. Acting friendly with girls her age to spy on them. Helping disguise a kidnapped imperial saintess, or assisting with shady parties she attended each night...

With only a few months of work behind her, Sasha had already been through a list of strange and unexplainable tasks. So honestly, keeping it vague like that was the best option.

“B-but I’m fine!”

“......”

“I can do anything for my family...!”

Still, it wasn’t hard to guess how that looked through Pierre’s eyes—his expression said it all.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Quit what you’re doing right now and come home.”

“...What?”

“I’ll find a way to get the money somehow, so please...”

So naturally, Pierre, who had grown desperate, began whispering to Sasha in a pleading tone.

—That would be a problem.

At that moment, a cold voice echoed inside Pierre’s head.

—She’s already seen something she shouldn’t have.

The voice froze Pierre in place, mid-sentence. He recognized it as Meredia’s—she had stepped down from the carriage with Whitney not long ago.

‘...Shit.’

Sure enough, when Pierre looked around, he spotted Meredia just behind Whitney, her jewel-like eyes glinting coldly with a chilling smile.

‘How the hell did it come to this...’

And with that, Pierre knew—he was now paying the price for having gone up against the Empire’s one and only duchess. His face slowly contorted into despair.

“Y-you don’t have to worry that much, really. The benefits are actually kind of decent.”

“...What?”

“Master said so himself.”

Watching Pierre’s expression, Sasha tried to reassure him with a strangely meaningful statement.

“He said that if this mission goes well, I’ll get a bonus? Or something like that, and even get to visit the family.”

“Ah...”

“So you don’t have to make such a serious face. Hehe...”

Though Sasha was simply repeating Alfred’s explanation word-for-word, to Pierre, the meaning behind those words sounded very different.

“...If you want to protect your sister, then know your place.”

And the moment Pierre muttered that bitter interpretation under his breath—

“How’d your conversation go?”

Whitney, having been fiddling with his crystal orb, strolled toward them with a relaxed smile.

“Prince Kendrick just contacted me, told me it’s about time I attend the Board’s meeting regarding my appointment as a judge.”

“......”

“Unlike me, however, I imagine your schedule is now completely free, Mr. Pierre?”

He lightly patted Pierre on the shoulder again, then leaned in close with a smile full of warmth and whispered in his ear.

“I do hope you’ll make good use of your time. Haha...”

“......!”

“Oh, and I’ll send Sasha back once the meeting’s over.”

Pierre stood frozen, staring blankly at Whitney for a long time before finally lowering his head and quietly replying.

“...I’ll be in your care from now on.”

That was the moment Pierre, current chairman of the Commoners’ Assembly for the month, officially switched sides.

“Hmm? Oh, sure. I’ll be in yours, too.”

Had Parsha been watching, her eyes would’ve lit up in delight as she confirmed her theory that Whitney was indeed planting spies in the Academy. But—

Whitney simply hummed a tune, satisfied with yet another good deed, as he turned and walked toward Meredia.

“Well then, shall we get going, Lady Meredia?”

Meredia, watching him with half-lidded eyes, let out a cold smile and muttered.

“You really are terrifying.”

“...Excuse me?”

The Board and the Commoners’ Assembly had both been critical of Whitney’s sudden parachute appointment, but since she herself was the Chair, she could somewhat handle the Board.

However, if the Assembly, which was under Maier’s influence, started attacking Whitney’s qualifications, things would become a real pain. And this was a very “Whitney-esque” way of dealing with it, she thought.

“...Which is why I like you even more.”

“......?”

“Don’t play dumb. Eyes front and walk straight.”

And so, the Board meeting held shortly afterward proceeded exactly as Meredia had anticipated—with no interference from the Assembly.

“...Thus, the Board hereby resolves the following.”

Of course, just because the meeting went smoothly didn’t mean the result was painless.

“Whitney Ringaarden. In order to prove your qualification as a judge, you are to serve as the proctor for tomorrow’s first-year midterms.”

“...Excuse me?”

“If you fail to detect cheating or any unusual activity before the observing professors do, your appointment as judge will be immediately revoked. That is all.”

Having attended the meeting in a lighthearted mood, Whitney now mumbled with a miserable expression, having just been stabbed in the back by the very person he trusted most—Meredia.

“...Maybe I should take her gift back.”

But in truth, the resolution Meredia had passed in her capacity as chairwoman was...

“My lady, the directive from the Imperial Family explicitly stated that Sir Whitney was to be excluded...”

“...Since when did the Academy take orders from outside forces?”

“I-I wouldn’t know.”

She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but for her, this had been one of the rare times she had done something kind for someone without expecting anything in return.

***

The next morning, at the exam hall for the midterms.

“Cecil, I heard you applied to be a candidate for the Prodigy Selection Tournament?”

“...Yeah.”

“So jealous... I’m not even eligible.”

“Think you’ll make it in?”

Cecil, who had walked in with her friends rubbing sleepy eyes, responded in a low voice as they asked their questions with bright eyes.

“...Honestly, I already got advance notice. It’s pretty much confirmed.”

“No way, really?”

“Well, it does make sense. There’s no one else like you.”

As compliments began pouring in, a soft smile crept across her lips.

‘Let him watch from that mansion, scheming away with those slimy little plans of his.’

Feeling good for the first time in a while, she started mumbling internally with a slight sense of pride.

‘Even you can’t stop me from entering the tournament... Hmm?’

That was when a sudden feeling of discomfort made her tilt her head and glance around.

“Am I still half asleep or what...?”

For some reason, she felt the presence of her brother—not safely tucked away in his shady mansion plotting—but somewhere very nearby, sending a chill down her spine.

“Cecil, what’s wrong?”

“Feeling off? The exam’s about to start.”

“No, it’s nothing...”

She shook her head quickly, deciding it was just her imagination, and began to walk again with her concerned friends.

“Our Cecil sure has a lot of friends.”

“...!”

But then, a familiar, crisp voice whispered right next to her ear—freezing her in place.

“Would you mind introducing me to them?”

“...What the hell.”

Standing behind her with a smug, sinister smile, arms behind his back, and a proctor’s armband wrapped around his arm—

Was none other than Whitney.