TRL 42

Chapter 42

As Lavinia tilted her chin up and sharply turned her head away, Annemarie, who had been holding her forehead in exasperation, approached Lillietta once more to apologize.

“Lili, I’m really sorry. Lavinia showed some interest in you, so I thought this would be a good chance for you two to become friends—maybe she’d learn a thing or two from you… but I had no idea she’d act like this right away. I should’ve just kept her away somehow.”

“It’s okay. I’m the one who asked you for help. And thank you for coming even though your schedule was tight.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t mention it. Oh, right—this is my younger brother, Anton. First time seeing him since childhood, right?”

Annemarie stepped aside to reveal a quiet-looking boy with light brown hair, bearing a striking resemblance to her. His face had flushed all the way to his neck as he stiffly stared at Lillietta.

“Anton? What are you doing? Say hello.”

Annemarie nudged her brother lightly on the arm, prompting him to snap out of his daze and awkwardly mumble a greeting.

“A-Anton de D-Dewirebourg Everett. M-May you be greeted by the fresh spring…”

“What the— Why are you suddenly talking like th— Oh.”

Annemarie frowned and was about to scold her brother, but then turned to look at Lillietta and gave a bitter smile.

“Sorry, Lili. You’re just too pretty—it’s got him all disoriented. I feel like I’m just apologizing nonstop today.”

“Sister!”

“Well, are you back to your senses now?”

“Aaaaargh…”

Anton, now bright red, groaned and buried his face in both hands. Rita simply laughed.

‘Well, I wasn’t used to it at first, either.’

It had been over a month since she’d returned, and she was somewhat used to it now, but there were still moments when she startled herself upon seeing her reflection—like seeing a portrait or photo of an incredibly beautiful woman, not her own face.

She’d grown up in a different body, so it didn’t quite feel like her own. Even now, when she imagined herself, her mind often pictured “Rita Pascal.”

With Annemarie, beet-red Anton, and sulking Lavinia in tow, Lillietta headed to the ballroom. She’d prepared to rehearse here, thinking it would be most effective to practice in the same location as the upcoming debutante ball.

‘Training is always best done on the actual field.’

Lindsey, who had followed behind, subtly moved into position for the secondary objective of the training, while Hannah, who had been waiting in advance, began setting up the phonograph.

Rita stood face-to-face with Anton while Annemarie watched.

‘Hmm… he can’t even make eye contact. He’s clearly flustered.’

She vaguely remembered seeing him a few times at a villa during childhood, but not clearly.

Still, he wasn’t a complete stranger, and his awkwardness made him seem harmless. It also helped that he showed no signs of having undergone any combat training.

‘At this level, I won’t feel the urge to twist his arm even if he touches my back.’

While Rita felt reassured, Anton, on the other hand, was utterly bewildered standing before a stunning beauty he’d never met before. He felt wronged.

‘I mean, I did think she was really pretty as a kid, but this is cheating. There should’ve been a warning or something, Sis!’

In aristocratic circles, boys and girls usually debuted in society between the ages of 15 and 18.

At 19, Anton had already debuted two years ago and was fairly active in social events among his peers.

As the youngest with two older sisters—one of whom would inherit the family title—he had no special talents to pursue a career, so his life goal was to marry into a good family.

So, dancing basics like the waltz were second nature to him.

It was during such a waltz that his nervous hand accidentally gripped too tightly on his partner’s back—a reflexive, unintended error caused by her overwhelming beauty.

But the consequences were disastrous.

The moment Rita felt pressure on her back from his hand, she instinctively hooked her foot behind his knee, pulled, forced him to his knees, and twisted his arm behind him to restrain him.

“AAAAARGH!”

Anton’s scream rang out over the elegant waltz playing from the phonograph.

Expressionless, Rita pinned him down and scanned the area to check for more threats—only to realize what she was doing when she saw Annemarie’s wide eyes, Lavinia’s gaping mouth, and Hannah covering her face with one hand.

“S-sorry, I’m sorry! Really, I’m sorry!”

She quickly released him and apologized.

Anton clutched his shoulder and teared up slightly. Thankfully, she hadn’t used the strength of her well-trained past body but that of the weaker Lillietta—so no bones were broken or arms dislocated.

Annemarie muttered in shock, “You were dancing so well just a second ago… I didn’t understand why you even needed practice but… L-Lili?”

“Uh, well, this is, um…”

Rita was at a loss for words. Seeing this, Hannah cautiously interjected.

“Miss Lillietta… she doesn’t remember much from the last 10 years, but she learned combat skills during that time. L-like knights do. It’s become second nature, so she reacts that way when startled.”

“Com…bat skills?”

Annemarie blinked as if she didn’t understand. From the corner, Lavinia snorted.

“Don’t make me laugh. I know exactly what it means to be a knight. There’s no way someone who trained for 10 years could be that flimsy! Even female knights are all well-built! Not a single scar on her… she probably learned some basic self-defense and is just pretending to be a knight.”

“Pretending to be a knight?”

Hannah forgot who she was speaking to—nobility or not—and balled her fists in anger.

“She’s not pretending! Lady Lillietta is amazing! She shot a bird out of the sky with a gun! She even killed a wyvern with a single bullet!”

“Haha! Oh wow, listen to this girl. What nonsense.”

Lavinia laughed openly, crossing her arms and lifting her chin.

“You must be clueless because you’re just a maid. You think she shot a flying bird? Even Sir Favin, our best archer, says that’s nearly impossible. You seriously expect me to believe that?”

“You’re the clueless one! Miss Lillietta really did—”

“Hannah, calm down.”

Rita sighed and stepped in.

“That’s not what’s important.”

“But she really—”

“It’s not important.”

Whether or not an upcoming debutante had real combat training didn’t matter. And frankly, Rita didn’t care what Lavinia thought of her.

‘What’s more concerning is that I might do the same thing to the crown prince at the ball…’

She glanced at Anton, still groaning, sighed again, and reverted to the etiquette she’d crammed into her brain.

“Lady Dewirebourg, please forgive my maid’s rudeness. It stemmed from her excessive loyalty, and I humbly ask for your generous understanding.”

At this perfectly formal apology, Lavinia—who had just been spouting insults—flinched. Glancing at Annemarie, she quickly straightened her posture and puffed out her chest.

“Hmph, well, yes. I forgive the rudeness, Lady Laskail. I’m generous, after all.”

“Thank you.”

As Lillietta bowed, Hannah looked stunned.

She realized that Lillietta had apologized not for herself, but to protect her. If Lavinia had made an issue of a maid arguing back, Hannah could’ve been punished.

‘Milady…!’

Hannah lowered her head, tears welling in her eyes, bringing an end to the brief chaos.

It would have ended there—if Lavinia hadn’t opened her mouth again.

“A gun? Please. No way a pathetic little thing like that could kill a wyvern. They break all the time, and it doesn’t matter who uses them—they’re the same. Knights use swords, soldiers use spears and bows! That’s basic knowledge and etiquette. Real weapons, not that junk. Calling that combat training? What a joke.”

Rita—no, Rita Pascal—who had been walking toward Anton, suddenly stopped in her tracks.

She slowly turned, expressionless, and looked down at Lavinia.

The pink-haired girl instinctively flinched and stepped back. Then she tilted her head, as if confused about why she’d done that.

Rita asked quietly.

“You said… a gun can’t kill a wyvern?”

“Uh, wh-what?”

“You said all guns are the same, no matter who uses them? That they don’t even count as weapons?”

“Uh… uh…”

Under the strange pressure, Lavinia faltered. Rita stared at her, then slowly smiled.

“—Is that what you said, Lady Dewirebourg?”