“……”
The moment she saw me, Emily froze mid-step.
After glaring briefly, she turned away as if she couldn’t stand the sight of me and tried to walk past.
As expected, the atmosphere was absolutely dreadful.
Emily still firmly believed that I had some improper relationship with Edward Callinan and couldn’t understand why Lady Dianther was behaving the way she did after supposedly witnessing everything herself.
She must think that the Lady had completely misjudged the situation—or worse, that her discernment had failed her—and that the naïve Lady Dianther was being deceived by the wicked Amel Kiselle.
It was obvious that Emily, now unjustly sentenced to a week of disciplinary probation and relegated to tasks usually given to new hires, must be burning with resentment.
She probably wanted nothing more than to throw herself at me in fury.
Still, the Asphania estate wasn’t a merciless place. Even new servants weren’t subjected to cruelty. The mansion was busy, yes, but it had neither vicious masters nor tyrannical supervisors.
Emily wouldn’t suffer too much.
Since she was under suspension, she wouldn’t be given any serious assignments—just light chores to help around the house. In fact, even now she was holding several neatly folded clean towels in her arms.
“Emily.”
I called to her just as she tried to pass by. She halted but didn’t respond. I knew she had no intention of exchanging a single word with me, so I continued.
“You don’t have to answer. I don’t care what you think.”
“Oh, really? Then could you not talk to me at all? Just seeing your face makes my stomach turn.”
Unable to restrain herself, Emily spun around and sneered.
Her voice trembled with rage, her restraint abandoned the moment our eyes met.
Once she started talking, it was as if all her pent-up frustration came pouring out.
“Do you know what I regret the most? That time when you were accused of stealing the macarons—I actually went around defending you the next day.”
“……”
“Why did I ever do that? Poor Anne and Marie… Now you’ll probably get me kicked out too, won’t you, Amel Kiselle? Does that make you happy?”
Honestly, I feel more sorry for myself than for Anne and Marie.
I knew she’d spoken up for me back then. The day after the macaron incident, Emily had told everyone in the mansion that I was innocent—explaining in detail how Anne and Marie had plotted against me and how I’d nearly been framed as a thief.
But that was then. Yesterday’s events were entirely different. Perhaps it was better to let her keep her misunderstandings.
Though I could understand Emily’s feelings, her lack of remorse for pouring water all over me irritated me more than I cared to admit.
Then again, why would she feel sorry?
In her eyes, I was nothing short of a conniving villainess. It wasn’t hard to play along with that perception.
So I said lightly,
“You’re right. I feel so much better. Not just inside either—you poured so much cold water on me that it really woke me up.”
“Y-you—!”
“So let’s stop this, shall we? What if the Lady sees us again? You’ll really be kicked out this time. Or are you not afraid of me telling her?”
“Ha! Unbelievable. What did you do to her? What kind of hold do you have on the Lady? Did you blackmail her or something? What did you do to her, you snake?”
“Never mind that. Where’s the ruby necklace?”
Emily froze, trembling with anger, but I stayed calm.
That was what I’d wanted to ask her anyway.
Her reaction told me everything.
Since Lady Dianther had already made her stance about the necklace clear, Emily must have realized she no longer had any ground to stand on.
When the Lady appeared so suddenly that day, everything had spun out of control. The ruby necklace had never made its way back to me afterward.
I’d told Emily to put it back where she found it, but I doubted she had listened.
After following the Lady upstairs that day, I’d been too busy warming my frozen body, bathing, and changing clothes to think of anything else.
Since Emily had been the last one holding the necklace, she was the only one I could ask.
Her voice, thick with resentment, gave me the answer.
“I don’t know. Meg has it.”
Meg, huh…
At least the necklace had found its way into safe hands.
When I said nothing, lost in thought, Emily huffed and turned sharply away.
I could hear her muttering something about me being shameless as she stormed off.
I let her go and turned my gaze elsewhere.
For now, I needed to find Meg.
________✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𓉞___________
Count Milan’s household was unusually lively that morning.
It was the day when Lady Charlotte de Milan, the Count’s second daughter, would meet His Highness Prince Kian de Idris for the very first time.
Charlotte’s maid was carefully tending to her long golden hair. Once she pinned a violet jewel into place, the final touch would be done.
“Lady Charlotte, relax your shoulders. And don’t be nervous when you arrive at the palace.”
“Nervous? I’m not nervous.”
“Please don’t try to fool me, my lady. These eyes see everything.”
The older maid smiled knowingly at her through the mirror, and Charlotte, whose lips had been pressed tight with tension, managed a faint, awkward smile in return.
Of course, she was nervous—tremendously so.
She had no idea how her father had managed to arrange something like this.
Just a year ago, everything had been perfect. Count Milan had proudly served as the Kingdom of Martina’s Minister of Finance, a position he held in great esteem. The Milan family had been well respected, their influence unquestioned.
But even the most careful man was still human. When an irreparable mistake occurred involving the national budget, the fault had fallen on one of the Count’s own subordinates. The Count had taken full responsibility and resigned.
Losing the position didn’t mean the family had fallen from grace entirely, but the glory they once enjoyed had dimmed considerably. Everyone knew now that the House of Milan was a setting sun.
It should have been time for the Count to step back and enjoy his later years—but Charlotte could tell he had no intention of doing so.
Her father’s ambition still burned brightly. The injustice of his resignation lingered like an open wound.
“I’ve worked for so many years… and yet His Majesty—”
Lately, the Count’s private mutterings about the King’s betrayal had grown more frequent, especially after a few glasses of wine.
After stepping down, he had become even more careful about his daughters’ marriages. With no sons to inherit the title, every match had to be made strategically.
Her eldest sister Kelly was already happily married, thanks to their father’s arrangements. Her youngest sister was engaged to the son of one of his political allies—a promising young noble.
That left only Charlotte, until now.
“Charlotte! Where are you? Why aren’t you ready yet?”
The clattering footsteps up the stairs belonged to her mother. She never moved that quickly—Charlotte could tell even her mother was unusually tense.
“She’s ready, madam,”
the maid announced.
Her mother entered the room and scanned her from head to toe. Charlotte watched her mother’s face soften and brighten with pride.
At last—finally—a princess-to-be in the family.
Countess Milan clasped her hands together in excitement, tears of joy brimming in her eyes.
“Mother, you look so happy.”
“How could I not be, Charlotte? Everything is ready.”
She came forward and placed both hands on her daughter’s shoulders, trembling slightly.
“Do you know how hard your father worked for this? He’s been searching endlessly for a perfect match for you. And now—oh, Charlotte—everything will be fine. His Highness the Crown Prince himself supports this union! What greater blessing could there be?”
“……”
To be honest, it still felt like a dream.
She had only heard the news secondhand—that Crown Prince Leon himself had approved her engagement to Prince Kian de Idris.
Though she’d heard it many times, it still didn’t feel real.
In Martina, there wasn’t a single young lady who hadn’t, at least once, fancied Prince Kian.
Charlotte was no exception.
But never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d be the one.
Even beyond Martina, the prince’s name stirred attention among the highest circles of nobility and royalty.
He might have been known as the royal family’s problem child, but that title was overshadowed by his undeniable charm—his noble lineage, his breathtaking looks, his natural grace.
No wonder her mother’s words—everything will be fine—felt so surreal.
If things truly went well, she would become the Princess of Martina.
“There’s no time to lose,” her mother urged.
“Let’s go, Charlotte. We mustn’t keep Prince Kian waiting.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Charlotte rose from her seat in front of the vanity. Her reflection stared back at her—a woman with golden hair cascading over her shoulder and flushed cheeks.
Everything felt chaotic, but Charlotte was no fool.
________✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𓉞___________
“Your Highness.”
A figure cloaked in black knelt before Crown Prince Leon.
Leon cast a brief sidelong glance toward the man known as his shadow.
Whether he’d brought useful information or merely wasted his time again would soon be clear—but Leon had a bad feeling.
And more often than not, Leon de Idris’s instincts were right.
Whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.
