Chapter 5
All This… Really?
I cast a quick glance around.
Above everyone, frozen like stone, I could almost see question marks hovering over their heads. Among them, the expressions on Philip’s and Marlboro’s faces were particularly worth noting.
Lyla, cradled in my arms, trembled like a rabbit caught by a lion.
Oh dear… she’s in bad shape. But after today’s little refresh, maybe things will turn out all right.
I hoped so, recalling the events Lyla would face in the coming days.
Ellen’s future antics were as follows:
Tonight—well, technically at three in the morning—she would ransack the bedroom of a newlywed couple who had been spilling sesame seeds everywhere, claiming she had caught a thief.
Hmm… that one’s easy. No need to interfere.
The day after, Lyla would host a garden tea party, inviting friends of various statuses. Ellen, of course, would stage her usual catastrophic show, but I intended to act differently.
All right, Lyla. Rest well today, and we’ll meet again at the tea party.
I gently tapped her shoulder, trying to smile as kindly as possible. At the same time, I caught a shiver along her nape—it was small, but visible enough to make me grin wryly.
She’s scared, but not fainting. Good.
I turned gracefully to Philip’s side and nodded toward Marlboro, who still stood there like a statue.
“Marlboro, if you’ve come, you should greet us, shouldn’t you?”
He blinked in confusion, then bowed politely.
“I’ve returned, Father. Mother.”
Lyla parted her dress and curtsied with the delicate grace of a butterfly settling on a flower.
“I’ve returned, Father, Mother.”
Philip’s expression, however, was blank. My impulsive actions seemed to have shocked him considerably. I nudged him lightly in the ribs with my elbow.
“Ahem! Welcome back.”
Only then did Philip smile warmly, taking his sons’ hands and patting their backs.
“Let’s go inside first. I’ve prepared fine black tea and pies in the parlor.”
True to his word, the parlor was set with freshly baked apple pies and steaming black tea atop a pristine white rug.
A maid poured the tea carefully, filling the room with a warm, fragrant aroma.
After a brief moment to settle with a sip, the young couple called for Head Butler Domingo.
The elderly man, his full head of white hair neatly combed back, entered pushing a moving wagon stacked with gifts.
Domingo was a butler nearing retirement, with his son set to succeed him. Among all the household staff, he alone showed no fear of Ellen, and even endured her outbursts with calm patience.
Alas, he would not live to see retirement. Three accidents eventually claimed him.
The first occurred when he went to buy camellia oil for his hair and encountered a masked robber, who thoroughly beat him. He spent three months in the hospital with a broken leg.
The second was mere days after his discharge. While accompanying Lyla to meet a messenger delivering a letter to the Kingdom of Perdes, an agitated horse outside a tavern knocked him down, breaking both ankles.
The third came after the king’s passing, during a minor scuffle in the palace garden when the succession was announced. Domingo became entangled in the altercation and perished.
Ellen, ever irreverent, scoffed at his demise, remarking that the meddlesome old man had gotten what he deserved, and proceeded to drink copiously with Sir Mild, the knight…
Although the exact details of these events were murky, the context suggested what had transpired.
Domingo, taken aback by my sudden attention, cleared his throat a couple of times.
“Pardon me, Milady. What is the matter?”
His calm voice shook something in me.
It may seem strange to speak of the future… but it can’t be helped.
Even if the outcome remained uncertain, it was only natural to try to avert danger.
“Domingo, be careful on the day you go to buy camellia oil.”
“…Pardon?”
“You’ll encounter a robber wearing a blue mask. Send a servant to order the oil, or bring a guard along.”
Domingo’s eyes widened.
“And also, when accompanying Lyla to meet the messenger from the Kingdom of Perdes, beware of the tavern entrance.”
“Eh…?”
“A startled horse might collide with you and break both ankles. Travel carefully.”
He blinked in confusion, then smiled gently.
“I shall take care. Thank you, Milady.”
Though polite, he clearly didn’t fully believe me. Still, he would be more cautious. I pressed on.
“When will you go to get the camellia oil?”
He replied without hesitation.
“In three days. I have a reservation at Madame Hades’ boutique to pick it up.”
“Reservation?”
“Yes. The camellia oil from the Rinoir Trading Company of Bourbon is considered the best. The new batch arrives first at Madame Hades’ boutique.”
I merely nodded. Even if it was just oil, some preferred brands mattered. Then it struck me—the trading company’s name sounded familiar.
“Rinoir Trading Company? That’s the same as my pre-marriage family’s business.”
Domingo looked thoroughly flustered. I decided against pursuing the matter—there was nothing like this mentioned in the novel.
Philip, however, couldn’t resist.
“My dear, why speak of a trading company owned by your brother?”
“…?”
I considered recalling memories, but abandoned the thought. Better not to stir confusion.
Hmm… Villainess is fine, but I don’t want to become a lunatic.
I lowered my gaze, sipping my tea. Philip clicked his tongue.
“You said you disliked your brother, yet you feigned ignorance this much?”
Ah, this is it!
I lifted my chin proudly.
“So, I had a brother?”
Philip pressed his fingers to his furrowed brow, massaging it lightly.
“If you don’t want him, let’s pretend he never existed… Phew. But that’s not the important story right now.”
He shifted the topic, and I resolved: any unfamiliar information going forward, I would remain silent on. If it mattered, the other party would react first.
Except in matters of personal danger.
Philip’s gaze fell on the stack of gifts on the moving wagon.
It was time to open the honeymoon presents. Domingo began unveiling them one by one: perfumes, fans, feather pens—souvenirs from various travels.
Philip’s quiet attention left me free to watch. Lyla’s glances kept flicking toward me, assessing my reaction. I knew from the novel—Lyla had carefully selected these gifts during the honeymoon, hoping to soften her mother-in-law’s heart. A classic innocent heroine move.
Trying to win over a villain’s heart as per the author’s unchangeable setting…
Of course, Ellen would have ranted, saying the gifts were cheap, that Lyla’s taste was low for a princess, and so forth. Yet I never forgot my goal: survive by improving relations.
With this opportunity, a proper reaction is necessary.
I was quietly pleased with my plan. Just as a smirk crept up, Lyla flinched slightly. She seemed to misread my delight as mockery.
What now? Should I fuss over every gift and praise it extravagantly?
Then two gifts tied with crimson silk ribbons were set on the table. They were clearly special.
Yes. These.
I knew these well—gifts Lyla had selected with particular care during the honeymoon. She believed Ellen’s stress-induced mischief stemmed from tension with Philip, so she chose dark gray couple robes, praying for the couple’s happiness.
Ellen, naturally, would only become more irritated.
“What? Happiness? Because of your marriage, I’m in this mess? How shameless!”
Philip, initially about to overlook it out of admiration for Lyla’s thoughtfulness, had to deliver a stern announcement:
“Thank you for the gifts, but while you were on your trip, we finalized the divorce.”
Lyla smiled shyly.
“There were so many wonderful things on our honeymoon… I hope you like them.”
Perfect. Not difficult at all.
I decided how to react. Exaggeration would break character, so restraint was key.
The couple may not grow closer, but acknowledge the effort and gratitude. That’s ideal.
Philip signaled, and Domingo began untying the ribbons.
“Wait.”
I stopped him.
“I’ll open my gifts myself.”
I wanted to open them personally, ensuring the joy behind the gifts was properly received.
“Here, Milady.”
I untied the ribbon. The smooth glide of the silk was satisfying. Opening the lid, the soft white tissue revealed a glimpse of elegant dark gray. A robe.
“Ah! My goodness!”
Any pretense I had prepared vanished. The color grew more enchanting with every glance; the fabric was smooth, soft, plush, and light. Eager to see the fit, I quickly draped it over my shoulders.
“Huh!”
Philip gasped—a slight choke in his sip of tea.
No matter. I tied the sash and faced the mirror. The fit was exquisite.
“Oh! It’s so beautiful!”
No need to deliberate—genuine delight escaped naturally.
“Pfft! Cough! Cough!”
“Ahem! Heh!”
Philip and Marlboro both coughed, likely from tea mishaps. Their faces reddened, clearly struggling.
“Master, Young Master, are you all right?”
Domingo hastily handed them napkins.
“Are you okay?”
Lyla, about to pat Marlboro, quickly corrected herself after noticing me.
“No… are you all right?”
I understood. Ellen had criticized her once for the tone used toward a future husband. No need for me to intervene; the butler and Lyla were handling it well.
I removed the robe and folded it back into its box, glancing at Lyla.
Our heroine’s taste and heart were impeccable. I had sworn at Ellen in the novel, yet here she was, preparing such thoughtful gifts for her mother-in-law.
No wonder Ellen wasn’t a villain for nothing!
How could I scold an angelic heroine at this point?
It was now time to say thank you. I cleared my throat lightly.
“All this… really?”
