MFWSP 73

Chapter 73

Demeyra leaned against the wall, her body trembling with nerves.

It had been the most chaotic few hours of her life.

She had been pulled from cleaning the stables, fitted for clothes all day, and given a crash course in noble etiquette for two straight hours.

The etiquette instructor was a fearsome man named Jurik, who looked every bit like a bandit and yet claimed, “I may not look it, but I used to be a tutor,” while putting her through military-style training.

Thanks to him, Demeyra had at least managed to internalize the basics of etiquette. Her posture had become a little more elegant, and she finally learned the fan gestures and greeting styles she’d always skipped because she found them boring.

And so she returned.

Under the weight of burdensome gazes, she set foot once more in the imperial ballroom.

“Demeyra?”

A familiar voice called her name.

When Demeyra turned her head, she saw Louis Dican and Celine Wimer standing there.

“Louis, Celine.”

Demeyra felt a small sense of relief. The two had once been close friends.

Although they had openly scoffed whenever she was dumped by Anthony, she still preferred familiar faces over strangers.

“What on earth happened? Have you been at the ducal house this whole time?”

“Yeah, we thought you were banished from the capital. If the Duke of Apellemeon locked you up in his mansion all this time, you should tell us right now…”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

Demeyra forced a smile at their barrage of questions.

She recalled the answers Iris had prepped for her.

“As you can see, I’m fine. My family left the ducal estate, and I chose to stay behind.”

“The Duke really let you stay of your own will?”

Celine asked suspiciously.

Demeyra frowned.

The way they kept prying—it was like they wanted Iris to have mistreated her.

“I said nothing happened, didn’t I? I’m the same as I always was.”

“Hm… doesn’t seem that way.”

Louis muttered after a brief pause.

Seeing that Demeyra was holding firm, he suddenly turned cold.

“Baronet Phaenton—wait, no. Not even ‘Sir Phaenton’ anymore. You can’t just ignore what happened to your father.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“That Miss Demeyra Phaenton is no longer a noble, but a commoner now.”

Celine snapped impatiently, annoyed by Louis’ roundabout phrasing.

“She’s basically no different from that maid standing over there holding a tray of wine.”

The two no longer even bothered with polite pretense.

“Why are you even dressed like that? As if you’re still one of us?”

Celine let out a mocking laugh. It wasn’t curiosity driving her words, but a clear desire to ridicule.

“Be honest. Are you here as the Duke of Apellemeon’s maid or something?”

“Watch your mouth!”

Demeyra shouted, her face flushed red.

“Oh my, are you seriously getting angry at us? Under what right?”

Expecting her to back down, Louis and Celine instead exchanged amused looks at her reaction.

Demeyra’s eyes widened in shock.

Their gazes were full of malicious glee.

It was clear now—they had poked and prodded, and seeing no resistance, they were now confident she wouldn’t fight back.

“Calm down. Let’s just put a little distance between us.”

Louis chuckled as he continued.

“If we act too equal, people might laugh. Especially after Andar just mocked us for following a fraud.”

“Exactly. It’s because of you that we’re constantly getting flak. Honestly, after Julius Phaenton’s crimes came to light, we did feel deceived.”

They were now pushing Demeyra into a corner without remorse.

She had already heard the full story behind what Grace had said, and she could guess the reason.

Just as Grace had taken out her anger on someone due to the rumors Balthazar spread about Iris, Louis and Celine were now venting theirs on her.

After all, they couldn’t treat Lady Serve like this.

“Don’t be upset. If you were in our shoes, you’d have done the same.”

Demeyra slowly closed her eyes. Their attitude felt strangely familiar—and she knew why.

As they said, the petty cruelty she had shown Iris in the past had been no different from what they were doing now.

So this is how disgusting it feels…

“If you’re going to stay here, why don’t you refill our wine glasses? You look like you came to run errands anyway.”

“…What did you say?”

“Yeah, maybe if you do that, we’ll let you tag along with us.”

Louis and Celine shoved their wine glasses at her.

“Why so surprised? You used to run our errands just to get on Anthony’s good side.”

“…”

The memory made Demeyra shudder.

“Come on, hurry up—oh!”

The wine glass slipped from Celine’s hand and flipped midair, spilling down Demeyra’s chest.

“Oh dear, maybe you should’ve just taken it nicely.”

Celine burst into laughter, not a trace of apology on her face. Louis chuckled too and tried to shove his glass into her hands.

“Come on, better get used to it.”

“I said no—whoa!”

Clink—

In the middle of their scuffle, someone bumped into Demeyra from behind, causing the glass to fall and shatter.

“I’m sorr—”

“This day just gets more disgusting.”

“Anthony…”

Demeyra froze as she recognized the voice.

Anthony was staring at her like she was something repulsive.

“Why the hell is she here?”

He asked arrogantly, not even bothering with formal speech. No, he was doing it on purpose.

“It’s not like—”

“There were rumors you got kicked out or died. I was hoping I’d never have to see you again. Don’t tell me you still think there’s something special between us.”

“Of course not! I hate you, too—”

“Since you’re here as a maid, why don’t you get down and clean up that glass?”

He kicked a shard of the broken wine glass toward her.

“What? Don’t want to? Even though you’re just a lowly commoner now?”

He stood there, arms crossed, staring down at her with a frigid gaze, no longer bothering to wear a noble facade.

“…”

Demeyra looked back and forth between Louis, Celine, and Anthony.

Gone were the faces that once called her the true daughter of Apellemeon with bright smiles.

No, maybe they had been laughing at her from the very beginning. Just waiting to play with her like a toy they could toss away at will.

Demeyra wanted to run.

“What, got something to say?”

“…I’ll be going.”

After a long silence, she finally turned around and answered.

“What the hell? Not even good enough to be a maid.”

Anthony sneered behind her, and Louis and Celine burst out laughing.

Hurt, humiliation, rage… a storm of emotions churned inside her.

Demeyra swallowed her tears and fled the ballroom.

* * *

“Phew… I’m exhausted.”

Iris murmured as she stood on the balcony, looking out over the garden.

The night air was just cool enough to feel pleasant.

The long banquet was finally over, and she was feeling refreshed, satisfied that she had accomplished everything she set out to do.

Karciel was nowhere in sight, which left her slightly disappointed—but also relieved she didn’t have to explain why she’d suddenly left the ballroom the night before.

Her mind felt unusually at ease.

That strange feeling she’d had the day before must’ve been just her imagination. And maybe it was because Demeyra’s reintroduction into society had gone well, but her head felt clearer than ever.

The guests in the ballroom had looked startled to see Iris, but in the end, they’d welcomed her with curious enthusiasm.

It was more curiosity than genuine interest, of course, but that didn’t bother her.

What mattered was that she had successfully planted seeds of suspicion toward Grace.

This was a good enough start…

“Hrk.”

Just as she was about to raise a glass of champagne (which she normally didn’t even drink) to celebrate, a familiar, grating voice rang out.

“Hnnnh!”

“….”

She didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Iris sighed and bit her lip in annoyance.

She’s really a master at ruining people’s moments.

After a brief hesitation, she turned toward the smaller side balcony to her left.

“…What now?”

“Huuuuh!”

As expected, there stood Demeyra, sniffling and sobbing, tears and snot streaming down her face.