Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Their faces turned bright pink at just the mention of Isidor. The conversation had been relatively civilized so far, but listening to them now suddenly called to mind a gang of buffalo in heat. They reminded me of myself when I was gushing over one of my favorite characters.

“I need to see Isidor’s face in person, even if I have to sell my soul in order to make it happen!”

“No woman can go on living without seeing his face at least once. There’s no forgetting it once you lay eyes on it, and his beauty will haunt your dreams.”

“Meeting him in my dreams? Why if that’s the case, I never want to wake up ever again.”

“I’ve been practically hibernating like a bear all winter for the sake of my skin, all in preparation for meeting him.”

The ladies’ borderline fanatical conversation seemed endless. They described him with all sorts of imaginative adjectives, calling his blond hair blindingly shiny, his chin line as sharp as a razor, and likening his back to the broadness of the sea.

He must be extremely good-looking. I wondered why he wasn’t in the novel. Despite their fabulous house words, the heir of Bisconti, the House of Gold, did not feature in the story at all. The readers had been looking forward to him appearing as a mischievous supervillain, spicing things up in the otherwise depressing tragedy.

A handsome blond character is the bread and butter of novels like this. That’s strange. The ladies discussed the man’s good looks with great excitement for some time, fanning their blushing faces vigorously, and only seemed to calm somewhat when a waiter appeared with their cakes and drinks. And once they’d partaken in the refreshments, taking dainty nibbles of their food, they continued to talk.

“Oh, did you hear the news?”

“What news?”

“I hear the House of Seymour won the pink diamond in the end.”

“So then it now belongs to…”

The silence that fell over the ladies was somehow distasteful—they could all easily guess who now possessed the infamous pink diamond. That would be me.

“Lady Deborah must be feeling pretty smug right about now. She’ll be even more insufferable than ever before, I expect.”

“To be perfectly honest, the mere thought of her disgusts me.”

“She’s like a pig wearing a pearl necklace…” one of them muttered, and everyone laughed coldly.

They’re being pretty open about how much they hate her. I’d never heard anyone bad mouth Deborah so openly since I spent my days surrounded by sycophants.

“What does it matter if she dresses up in the most expensive dresses and accessories the empire has to offer? She’s still a nasty b*tch on the inside.”

“I heard that Lady Deborah stole Helen away while she was in the middle of designing a dress for Lady Seirin.”

“She had to rush to find herself another dressmaker at the last minute since her birthday was just around the corner.”

How could Deborah have known this? She hadn’t known since Helen had immediately obliged her, trembling with fear. Deborah probably wouldn’t have cared that it was the woman’s birthday either way, but it still feels a little unfair to blame her.

“She’s so rude!”

“She’s not just rude. She may be Duke Seymour’s daughter, but she’s still too proud and haughty. She has none of the dignity one expects from such a prestigious house.”

“She’s uncultured and incompetent. Isn’t she the only Seymour who can’t manipulate mana at all?”

The reminder of this seemed to please them greatly and they burst into another loud round of laughter. I found I couldn’t bring myself to smile with them, however. She has an inferiority complex about that. That’s kind of uncalled for.

“And yet, she wields her family name like a weapon, regardless. I despise the very sight of her.”

“I get angry just seeing lavender hair. Can you believe it?”

Feeling rather numb inside as I listened to their nasty words, the next snatch of conversation made an even stranger feeling settle in my stomach.

“Why would Duke Seymour...” The lady seemed to be about to question why the duke would give me the pink diamond in the first place, but suddenly fell abruptly quiet and sipped at her tea. So they don’t dare come for Duke Seymour, only Deborah. Those hypocrites.

“Perhaps Lady Deborah... behaves herself at home?”

“Behaves herself?”

“Don’t be absurd!”

Another spat insult directed at me put the others at ease after the lady’s slip of the tongue very nearly implied I wasn’t a total hag.

“Well, I don’t know about that. The rumors say Lord Veleque despises even speaking of her. She must be a total disaster at home as well if he feels that way about his only sister.”

“Lord Veleque may be a generous man, but I doubt he appreciates the way she brings such shame to their family name.”

“I expect Lord Rozard feels the same way.”

It seemed as though they were pretty displeased about my acquisition of the pink diamond, even going so far as to bring up the twins in an effort to discredit me. These were noblewomen pretending to be society’s cream of the crop, and yet here they were, gossiping about me in broad daylight.

This is annoying. I’m going home. As I shoved back my chair to stand, I upset the table. My coffee tipped over the edge, and the resulting noise attracted the attention of the ladies who’d been speaking. As if on cue, a strong gust of wind blew through the terrace, blowing my hood down.

“L-Lady Deborah...” someone said with a gasp.

A suffocating silence fell after my face was revealed. The ladies, who’d been verbally flaying me so passionately only moments ago, all turned as pale as corpses. One of them was even quivering like she was an unexpected noise away from fainting.

I’d only meant to go home, not reveal myself to them like this. I was equally confused by these proceedings. I stood there frozen for a moment, taken aback by the situation, but soon realized that I couldn’t just stand there like an idiot. I’d overheard these ladies—who held a lower ranking than myself—speaking badly of me. If I just ignored their insults, they would take me for a fool.

That won’t do. Right before I’d died, I’d sworn to myself that I’d never allow anyone to walk all over me again if I ever got another chance to live. That determination still burned strong inside me, as fresh as it was the day my previous life had ended.

Gritting my teeth, I glared with as much fury as I could manage. “Are you done? Your tongues were wagging for so long. It was quite entertaining.” I was tense and my voice cracked. My subdued volume seemed only to scare them more, however, as their expressions grew increasingly panicked.

I pinned each and every one of them with my glare, then realized that I wanted to look down on them, rather than remain at eye level. I got to my feet, but gasped, grabbing at the table. I nearly tripped over myself, unsteady on my feet thanks to nerves.

Muffling a startled scream, I struggled to regain my balance. The round table I’d been sitting at tipped over, crashing to the ground in front of the group of ladies, unable to bear my weight. The vase that had sat on top of the table broke into pieces, as it shattered against the floor.

Suddenly everything descended into disorder and people turned shocked eyes on me. They all seemed to think I’d flipped the table on purpose.

I didn’t mean to break anything... I was stunned, but the damage had already been done. Deciding on an aggressive approach would only scare them more, I approached the ladies very slowly. I needed time to formulate what I’d say next. I had plenty of inspiration to draw from—I shifted all my weight to one side and slowly tilted my head. “Seems like all the little cows are mooing about me now, huh?”

An expression of indignation appeared on their faces.

“Why are you looking at me like that? You were brave enough to call the House of Seymour’s only daughter a pig, but you can’t stand to be talked about in the same way?”

They’d compared me to a pig wearing pearls.

“L-Lady Deborah, we can explain...”

“Why are you stuttering all of a sudden? You were all such smooth talkers only moments ago,” I spat.

The lady who seemed to be the oldest in the group quickly intervened. “P-please accept our apologies. Our behavior was inexcusable. I deeply apologize.”

“Oh, how disappointing. You sounded like you were so enjoying yourselves earlier. The fight’s already died out in you? If you can’t insult me to my face, you shouldn’t do so behind my back, either, you little dogs. You’re all cowards, and lowly cowards have no business discussing my worth as a noble.” I was surprised by my own words—I had no idea I was capable of being so scathing.

“We’re truly sorry.”

“We have no excuse for speaking like that.”

Two more of the ladies bowed, pale and trembling.

“Keep your damned tongues on a tighter leash. Think before you speak, next time.” I was about to call it a day after they all apologized once more, but one of the ladies stepped forward, biting her lip, seemingly furious that I’d had the audacity to scold her.

“But my lady, everyone agrees that you were out of line for stealing away Lady Seirin’s dressmaker when her birthday was only days away.”

She was saying that I’d been wrong to violate the unspoken agreement—it was implicitly understood among the ladies that anyone who claimed a dress first had precedence, especially when they had an important event approaching.

I tilted my head more to the side. “Is Lady Seirin a two-faced coward like you?”

“I’m... sorry?”

“Tell her to come see me in person if she has something she wishes to say. Surely we can come to an agreement between nobility.” I casually took a glass of cold fruit juice from their table. “You know who really crossed the line? You. Acting like such brave little gossips thinking I wasn’t around to hear you.” I splashed the cherry red juice directly into her face. “And I’m of a mind to put you in your place. Don’t push me, or I’ll show you exactly what I’m capable of.”

The lady, her face dripping red, gasped shakily. After stuttering out a tearful apology, she rushed from the terrace. The other ladies ran after her, all pretending like they were following to console her.

That was rather mild. If it had been the real Deborah who’d caught you, it wouldn’t have just been cherry juice in your face... I glanced at the now-empty table, eyes landing on the cup of hot black tea still sitting there undisturbed. I shook my head, dismissing the terrible thought.

* * *

“My lord. How much progress have you made?” Miguel asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Isidor snapped brusquely. He was sitting on a giant orc skin, deep in the process of drawing a magic circle. The magical pouch that Isidor had promised Deborah took considerable effort and time to create.

It involved spatial movement, expansion, and tracking—three disparate types of magic. This meant that the magic circle needed was intensely complicated. Since Isidor needed to create a custom one himself, he couldn’t just buy one and be done with it.

He is probably better at spatial manipulation magic than Duke Seymour himself, Miguel thought with pride.

Cookie, who’d been thumping his tail against the floor, suddenly bit into the orc skin rug, tearing it.

“Cookie! What are you doing?”

The feline only hissed in response.

“Goddamn it, what is the matter with you?”

The usually mild-mannered creature had been acting up ever since Lady Deborah had come and gone.

Isidor threw aside his quill in frustration, biting back another curse, and turning his attention to Miguel. “Why are you here?”

“I bring news—Lady Deborah was at Maison.”

Cookie’s pointy ears perked up at the mention of Deborah’s name, his eyes glistening as if in yearning.

“Did she come to see one of our agents?” Isidor asked.

“No. She flipped a table and smashed a cup as well as a vase.”

Isidor nearly choked.

“That’s not all. She had an argument with Count Eite’s daughter on the terrace. Given the difference in rank between their respective houses, however, I have a feeling the fight was rather one-sided.”

“Huh.”

“The other girl ran away in tears,” Miguel recalled the report given to him by the agent stationed at Maison who’d witnessed the scene for themselves. The street the terrace was located on was a busy one, and rumors of the dispute between Deborah Seymour and Arin Eite seemed to have already spread far and wide.

High society loves nothing more than a little gossip about the high-ranking nobles. The conclusion was that Deborah Seymour still had the uncontested ability to strike fear into the hearts of the young noble ladies. Among the nobility, words could cut like unseen daggers, and Lady Deborah carried a big fat sword that she didn’t hesitate to brandish at her enemies.

Her father is such an influential figure, however, that nobody dares touch her. She was known as the Lavender Viper, and whoever had come up with the nickname had chosen it fittingly. Her mother, Marienne Seymour, had been known as the flower of high society, but her daughter was nothing like her.

“Lady Deborah is certainly very smart, isn’t she?” Isidor muttered, rubbing his chin after a moment’s silent thought.