Obsessed with Regressors

out, Oliver was there.
It was Oliver who offered to help him in the first place.
But as far as she knew, and her mother and Heavens too, Oliver wouldn’t be of much help.
He would always do things like that, left it to her or their mother to clean up for him, and then ran away.
Still, wouldn’t it be possible to come forward if she stimulated the sense of responsibility in her brother’s heart? She thought so, but Count Burns said.

“it’s okay.
It’s etiquette, I can learn it step by step.
The problem is… ”

Problem? She blurted out appropriately, and looked up at him from the front of the carriage and made a face for him to continue.

“I got some invitations.
I don’t know how to deal with that.”

“I can help with that.”

Growing up in an aristocratic family, the natural thing to learn was to write replies to letters.
In particular, the tips for classifying invitations and selecting suitable places to attend, and how to write replies for acceptance and rejection, were learned naturally from an early age.
Come to think of it, Count Burns was the most popular person in the capital lately.
He would have quite a few invitations flying in and he would have to learn to deal with them.

“Oh, and I was invited to dinner, and I said I would stop by because I was sure to go.”

She was about to say that she would help with Count Burns’ words, but she hesitated.
Wait, what was that supposed to help? When she didn’t say anything, he continued.

“I heard that nobles have different dining etiquette.”

“I can help with that too.”

No big deal.
The tableware used for each dish was slightly different.
Oh, and there were things like where to sit or something to talk about after dinner.

Grunt.

Unbeknownst to her, a moan came out.
Indeed, Count Burns had much to learn.
What did she urgently need to teach him? First of all, there were names and greetings.
How many times had he got her name wrong? There was also the case of Sir Albert, as before.
There were people who didn’t actually have a title, but out of courtesy, you have to call them with a sutra.

She was organizing in her head what to teach him first, when Count Burns opened the carriage door and said,

“Then I will go see you tomorrow.”

“Yes? What are you say…? No, what?”

“Supper.”

Dinner? Confused, she grabbed Count Burns’ hand and climbed into the carriage.
Was he inviting her to dinner now? Where did Count Burns live now? She heard he’s still in the palace?

“Ah, the explanation was insufficient.”

She was confused about what dinner he was talking about, but Count Burns climbed into the carriage behind her and after sitting across from her with his back bent, he carefully straightened his back and continued.

“I have been invited to dinner tomorrow evening.
I ran into him a few times at the palace, and he asked me to come over to eat.”

Anyone he met in the palace would be a nobleman.
And asking people to come to eat wasn’t just about eating.
Of course, the behavior differs depending on whether only Count Burns was invited or whether his partner was also invited.

She asked cautiously.

“Who invited you?”

A strange expression appeared on Count Burns’ face.
At first glance, it was a smile, but it also seemed a little contemptuous.
It couldn’t be.
She thought she was looking at it wrong.
There was no way he could despise the person who invited him.
And there’s no way he’d deliberately ask her to go with him.

After a very short time, Count Burns opened his mouth.

“It was Duke Germarot.”

Was the Duke of Germarot? It was such an unexpected person that the name and person in her head didn’t match right away.
He was such an unexpected person that she wondered if he was mistaking him for another person.
Of course, she knew he would be the first to be invited by a noble family with a daughter who was about to marry.
Or by someone who was kind to the upstart nobility and liked new things.

The Duke of Germarot was a man who did not belong to either.
He had only one son and was not very close to the new nobles as well as the lower nobles.
To be more precise, he could be said to be a man with a high nose.
He was the uncle of His Highness the King of Hagiya.
Of course, one had to have a high nose in that position, but without appealing.

Someone like that invited Count Burns to dinner? She could anticipate the intention even without a hint.

“Why, why did you accept it?”

Seeing Count Burns, who did not know what he had done, she asked cautiously.
If it were her, if she were Count Burns, she would have refused for any excuse.

Did that man have no aristocratic friends who could tell him what kind of a man the Duke of Germarot was? Where the hell was Oliver and what was he doing?

“Why?”

Count Burns asked strangely.
He smiled and said.

“Because I was invited.
Isn’t it polite to agree?”

Her head, which was messed with fear and confusion, was neatly organized with the thought of Count Burns being so naive.
Damn, why was that guy so handsome?

—————————————————————

Translator Note:

Burns was fast in get rid of her fiancé, right?