Chapter 16
Charlotte struggled to keep her hands off Lyla, biting back the urge.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Looking for a mask,” Lyla replied.
“A mask?”
“Yes. A festival mask… ugh!”
With a flail of her short legs, Lyla toppled straight into the box.
“Lyla!”
Charlotte ran over and scooped her up effortlessly.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay… but not okay.”
Was she hurt or not? Charlotte frowned in confusion. Lyla sighed softly.
“The masks for the festival are all awful.”
“Didn’t grandmother prepare anything in advance?”
The dowager countess hadn’t just stocked the dress room with gowns; it was full of fashion accessories too. Surely, a festival mask had to be among them.
“They did prepare some, but the summer festival masks change every year.”
True to her capable servant nature, Lyla referenced the cutting edge of fashion.
Charlotte glanced away sheepishly. Sorry, Lyla… I only read about the summer festival a few minutes ago.
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know.”
If it were just her, Charlotte might have worn one of the terrible masks shamelessly. But she was the partner of the famous Duke Statua. The mask absolutely had to be fashionable.
Since she was rumored to be a naive fool, concealing her identity required a proper mask.
“I guess we’ll have to buy one. There are three balls, so three masks should be enough, right?”
“No, we need five. In case one breaks.”
Charlotte hesitated, about to say, “Okay, be careful,” before realizing she couldn’t just send a penguin on an errand. She couldn’t risk going into the streets herself—there might be an assassin waiting for her.
What a dilemma. How could she solve this?
Right then, sparkling dust started gathering in front of her again.
“Another letter? Did they have more to say?”
This time, it wasn’t a letter—it was a thin box.
A lightweight black velvet box with gold trim, elegant and refined. Charlotte untied the blue ribbon and lifted the lid.
Lyla, standing on tiptoe, widened her eyes.
“Wow.”
“No kidding. Wow.”
Inside, a delicate mask lay inlaid with diamonds, covering the nose bridge, with tiny gem flowers blooming gracefully around the eyes.
Beneath it was a letter from Racal.
“If you like the mask I sent, please wear it on the first night of the ball. I plan to wear a blue outfit.
Racal.”
“Lyla, do partners at the ball match their outfits?” Charlotte asked.
“Miss, have you never been to the summer festival?” Lyla asked, as if shocked that Charlotte didn’t know the tradition of the masquerade ball.
Charlotte couldn’t say, “I just read about it a few minutes ago…”
“The Count’s family really didn’t want to be seen with me,” she added.
That made sense. No wonder they spread rumors that Charlotte was foolish. At parties or gatherings, she was probably made a spectacle for entertainment. Watching Charlotte endure ridicule and mockery must have been amusing.
Transparent tears glistened in Lyla’s eyes.
“Don’t pity me.”
“Yes.”
“I actually preferred being alone.”
“I understand.”
Charlotte gently wiped Lyla’s tears with her thumb.
“You little runt.”
“You little runt, Master.”
“Eh?”
“If I’m a runt, then you’re a little runt Master.”
“Hah.”
Even her rebellion was adorable. First, she cries because she feels sorry for me, then calls me a “little runt Master”?
“Stop resisting and go find the blue dress,” Charlotte said, pushing Lyla’s sulking forehead with her finger.
“The little runt Master won’t be laughed at by others with something flashy.”
With about a week until the summer festival, Lyla handled the ball dresses. Racal provided fashionable masks. Charlotte, having nothing else to do, decided to search the house again—this time for the transparent box.
She carefully felt her way, focusing on shelves and gaps where the box might be rather than drawers where documents were usually stored.
Despite a third thorough search, the transparent box remained elusive.
She did, however, have a new experience.
In a mansion protected by magic, there had to be a secret door somewhere. Mimicking a spy movie, she traced the frames of paintings—and her hand slipped straight into one of them.
She was genuinely startled. She even pulled an apple out of the painting.
Curious, Charlotte ignored the box and began exploring all the paintings in the study. Among them, she discovered a small key.
“Could this be the key to the transparent box?”
She suspected it might be, but without the box, she couldn’t confirm. After fidgeting with the key a few times, she threw it back into the painting.
She spent a week searching, alternating between the study, the living room, and the bedroom. Meanwhile, Pierce prepared three meals a day.
Yesterday, she’d complained that the meat was undercooked. True to form, Pierce flared up and flambéed her steak with a flick of his gaze.
[Cook it to the doneness you want, then put it out.]
Damn him. Charlotte bit back a curse, clenched her fists, and smiled politely—because she needed Pierce’s help.
“Last time, you said you could kill someone for a year’s rent cheaply, right?”
“Yes. Want me to kill someone?”
“No. I want you to make a device that nearly kills someone instead.”
Pierce waved dismissively, leaning on the chair.
“Nearly kills? Either it kills or it doesn’t.”
“If you kill someone at the ball, the guards will catch you.”
“Some duke or peacock or whatever will get you out of jail. What’s the worry?”
“Even the Emperor can’t stop catching someone in the act.”
“Well, if we get caught, we get caught,” Pierce said with a mischievous grin.
Really irritating! Charlotte wanted to storm out but held back. She raised two fingers.
“Protection device for two months’ rent. Deal?”
“Two months, not two years? You’re cheaping out on me.”
“Three months, then.”
“Two years.”
Pierce didn’t budge. Charlotte adjusted her pout and got up.
“Fine, then. No choice.”
“Take care,” he said.
At the door, Charlotte glanced back.
“I’ll eat in front of the basement door from now on. That way, it’ll be easier for you too, right?”
Mentioning the basement made Pierce scowl.
“Who said you could?”
“I did. I own the mansion,” she said, jingling the key, the Owner’s Seal, on her wrist.
“Don’t worry. I’ll only eat in front of the basement door—three meals a day.”
“No!”
“Afraid I’ll go down there?”
“You!”
Charlotte feigned surprise.
“Oh my, it seems the Owner’s Seal really opens the basement door.”
Pierce hated the idea, but the threat worked. Feeling a quiet satisfaction, Charlotte watched him grind his teeth.
“You don’t value your life, do you?”
“I won’t go near the basement if you make a protection device for me.”
Pierce flared, slamming the table.
“One year.”
“Too expensive. Three months.”
“You stingy miser!”
“Fine.”
“I can make a protective spell even the royal court’s top wizard wouldn’t detect.”
“No thanks. You’re probably slipping some weird magic in too.”
“Sharp as ever.”
Pierce paused, staring at the Owner’s Seal on her wrist.
“Fine. I’ll make your precious protection device.”
“Thank you.”
“But never dream of going into the basement.”
“Don’t worry. I’m all for privacy,” Charlotte said solemnly, raising her hand like taking an oath.
“By the way, did you go around killing people like me? Why suddenly the protection device?”
She couldn’t tell Pierce: Because a poisoner might attack me outside. Nor could she say: Because I literally died and my soul transferred—my body came back to life.
“I plan to teach Count Able a lesson at the ball,” she improvised.
It made sense—members of the Able family had spread rumors about Charlotte being foolish and made a ruckus in front of the mansion. She sounded like she was seeking revenge.
Pierce chuckled at the thought.
“Alright. I’ll make it so you nearly die, but don’t actually die.”
“Exactly. Just before death.”
“Got it.”
Though he spoke casually, a chilling aura rose above him, like the return of a terrifying demon. Charlotte swallowed hard. That man really enjoys hurting people.
