Chapter 07
“Uh… huh?”
“The Duke will be coming the day after tomorrow, so I thought it might be good for you to at least show a suitable appearance. Today… the Duchess seemed upset, thinking Lady Maribel stood up Lady Gabriella.”
Perhaps interpreting my silence differently, Luisa spoke earnestly.
“You know, right? The Duke will be returning with guests the day after tomorrow. And since this year the Rocio Festival is being held in Sephardi, the Duchess is even more on edge than usual.”
“Ah…”
Was this still the beginning part of the novel? It felt like it was still very early on.
Some kind of grand event was bringing together all the young members of the ducal family.
As I failed to relax my serious expression, Luisa whispered:
“If it’s the incense you’re worried about, well, since the meeting is outdoors, it shouldn’t be a problem. The tea time will be held in Donna’s Garden, which is exactly midway between your annex and the main residence, so…”
“Ah!”
Right. I had forgotten.
The incense.
I had to extinguish the incense.
The one endlessly burning in Gabriella’s room—incense that the villainess Maribel had swapped with the deadly Omdu incense tree, which grew more suffocating the longer it burned.
That was the real problem.
“Is something wrong…?”
Plenty was wrong. Because of that incense, Gabriella’s lungs would weaken, leaving her frail.
And later, when Gabriella discovered the truth, that incense would become one of the strongest reasons she would despise Maribel.
“Yes, there’s a problem… but I can’t just blow it out.”
Because this wasn’t a dream. I couldn’t just puff and snuff out the flame.
I’d definitely be accused, and before I could even attempt anything, I might get cast out.
“Of course! No one knows the incense has been switched with Omdu. They all think it’s a holy relic, so they’ll burn it carefully to absorb its blessings. If anyone just puts it out, they’ll be punished.”
Since this wasn’t a dream, Gabriella wasn’t the Gabi I wanted.
I was only the villainess inside this novel.
But still—I had to think of a way out.
Gabriella was Yoon Gabi, created by Yoon Gabi.
The sister I longed for. The sister who had died. The sister I felt guilty about, for never being much of a real sister to her.
In this stupid world without epinephrine shots, without air conditioning, without the internet—she was the only shining existence.
She had come back to me as my sister again, when my life was full of regrets.
I couldn’t just stand by and watch her suffer.
“No one will suspect the incense, Lady Maribel.”
Exactly as Luisa said—no one would realize it. So I had to put it out.
Fortunately, I had a method. Well, not mine—but one from the original novel.
After her regression, Gabriella had done something to save herself. All I had to do was follow her lead.
“Luisa, then tell Gabriella I’ll attend tea time. Say that since she sent me a physician, and since I feel sorry for standing her up, I’ve prepared a small token of thanks.”
“A token of thanks?”
“Yes. I’ll send something from the basement workshop—have it used to decorate the garden. Make sure it’s arranged exactly as I instruct. For other gifts, just prepare something Gabriella will like.”
“Something… she’ll like?”
“Yes. Can you handle that?”
“Of course. I understand perfectly.”
Though my instructions were simple, Luisa nodded gravely.
“Then I’ll head to the underground workshop.”
“Ah—Manu has returned too. Shall I send him your way? He said he brought back lots of items to stock the place.”
“Good. Please do.”
“Lady Maribel… Please, the veil… the veil!”
Luisa, perhaps because I mentioned the underground workshop, draped a simple veil that covered my face and hair. I quickly set off.
The underground workshop was a place Maribel frequented often—my body remembered the way.
I made it there without running into a single person, using several keys to finally unlock the door.
“Let’s see.”
The space was dim. I lit several candles, then climbed the steps to crack open a tiny window near the ceiling. At last, sunlight poured in.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight, then opened them again—like a child about to blow out birthday candles.
The whole room glittered like a sunlit sea. Tiny gleams sparkled like ripples on the water.
“Yes, this is it.”
Every little spark in the room was a jewel.
The countless gems Maribel Sephardi, the villainess of the novel, had intercepted—swapping the real ones for imitations.
“When you have no honor, you cling to money.”
Rubies, emeralds, sapphires… peridot, opal, jade. From glittering shards the size of crumbs to diamonds as large as a child’s fist.
The underground workshop overflowed with gemstones.
As someone who had studied jewelry design, I had rarely touched the real thing—most of my experience had been with lab-created spinel or illustrations in books.
“Just looking at this makes living here worthwhile.”
Though Sephardi wasn’t on the coast, a massive river ran through the city.
It was the southernmost city of the Naparo Empire, and thanks to that great river leading to the sea, goods flowed easily all the way to the capital.
Through Sephardi came tributes and jewels from other continents, shipped by boat.
Maribel skimmed off those destined for noble families.
“Such nerve.”
She had learned the craft of creating nearly indistinguishable synthetic stones before she even learned to speak her mother’s tongue—her mother being a princess of the Moro people.
So when real jewels arrived, they went out again as glass, cubic zirconia, or synthetic spinel.
But that wasn’t all.
In the original novel, Maribel used these stolen stones to craft necklaces, earrings, rings, tiaras—then sold them through intermediaries to amass wealth.
Instead of her own name, she used the name of someone who didn’t exist: Muwa.
A persona she had invented to explain the vast profits and to serve as a scapegoat in case the forgeries were ever discovered.
Among nobles, Muwa was rumored to be an aloof, highborn Moro jeweler still working in the desert.
By mixing real and fake gems, occasionally swapping out stones entrusted to her by nobles, Muwa made an immense fortune.
In Naparo, there was nothing Maribel—as Muwa—couldn’t buy.
The real problem was that she spent it on tormenting Gabriella, and later used it to fund rebellion.
“How could this story possibly end well?”
I clicked my tongue.
After her regression, Gabriella had raided this workshop first.
She took the ledgers, built a case for Maribel’s execution, and exposed Muwa’s fraudulent gemstone trade to the world.
Nobles who had cherished Muwa’s pieces were enraged to learn they were fakes.
And Gabriella revealed the truth at just the right moment: that the famed designer Muwa was none other than 24-year-old Maribel of Sephardi.
Of course, the nobles spat on Maribel.
“It should be around here…”
Tracing the novel’s details, I pushed aside a gloomy still-life painting at one side of the workshop.
Behind the wall’s narrow crevice, I pulled out a thin bundle of papers.
Inside, in shameless detail, was listed every stone she had stolen, every jewel she had crafted, who had bought them, and for how much.
“Was she trying to make her downfall inevitable, keeping records like this?”
I quickly scanned the inventory, doing rough calculations.
The profit she’d made from selling counterfeit gemstone pieces was staggering. Even if every jewel were replaced with genuine stones, the margins would still be immense.
After all, the value of a gemstone depended not only on the stone itself, but also on how beautifully it was cut and set.
That’s why a plain ruby and a magnificent ruby necklace differed so drastically in price.
“Hm.”
Knock, knock.
As I paused in thought, a knock sounded.
