Chapter 15

“Ah, really?”

A sparrow, a sparrow… same difference.

The little brown bundle, Luke, was just a stylish sparrow.

Lyla beamed with pride as if it were her own accomplishment.

“Luke’s an incredibly strong swordsman, and his instincts are excellent. If Luke says it’s safe, it’s safe.”

In other words, trusting only a sparrow’s “good instincts,” she had gotten into Rakel’s carriage.

Hmm… not a falcon or eagle, the so-called masters of the sky.

A chubby sparrow rolling over at a tap, and yet Lyla claimed its instincts were reliable—it was hard to believe.

Still, if Luke was trustworthy, going out with Rakel should be fine, right?

Even Charlotte admitted…

The memory of being in Rakel’s arms in the study suddenly surfaced.

Her face flushed.

She could vividly recall the strength of the arms wrapped around her waist.

Just thinking about being in Rakel’s embrace sent shivers across her skin.

“Maybe… I’m a pervert,” she muttered.

“A lady… a pervert?”

“Huh?”

“You just said you were a pervert…”

Lyla’s ears were sharp at times like this.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But…”

“Lyla, do you really think someone as cute and pretty as me would be a pervert?”

Lyla shook her head but murmured, “That’s strange… I’m sure I heard it.”

Then, she clapped her tiny winged hands together.

“Oh! When’s the ball? Do you mean the Summer Festival Ball?”

“The Summer Festival Ball?”

Charlotte’s memory of the novel was hazy.

“It’s a week from now. The Summer Festival.”

“Oh, right, that’s true.”

Charlotte gave a half-hearted nod. Lyla looked genuinely happy, so Charlotte asked casually,

“Did you often go to the Summer Festival with Grandmother?”

“No. Just once when I was very tiny. That small,” Lyla said, making a small circle with her little winged hands.

“The late Master used to carry me around,” she added.

Tiny as a baby—or maybe more like an egg…

Still, imagining baby Lyla brought a warm smile to Charlotte’s face.

“I saw candy apples in the street vendors’ alleys, and the squares had acrobats performing tricks,” Lyla continued.

“That sounds fun.”

“Right? But I don’t remember any of it. I want to go see it again.”

Grinning, Lyla crawled under the bed and waddled toward the dressing room like the diligent little penguin she was.

“I’ll prepare a dress for the Summer Festival, just in case the invited ball turns out to be that one,” she called over her shoulder.

In the 7th-floor kitchen, Charlotte took a bite of the vegetable soup while facing Pierce, the official chef.

Delicious, as expected.

Though Pierce still irritated her, the soup alone made her feel that renewing his contract was a good decision.

“Grateful, aren’t you?”

“For what?”

“For keeping the contract.”

Charlotte nodded and, like a proper mistress questioning an impudent servant, asked,

“Then why didn’t you make dinner yesterday?”

“If it were you, would you want to cook when someone’s about to force you to pay up?”

True… but still…

“Serves you right.”

“Marilla’s granddaughter is really different, huh? Pretty, but such a nasty personality.”

Marilla—the Dowager Countess, perhaps.

“Grandmother was just too kind. Pierce was lucky to make such a contract with her.”

“Hmph. So you admit you’re evil, huh?”

Pierce sipped from his white coffee cup.

“So you scammed the kind grandmother?”

“Pfft!”

Pierce spat coffee, and Charlotte jumped back, laughing nervously while wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“When did I ever scam anyone?”

“You didn’t pay her a single penny in rent!”

“Do you know how expensive my magic is? The protection magic I placed on this building could withstand even the Demon King burning an empire and collapsing a castle—it would never fall.”

A burst of pride came out as he spoke.

“Well, if you’re so capable, can you find Grandmother’s documents?”

With a search spell, he should be able to find them, right?

Pierce set the coffee-stained napkin down beside his cup.

“I can’t find Marilla’s documents either.”

“Why not?”

“I gave Marilla a transparent box that blocks searching,” Pierce said with a wicked smile.

“Nothing inside is visible to anyone. Only the owner who knows the location can find it.”

Ah… so that’s how he knew I didn’t have the contract.

“Future tenant contracts will be troublesome,” he chuckled, looking forward to the spectacle.

Charlotte clenched her fists, feeling a violent impulse rise.

No, she couldn’t lose her cool. Losing her temper meant letting Pierce win.

“Fine. I’ll just watch from the sidelines. I want to see how those guys will annoy you when they return.”

“Another one to deal with, huh?” Pierce added.

‘Those guys’—the third-floor general and the sixth-floor kid Lyla mentioned?

Seeing Pierce’s camaraderie, they seemed the type to treat human lives like flies.

Charlotte shivered at the thought but smiled nonetheless.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll get along with them.”

Pierce’s smile twitched. His expression changed from ‘Impossible’ to ‘Maybe’ in an instant.

Wait… what’s with that reaction?

Was it possible the tenants could actually get along with her?

Just as her curiosity about the unseen tenants peaked, sparkling dust gathered in front of her.

Shimmering…

A scroll tied with a bright blue ribbon fell into Charlotte’s hands.

Pierce looked at the letter, bewildered.

“You missed me so much after just one night apart? Sending a letter already?”

“Jealous of the Duke’s attention?”

“Jealous? I’m straight.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to specify. Makes me even more suspicious.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry, just joking. I thought maybe you were jealous he might go after me.”

Pierce snorted.

“Hmph. Even if you’re prettier than the other women, he’s uglier than me, so I don’t care.”

“But the Duke, more handsome than you, is interested in me—he invited me to the ball.”

Charlotte waved the letter.

Pierce, losing to Rakel in looks, twitched his upper lip and snapped his fingers.

Click.

He quickly opened the letter.

“Does the palace ball include taking you? Well, he’s a Duke, so naturally.”

“Hey! Don’t read other people’s letters so rudely!”

Pierce tossed it back, fluttering into Charlotte’s hands.

“Be careful.”

“Careful about what?”

“That Duke—or peacock—don’t trust him too much.”

Random advice, considering she was just going to an invited ball.

Charlotte was about to ask if there was more behind this, when he added,

“If you need someone killed, tell me ahead. I’ll make time.”

Charlotte froze.

This wasn’t a survival contest; why was he offering a murder service?

Not joking, Pierce sipped coffee and even proposed a price.

“Since you’re Marilla’s granddaughter, cheap rate. One year’s rent. How about it?”

Pierce’s murder proposal killed her appetite.

Charlotte left the dining room and collapsed onto the living room sofa, reading Rakel’s letter again.

It mentioned the Chester Duke, the Lapis Duke, and the palace ball during the Summer Festival.

“So it really was the Summer Festival Ball, just as Lyla said.”

Charlotte conjured a transparent window and skimmed through the novel.

“Ah, here it is.”

Spring: a flower festival that beautifies the world.

Summer: a water festival that cools the heat.

Autumn: a harvest festival with all sorts of food.

Winter: a snow and ice festival wishing for next year’s harvest.

The harvest festival was the grandest in the empire, but the Summer Festival was almost as popular.

Especially the Summer Festival, where masks developed to cover increasingly revealing outfits.

In short, a festival to flaunt bodies—men and women alike.

“Then the palace ball… will I finally meet the main characters?”

She usually ended up as a minor, inconsequential extra, rarely seeing the protagonists before dying or moving worlds.

So this 37th time was special. Meeting the novel’s main characters.

And at the main stage—the palace itself.

Probably because she was going with Rakel, the emperor’s brother.

Her heart raced with excitement, as if meeting a legendary couple.

She wanted to brag to someone.

And who better than her gossip-loving cutie?

“Lyla.”

“….”

“Lyla, where are you?”

“….”

“No answer… she must be up to something.”

Pierce was in the dining room, and the cleaning wasn’t done yet…

Charlotte left Rakel’s letter on the table and went to the room.

“Lyla.”

“Yes.”

In the dressing room, Lyla’s voice squeaked like an ant.

Charlotte entered to see her struggling to dig through a box.

Sorry, Lyla… but that little black bottom perched on the box!

So doll-like and cute. She just wanted to pat it.