Prologue

AFTER jumping on a random carriage, then hopping from one to another to another for the better part of the day, I finally reached my destination.

The unfamiliar town was bathed in an orange sunset through the window.

This was perfect.

If even I didn’t know where I was, there was no way he could follow.

“I’ll be getting off here!” I called out, leaning out the window, and the carriage slowed to a stop. I paid the driver, thanked him, and turned to face the bustling street ahead. My bones, thoroughly jostled from hours of travel, begged for rest. I found relief in the first café I could spot. Inside, it was almost entirely white—bright, clean, and completely packed. Only one table sat empty. I slid into the seat and picked up the menu.

“What? 1,200 mia for a single cup of black tea?”

Not exactly the kind of thing a marquess’s daughter should be shocked by—but still, it did. I’d thought I’d wandered into a place for common townsfolk. Instead, it was a posh little spot clearly favored by the well-to-do.

Suppressing a groan, I swallowed my pride and ordered just the absurdly expensive, supposedly high-quality tea. I stared blankly out the window, already wondering where I’d sleep tonight, when a low, familiar voice drifted in from the side.

“Excuse me. Is this seat taken?”

“Oh! Uh, no,” I answered reflexively, still gazing out the window. “Please, go ahead and—”

An alarm bell rang in my head.

“Thank you,” the voice said again.

Another alarm. That voice… It can’t be…

But I already knew.

Even as I turned—slowly, reluctantly—I was still hoping I was wrong.

“My Lord Duke… How…” I breathed.

Duke Zane Winslet. My lover. My man. The one I’d just spent the entire day trying to run from.

And now, sitting calmly across from me, smiling like the chase had been his idea all along.

“Did you enjoy the game this time, Grace?” he said.

“Um… Well…” I fumbled.

“You never seem to tire of trying,” he said, leaning back. “Even though you know running from me is impossible.”

It had been a month since that fateful ball.

Since then, I’d tried to run from him more times than I could count, and been caught just as many.

As I sat there, flabbergasted, Zane’s sun-bright golden eyes softened. He smiled at me, glanced down at the menu, and ordered a coffee and an apple tart.

“At these prices, you could go for more than just drinks, you know,” he said casually. “Order whatever you like. My treat.”

“I… I can pay my own way, you know…” I mumbled.

It was true—I had money. But the broke mindset never really left me. I couldn’t help being stingy.

Zane knew that.

He also knew the apple tart was my favorite. And the way he ordered it—like it was second nature—made my heart ache just a little.

He turned to the window. “Let’s stay the night at a hotel nearby,” he said. “Do a bit of sightseeing before we head back. It’s my first time in this town as well.”

“…What?” I blinked.

“This region’s famous for the seafood you love. I’ve already arranged dinner.”

In my mind’s eye, I dropped my head into my hands.

Zane was always too prepared. Too perfect. But even then, I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t let this continue. If I did, things would spiral. Badly.

Steeling myself, I clenched my fists and opened my mouth to say what needed to be said. “My Lord Duke, I’m serious. Won’t you please just break up with—”

“Grace.” He cut me off. Just my name, spoken like a reprimand. “My feelings for you will never change. Not for as long as I live. You could run to the ends of the earth, and I’d still be right behind you. So you may as well give up.”

My heart thudded uneasily.

Duke Zane Winslet.

Elegant. Composed. Brilliant. The most beautiful man I had ever known.

And the man I had to beat.

I had to break things off with him. Cleanly, harshly.

I had to make him fall in love with the heroine.

Because that’s the only way this world finds peace.

The only way he gets the happy ending he deserves.

I had worked so hard to make that future real.

So why… Why had things turned out like this?

Lost in thought, I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

And then he said it again: “Grace, I will never, ever break up with you.”

Just then, the apple tart arrived.

He smiled, gently cut a slice, speared it with a fork, and held it out to me. My favorite dessert, offered with maddening tenderness.

Chapter 1: Reborn as a Terrible Person

MY eyes fluttered open to a ceiling blazing with red light, so blinding I immediately squeezed them shut again.

“Agh… So bright…”

After a few blinks, my vision adjusted, and I got a proper look. The ceiling was inlaid with a rose-pattern, shaped from what looked like red and green gemstones.

Well, I thought, sitting up, if I’ve ever seen a gaudier display of wealth…

Beneath me, the bed was unusually soft. Whatever I was wearing clung to my skin with an unfamiliar, glossy texture.

“Huh?! Wh-What in the world am I wearing?!”

A deep red camisole. Not too strange, if you ignored the scandalous cut and sheer fabric that left way too little to the imagination. Combined with that sultry crimson, I could only describe it as something an exhibitionist pervert would wear.

Clutching the covers to my chest, I yanked them up to preserve what modesty I had. Then my eyes drifted to the room.

“Where… Where am I…?”

It was like something out of a romance novel. A grand, luxurious bedroom fit for European nobility—if European nobility dug the unbearably gaudy black and red aesthetic, with roses everywhere.

How did I end up in a place like this, dressed like this?

“Milady, you’re awake!” said a voice.

“Huh? W-WAAAH!” I screamed, noticing for the first time the half-naked man standing silently in the corner.

Something like a sword hung at his waist; the situation suddenly got a lot more terrifying. My brain defaulted to: This has to be a dream. Please let it be a dream.

The man had ocean-deep blue hair, silver-gray eyes, and a model-perfect face. Beneath that, well-defined pecs, toned abs… And that was when I slammed a hand over my eyes and whipped my face away.

“Wh-Wh-Who… Who are you?!” I stammered.

“Huh?” he uttered.

“Where am I?! Wh-Why are you standing there half-naked?!” I practically screamed this time.

This was too much.

The boudoir-from-hell bedroom.

The beautiful half-naked man.

The other, half-naked pervert. (Me.)

My mind spun, desperate for anything to anchor to, when he murmured, out of the blue, “Did you…lose your memories? When that man pushed you?”

“P-Pushed?”

That didn’t help. If anything, it made things worse.

Desperate for even the barest return to normalcy, I squeaked for the man to get dressed. He obliged, stepping over to a neatly folded pile of clothes, where he put on what appeared to be the getup of a medieval knight. I was thinking what kind of super committed cosplayer I had run into when he suddenly stepped forward and dropped to one knee before me.

“Lady Grace,” he said. “Do you know who I am?”

“N-No. Not at all.” My head shook on instinct.

Grace? Who the hell is Lady Grace?

His shapely eyes widened in what looked like genuine shock. “So it is amnesia…” he muttered to himself, then looked up at me again. “Let me start from the beginning. My name is Evan. I am your personal guard-knight.”

“Guard…knight?” I echoed, rolling the unfamiliar words around in my mouth.

“Yes, milady. This is the residence of the Marquess of Saintsbury. This is your room. As for my appearance earlier, it is because you once said to me, quote, ‘You’re stupid, and you’re human garbage. The only thing you have of worth is your looks and your sword, so the least you can do is entertain me by standing there naked when you have nothing else to do,’ end quote. So that I’d be ready to catch you the moment you’d wake, I’d been standing here all morning.”

“???”

The heck did I just hear? Not only was my mouth full of question marks, but so was my brain.

But then, one thing gave me pause.

“Grace Saintsbury…?”

The name was familiar.

Too familiar.

It was the name of a villainess character from one of my favorite novels: Holy Maiden, Fated Knight. Grace Saintsbury: haughty, cruel, and breathtakingly beautiful with soft pink hair. Long, wavy, silken pink hair—

“Huh? Huh?!”

Just like mine?! I tore and stared at my locks. Why is my hair long? And pink?!

I looked at the rest of me again. I was paler. Thinner. Hotter. Goosebumps broke out all over my skin as I made the horrifying realization…this wasn’t my body.

“Is… Is there a mirror?” I asked, voice trembling.

“Yes. Right here, milady,” Evan said, gesturing.

Pulling a nearby robe over myself, I got up and followed Evan over to a full-body mirror, where my jaw promptly fell open.

In the glass stood Grace Saintsbury.

The infamous villainess. The beautiful tyrant. The woman so dazzling that it hurt to look at her.

And she was me.

“H-How…” I whispered in awe. “Wow, I’m beautiful. Even down to my skin.”

No matter how gently I patted my cheeks or how hard I stretched them out, the beauty in the mirror mimicked every motion. Also, ow.

Several minutes of stunned prodding later, the truth finally sank in.

That all-too-common manga and novel trope had somehow become my reality.

I’d been reborn—as Grace Saintsbury.

“So then, I really did…”

The words caught in my throat.

Straining to recall, I could just barely piece together my final moments. There’d been a bargain sale at the dirt-cheap supermarket in the next town over. I’d gone. Scored some great finds. And on the way back…a car. Jumped the curb out of nowhere.

I must have—

No. The previous me must have died in that accident.

I closed my eyes. Took a slow, deep breath.

Then opened them again—not to the reflection of Grace Saintsbury, but to the man behind her in the mirror. Still standing there. Still watching, his expression tinged with concern.

In the novel, Grace had a personal knight—a bodyguard she kept as a favorite plaything. His name had been Evan. There’d been no illustration of him in the book, but this had to be him.

As I stood there, frozen and pale, Evan suggested he summon a doctor. I waved it off. Absolutely not. Before meeting anyone else new, I needed to get a grip on the situation. I asked Evan whether I could ask him a few questions, and he replied with a smile, “Gladly!”

What was he, a golden retriever in human form? And to think I had (allegedly) told him to stand around half-naked for my amusement—and he’d done it with no complaint.

There were a hundred things I wanted to ask, but I decided to start by confirming if this really was the world of the novel I remembered.

“Okay, first question,” I said. “Do you know a duke by the name of Zane Winslet?”

“’Course, I do,” Evan replied jauntily. “You can look all over, but you won’t find a single soul in the Kingdom of Sewell who doesn’t know the head of the kingdom’s foremost ducal family.”

That sealed it.

Without a doubt, this was the world of Holy Maiden, Fated Knight. The world in which Zane Winslet was the shining star of the story. And I was the less-than-punching-bag status, glittery side obstacle at best, man-eating, greedy villainess who existed only to stir the pot and get smacked down for it, Grace Saintsbury.

“But…how did I… Why did I…”

In my previous life, I’d been just a regular Japanese office worker. If there’d been anything that set me apart, it would’ve been the sheer amount of debt my parents had racked up after their failed venture into business.

I loved my parents. So I’d taken it upon myself to help shoulder the load. Most of my modest salary went to our living expenses and repaying that mountain of debt. Chasing discounts by the yen, I’d bike to the aforementioned market after work. Days off were spent tending the garden or venturing into the nearby mountains to forage. If there was one thing I could say I’d mastered in life, it was identifying which wild plants were edible at a glance.

Looking back, those had been simple, frugal days.

My one escape had been the library.

There, I’d discovered Holy Maiden, Fated Knight.

It had been the beautiful, heart-tugging romance between my favorite character,Duke Winslet, and the kind, brave heroine, Charlotte, for me. I’d read the story over and over again until their love had carved itself into my heart as one of my most treasured memories.

“But to imagine I’d become Grace…” I mumbled.

Grace Saintsbury, the character I’d reincarnated into, was the spoiled daughter of an extremely rich marquess. Her mother had died young, and her father, the marquess, had raised her alone, showering her with too much love, too much money, and everything she could ever want in the process.

Hence, Grace developed a particularly twisted personality. She wanted anything and everything, but the moment she had that thing, she lost interest and tossed it aside without a second thought.

She liked “pretty” things—roses, gemstones, and at the very top of her list: men. Beautiful ones.

She was a shallow, gaudy, petty villainess to the core.

So why, of all people, did I end up as her?!

If I had to go through this whole reincarnation shebang, I would’ve vastly preferred to come back as Charlotte—the sweet, beloved, angelic main heroine.

But before I could spiral too far, Evan tilted his head.

“You remember the Duke, so perhaps that means the amnesia isn’t total?”

“R-Right,” I said, seizing the excuse. “It seems I’ve only lost fragments of my memory. Ah! I think I’m starting to remember a little about you, too, Sir Evan.”

“I see! But it seems your personality still needs a little work. This is nothing like the milady I’ve come to know—almost like I’m talking to a completely different person! For starters, I would prefer you talk with me much more roughly—and never use ‘sir’ ever again.”

“O-Okay…”

Ugh. What was that? It seemed all the time I spent on work and my own interests, and, tragically, not enough time spent talking to boys, had left me extremely nervous in close proximity to this shining, glistening stud of a man.

Still, this situation must’ve been a lot for him, too. Here was the Grace he’d known, acting completely different.

I took a breath, nodded stiffly, and got back to my questioning. “What month and year is it? Any major events lately?”

“Today is the eighth day of the third month, year 504 of the Sewellian calendar,” he said. “As for major events… The first prince just married a young daughter of an earl.”

That was exactly how the novel began. The first prince’s marriage sparked a deepening of the kingdom’s factional divides, and as a result, Zane is pushed to marry someone from the royal circle. Grace uses that as an impetus to get close to him. Which meant I was playing out the story in real time.

I pressed on. “Earlier, you said I was pushed. What did you mean by that?”

“You were courting an earl’s son,” Evan replied. “But after you unceremoniously dumped him like a piece of litter, he snapped and pushed you off the balcony at a soiree. Said something like, ‘If you won’t be mine, we’ll die together.’ You survived. But…I didn’t see this coming.”

“Yes… Nor did I, Evan. Nor did I…”

That didn’t happen in the novel. Or at least, it wasn’t depicted. Grace was a side character. It made sense that the story only covered her actions insofar as they affected the main couple. I took that to mean I had no pre-knowledge of most of what’ll happen to my character in the future.

Also, what? A murder-suicide attempt? Was I trapped in a fantasy setting or a daytime soap?

The fact that this was the kind of man Grace had been involving herself with, and the kind I was more liable to run into, left a sinking feeling in my chest.

“By the way.” I flitted my gaze upward. “What the heck is up with this ceiling?”

“Ah, that?” Evan gestured in the same direction. “That is the ceiling Your Ladyship commissioned. You said you wanted to, quote, ‘Wake to beauty incarnate every morning,’ unquote. You were more than happy to spend enough money to buy an estate in the royal capital to make it happen.”

“D-Did you just say enough money to buy an estate in the royal capital?”

This gaudy, jewel-encrusted ceiling cost as much to buy as a piece of prime real estate?!

I couldn’t even imagine that much money—my head spun trying to do so. Each gemstone embedded up there had to be worth more than my entire annual salary. Even this frilly, shameless thing I was wearing now—my sleepwear, for heaven’s sake—must’ve cost a fortune per square inch of fabric. It was unbelievably soft and smooth on my skin. Custom-made luxury…just for lounging.

I swear a cold sweat broke out across my back just by virtue of being surrounded by such excess. When I slept in my previous life, I still wore the old, beat-up tracksuit I had from middle school…

“Thank you, Sir Evan— I mean, just Evan. For everything. You’ve been very patient.”

“’Tis my pleasure, milady,” he replied warmly. “Ah. Right, I should inform the physician that you’ve awoken!” Muttering something about having to check if my body was fine, if not my mind, Evan hurried out of the room.

The doctor came not long after, gave me a quick examination, and declared me perfectly healthy. After that, I requested some time alone.

To Evan, previously ordered to stand around half-naked like some living sculpture, this had evidently come as a surprise, and he walked out of the room looking rather dazed… Or let down, almost. Suppose that would happen if this were the first time Grace had ever talked to him without insulting him once.

As an aside, even the doctor and maids had looked uneasy during my checkup. They regarded me with caution, like I’d been ready to flip and spring some carefully laid, cruel trap on them at any moment. Apparently, Grace had been far scarier than I had ever given her credit for.

Poor Evan. He must’ve wanted to quit a thousand times, but never had the courage to say it aloud. I started feeling bad for him. So bad, in fact, I actually considered giving him an out. Let him leave, and help him find a new post elsewhere.

I lamented this new reality I found myself in. Heaving a gratuitous sigh to boot, I set out a brand-new notebook in front of me and picked up a glittery, gem-encrusted pen.

Seriously? Even the pens?

What was this, some cursed object situation? Like, if Grace touched anything without jewels embedded in it, she’d drop dead?

Just holding this pen made my heart race in a bad way.

“What do I do from here…” I murmured into the empty room.

If my memory of the novel served, this spring was when Grace and Zane first crossed paths. From the moment she laid eyes on that beautiful man, Grace was obsessed. She wanted him like nothing else. So she used the most vulnerable part of him—his grief.

His entire family had tragically died. Into that gaping wound, Grace inserted herself. She comforted him. Promised never to leave. Promised he’d never be alone again.

“Oh, My Lord Duke. Such a poor, pitiful thing. You’re all alone in this cruel, cruel world…except for me. But don’t you worry. So long as you have me, you’ll be just fine. After all, I’m the only one left who truly loves you. The only one.”

Zane didn’t truly love Grace. But he was all alone. So when Grace sidled up to him, made sure he believed she was the only light left in his world, he grew dependent on her.

The good times didn’t last even a year before Grace grew tired of Zane, cheated on him, cussed him out, and threw him by the wayside. That was the moment Zane shattered. He swore he would never love again. He closed his heart off completely, and the world came to know him by a new name—the Cold-Hearted Duke.

It was then—at his lowest—that he met her, the genuinely kind, utterly good daughter of a viscount: Charlotte.

“I’ll stay by your side, always, my lord. I would never betray you. Not in this life, not in the next. For as long as I draw breath, and even beyond that.”

Like a beam of sunlight, Charlotte’s love reached the part of Zane that Grace had left in eternal winter, and, against all odds, melted the ice.

But while their romance bloomed, their world crumbled.

The Kingdom of Sewell and neighboring lands were plagued with sickness and miasma. Monsters increased, crops failed, and even the world’s supply of aqua arcana, a resource the world depended on, began to vanish. As chaos proliferated and war felt all but inevitable, Charlotte awakened as a Saint. With the power of love and the strength of Zane at her side, she saved the world, leading everyone to live their happily ever after.

“Oh,” I breathed, a tear welling in my eye. “What a wonderful story. Especially Zane, fighting side-by-side with the Saint, the love of his life. Oh, I— Wait. Huh?”

Just as I was about to get misty over my own nostalgia, I came to a heart-stopping realization.

“If I don’t dump Zane…the two leads never meet?”

That’s right… It was in the aftermath of that dramatic, aforementioned dumping scene, complete with cussing and throwing Zane by the wayside, that Zane met Charlotte. As Zane cries his heart out, Charlotte happens to see and hands him a handkerchief before trotting away mysteriously. That had been their first, brief encounter.

Charlotte would not leave Zane alone afterward. No matter how coldly he acted, how much he pushed her away, she would remain by his side. And it was through healing the wound left by Grace that the two became close.

There was one line Zane said, as he stood battered and bruised by his heroine, that always gave me a sharp, delicious thrill every time I read it: “You know, I owe that horrid woman my thanks. If not for her, I would’ve never met you, my dear Charlotte.”

“So… In other words…”

If those two never meet, Charlotte never awakens to her powers. And if she doesn’t awaken, war breaks out.

And it was critical that the two meet for her Saintliness to awaken, as it was the “power of love” that brought it about—the book’s words, not mine.

There was also one deeply satisfying scene of poetic justice where Charlotte saves Grace’s life. The neighboring kingdom had invaded, and Grace was about to be killed when suddenly, out of nowhere, it’s the Saint, Charlotte, to the rescue.

“So in other, other words… If those two don’t get together… I die?”

Cold sweat trickled down my back.

The words that escaped my mouth were, “What can I do…”

But somewhere deep inside me, another voice had already answered loud and clear: I know exactly what I must do.

I had to do exactly what Grace had done in the novel. Follow the plot. Guide the story to its rightful, happy ending.

Simple.

Elegant.

The obvious solution.

Except…

“No, no, no. This is so beyond what I can manage! Impossible, even!”

I mean, I was just a modern-day Japanese office worker!

Just surviving in a noblewoman’s life was enough of a stretch. Now, add acting like a spoiled, aristocratic man-eater with no prior experience and being cruel on purpose? That wasn’t just outside my comfort zone. That was in another comfort kingdom.

Put the charms on the pretty-boy duke himself?

Not a chance.

Cuss him out, break his heart, and throw him away after he opens up to me?

Even less than a chance!

“But… I can’t really afford to do nothing, can I?”

If I sat on my hands, this wouldn’t just be my problem anymore. If Charlotte never awakened, if the Saint never rose, the world would descend into war. People—real people—would die.

I couldn’t just let that happen…could I?

Another line from Zane floated through my mind.

“Just being able to be by your side—that is my greatest happiness.”

Zane and Charlotte…

They were a couple I’d always rooted for.

Their story had moved me every single time. I’d cried reading it, over and over again, always cheering for them from the depths of my heart.

If I didn’t cheer them on now? Make sure their love unfolded exactly as it should? When I was that big of a fan?

“But… Hold on. Now that I think about it…”

After Grace dumped Zane, she pretty much disappeared from the story. Aside from that brief moment where Charlotte saved her life, she never appeared again.

In other words…

Doesn’t that mean that once I play my part, I’ll be free? Free to live out the rest of my life as a ridiculously wealthy noblewoman in a luxurious fantasy world?

In fact, now that I was Grace, perhaps I stood a better chance of achieving my dream…

“One year. That’s how long I have to hold out. Not even a full year.”

Grace and Zane’s relationship only lasted for a handful of months.

If I grit my teeth and get through it and play the role right, it’d be life on easy mode from there on out. Cement my reputation as a villainess all I wanted; I could just move out into the country and live quietly there.

Sure, there was always a chance Zane and Charlotte might end up together on their own, even without my interference.

But just as the best-case scenario was possible, so was the worst. And besides. Given this second shot at life, didn’t I owe it to myself, if no one else, to at least give it a real try? Just for a year?

“Okay.” Having come to my decision, I clapped my hands to my cheeks, determination surging within. “I will become her. The most evil, greedy, man-eating, terrible villainess of all…time…”

Strangely, saying my aim aloud made my determination falter a little.

Oh, well.

Whether I liked it or not, I had made my decision.

For the duration of a year, starting today…I would play the role of Grace Saintsbury to the fullest.

✶✶✶

NOT long after that, Grace’s father, the marquess who’d been out in the country, returned home huffing and puffing. Apparently, he’d learned about the attack on his daughter and rushed back home as soon as he could. Below are three things he said to me upon returning:

“Oh, poor girl. What an unthinkable tragedy. It’s robbed you of all your spark.”

“I will deal with that man. Don’t you worry—I’ll erase him from existence.”

“Is there anything you want, my darling girl? Something beautiful to soothe the soul, perhaps? I’ll get you whatever you like. Just name it.”

Yeah. Dads doting on their daughters is one thing.

This was quite another.

After that, I thought I had a pretty good idea of how Grace had ended up the way she had. That said, I’d read the story and knew the marquess wasn’t actually a bad person. Just…completely blind when it came to his daughter.

Given that Grace wouldn’t be the type to turn down free stuff, I told him I’d think about it and give him my answer later. It seemed wise not to act too hastily. I had a feeling this kind of offer would be coming up a lot in the future.

Thinking back, the gifts that made me happiest in my old life were things like grocery store gift cards. Or food.

Practical stuff. The bare necessities.

After our conversation, I was escorted by a very jumpy group of maids to the dining hall. Served dish after dish of gourmet food, the kind I’d thought I’d only ever get to see through a TV screen, I ate with equal parts gusto and nervousness. Thankfully, it seemed table manners were part of Grace’s muscle memory.

“Mmm, this is delicious!” I said, carrying yet another refined, flavor-packed bite to my mouth. I had no idea what any of these dishes were called, only that they tasted amazing—and expensive.

But I must’ve still been weak from the recent bedbound spell, because I got full far too fast. My stomach tapped out early, and I reluctantly laid down my fork.

At once, the maids stepped in to clear the plates.

“Wait!” I blurted, instinctively reaching out.

“Yes, milady?” a maid replied.

“Oh, um, I don’t know… It just felt like a waste… Ha ha…”

Welp, that was dumb.

I’d spoken without thinking, and now every maid was looking at me like I’d just spoken in tongues. I then tried to laugh it off, play it as a joke, but that only turned their confusion into mild consternation.

Of course, there was no way a girl like Grace Saintsbury would even think anything about food going to waste, let alone say anything. I cried a river inside as I reflected that I had a long way to go if I was ever going to get used to this whole “noblewoman” thing.

After dinner came a luxurious bath in the biggest tub I’d ever known. Then, it was back to that utterly gaudy but damn-if-it-wasn’t-comfortable bed.

As plush and comfy as it was, though, I still couldn’t quite relax. I was living a life of luxury I never could’ve imagined. But I felt restless. Maybe a bit of that broke girl was permanently imprinted on my soul. That girl who could fall fast asleep on a paper-thin futon spread out on the hard floor.

“Mom… Dad…” I whispered into the dark. “I hope you’re doing all right.”

I felt a sharp pang of loneliness. We used to sleep side by side. Shoulder to shoulder. Now, the bed was too big. And the realization tightened my chest. I could only pray that the accident came with some kind of settlement money. That they’d be okay. That they could finally live a little easier, without scraping by.

Then I glanced up at the ceiling. At the glittering gemstones overhead—the constellation of absurd, twinkling wealth. And all that quiet emotion just blew right out the window.

“Maybe I could remove the gems and sell them off in a fundraising effort or something. Do some good.”

Decadence like that was kryptonite to the broke soul. I felt pressured sleeping under it. Like its opulence was oppressing me.

But even as I muttered and squirmed under their glittering gaze, I felt myself drifting off into my first night in this strange new world.

✶✶✶

THE next morning, I had a sumptuous and delicious breakfast. Then the maids returned to put me back into the same finery they’d stripped off me last night.

Grace’s wardrobe consisted solely of flashy dresses and gowns in bold reds and purples. I chose the least poofy one and had them do my hair in a simple style. The face in the mirror was absurdly refined. Skin pale and almost translucent. Ice-blue eyes, thick with lashes. Lush lips. A dainty, straight-as-an-arrow nose.

Her proportions were ridiculously on point. Even without heavy makeup, she looked ready to knock people flat on their asses. Seventeen, and not a trace of girlishness left. Just a proud, dignified—alluring?—noblewoman.

The maids looked uneasy as I gave out my unusually pared-down instructions, but still followed them to the letter. Just because I was a villainess didn’t mean I had to look like one every day, right?

Just as we finished, the door flung open, and in strolled Evan, my pitiable knight, a sunny smile on his face.

“Good morning, milady!” he chirped.

Then he began to strip.

“Kyaaah!” I yelped, slapping my hands over my face. “C-Clothes! P-P-Please keep your clothes on!”

“Oops, sorry. Force of habit.”

Phew. Just barely caught him in time.Stripping as a greeting was terrible for my blood pressure.Not to mention just so…tragically sad.

I asked him to sit at the table across from me. A simple instruction—or so I thought. But nevertheless appeared to be a first for Evan as he cautiously and awkwardly lowered himself into the seat.

Oh dear. A drop-dead gorgeous man now sitting directly across from me? My no-immunity-to-men body started to tense up. Only for him to break the silence.

“How do you feel, milady?”

“Oh! Um. Very well. Fine, actually. Thank you.”

“Truly? Oh! That is fantastic to hear. And a great relief.”

Mm-hm…

Yep. Evan was definitely a slightly—no, very—eccentric individual. I’d said that golden retriever thing as a joke yesterday, but maybe it was truer than I thought. At any rate, such was the dichotomy between him and Grace that, frankly, I felt him being here was a gross misapplication of whatever it was that had brought him here in the first place.

“Hey, Evan,” I began. “Is there anything else you’d like to do? Besides being my personal guard-knight, I mean.”

“Milady?”

“I was thinking I’d ask my father for a favor. Have him put in a good word for you—whatever it is you actually want to do.”

Evan, who probably spent more time next to Grace than anyone else, had to be her biggest victim. I thought I was offering him an escape, a well-earned reprieve. But he only blinked at me, big gray eyes full of confusion.

“Am I…being fired?” he finally asked.

“Um, less fired. More…given an out, in case you wanted one?”

“An out? From this job? Why would I?”

“Huh?” Now it was my turn to blink. “But I made you stand there—like that,” I said.

“Yes, well, your room is very warm, even in winter. Plus, I’m rather proud of my body.”

“I… I see?”

“I work very hard to look like this, you know?”

He beamed me a dazzling, unbothered smile. I returned a stunned, dumb look. I do not think he understood what I was trying to say.

“What I meant was, I must’ve treated you very poorly,” I tried again.

“Oh, as much as the next person, milady, so who am I to mind? Besides, you always praise how handsome I look. If anything, I get preferential treatment!”

Ohhh-kay. It seemed Evan here had skin thicker than a hippopotamus.

Then again, maybe that was the only way someone could survive as Grace’s guard for over three years. I felt a sharp sting of shame at my misplaced concern.

Without a reason to relieve Evan of his post, I decided to let the matter drop and let him stick around for now. And though I’d only known him for a day, my first impression still held strong: golden retriever. Utterly sincere, incapable of lying, a complete open book.

So much so, in fact, that I was starting to think—just maybe—I could actually trust him.

“At any rate,” Evan said suddenly, “you’ve really mellowed out, haven’t you, milady? There are rumors going around the estate that the fall did knock something loose inside your head.”

“Urk.”

That was not the right way I wanted to go vis-à-vis this whole villainess thing.

If I don’t do something…

I straightened up and met his eyes. “I don’t want to worry my father or anyone else, so I’d like to act as close to how I was before the accident as possible. So, to also help fill in any gaps in my memory, could you discreetly guide me in the right direction?”

Since Evan had been there when I first woke up—before I had time to get into any sort of character—there was no point in pretending with him.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t use his position to my advantage.

“Understood,” Evan replied crisply. “No one knows milady’s heinous, inhuman, atrocious behavior better than I do. Leave it to me! We can start with all the ways you defy basic human decency. Or maybe how you made demons seem like the more reasonable option? Either way, I have so many anecdotes!”

…Wow. Could someone be too much of an open book?

I muttered a weak thanks, wondering if maybe this exact quality of his had aggravated Grace’s sadism all the more.

At any rate, I’d made an ally, which was the tiniest bit of reassurance.

I had less than a month before meeting Zane. In that time, I had to really step into Grace’s mind. Really figure out just what made a villainess tick. Thinking of all that was at stake, some determination came rushing back.

✶✶✶

AFTER that, we summoned a maid. I wanted to get a quick initial assessment of my Grace-ness from Evan.

“I would like some tea. Prepare it, would you? And make it snappy,” I said, channeling as much dismissive energy as I could.

The maid blinked. Then looked almost relieved. “Huh? Oh! Yes, milady! At once!”

I’d steeled my poor little heart to deliver that line—only to get that nonreaction of a reaction?

Meanwhile, Evan, standing beside me, formed a big fat zero with his hand.

That was how he was grading me, apparently.

The fact that I got a big, fat goose egg honestly left me dumbfounded. He quickly whispered in my ear, “The usual Your Ladyship would have clicked her tongue, then slammed her fist down on the table to make tea appear.”

“What the heck?” I muttered back.

Evidently, Grace had been operating on some grandmaster-level villainess-type nonsense. I still had a long way to go to become that despicable.

But rather than dwell on that, I focused on the high tea fit for kings and queens that rolled into the room. Delicious pastries and delicate treats—all laid out in front of me like a delightful two-page spread from the most whimsical picture book.

A maid poured a cup of black tea and moved to place it in front of me. My mind instinctively nudged me to thank her. My mouth moved to follow.

But the moment the words slipped out, everything fell apart.

The maid froze. The teacup tipped, and with a clatter, splashed tea all over the table.

“M-M-M-My deepest apologies!” she cried, snatching up a cake knife. “P-Please! I’ll take my own life! I’ll die for you here and now! Just don’t hurt my family!” She pressed the blade to her throat.

“Milady! Are you all right?! I shall stop the tea from hurting you!”

Evan threw himself forward, arms braced against the table, forming a makeshift barrier between me and the rapidly spreading puddle of tea. Ever heard of a napkin?

“C-Calm down, everyone! I’m fine!” I shouted. “You with the knife—put it down! And Evan, stop that; you’ll burn your arms!”

“Minus 100 points,” he said instantly.

“Okay, we’re not doing that right now. Just get! Your arms! Away!”

Goodbye, leisurely teatime. Hello, pandemonium.

The maid with the knife sobbed uncontrollably. The others stood frozen, trembling, utterly useless.

In the end, I had to help myself. As gaudy as the dress was, it was still obviously an incredibly expensive piece of clothing and not meant to be soaked in tea.

I grabbed a towel from the tea wagon and wiped myself down. Then straightened and snapped, “Pour it again. I won’t be so understanding next time.”

“Th-Thank you!” the maid stammered.

The others exchanged panicked and bewildered looks but scrambled to complete their preparations. Once everything was set—perfectly, if I might add—they bowed, apologized again, and quickly exited the room.

Alone with Evan again at last, I let out the sigh I’d been holding in. I felt like a string of punchlines with no setup. It made me want to cry.

“I didn’t think playing a villainess could be this hard. Ugh, I’m the worst Grace to ever live. Woe is me, woe is me…”

“Yes, you might’ve scored minus 100 as Grace,” Evan said, “but you were plus 100 as a person.”

“Hah.” I gave him a faint smirk. “How…unexpectedly sweet of you.”

At this rate, I’d never become the villainess I needed to be.

Maids were notorious gossips in the novel, and Saintsbury’s estate in particular had a reputation for high servant turnover. There was a real chance the happenings within the estate would spread outside.

But scolding a girl over an accident, just to keep up appearances… That still felt like a bridge too far. I had no idea even a simple teatime could be so exhausting.

Mind still buzzing, I picked up my teacup and took a sip. “Wow… This is delicious.”

It tasted like elegance itself. The kind of tea I’d never even touched in my previous life.

“Though that does raise a curious question. Why do people still choose to work here? Surely there are less toxic workplaces out there,” I muttered.

“The pay is exceptional,” Evan replied. “On account of you driving everyone away.”

“I see. And that’s true for you too?”

“Indeed. I make so much that it almost feels like a waste. I tried to refuse, but the marquess insisted. For now, I just gamble it away at the casino.”

“For the future, you could save it instead.” I gave him an exasperated shake of my head.

The marquess, my father, must’ve known Evan was someone Grace favored and had done what he could to keep him around to keep her mollified.

I studied him again. Honestly, top-tier face. I could see why Grace had taken a liking to him. Despite his eccentricity.

Hearing that the entire staff here was made up of people hard up for money, the broke girl inside me cried out in sympathy. I no longer felt capable of inflicting any more cruelty upon them.

I sat in silence for a moment, then set down my teacup with a soft exhale.

“Evan. Know any maids here who are particularly poor, strong of heart, and, most importantly, trustworthy beyond a doubt? Could you bring them here?”

Evan was a people person. From what I’d gathered, he got along with just about everyone on staff. I felt a little bad only asking him to run errands beneath his station as a knight, but I could only hope he didn’t mind.

“Yes. At once,” he replied. “But may I ask what you plan on doing with them?”

“With the way things are going,” I said, “I thought I’d pay for an actor or two.”

“Pay for an actor…? I don’t quite understand, but I’ll get them!”

✶✶✶

SHORTLY after, Evan returned with a young girl in tow. Her name was Yanna. Twenty years old.

“You want me to pretend…like you’re picking on me, Your Ladyship?” she repeated, uncertain.

“That’s correct,” I replied. “In exchange, you’ll become my personal lady’s maid.”

The plan was simple: I’d appoint a single maid—just one—to handle all my day-to-day needs. I was capable enough to manage most things myself, so really, one was more than enough.

In return, this maid would go around telling everyone how terribly I treated her.

A win-win.

By framing it as pretend, I didn’t have to hurt my conscience. And the maid would get some extra money on top of her usual salary—money taken directly from Grace’s absurdly bloated personal fortune. I figured this was a good place to start putting it to better use.

Yanna looked a little taken aback at first, but a moment later, a smile bloomed across her face, and she nodded.

“Understood, my lady. I gladly accept. I’ll do my best to appear bullied! I’m quite confident in my fake crying skills, and I’m a toughened warrior, inside and out—so you needn’t hold back! Of course, I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“Perfect. Welcome to the team, Yanna,” I said.

“Mm. I’m tougher, though,” Evan said.

“Oookay.”

Yanna’s red hair suited her. She came from a poor family, was in debt, and had younger siblings to care for. She seemed motivated, which was reassuring.

For now, she’d play this role for the rest of the year at the estate. And honestly, that was a huge relief.

Having a space at home where I could drop the act, if only for a little while, felt essential. With Evan and Yanna around, I could breathe. I could be myself, just for a while.

That said, it was only a temporary measure. I reminded myself firmly: the real stage was out there, beyond the estate walls. And out there, I still had to become the villainess I needed to be.

Chapter 2: Villainess and Protagonist

A week had passed since my reincarnation into Grace.

“Sigh. You dim-witted, slow-brained, dunce,” I hissed venomously. “You’ve ruined my entire day. How do you possibly intend to make up for it?”

With a swift kick, I sent the table clattering over. Yanna flinched on the ground.

“I-I’m sorry, my lady! I’m so terribly sorry!”

“You think an apology from a pitiful thing like you is enough? Oh, no. What comes next—you’ve earned. Everyone else, out.” With an exaggerated flick of my hair and a theatrical slump into the chair, I let out a weary, overplayed sigh.

Thanks to Yanna and Evan, the groundwork for my villainess act was falling nicely into place. Yanna, in particular, had a real flair for the dramatic. It was really convincing in selling the cruelty of it all.

The rest of the staff were clearly buying it. They stared at me with unease, whispered behind their hands, and traded helpless glances.

In the back, Evan raised his hands: a silent 32.

If this were only a 32, I dreaded to think what a full 100 out of 100 on the Grace Scale looked like. Still, it was a solid step up from the negatives I’d started from.

Once I’d confirmed everyone had cleared the room, save for my two loyal co-conspirators, I extended a hand. Yanna took it and pulled herself to her feet.

“Thank you,” I said crisply. “And sorry about that. Your acting was so good I nearly blurted out an apology in the middle of it!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Yanna replied with a smile. “Your Ladyship played the part beautifully as well. Now then, if we could go ahead and get you dressed for the day ahead?”

“Ah—yes, please.”

We moved to the dresser. I took my seat while Yanna began working on my hair from behind.

Little by little, I was starting to settle into this life. What still tripped me up most was the noble approach to money—the sheer indulgence, the way they spent without blinking. I was getting the hang of their speech, at least. The food, too, was always rich and mouthwateringly good, though now and then I found myself missing the simpler, quieter meals of my old life.

I’d told Yanna that little fib about losing pieces of my memory, and since then, we’d started getting along rather well.

A short while later, Yanna’s hands stilled atop my head. “How’s this, my lady?”

I glanced up to see my made-up face and a loose ponytail sprouting from the back. “That looks fantastic. You’ve worked your magic, Yanna.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Your Ladyship looks as lovely as always.”

Even now, I still fall breathless whenever I see Grace’s beautiful reflection in the mirror. And even more so today, I looked ready to hit the town.

As for the dress, we’d found a light violet number tucked away in a forgotten room. Apparently, the old Grace had ordered it thrown away for “being too plain,” and a maid, who’d since quit, had left it there and never followed through.

Frankly, I was grateful. Much better this than parading around in broad daylight dressed head-to-toe in red and crimson.

“I’ll be there to protect you, milady. So focus on the day ahead. And most importantly—have fun,” Evan said.

“Evan,” I replied, turning to him. “And look at you—quite the knight today.”

“I think so too,” he said, grinning. “Very dashing, if I do say so myself.”

I’d hinted at it a few times now, but yes—today would be the first time since reincarnating into Grace that I’d be stepping outside the estate. Evan, Yanna, and I were heading into town.

I’d been wanting to get out for a while now, and my father had handed me an allowance so generous it nearly made my eyes pop, telling me to go buy myself some new dresses.

So, I needed no other excuse.

Personally, I’d have been fine sticking with the current roster of dresses at my disposal. But the villainess whose greed knows no bounds? Somehow, I doubted she’d be caught dead wearing the same thing twice.

Our first stop was a dress shop. One of the most stylish and sought-after designers in the country, where my father had already made an appointment. As someone whose biggest purchase in her past life had been a bicycle, I couldn’t say the prospect of today’s shopping spree didn’t somewhat petrify me.

As an aside, the currency here—mia—functioned almost exactly like Japanese yen. On the upside, that meant I could quickly figure out how expensive things were. On the downside…that meant I could quickly figure out how expensive things were.

We stepped out of the estate, hopped into a carriage, and let it rock and roll our way through the capital. I kept my eyes glued to the window, drinking in every inch of the city streets as they blurred past.

“Look at all these people,” I marveled. “Is it always this busy in the capital?”

“Busier than usual, I’d say,” Evan said. “Tomorrow’s the Founding Festival. Folks from all over are pouring in.”

It felt like something out of those culture-rich old European cities I’d seen on TV. Children darted between stalls, nobles strolled with purpose, and merchants called out cheerfully. No matter the age or station, everyone wore a smile and walked with a spring in their step.

I found myself smiling too. Which was bad. Because the moment I stepped out of the carriage, I needed to put on my best stuck-up face.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of a dress shop located in what was clearly one of the poshest areas of the city. The façade alone screamed luxury.

I swallowed my nerves, stepped inside, and was immediately greeted by a poised beauty of a shop clerk. “Lady Saintsbury, welcome,” she said.

We followed her down a narrow corridor when, from the other end of the hall, a woman rushed straight toward us. There was no space to dodge. She brushed past, and our shoulders knocked.

I winced, turned, and opened my mouth to give her what-for (because Grace would’ve), but the moment I saw her face, the words just evaporated.

There stood an elf.

No, just an astonishingly dainty and lovely noblewoman.

Her waist-length silver hair shimmered like silk. She turned to look at me, and I was struck dumb by the sheer, delicate perfection of her features. She had an ephemeral, almost otherworldly beauty.

“I’m so terribly sorry! Are you all right?” she asked, her honey-colored eyes wide with concern, shining like wet gemstones. Every feature of her was perfect, as if sculpted like a masterwork by the hand of an artisan dollmaker.

Of course, Grace was beautiful. But this girl was…young and beautiful, if that made any sense. Even everything she wore radiated class and quality. So much so that even my untrained eye could tell.

“Ah, so sorry again, but I really must go!” she said, bobbing a quick bow before hurrying off again. A lady’s attendant of some kind came dashing after her.

“Hm…” I murmured, still caught in the dazed wake of her passing. “She looked kind of familiar…”

But that didn’t make sense. All the main characters in the novel had been illustrated, and I would’ve recognized her face instantly. I shook off the feeling and followed the clerk down the corridor.

✶✶✶

A few hours later, I stumbled out of the dress shop, weighed down by an absurd number of purchases and a couple of made-to-order commission slips to boot.

I was ready to collapse.

But then I was told this was nothing—nothing—compared to the number of dresses Grace usually bought…and I could feel my soul start to leave my body.

“What the hell…?” I muttered under my breath. “Does Grace have two or three extra bodies stashed away somewhere I don’t know about?”

Who in the world needs that many dresses?

I’ll be the first to admit—I’ve dreamed of going on shopping sprees, spending to my heart’s content. But nothing prepared me for the raw, stomach-churning terror of watching that much money disappear in a single afternoon.

I tried telling myself this was a drop in a bucket compared to the vast riches held by a marquess, but alas, when has logic ever comforted emotion? Even thinking that I might not even want to ever get used to this, I glanced at the tower of dresses and let out a long, long sigh.

✶✶✶

BACK at the estate, Evan and I spent the rest of the afternoon practicing magic out in the rear gardens. Actually, we’d been secretly at it for several days now.

I concentrated, poured all my power into it, and—!

“I did it! Look, I did it, I did it! Oh, it’s so cute!”

Before us stood a tiny dirt golem, shaped exactly like one of those haniwa terracotta figures from ancient Japan. It toddled around on stubby little legs.

“How utterly uncommon for someone to be this good at something on what’s basically their first try. You’re a freak, milady.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, but let’s work on that, shall we, Evan?”

Magic existed in this world, and roughly a third of the population could use it, weighted more toward the nobility.

Of the four basic elements—earth, wind, fire, and water—and the two special ones, light and shadow, Grace’s affinity was with earth. Not a type of magic that complemented Grace’s grace much. And from what I heard, she’d evidently thought the same, preferring almost never to use it despite her vast reserves of magical power.

“What a waste,” I muttered, admiring the dirt golem waddling at my feet. “When you’re such a cute little thing.”

By concentrating, I could control its movements. I made it bow and curtsy while I patted its tiny little head. Evan, for some reason, could be heard muttering, “How nice,” in a voice that sounded suspiciously like envy from behind me.

Personally, I’d always dreamed of being magical. And with Grace’s innate talent, I was doing all kinds of things right out of the gate. I was having a blast, I had to admit, and I looked forward to using it to help grow some crops or something once this whole plotline was behind me in a year.

“Now, milady, while I’m sure you could keep going a bit longer, magic exhaustion is dangerous—and potentially lethal. Let’s take a break, shall we?” Evan suggested.

“Ah, yes. Good looking out. Let’s.”

We sat on a nearby bench for a quick breather. Then, without a word, Yanna appeared with cold drinks in hand—yet another demonstration of her unfailing thoughtfulness, for which I was endlessly grateful.

We started talking about our early afternoon outing, and that was enough for me to remember the elven girl we had run into at the dress shop.

“That reminds me. That girl who bumped into me at the dress shop—she really was something, wasn’t she? Like a fairy tale princess.”

“Yes, she does do House Winslet rather proud, doesn’t she?” Evan said.

“Ah, that explains it. She’s a Winslet girl; of course they’d be—” I practically leapt out of my seat. I looked Evan straight in his eyes. “She’s a Winslet girl? As in Duke Zane Winslet’s little sister?!”

“Yes, that’s right. That was Lady Mariabelle.”

Evan looked as plain and calm as lake water. But my heart was accelerating to lightspeed.

Mariabelle Winslet was Zane Winslet’s little sister. His little sister, who had died before the start of the story.

That explained it. That completely explained that sense of déjà vu. I’d thought I’d seen her before, even though she had no illustration, because she looked exactly like Zane!

Their parents were both already gone. They were all each other had left in this cold, cruel world. Then one day, she was kidnapped right from their home by a man with what I’ll call an extremely unhealthy chip on his shoulder.

At the end of a long, harrowing search, Zane finds her. Under moonlight, deep in the mountains—her brutalized body discarded like garbage. His heart shatters. And from there, Grace slips in.

It was just a handful of lines in a monologue. Barely a footnote in the story. But the moment I remembered what lay ahead for that dear girl, a chill ran down my spine.

“But she’s…not dead yet.”

I clenched my fists and frantically dug through my memory.

The story begins next month. Grace meets Zane at a royal ball hosted by the crown. He doesn’t want to go—he’s still reeling from the death of his sister—but the king demands his presence. What’s more, Zane’s past up until then is revealed only through flashbacks. There couldn’t have been that much time left before Mariabelle’s kidnapping.

“If I remember correctly, it happened while Zane was away from the capital. While he was on…a mission of some kind…” I murmured to myself like a madwoman.

“Milady? Is something wrong?” Evan asked.

“That’s right! The Founding Festival! He’s sent to escort the foreign ambassador!”

Zane, one of the kingdom’s most renowned and capable knights, is sent to the border to receive a visiting envoy on the eve of the Founding Festival. That’s when the kidnapper makes his move. When Zane’s not there to stop it.

Wait. Evan just told me today that: “Tomorrow’s the Founding Festival. Folks from all over are pouring in.”

That meant Mariabelle was going to be killed…

“…Tonight.”

I take it back. Mariabelle doesn’t have much time left—she has no time left.

Now even more frantic, I clawed through my memory, desperate to recall where her body had been found.

“Come on… What was the name of the mountain?”

For all the times I’d read the book, of course, a proper noun like that would go in one ear and straight out the other.

I turned to Evan. “Hey. What mountains are around here?”

“Near the capital? There’s Mount Figgis and Mount Novak.”

Neither name sparked anything.

I had nothing else to go on, so I tried a different tack. “If I were a criminal looking to kidnap and murder someone, which mountain would be best to do it in?”

“In that case, Mount Novak, I suppose. Mount Figgis has quite the scenic views and is usually crawling with sightseers.”

I’ll take it. As good a deduction as any.

I shot to my feet and held out a hand his way. “Evan. I need a favor. Will you come with me to Mount Novak, promising not to ask any questions along the way?”

“So you can…murder me?”

“N-No! Crap. Okay, I messed that up.”

There was no time for a long explanation, and even if I tried, I doubted he’d believe it. So I gave him the short version—the only one that mattered.

“I need to help Mariabelle.”

Because yes, I was the villainess. A villainess who’d only had access to the male lead thanks to the death of the very girl I was now trying to save.

It was, by every account, a terrible move. If there was a worse move, I’d love to hear it. Without that hole Mariabelle’s death left in Zane’s chest, Grace never would’ve had a chance. He wouldn’t even have looked at her twice.

This was self-sabotage. Timeline destruction. Possibly the beginning of a war. And very likely the beginning of my end.

But even knowing all that, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep quiet. I couldn’t sit back and let Mariabelle die just to keep a place at Zane’s side.

“I’m so terribly sorry! Are you all right?”

Her voice echoed in my head again.

Because she wasn’t just some character anymore. She was a living, breathing girl in a world that now felt real. I’d only been here a week, but that was enough. Evan was real. Yanna was real. And so was Mariabelle.

I wasn’t going to sit back and let someone die to fulfill some narrative milestone.

If I did nothing now, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

Whatever came next, I’d deal with it then.

Right now, I had to save this girl.

“Very well,” Evan said. “I understand, milady. I’ll procure a horse. Please change into something suitable for riding. I’ll be waiting at the main gate.”

“Y-You will?” I said. “Great! I’ll meet you there.”

I threw on a riding outfit with pants, met up with Evan, and got onto his horse behind him.

We set off alone.

I’d considered bringing other knights or getting help in some other way, but decided against it. Not only did I lack time, I lacked proof, and there was little reason to think anyone would believe me.

I had, however, asked for an anonymous letter to be sent to Zane. Giving him a note saying there was a high chance his sister was being held captive on Mount Novak seemed like the least I could do. There was always a chance I was wrong, but… Well, it wasn’t like he’d be able to make it back in time to change anything, anyway.

“H-Horses sure are fast, aren’t they?” I shouted over the wind.

“Mm. I’m faster, though,” Evan said.

“Okay, seriously, is this going to be, like, a thing with you?”

It was my first time being this physically close to a guy, but…I didn’t feel anything. No fluttery nerves, no awkward tension. Maybe because Evan was just too much of an Evan for me to see him as a member of the opposite sex. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t about to complain. I needed a clear head.

I gripped my hands tight, nails biting into my palms. Please…let us make it in time.

“There should be a small cabin up there,” I said. “That’s where Mariabelle’s being kept. The culprit’s working alone, but he can control monsters.”

“Control monsters?” Evan echoed. “Is that even possible?”

“It is. And I think we’re going to see a lot more of that going forward.”

According to the story, tools that allow people to control monsters start cropping up all over the world, and the source traces back to this very kingdom. The mastermind doesn’t show up until volume two, and even then, only to be defeated by Charlotte and Zane.

“On a separate note,” I said. “You believe me, Evan?”

“It’s not about believing or not, milady. You’re my master. I’m your servant. I do what you ask—whatever it is.”

“That is…really helpful, Evan. Thank you.”

Before long, we reached the base of Mount Novak. The path up was rugged, and we didn’t want the horse attacked by monsters, so we left it behind and continued on foot.

I could only pray we weren’t too late as we climbed, wiping sweat from our brows, forcing our way up, one step at a time.

“By the way, how capable a knight are you, Evan?” I asked between breaths.

“Me? Well, I’d say I’m—”

He cut off, eyes narrowing. A pack of monsters was charging toward us. Twisted, grotesque approximations of wolves. My blood ran cold at the sight.

But Evan, on the other hand, still wore that same sunny smile.

“Top five in the kingdom, give or take?”

There was a flash of steel.

The next second, the ground was littered with steaming, meaty chunks.

My jaw dropped. Top five in the kingdom? Yeah. That tracked.

I’d always thought it odd that Grace’s father, who’d spoiled her rotten, had only ever assigned her one guard. Especially after what happened to her.

But now, I understood.

Only one knight was needed.

When that knight was Sir Evan Hale.

“Well then,” he said, striding back over. “Shall we pick up the pace?” He turned so his back faced me and crouched down in front of me. “That’s the last of the monsters in the area. We’ll sprint the rest of the way. Please, get on, milady.”

“Huh? Okay.” I climbed gingerly onto his back, arms around his shoulders, and the moment I was secure— “Wh-Whoa, whoa—waaaaaah!”

My vision blurred. Wind tore at my face. It felt like being on a rollercoaster. Evan was moving fast.

“See? What did I tell you? Faster than a horse, aren’t I?” he shouted over the wind.

“Y-You are, okay, you are! I’m sorry I ever doubted you!”

“I can use wind magic. Weave it between my steps, and I can sprint like this—though only in bursts. Hold tight. Try not to bite your tongue.”

We were flying too fast for my eyes to keep up. Trees and sky blurred into streaks, the world reduced to motion.

But it seemed he could still see. A moment later, he slowed.

“Hey. Isn’t that the place?” he inquired.

Ahead stood a small cabin that fit the bill. A flicker of relief sparked in my chest. But then—

A scream.

High, sharp, blood-chilling. I felt it all the way to my fingertips.

We rushed to the cabin, slammed through the door, and inside, found a man with a worn, bloodied sword raised over Mariabelle, who lay bound on the floor. He’d already struck her—more than once.

She was sobbing, her clothes soaked through with blood. The sight hit me like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, I could barely breathe.

This was it. This was how she’d died in the original story—slice after agonizing slice, until she couldn’t take the pain anymore.

I rushed to Mariabelle’s side, while Evan soundlessly drew his sword and placed himself between the man and us.

“We’re here to help,” I told her, voice shaking. “You’re safe now. You’re going to be okay.”

“I was… so scared…” she whispered, the words ragged between sobs.

My heart broke. Covered in dust, bloodied, trembling, Mariabelle looked nothing like the elven, ethereal girl I saw this afternoon. What clung to me now was just a girl, barely fourteen, who had endured horrors no one should ever have to face.

I was disconsolate. But even then, I had to act. Drawing the dagger Yanna had given me for self-defense, I knelt and began sawing through the ropes binding Mariabelle’s hands. The moment they fell free, a loud, guttural click of a tongue broke the silence.

“What’s this?” the man with the sword spat. “How’d you find us?”

“That’s our question,” Evan spat. “What is this? What are you doing here?”

“What?” he almost chortled. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in the middle of killing the Duke’s precious little princess!”

He looked utterly deranged—filthy clothes, wild eyes, a lunatic’s grin stretched across his face. But he didn’t get the chance to gloat for long.

In the next instant, Evan slammed him to the ground. The man hit the floor with a thud, Evan’s blade already pressed to his throat.

As I recalled, he was a disgraced noble who’d lost his title. In other words, just a man. Whatever tools he’d used to control monsters, they hadn’t made him strong. Not strong enough to go toe-to-toe with a knight like Evan.

“You want him alive, milady?” Evan asked, calm and cold.

“Yes. I suppose I do. Restrain him.”

I wasn’t familiar with the laws of this land, but taking justice into our own hands didn’t feel right. Not that I didn’t want to see this man suffer for what he’d done, but if we ended it here, Zane would lose his chance to see justice carried out himself. And that mattered, too.

Thinking the immediate danger had passed, I turned my attention to Mariabelle. I pulled out the small pouch of medical supplies from my waist, ready to tend to her wounds. But she took one look and shook her head.

“Th-That’s okay. I can use Healing magic.” Her speech was halting, forced out between ragged breaths.

“O-Oh! In that case…”

I stepped back, watching as she held her hands over herself. A gentle, healing light bloomed beneath her palms. Within moments, the wound sealed shut, leaving only smooth, unbroken skin.

Healing magic. What a beautiful thing.

To see her suffering ease in an instant made something in me unclench. I let out a long breath.

“Oh, I’m so glad…”

Mariabelle repeated the spell for each wound and, when she was finished, turned her bloodshot eyes to me.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said.

“Please,” I said, waving her off.

“But…why?” she asked hesitantly. “Why did you come for me? We only bumped into each other this afternoon, at Madam Rico’s shop, didn’t we?”

“Right! Um, well, that is…”

She had a point. From her perspective, the stranger she’d met for a split second had just stormed into the mountains to rescue her. That was bizarre at best. Terrifying at worst.

I was still trying to piece together how to explain it when—

CRACK. POP.

A deafening, splintering sound tore through the room.

I spun around. My stomach dropped.

The man Evan had pinned to the ground was no longer a man.

His body twisted, enlarged. He burst through the cabin roof, flames belching from his open jaws.

“He… he had that serum on him?” I whispered.

That serum—the serum that turned humans into monsters—wasn’t supposed to appear until volume two. But he’d had it this whole time. And now, because we interfered, it was here. Early.

A cold sweat slid down my back.

“So, humans can become monsters,” Evan muttered. “Now that’s interesting.”

“Interesting?!” I snapped. “In what world?!”

The monster gave an earth-shattering roar, but Evan just stood there, calm as ever, as if he were watching something curious unfold.

Mariabelle’s trembling hands clutched at my clothes. She was frozen in terror. I whispered to her that everything was going to be all right. That the knight in front of us was strong.

“Strong as I may be,” Evan said, “this might take a while. I’m not exactly built for fighting this kind of thing.”

“But there’s no way you’ll lose…right?” I said.

“Oh, no. Not at all. But you two should go. Find somewhere safe. Shout if you need me.”

“All right. Then good luck, Evan. And be careful.”

I hated leaving it all to him again. But we had to stay safe.

The initial fire blast had already caught the cabin, and flames licked across the beams. Wood was crashing down in chunks. We bolted, bursting out into the open air. Once we’d reached a safe distance, far enough not to get in Evan’s way, I turned to check on him.

That’s when Mariabelle pointed past me.

“B-Behind…!” she gasped.

“What?” I turned, and my stomach dropped. Three of those wolf-like monsters from earlier were charging straight at us. “Y-You’ve got to be kidding,” I breathed.

I thought about yelling for Evan, but he was still mid-battle, and by the time I even twitched, they were already almost on us, fangs bared.

He won’t make it in time…

The realization struck, and my body moved before I could think.

I slammed both hands to the ground. Earth surged up in response, forming a solid wall between us and the monsters.

The wolves slammed into it headfirst, snarling, and stopped cold—for now.

But they didn’t give up.

Thump.

Thump.

They hurled themselves against it, over and over. The wall trembled with each hit. Cracks started forming. Bits of earth flaked off and scattered.

It was just barely holding.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect. I’d only started learning magic a few days ago. I had no idea how to reinforce a structure; it was a miracle I’d even gotten one out in the first place. All I could do was pour every bit of magic I had into the barrier and pray that it would hold for one more second. And then another.

“I-It’ll be fine… I’m not the kind of character who dies in a place like this…”

The words tumbled out of me, more wish than truth, meant to buoy no one but myself.

Beside me, Mariabelle trembled, fresh tears streaming down her face.

The wolves kept ramming into the wall. Cracks formed—splintering longer and deeper with each impact. But even then, I held on. I told myself Evan would make it in time. I forced myself to keep the magic flowing…!

Only for it to all just…stop.

The pounding stopped. The world fell quiet.

With barely any sound reaching us from outside, I had no idea what had just happened.

Monsters, I’d been told, weren’t especially intelligent—so I doubted this was some trick to get me to lower my guard. The likeliest answer was that Evan had reached us after all.

Still, I didn’t drop the wall. Not yet. There was always that one-in-a-thousand chance I was wrong.

Then, without warning, the barrier crumbled. Like dry sand, it gave way and collapsed all around us.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact—splinters, claws, teeth, anything.

But…nothing came.

Only Mariabelle’s voice, soft and stunned, “Big… Brother…”

Her words struck me harder than any claw could have. My heart jumped.

Slowly—slowly—I opened my eyes.

And my breath left my lungs. Nay, it was sucked out of them. By an overwhelming aura. By a brilliance that slammed into me.

Shimmering silver hair. Golden eyes that blazed like the sun. No words in my worn-out vocabulary could do it justice. No tired metaphor could capture his, Zane Winslet’s, sheer, impossible beauty.

“Brother!” Mariabelle cried again. She pushed herself unsteadily to her feet and threw herself into Zane’s arms.

He caught her at once, holding her tight. “Oh, Mariabelle. You’re safe,” I heard him murmur into their tangle.

My own heart swelled as I realized this was a reunion between two loved ones who otherwise would’ve never seen each other alive again.

“I… Huh?”

Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face.

Most of it, I’m sure, was happiness. The joy of seeing a family reunited, of knowing I’d helped make that possible.

But a good portion of it was relief.

It might sound arrogant to say, but carrying the weight of someone else’s life like that, knowing that if you failed, she’d die… The pressure of that had been immense.

I hurriedly wiped my tears away with my sleeve, lifted my head, and promptly locked eyes with Zane.

“Brother, this is the person who came to my rescue,” Mariabelle said.

“Is it?” Zane narrowed his eyes at me. “Then for saving my sister, you have my thanks, Miss…?”

A weak “huh?” escaped me. I could hardly believe it—Zane hadn’t recognized me? Me, Grace Saintsbury, the marquess’s daughter? Infamous as I was?

Then again, I was in an outfit Grace would never be caught dead in. It was probably just a matter of him not connecting the dots. And Mariabelle wouldn’t help much. She was still a year off from her debut and likely didn’t know the social gossip yet.

Thinking of it that way…this was good. Great, even. Rather than blowing my villainess cover before it even had time to stick, I could just give a fake name and pretend I was never here.

“My name is—”

“Ah, Lady Grace! There you are! Excellent. I see we’ve managed to save Lady Mariabelle. Aren’t I glad I followed you this deep into the mountains at this hour?”

Evan…

“As for the culprit, once I beat him half to death—well, more like four-fifths to death—he turned back into a human. I tied him up and left him there for now.”

Hale…

In came the clueless golden boy, breezy as ever, blood on his shirt and a smile on his face, ready to ruin everything. But what could I say? He had saved all of us. So I swallowed my complaints, whispered a grudging thank-you, and started to slink away. When…

“…You’re Grace Saintsbury?” Zane said.

God. Even his voice was perfect. Just hearing him say my name made my heart race. My favorite character. Standing right in front of me. But, of course, it had to be like this. Under these trying circumstances.

Sure, I had the brilliant idea to send him a letter earlier—but did I think about what I’d do if we actually ran into each other?

Absolutely not.

There was no way out now. So, I gave a small nod.

“For saving my sister, you have my thanks,” he said. “But why were you here in the first place?”

“Well, that is, um…”

An unmarried noblewoman, alone with her knight in the middle of a shadowy mountainside at this hour? Very suspicious.

I racked my brain for an excuse. And came up with nothing.

In fact, I came up with worse than nothing.

Because here’s the truth: I had been a perfectly ordinary office worker in Japan. And yet, here I was getting chased by monsters out of a horror film, looking at their gruesome corpses, squaring off against a psychotic criminal, almost getting flattened by him when he turned into a monster, then ambushed by a whole other pack.

All that. In one day.

I’d held it together until now. The prospect of saving Mariabelle had kept me sane. But now that it was done…so was I.

I yanked out a handful of weeds out of the dirt at my feet.

“D-Did you know?” I said. “This grass actually makes a great stir-fry. Even with all these thorns. It’s really soft. Delicious.”

“Excuse me?” Zane blinked.

“We were out foraging for dinner when we happened upon the scene of a crime!” I went on. “Don’t believe me? I’ll show you how delicious they are, even raw.”

And I shoved the weeds into my mouth.

What was I doing? Saying? Don’t ask. Even I had no idea.

All I knew at that moment was that everything had gone belly-up. Nothing mattered anymore. This was the end.

The silence that followed could’ve killed a man. I, myself, wanted to cry.

Then, out of nowhere, Evan bent down, grabbed his own fistful of grass, and popped it in his mouth.

“Oh, wow. You’re right. This really isn’t terrible.”

I swear I almost fell for him right then. Almost. But no amount of heroics—or weed-eating solidarity—could make me want to marry him.

I thought about what Zane and Mariabelle must’ve thought at that moment, watching two lunatics chew mountainside plants. But then I thought I’d rather not think about it.

“In any case,” Evan added, “you should’ve just told me this was why you wanted to come out here from the start, milady. Want me to find more?”

Sorry, Evan. But I needed Zane to believe me. Not you.

No longer able to hold onto even that last thread of composure at this point, I shook my head wildly. “Th-th-that’s enough of that! We’re going home now. Toodaloo! Bye-bye!”

I scrambled onto Evan’s back, gave him a nudge in the ribs with my knee, and we vanished into the night.

✶✶✶

TWO days later, I lay slumped over my desk, sunk deep in despair. I despaired because how was a girl now known for munching on weeds supposed to win the heart of Duke Zane Winslet?

“Well then,” I muttered. “Since there’s no crawling out of this hole—and even if there were, I’d probably trip and fall right back in—I suppose I’ll just do as I please until the war comes. Baking, maybe? That sounds nice. Heh.”

Having resigned myself to the absurdity of it all, I reached for the book on magical herbs I’d borrowed the other day. It was time for a bit of escapism via herbology.

“I had no idea Your Ladyship was interested in magical herbs,” Evan said, peering at my read.

In this world, there existed a class of flora known as “magical herbs”—so named for the mystical properties they carried. Some cleansed wounds. Others were vital to healing brews or protective salves.

The forager girl in me had perked up the moment I’d learned of them. A few, when added to food, could even boost one’s performance—an idea I found thoroughly delightful. There were herbs that helped with sleep and others that could be baked into sweets. And as someone who’d once treated both budget cooking and dessert-making as serious pastimes, there was much I wanted to try.

“I was actually thinking of getting my hands on a few and baking something with them,” I replied lightly, then I spotted a disheveled Yanna rushing toward us in a hurry.

“Your Ladyship, it’s an emergency!” she gasped. “A guest has arrived. And they’re asking for you directly!”

“Hm?” I blinked. “Who is it? Not that I’d necessarily recognize the name…”

“It’s Duke Winslet!” she said emphatically.

“Huh—what?”

Zane is here? But why?

A cold prickle slid down my back. Something was wrong. I could feel it.

✶✶✶

I was immediately swept into a whirlwind of a changing session, with Yanna hastily dressing me in something that might pass for presentable. We settled on a new deep blue gown I’d just bought, paired with a quick, loose curling of my hair. That, plus a proper coat of makeup, and I looked nothing like the woman they’d met on the mountainside just days ago.

“But what am I supposed to do?” I muttered, staring at my reflection.

I hadn’t expected to see Zane again so soon. I’d assumed he’d be far too busy handling the aftermath—tending to Mariabelle’s shaken heart, working through the mess that followed. But maybe that had just been wishful thinking.

“Lady Mariabelle is accompanying him as well, my lady,” Yanna added gently.

“She is?” That was another surprise.

They’d come to thank me. Even after I’d literally eaten grass. After I literally fled the scene like some comic-book villain. I’d hoped they’d leave me alone, but it seemed the two of them were far too sincere to let things end like that.

But you know what?

This might be exactly what I needed.

Maybe the plan wasn’t dead after all.

With that thought, I gave my cheeks a firm clap to rouse myself.

✶✶✶

ONCE everything was in place, I took a moment to study my reflection—the image of Grace Saintsbury, the beautiful villainess. I reminded myself of that identity. Let the mirror drive it home. As with all things, mindset was everything.

“All right.”

A deep breath in. Out.

I made my way to the drawing room, Evan trailing a step behind. My hand found the handle; I opened the door.

And there they were.

Duke Winslet and Lady Mariabelle, seated side by side on the drawing room sofa.

I offered them a genial, slightly imperious greeting and a glib little smile, and took my place across from them.

Zane, in the full light of day, was almost painfully beautiful. His presence alone seemed to sting the eyes. And beside him, the lovely Mariabelle, delicate and luminous in her own right, was light begetting light. A duo of blinding brilliance.

I was surprised to find that even now, under such pressure, I still had the wherewithal to be moved by the miracle of meeting my favorite novel character in the flesh.

Had I not been inoculated against beauty by constant exposure to the hot-but-decidedly-unattractive Evan, I was certain I wouldn’t have been able to meet their eyes at all.

“My apologies for the sudden visit,” Zane said. “We were returning from giving our account to the knights and happened to pass nearby.”

“I’m sorry,” Mariabelle added softly. “It was I who asked that we come.”

“Please. It’s quite all right,” I said.

Mariabelle, like me, looked like a completely different person from how she’d appeared in the mountains. I was glad to see her looking so well. As I lifted the freshly poured teacup to my lips, Zane spoke again.

“I’ve heard the full story from Mariabelle. If not for you, she would have died. That much is certain.”

“Well, perhaps,” I said.

“The fact that my sister is still here, alive, is thanks to you. You have my gratitude.”

Notably, he didn’t bring up the obvious question of why I’d been on that mountainside to begin with a second time. I took it as a small show of grace, extended to me—the villainess—not because I deserved it, but because I’d saved the only family he had left.

After that, Zane even glanced past me to thank Evan as well. Another show of his character. His main character, character.

“Not at all,” Evan said. “It was all Her Ladyship’s doing. Had it not been for her fervent wish—quote, ‘I need to help Mariabelle,’ end quote—I wouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

I mentally slapped a palm to my face.

God damn it, Evan.

I appreciated the sentiment, but now was really the time to keep things short and sweet. Then again, I hadn’t pulled him aside to get our story straight beforehand, so fine. That one’s on me.

Mariabelle, meanwhile, hearing that, was glistening with emotion. “Oh, Lady Grace,” she murmured. “You were so terrified you lost your composure, and still, you gave everything to protect me.”

Ah. So the grass-eating episode had been interpreted as a moment of fear-induced breakdown. Not inaccurate.

“I cannot thank you enough!” she went on.

“Of course, Lady Mariabelle. I only hope such a thing will never happen to you again in the future,” I said.

“I’m sure it won’t! And please, I’d love for you to just call me Mariabelle!”

“Huh? Oh. Um. Yes. Perhaps. If I feel like it.”

As expected, I didn’t have it in me to act even slightly antagonistic toward a girl who’d just been through all that. And that was without factoring in the way she was looking at me now—eyes sparkling, full of admiration, like I was everything she wanted to grow up to be. With that kind of look aimed my way, I couldn’t so much as curl a lip at her.

Then, Zane finally spoke instead of watching me in silence with those piercing gold eyes of his. “Lady Grace. You risked your life for the sake of my sister. For that, I am in your debt. Name your request—if it lies within my power, I shall see it done.”

Gotcha.

My fists instinctively clenched; this was exactly what I’d been counting on.

That the Duke of Winslet, knowing the Grace Saintsbury of this world to be the greedy sort who always got what she wanted, would try to settle a life debt not with jewels or titles, but with a favor.

And this favor was the cornerstone of my new plan.

With it, I’d ask for the one thing that could still bring the story back on track.

I’d ask Zane to become my lover.

And, if all went well, have him fall in love with me.

Even if it wasn’t quite the same relationship as in the original story, all I needed was to become someone unforgettable. Someone who’d leave a mark on his heart before walking away. I just had to do that—then, in a year’s time, steel myself and dramatically dump him in front of Charlotte. That would reset everything. The story would correct course, the fated couple would fall in love, and I’d fade into the background like a good little catalyst.

Sure, there was one obvious hole in the plan: how exactly was someone like me supposed to seduce a flawless, god-tier heartthrob like Zane?

Honestly? I had no clue.

Even holding a semi-casual conversation with him like this had my nerves twisted up like old telephone cords. I was supposed to play the villainess on top of that? Not a chance.

Not a chance, but…I had to try.

First things first, get the story back on track.

With that thought, I forced a smile, steeled myself, and opened my mouth. “In that case, would you become my lover?”

Zane’s long, sharp eyes flew open.

Mariabelle gasped, flushed bright pink, and clapped her hands over her mouth.

“You want me…to be your lover?” Zane asked.

“That’s right,” I said smoothly. “I’ve admired you for as long as I can remember, My Lord Duke.”

At that, a range of emotions flickered across his face. Chief among them: skepticism.

Natural, given that Grace had likely never shown anything of the sort previously. Even in the novel, she’d just woken up one day and decided she wanted Zane. Capricious to the core.

Still, after a pause, Zane gave a wordless nod. “Very well. If that is your wish.”

He clearly wasn’t thrilled. But he agreed anyway. Because he was a good person. A real protagonist, through and through.

“Wonderful,” I said, smiling. “I’m so happy, Your Grace.”

Just bear with me for this one year. I’ll make sure you get your happily ever after with Charlotte, I added in my mind.

“My!” Mariabelle let out a delighted squeal. “How wonderful is that? My brother and Lady Grace, lovers! Oh, have you ever seen a more beautiful couple?”

Hm. Can’t say I expected that reaction from her. What, exactly, does she think of Grace Saintsbury? I’d give anything to peek inside her head right now.

Zane rose to his feet, said, “I’ll be in touch,” and turned to leave.

I watched his tall, slender form as he moved away. Somehow, I was really going to be seen with this ten-out-of-ten knockout at my side—even if only for appearances.

“I eagerly await your word,” I said.

Mariabelle stood as well. “Big sister,” she beamed, pure sunshine incarnate. “I hope you’ll come to our place for tea soon!”

And with that, she skipped after Zane.

Zane paused at the threshold. “Good day.”

“Good day,” I replied, and they exited.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, every last ounce of strength drained from my body, and I melted into a puddle on the spot.

Relief flooded through me. I’d done it. I’d secured the most important thing. The story was back on track.

“Hm…” Evan mused from somewhere behind me. “Now I understand why, even with most of your memories missing, your very first question was about the Duke. It was the power of love!”

“P-Power of love… Yep…” I muttered weakly.

Evan looked like we’d just rolled credits on a happy ending.

Whereas I…knew better.

“Now to increase his affection toward me, even a little…” I muttered under my breath.

We were definitely starting in the negatives, affection-wise. This was going to be a long, steep climb. Especially for someone like me, who’d never had even a brush with romance in her life.

The sigh I let out was deep enough to echo.

Little did I know what the future had in store for me.

Little did I know that Zane Winslet would cling to me like glue and that shaking him off would turn out to be the real challenge.

And so began the story of the new Grace Saintsbury.

With a bit of a false start, a bit of a mishap, and one hell of a mountain to climb.

✶✶✶

AT a soirée hosted by the first prince, I stepped out onto the balcony for a moment’s reprieve. The evening air was cool against my skin—a quiet comfort—when someone tapped me lightly on the shoulder.

“Zane,” a voice said. “So this is where you’ve gone off to.”

I turned. “Boris.”

It was my childhood friend, a marquess’s son. I let out a quiet breath. He came to stand beside me, then glanced over with a furrowed brow.

“I, uh, heard. About Mariabelle. How are you holding up? Is everything… Everything all right?”

So he’d heard. Which meant the rest of the party had, too, and by extension, all of high society. Barely three days since the incident, and already the gossip had spread. That would explain the sidelong glances, the hushed tones, the stilted greetings I’d received all evening.

“Yes,” I said. “Everything turned out fine. Thanks to Grace Saintsbury.”

“Grace Saintsbury?” Boris muttered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

As expected, that part of the story hadn’t made it out. Though, even if it did, I doubted anyone would’ve believed it.

I definitely wouldn’t have had I not seen her with my own eyes. Filthy, bloodied, clutching Mariabelle to her chest with trembling arms.

Greedy, fond of men, selfish to a fault, and arrogant beyond measure. That was Grace Saintsbury, as I and many others knew her. Which only begged the following questions all the more.

Why had she risked her life for my sister?

How had she known Mariabelle had been taken?

And more than that—how had she known to search Mount Novak?

Too many pieces refused to fall into place.

Including the anonymous letter that had arrived at the estate, claiming Mariabelle had likely been kidnapped.

That all said, however, I don’t know what I would’ve become had I lost the only family I had left that day.

Grace Saintsbury deserved all my gratitude and more.

That was why I had offered her a favor.

“And?” Boris asked. “What extortionate demand did she make of you?”

“We became lovers,” I said.

“I’m sorry, I think I’ve just suddenly become hard of hearing. Could you repeat that?”

“Grace Saintsbury is now my sweetheart.”

Boris’s eyes flew open. He managed only a faint, “What?”

I hadn’t expected it either. Not in a thousand lifetimes. Had it been anything but the price of Mariabelle’s life, I would’ve refused her without a second thought.

“You can’t be serious. Getting involved with someone as wicked as she is?”

“She’ll grow tired of me soon enough,” I said flatly. “And I have my own reasons.”

As a lightning rod to divert His Majesty’s attempts at marrying me off to one of his sycophants, Grace served perfectly. Everyone would assume there was a scheme behind it—and they’d be right.

“The king loathes the Saintsburys,” I said. “He’ll be livid when he hears I’ve taken Grace as a lover.”

The Saintsbury marquessate rivaled the wealth and power of any ducal house, and their allegiance to the temple faction made them natural enemies of the crown.

Just imagining the king’s face contorted in rage brought a certain satisfaction.

Anything to upset the man who’d been relentless and without scruples in his efforts to bring House Winslet under his thumb since the very day of my parents’ passing.

Needless to say, I did not trust, nor think very highly of him.

“Now hold on a minute,” Boris said. “You don’t think Lady Grace risked her life to save Mariabelle just to cozy up to you—or your house?”

“I don’t know. But I do know she had some reason. That much is certain.”

Grace Saintsbury wouldn’t lift a finger unless there was something in it for her. The inconsistencies and coincidences were too many to overlook. Enough that I’d even seriously consider the possibility she had ties to the culprits and staged the entire incident just to make herself look like our savior.

It wouldn’t be beyond her to do such a thing. And now that I was her supposed lover, I planned to use that position to dig deeper.

“Still, that Grace doesn’t seem to learn, does she?” Boris said. “Didn’t her last lover nearly kill her in a fit of rage?”

“That was truly a deranged affair.”

“But who knows? She might actually make a surprisingly decent girlfriend. One of the top five beauties in the kingdom, after all. Even you might fall under her spell.”

“You know jokes are supposed to be funny?” I spat back.

I owed her a debt, yes. But I would never fall for her. I’d stay with her until she tired of me—and use her just the same.

“Because she…is the kind of person I despise most.”

Chapter 3: Gap Attack

IT’D been a week since I became lovers with Zane. Not a word from him in all that time, but I chalked it up to him being far too busy. In the meantime, I passed the days making villainess moves, learning magic, court manners, and about the Kingdom of Sewell… All the while thinking up ways to raise Zane’s affection toward me.

Today, however, Yanna, Evan, and I set out bright and early to forage for magic herbs. Touching grass, as it were.

Yanna had invited me, having heard of my interest in such things. Having grown up poor, she often foraged to help feed her many siblings and seemed quite knowledgeable on the matter. We’d even planned to cook with our spoils after the fact.

“It’s a beautiful day,” I murmured, gazing out the carriage window. “And this isn’t some small, Podunk town we’ve arrived at either.”

“Indeed,” Yanna said. “Myriel’s a growing town, but I’d say its growth spurt’s only just begun.”

Myriel, as it happened, was the closest settlement to the forest where the herbs grew. I stepped out of the carriage and was greeted by a wonderfully whimsical sight—children careening down the avenue with bright eyes and wind-mussed hair, shrieking with laughter.

“Look at that,” I said, smiling. “How adorable.”

“Huh? Really?” Evan said. “The old Lady Grace hated kids, you know? Always muttering things like, ‘Vile little creatures, can’t they go be repugnant elsewhere?’ or ‘Loud, sticky nuisances—they ought to be collared, the lot of them,’ et cetera, et cetera.”

My smile tightened into something more wry.

Oh, Grace Saintsbury. The more I learn about you, the more I wish I hadn’t.

✶✶✶

WE arrived at the forest before long and got straight to picking, with Yanna giving us the rundown as we went. But not far off, something else caught my eye—a small group of children huddled together, munching on the petals of a large, pink flower I didn’t recognize.

“Ah,” Evan said, following my gaze. “Those flowers. They’re not only edible but also surprisingly nourishing. Plus, they fill you up pretty good. My commander once told me to look for them on the battlefield if rations ever ran out.”

“But why would they be…” I murmured.

“Plenty of poor families in these parts,” he said simply. “They’re probably hungry.”

I saw a little of myself in those kids, and my chest pulled tight. “I see.”

Before long, the children wandered off, back toward town, and I turned to Yanna. “If there were a place where children could eat for free, do you think they’d come?”

“Of course,” she said at once. “If such a fantastical place existed, I imagine they’d come running.”

This world didn’t have anything like Japan’s kodomoshokudou—children’s cafeterias that offered free or low-cost meals to kids and others in need. And judging from Yanna’s tone, there was no shortage of demand.

“But…why do you ask, milady?” Evan cut in, cocking his head slightly. “Bit of an odd thing to bring up, isn’t it?”

“I want to open such a place,” I replied promptly.

“For…what benefit to you, milady?”

“That’s not why I want to open one.”

At that, Evan gave me a look like I’d just started speaking in tongues, while I drifted into recollection.

There had been a time when I was young when I pretended to be a light eater. I was just old enough to vaguely grasp that things were tight at home, so I started leaving food untouched, claiming I wasn’t hungry, thinking that had been the right thing to do.

Looking back, I realize I hadn’t understood the half of it. Our family finances weren’t just “tight.” They were a smoldering wreck. The few yen I saved by eating less didn’t make a dent. Not even a dent in a dent. Just a sad, hollow gesture.

It was on one such day, when I, having not eaten my fill again, wandered into a park and started picking at whatever nuts or seeds I could find under trees. An old lady from a nearby shokudou spotted me, called me over, and served me a meal. A full, proper meal.

She told me I didn’t need to worry about paying. Just that, when I grew older, I would frequent the cafeteria as a proper customer. I promised, and with that promise in my heart, went to the cafeteria, over and over again. Those meals—free, delicious, quietly generous—were something I’d carry with me for the rest of my life.

But as life—or rather, death—would have it, I didn’t get to keep my promise for very long.

I’d always wished I could one day stand where she had. Be the one serving out kindness instead of receiving it. That had been my dream. A distant dream, one always out of reach, but perhaps now achievable, as Lady Grace Saintsbury.

There was a real chance at it this time. Assuming I got through this year of playing villainess.

Assuming I managed to get Zane to fall for me first.

Snapping out of my reverie, I turned back to Evan. “Also, Evan, I’d like to purchase some land under your name. It should yield nearly ten times the return.”

If the novel was anything to go by, the value of a certain plot of land in the capital was about to skyrocket. The money I would get from that would be more than enough to open a shop.

Technically speaking, Grace Saintsbury’s existing personal fortune was more than enough to open a store. The problem was, it didn’t feel like my money. At least this way, I could “earn” the money I used, even if I had to borrow to purchase the initial investment.

“Of course, there will be something in it for you, Evan,” I added. “Though no blowing it all at the casino.”

“Aw. But I think you’d enjoy it,” he said. “Come with me, just once?”

“…Once, perhaps.”

With that, I continued plucking herbs from the ground and dropping them into my basket. Two hours later, we were being rocked in a carriage on our way home, armed with a large, large haul of magic herbs. Apparently, they reproduced like crazy. No matter how much you took, the forest would replenish them before you could blink.

Yanna and Evan both promised to come back with me once we ran low, which made me very happy.

I thanked them for accompanying me today and turned my gaze out the window. The sky had started to turn orange. Couples wandered the streets hand in hand, their laughter floating faintly in the still air.

The thought that I’d be with Zane soon, doing that… It made my stomach tighten.

“Hey, Yanna…” I started awkwardly. “Have you ever…dated someone before?”

“Yes, a few someones, in fact,” she said without missing a beat. “It’s about to be two years with my current sweetheart.”

“O-Oh.”

Just like that, a yawning chasm opened between us. She was so grown-up. I was so not. I turned to Evan, desperate.

“Wh-What about you, Evan?”

“Me? I suppose I’m quite the catch, so yes—here and there.”

“Oh…”

Another clean, casual reply. And just like that, I’d been left behind at the station, waving forlornly at the departing romance train. It seemed I was the only one here without a shred of dating experience.

I mean, Evan was objectively good-looking, and he was a knight. He had to be popular, even if he was a little odd. But…you know what? Maybe this was a good thing, being surrounded by so many experienced people.

“Um… how does one get a man to fall for them, exactly?” I inquired.

That made them both pause. They exchanged startled looks.

“Now there’s something I never expected to hear from Her Ladyship,” Evan said.

“Indeed. The ‘There’s no man alive I can’t win over’ Her Ladyship,” Yanna added.

I made a face.

But, teasing aside, they seemed to recognize that my worry was genuine and fell into thoughtful expressions.

“I think men like a bit of a gap,” Yanna said. “As in a gap of expectations. When someone shows you a side you didn’t expect—it can catch you off guard, in a good way.”

“I see,” I murmured. “A gap.”

“A little ‘just for me’ feeling can make a man mighty happy,” Evan added.

It was true. Now that I think about it, all the time Grace was with Zane in the novel, she was indiscriminately doting. No venom, no sharp barbs—just whispering sweet nothings into his ear like she hadn’t just ruined someone else’s life the day before. As a matter of fact, she was a positively vile person in nearly every other context. But with Zane, it was always love and softness.

I could see it now—that feeling of being special. Being the only one the wicked, crabby, antisocial lady treated with warmth.

“Also,” Evan added, “a little kindness goes a long way.”

“Spoken like a true stud,” I said.

“The girls fall for me the moment they see me,” he said proudly. “Then bolt the moment they get to know me.”

I made another face.

We talked a little longer, and eventually, a rough plan emerged: I would continue playing the villainess in public—but in front of Zane, I’d be the gapped, sweet, lovestruck maiden. The contrast would charm him. Allegedly.

But hearing it all laid out like that, it sounded tremendously difficult, and again, I felt that familiar prickle.

“Doesn’t this…present a little too much difficulty?” I said, already wilting.

“Does it?” Yanna looked genuinely surprised. “I think, in front of His Grace, you don’t need to change a thing.”

“Right? I think so too,” Evan agreed easily.

“Meaning?” I asked.

“The ‘you’ out there is already quite different from the ‘you’ in here,” Yanna said. “Almost naturally, that gap will fall into place just by virtue of you being yourself, as you are now.”

“Ah! Now I get it!”

It was true. The broke, meek NPC I was in my previous life is nothing like the rich, imperious Grace Saintsbury. The gap was already there. Nay, it was a veritable chasm! If these two seasoned veterans of the dating field said it, then it must be true.

“Thanks, you two,” I said, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I think I’ll give it a shot.”

That said, it wasn’t as though all my problems had vanished in a puff of magical optimism. I still had to behave like a proper noblewoman and come across as cute and romantically interested—which, frankly, were both already two very unfamiliar domains to me.

Still, there was a full year left before Charlotte made her entrance. Time enough to fumble my way forward.

“Excellent, my lady,” Yanna said, brightening. “In that case, we must arrange a date—posthaste!”

“A… A date…” I echoed faintly.

True. The first step to forming a connection was spending time together.

With that in mind, the moment we returned home, I seized my writing set and penned an invitation to the Duke.

His reply arrived not long after, written in immaculate—and I mean immaculate—handwriting, confirming our weekend date.

“That’s wonderful, my lady!” Yanna beamed. “In that case, I’d better get you looking your absolute best.”

“M-My heart! It’s racing. I leave everything in your capable hands, Yanna!”

It would be my first date. In either life.

And so I waited, nerves rattling, heart pounding, barely managing to stay upright underneath the pressure of it all.

✶✶✶

ON the day of, Zane arrived exactly as promised. Three in the afternoon, sharp.

Clad in a deep navy jacket, his slightly long hair tucked behind one ear, he was so breathtakingly beautiful he seemed almost divine. The light caught him just right, and for a moment, I couldn’t even look at him directly.

It felt presumptuous—sinful, even—to think I could lay claim to someone like him. My confidence wavered, my nerves frayed. I mean, what even was this? A date…with my favorite husbando? This wasn’t the kind of thing that happened in real life!

Then, I stole a glance at Yanna and Evan, who’d come to see me off.

They gave me a subtle but reassuring fist pump.

Bolstered, I gave a small pump of my own, making sure Zane didn’t see.

“G-Greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to see you this fine afternoon,” I said, only a little clumsily.

“Likewise,” Zane replied. “Sorry, I couldn’t respond to your letter sooner.”

“Oh, nonsense, I’m sure you’ve been terribly busy.”

He looked a little surprised to see me. Or perhaps, surprised to see this version of me.

Yes, in fact. The Great Gap Attack was already underway. This was exactly the side I wanted to show him: pretty, girly, pure.

Out of courtesy, to spare him the embarrassment of being seen with a storybook villainess, I’d chosen a pale, lemon-colored dress. The shade worked far better with Grace’s pink hair than the deep crimson she usually wore.

As for all the shiny jewels and glittering bits and bobs, I kept it minimal. Just a few subtle pieces that actually matched the outfit. Naturally, this wasn’t a permanent change. Outside Zane’s company, I’d go back to being as gaudy and awful as ever.

Because that was the point.

To make it feel like he was the only one I ever looked this way for.

“Is it…not to your liking?” I mumbled shyly.

“No.” He seemed to snap out of it. “It’s just… you look very beautiful.”

“I’m glad,” I said quietly. “I chose this dress because I thought it might be the sort of thing you’d like. It’s not my usual style, so…I feel a bit nervous.”

Zane paused at that, then gave a quiet, noncommittal, “Is that so?”

Someone’s still wary, I thought.

“Shall we?” he asked a moment later.

“Let’s,” I replied. And with that, we made our way toward the Duke’s luxurious carriage.

But just as I climbed in and began to settle, I noticed Zane still standing outside, one hand suspended midair, looking at me with a faintly surprised expression. At once, I realized he’d been offering his hand to help me in—a gesture I’d completely missed.

Flustered, I quickly bowed my head. “A-Ah, so sorry!!”

“…It’s fine.”

Great. Barely a few seconds into the date, and I’ve already slipped up. How on earth am I going to survive the rest of the day?

Zane took his seat across from me, and our eyes met—his a striking gold, so bright and direct it made me stiffen on instinct.

“Is there anywhere you’d like to go?” he asked.

“N-No, I don’t really have anything in mind,” I admitted.

“You don’t? And here I thought you’d planned out every minute of every hour.” He again looked surprised. “In that case, shall we go to the opera house?”

“Th-The opera house! Of course! I’d love to!”

“Good. I already have seats.”

He must’ve been referring to the opera Yanna had told me about—the one taking the female opera-going crowd by storm. Securing tickets was nearly impossible, or so I’d been told. And yet here he was, with two in hand, all on short notice.

Well… What else can I say but that’s the Duke for you.

This would be the first opera of my life. My heart soared at the thought.

But I reeled it back in.

Getting excited was good. He needed to see that I was enjoying myself. But I couldn’t let myself get carried away and fail to carry out the plan.

Tucked in my bag was a certain list.

A list Evan and I had stayed up all night putting together: “Ten Milestones for Closing the Distance with the Duke.” It was a carefully curated roadmap for my romantic campaign.

The first goal, the one I had to hit today, was to get him to lower his guard enough to call me by my first name. No “lady,” no “miss,” just Grace.

The second? To hold hands.

As for the rest of the list… well, just thinking about them was enough to set my face on fire. Honestly, part of me wanted to crumple the whole thing up and toss it.

✶✶✶

WHEN we arrived at the venue, I made sure not to miss my cue this time. I reached for Zane’s hand as we stepped down from the carriage.

Well… I tried.

The moment our hands touched, my heart fluttered, and I flinched on instinct, pulling back too quickly. Another puzzled look came my way.

Curse my lack of experience with the opposite sex.

We stepped foot into a posh lobby full of posh people. The space glittered with garments in every color of the rainbow, worn by nobles who turned to look as we entered. Curious expressions bloomed on their perfectly composed faces.

“My, if it isn’t the Duke!” came a lilting voice. “Oh, just look at him.”

“And with a companion…who isn’t Lady Mariabelle?” another added, surprise coloring her tone. Both voices, unmistakably, belonged to women.

As expected, Zane attracted admiring gazes wherever he went. And, just as expected, those gazes eventually slid toward me.

“Who is she, I wonder? Quite a beauty.”

“Well, to be standing beside His Grace, she must be of rather high and exalted character indeed.”

At that, I nearly let out a startled, “Huh?” but just managed to swallow it. It seemed the Great Gap Attack was working even better than expected—no one had recognized me yet.

“Look at her,” a man’s voice could be heard saying this time. “What I would give to be the Duke of Winslet right now.”

“You’re engaged,” another shot back. “Trying to get murdered by your fiancée? Still, every man’s dream, that one is.”

Apparently, I’d caught the attention of the room’s male contingent as well. So far, so good. It was looking like a peaceful afternoon where I could get by without anyone realizing who I was.

But then.

“Lady Grace. Are you tired?”

“Huh? Oh? What? No, I’m fine!”

Zane just beamed at me. A devastatingly radiant smile.

And if my ears weren’t deceiving me, he had just said “Lady Grace.” Out loud. In front of everybody. Also, had he leaned in just now to say that, or was I imagining things?

The room erupted.

“Lady Grace? Wait. Lady Grace Saintsbury?”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.”

But… Why had he even asked me that in the first place? We’d been walking for all of five minutes since getting out of the carriage. Did I really look that weak? That lacking in stamina?

Or maybe it was just some gentlemanly thing I didn’t quite get?

Choosing to believe it was the latter, I returned a thank you and a polite, reassuring smile.

“I cannot believe it,” came a whisper from nearby. “What sort of change of heart is this?”

“Well, it seems she’s at last sunk her claws into the Duke of Winslet.”

“But why would His Grace stoop to keep such company?”

As the truth of my identity rippled outward, the glances of idle envy that had once graced us soured into hard, accusatory stares. No doubt, most of the room at this point now suspected I had blackmailed the Duke into appearing at my side. Which, if we’re being honest, wasn’t entirely wrong. In fact, it was rather incredibly true.

“That woman… She has no right to stand where she is,” another voice muttered.

That’s right, that’s right! Rather than the likes of me, it should be Charlotte beside Zane. They’re the perfect couple, a match made in heaven, the OTP!

We continued our stroll through the lobby. Along the white-and-gold walls were posters and paintings of past productions, and I was having a grand old time admiring them all.

Was Zane watching me the whole time, quietly captivated by this bright-eyed girl enjoying her first brush with high society?

Undoubtedly.

Did I notice? Not at all.

Far too focused was I on soaking in the glamorous world around me.

Eventually, an usher led us to a private viewing box on the second floor. It was spacious and elegant, with two unusually wide, plush-looking chairs and the entire box to ourselves. The view of the stage was stunning—better than anything I could’ve imagined.

To be perfectly clear, I’d never set foot in a place this grand in either of my lives. But even I could tell at a glance: these seats must’ve cost a fortune.

“Lady Grace,” Zane said, gesturing to one of the chairs. “That one seems to have the better view.”

“Oh, is that true?” I murmured. “Well, in that case, you should take it, My Lord Duke. Please, go ahead.”

There was a subtle crease of a brow. A slightly unnatural pause. “If that’s what you prefer.”

…Uh-oh, did I make another faux pas?

Racked by the thought, I felt that familiar prickle of sweat. Maybe that was one of those “ladies first” moments I was supposed to accept gracefully. Too late now. I gave a flustered little nod and sank into the other chair, still fidgeting.

“W-Well then, Your Grace,” I tried again. “Today’s performance… It’s a love story, is it not?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “I heard it’s been well received, particularly among the ladies.”

“Then I’m very much looking forward to it. Thank you for bringing me.”

But really, the seats were so far apart that holding a conversation felt like shouting across a moat. Between the awkward acoustics and the price he must’ve paid for these tickets, I figured I’d better stop talking and make good use of the view.

So I shut up, straightened in my seat, and turned my eyes to the stage.

At last, the lights dimmed. The opera had begun.

✶✶✶

WHAT unfolded on stage was unlike anything I’d ever seen.

A parallel-universe Cinderella, reimagined with magic so that the world felt tangible—like you weren’t just watching a fairy tale play out in front of you, but living it. Right there beside the actors on the stage.

I whispered in awe. Forgot to blink. Forgot to breathe.

Even Zane faded into the background as I was swept into the story.

A poor girl, raised in hardship, meets the man of her dreams. They fall in love. And together, they find their happily ever after.

I cried when the heroine, so long resigned to silence and sacrifice, finally chose to chase her own happiness. And cried again when the hero, steadfast and kind, did everything he could to make that happiness real for her.

The way they loved each other was so gentle, so radiant, it filled my chest until it ached.

My handkerchief was soaked through before I realized how much I’d been crying. And I found myself wondering: would a day like that ever come for me?

Would I ever feel that same fierce wish for someone else’s happiness and see it mirrored, just as fiercely, in their wish for mine?

Maybe it was something inevitable.

Something buried deep in me—not as a noble, not as Grace Saintsbury, but simply as a girl. Wanting a love that came once in a lifetime.

When the final curtain fell, I clapped. And I kept clapping long after it did.

✶✶✶

“LADY Grace?”

“O-Oh, yes!”

I’d completely forgotten about Zane—lost as I was in the beauty of the story—until the sound of his voice snapped me back to reality.

He was looking at me now, his expression somewhere between puzzled and concerned. His gaze flicked over my tear-streaked face, clearly unsure what to make of it.

Now, to be fair, the plan had been to show him a soft, vulnerable side of me…

But this? This was probably overkill.

“S-Sorry! So sorry!” I shot to my feet in a panic. “I just got…a little emotional. Thank you again for inviting me to experience this spectacular story. Really. But I should go fix my makeup.”

Without waiting for a reply, I all but fled.

I was certain the tears had made a mess of my face. Curse my lack of foresight. Who cries that hard at a love story on a first date?

Then again…could anyone blame me? The opera had been a masterpiece, tugging at the heartstrings with every scene. The tears had flowed as naturally as breathing.

A staff member kindly led me to the powder room. I did what I could to salvage my makeup, then stepped back into the hallway, only to be stopped by a sharp voice behind me.

“Lady Grace.”

“Yes? What is it?” I answered automatically, caught off guard. The words came out too naturally, far from the haughty villainess tone I ought to have been commanding.

I turned to see a stunning woman standing there, idly toying with a strand of long black hair and glaring at me like she wanted to set me on fire.

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped. “Do you take me for a fool?”

From the look and sound of things, she hardly seemed a friend.

“What trick did you use to win the Duke’s favor? What exactly did you pull?”

I scoffed, now able to slip into character. “Wouldn’t you just love to know?”

From the way she was fuming, I could only assume she was one of Zane’s many admirers. I gave her a sugar-sweet smile with just enough edge to draw blood. And just like that, the scene shifted, becoming villainess vs. villainess.

The pretty lady gave a derisive snort. “Oh? Bold words coming from someone who wasn’t even permitted to share a bench with His Grace. I saw that, you know. Truly a new low.”

“Wh-What?”

Wait. So those “unusually wide” seats I’d casually remarked on were actually meant for two? A shared bench?

So that was why he’d looked so perplexed…

I hadn’t just made a faux pas; I’d completely, utterly made a fool of myself. I smacked my forehead mentally. I had no idea…

Imagine being told someone liked you, only for them to turn around and refuse to sit beside you? I’d be confused too. No wonder Zane had looked so thrown.

Had I accidentally planted a seed of doubt in his mind? Sabotaged the very relationship I was trying to cultivate? The thought filled me with anxiety.

“Understand this,” the woman said, her tone slicing through my thoughts. “The Duke of Winslet is not one of your usual conquests. He’s—”

But I barely heard the rest. What do I do here? Claim that I didn’t know the seating custom? Like that would be believable. But I couldn’t come up with any better excuses either. I had to say something; the pretty lady in front of me was losing more and more of her patience with every passing second. I mean, she was right. Everything she said was right. But was the wicked and evil Grace about to take this just because she was wrong? Of course not! I was going to stand my ground, fight back, give her what for.

When I was preempted.

“Bella, is that your lovely voice echoing through these halls?”

A warm, teasing voice cut in before I could open my mouth.

“L-Lord Lanhart!” squealed the pretty lady—Bella, presumably—her tone flipping on a dime.

I mean, you would too. If you saw a man like that pull up on you.

A blazing aura like sunlight made flesh, hair like spun light, and eyes the color of deep amethyst, the man known as Lord Lanhart smiled with all the easy charm of a playboy who knew exactly what he was doing.

Flashy. Loud. Glib, maybe. And judging by his entrance, very much at home in the art of wooing women.

“Shall we?” he said, slinging an arm around Bella’s shoulder. “Or am I not to your liking?”

She went from hissing cat to purring kitten in an instant. “N-Not at all, my lord. Let’s.”

Just like that, the feisty feline had been tamed by the sheer force of handsome. Honestly, any handsome man would’ve probably done.

Not sure what that was all about, the blond-haired man glanced back at me. He caught my eye and winked. Just once. Just for me.

“Did he…do that for my sake?” I murmured.

No time to dwell on it. I mouthed a quick thanks to my unexpected savior and made haste back to Zane.

✶✶✶

ONCE I returned to Zane’s side, I took his hand again and let him escort me toward the entrance.

“What do you want to do next?” he asked.

“I don’t want to go home. Not yet, My Lord Duke.”

It took nearly everything in me to say it, but I managed. And he heard me.

In response, he suggested a nearby café for some tea. I was certain he would’ve preferred to call it a day and go home, but the fact that he didn’t… That he still chose to indulge me… It made my heart flutter, just a little.

We strolled through the capital’s streets, eventually arriving at a small, elegant shop, cleanly dressed in white. We stepped inside, only to be met by the same sort of noble crowd we’d seen at the theater. And, just like before, every eye turned to us. Widened. Whispered.

“What a lovely little café,” I said, trying to anchor myself in small talk.

“Indeed. It’s one of my favorites. I come here often.”

That surprised me. But also, being brought to one of his favorite spots made me quietly happy.

The whole place exuded refinement. A world apart from the casual cafés I knew. We were guided to a table by the window, where we took our seats across from one another, and I…

“Lady Grace?”

“A-Ah, pardon me! Sorry. I was staring, wasn’t I?”

He gave me another look. Not unkind, but puzzled, as if I were behaving strangely—which, fair enough, I was.

Flustered, I snatched up the menu and raised it like a shield to hide my burning face.

What was I doing, getting lost in him like that? But honestly, I couldn’t help it. Even sitting there doing nothing, he looked like a painting come to life. He was just such a treat for the eyes. His golden, honey-colored eyes, especially, were my favorite.

I dropped my gaze to the menu, hoping it might distract me. Instead, my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

Two thousand mia for a cup of black tea?

I wasn’t familiar with the brand, but surely there wasn’t a single tea in this world, or any other, worth that much. Unless the cup came filled to the brim with gold leaf and was blessed by the gods themselves.

“Have you decided?” Zane asked.

I looked up to find both him and the server watching me.

“I will… I’ll have the black tea,” I said.

“That’s it?” Zane asked.

“Yes, that will be it.”

Technically, I had more than enough money on me to order whatever I wanted. And I kept reminding myself that these kinds of prices were perfectly normal for the nobility. But still, I couldn’t stop my little broke brain from working overtime, calculating how much each sip was going to cost me.

“If I may recommend the seasonal tart? It’s excellent,” the server added, wearing a warm, genial smile.

In the end, swayed by the sales pitch, I ended up ordering the cake set too. Apparently, this café was famous for its cakes. For 5,500 mia, I should hope so.

My head spun. That was half a month’s food budget in my old life, gone in a single afternoon. Perhaps I’d been a bit too optimistic thinking my sense of money would adjust so easily.

But the moment the food arrived and I brought a forkful to my mouth, all those silly, anxious thoughts just…blew away.

This lemon mousse tart…

“Is ridiculous! It’s so soft and fluffy, but then suddenly it’s all flaky and buttery and just—ugh!”

It was honestly so, so, so, so, so, so good. I’ve never had my socks blown off by anything before. But this was probably what it felt like. Nothing I had back at the marquess’s estate even came close. I found myself cursing my own limited vocabulary—nothing I knew could do justice to the rapture I was experiencing.

As I sat there, positively gushing about the tart, Zane simply watched, quietly sipping his coffee. The contrast was…stark. I started to feel like maybe I was overdoing it, just a little.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said at last.

“I do. Very much, thank you.”

A warm, quiet happiness bubbled up in me. In this new life, I was doing so many things I’d never had the chance to before. And right now, that felt like something to be grateful for.

“Are you not fond of sweets, Your Grace?” I asked.

“I am,” he replied. “I occasionally have some made at the estate.”

“Well. In that case, perhaps you’d be glad to know I’m actually something of a pâtissier myself. Maybe I’ll make something and bring it to you next time.”

At that, Zane let out a quiet “huh” and looked visibly taken aback.

“You…can make sweets?”

I could. In fact, just a few days ago, I’d secretly borrowed the kitchen to whip up a batch of cookies using some of the magic herbs we’d picked, known for their invigorating and enhancing effects. They turned out great, especially with the freshly picked herbs, and I swore I felt more perked up after eating them.

That quiet joy, that little rush of pride I always got from baking and cooking, bubbled up again, and suddenly I was filled with the urge to get back into it and make all sorts of different things.

“I can,” I said, a little proudly. “And I daresay I’m rather good at it, too.” Then, realizing how I must’ve sounded, I hastily added, “Oh, but don’t worry, I won’t be putting anything weird in them!”

I’d gotten a bit carried away. That much was clear. I’d tried to slide in the disclaimer to head off any alarm on his part, but judging by the look he gave me, I hadn’t entirely succeeded.

Zane just stared, baffled.

And, um…fair. I guess. A marquess’s daughter and overall evil woman suddenly declaring she’s good at baking? That sounded more like a badly spun lie than anything else. If I were him, I’d probably assume I had the maids making everything while I claimed it all as my own handiwork.

“More importantly,” I said, hastily shifting gears, “the opera today—I mean, just how wonderful was that? Do you go to the theater often, Your Grace?”

“It’s not really my thing. But you enjoyed yourself. And that’s all that matters.”

“I sure did! Especially that heart-melting proposal scene, I just—”

What followed was an animated recounting of all my favorite moments.

For me, at least.

What followed for him was a period of quiet listening, punctuated by the occasional nod and grunt.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” he said when I’d finally wound down.

I agreed, the server came by with our check, and my jaw nearly hit the table.

I was prepared for expensive. What I hadn’t accounted for was the eye-watering tax slapped on top. What was already absurd became outright criminal.

“O-Oh wow,” I muttered. “That’s expe— I mean, nothing! Just need to find…my wallet!” I scrambled for my wallet, fumbling through my bag, when I saw Zane’s perfectly shaped brow knit in confusion.

“You’re paying? Why?”

“Because I… Oh.”

Oh.

Right. The man paid on dates like these, didn’t they? For appearance, for pride—whatever the reason, I’d just steamrolled over it without thinking.

Once again, I’d revealed just how inexperienced I was at this.

And so the whole thing ended with Zane paying the bill while I offered a quiet, deeply embarrassed thank-you.

✶✶✶

WE were on our way back to the marquess’s residence. Seated across from Zane in the carriage, I dipped my head.

“Thank you so much for taking me out today. I had a wonderful time.”

And truly, I had. A breathtaking opera, a charming café, and barely any need to put on my villainess act… Add to that Zane’s flawless, almost old-fashioned consideration, and it felt like something out of a dream.

As far as first dates went, I could hardly ask for more. I had no idea if Zane felt even a little differently about me now, but I hoped, quietly, that we might go out together again someday.

Though, having said all that, I could still keenly feel his wariness toward me.

In any case, the sun hadn’t set yet. There was still time. Time left for me to reach that first milestone on my list: getting him to call me by my first name. I was just turning that over in my mind—rehearsing possibilities, weighing the moment—when I felt his gaze.

“Lady Grace, were you—”

But he never got to finish.

The carriage jerked to a sudden, violent stop.

I wasn’t ready. My whole body pitched forward, inertia taking the wheel. I yelped, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled across the seat beside Zane.

“My apologies,” Zane said. “Are you all right? It seems a child ran into the street quite suddenly.”

“I’m… I’m all right,” I replied, breathless. “The child, are they…?”

“They’re unharmed.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

No child injured, no dramatic faceplant into Zane—relief washed over me. I began to push myself off his seat when—

“Lady Grace, your purse.”

“My—?” I stood and looked down. The contents of my purse were scattered everywhere. “Oh, dear.”

It wasn’t just me that the carriage had flung across the space. My poor purse had taken flight, too, and judging by the broken clasp and torn edge, some unfortunate metal bit had caught and split it clean open.

It was no doubt an expensive piece. And I’d gone and ruined it. Fighting back tears, I crouched to gather the scattered contents, already wondering if I could somehow stitch it back together once I got home.

Cosmetics, handkerchiefs, odds and ends—Zane silently joined me, picking items off the floor one by one.

“This happened in my carriage,” he said quietly. “I will compensate you for the—”

But suddenly, he stopped—as did his hand, dropped midway down to pick up a piece. I followed his gaze, and there at his fingertips… What I saw sucked the air out of me.

My list.

My list of “Ten Milestones for Closing the Distance with the Duke.”

My blood ran cold. I snatched it off the floor.

“Did… Did you see…?”

Silence.

Ear-splitting, nerve-wracking silence. Then…

“A little.”

Came the quiet reply.

The quiet reply that unraveled me completely.

This was it. The worst possible scenario. My absolute lowest low. What kind of deviant did he think I was now? Who made lists like this? Who carried them around?

I knew I should’ve left it in my room where it belonged! Damn that Evan for calling it a good luck charm and stuffing it in my purse!

This was a nightmare. I wanted to cry. I crumpled the list in my hand, too ashamed to say anything, too ashamed to even lift my head—

When it was lifted for me.

My vision blurred.

And then, all I saw was gold. Honeyed, luminous gold.

“Is that…what you want to do with me?”

Zane’s voice, low and close, tickled my ear.

Suddenly, I realized—I’d been backed up against the carriage wall. His face was just inches from mine. No, less than inches. Our noses nearly touched. And my heart all but jumped out of my chest.

His breath brushed against my skin. Then his hand, large and warm, rose and gently cupped my cheek. My face burned. He smelled good. No—intoxicating. Everything about him was.

I started to feel faint.

He must’ve seen it. The last item on the list.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” I choked out.

The words were soaked in tears. I couldn’t stop them. They streamed down my face, hot and mortifying.

It was all too much—the shame, the closeness, the overwhelming fact that I had no experience with anything like this. I had no idea what to do when a man looked at me like that, touched me like that. I panicked. I cried harder.

Zane looked startled. His eyes widened, and he immediately pulled back.

None of this was his fault. Not the carriage, not the purse, not even this. He had been patient. Thoughtful. Kind. And here I was, ruining everything. Ruining this magical day he’d graciously given me.

I hated myself in that moment. Hated my inexperience, my embarrassment, the fact that I couldn’t catch a break.

Eventually, it all became too much to bear.

I mumbled a broken thank you, then, without another word, I fled. Jumped down from the carriage and ran, fast and graceless, in the direction of home.

✶✶✶

TWO days after my outing with Grace, Boris came to call.

“Well, Zane, old friend,” he said with a teasing grin as he strolled in. “How was your day out with Lady Grace?”

“Where did you hear about that?” I asked at once.

“More like—where didn’t I hear about it? Your little excursion to the theater, the café… It’s the talk of the town.”

Once again, I found myself surprised at how swiftly word travels in high society. It had been the same with Mariabelle’s kidnapping, and now again with this. Nobility, it seemed, was a class rife with idle time and little better to do than fan the flames of gossip.

That said, I had intended for word to spread and reach the king’s ear. That was the entire purpose behind the choice of venue—the crowded theatre, the bustling café. I’d made certain to call her name in public, to behave with a measure of intimacy that could not fail to be noticed.

By all accounts, the ploy had succeeded rather more spectacularly than expected. None of the nobles saw this coming. According to Boris, it was now the most talked-about event of the season.

“So?” he asked, eyes glinting. “How was it?”

“I may have lost all trust in women entirely,” I replied, flatly.

Boris chuckled, lifting a cup of tea to his lips. “Now that is a line that demands explanation. Coming straight here for the report was clearly the right call.”

“Word is,” he went on, taking a sip, “that Lady Grace had a different air about her that day. The gentlemen could scarcely believe it. Nothing but praise, I heard.”

“It wasn’t just her air,” I said. Then paused. “It was as if she were a different person entirely.”

And it was true. The Grace Saintsbury I spent that day with bore little resemblance to the one I—or anyone else—had come to know. I hesitated to call it an act. Because if it was an act, then she was the finest performer in all the kingdom.

“That different, eh?” Boris mused, clearly intrigued. “All part of a cunning ploy to win your affections, perhaps? So? What happened?”

“I made her cry,” I said quietly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said,” I repeated. “I made her cry.”

It had happened on the way back from the café. The carriage had come to a sudden stop—some child had darted into the street—and Grace, unprepared, had lost her balance and pitched forward. She’d said nothing of complaint. Not a word. Instead, her very first question had been whether the child was safe.

And in that moment, I found myself genuinely wondering: Was this truly Grace Saintsbury? Her concern had been immediate, instinctual. If that had been an act…then she possessed a mastery that defied belief. That was what first gave me pause.

Then came the purse.

The sudden jolt had sent its contents spilling across the carriage floor, and as we gathered them up, I came across a single, damning sheet of paper. At the top: “Ten Milestones for Closing the Distance with the Duke.”

The first few entries were innocuous enough—“have him call you by name,” “hold hands”—written in a tidy feminine script. But the latter half…

“Get him to kiss you.”

“Be pinned down.”

Those had been added in a distinctly masculine hand.

I immediately thought I was being toyed with.

And in that moment, I felt justified. Vindicated. After all my doubts, all my wary observations, here was Grace Saintsbury doing what she did best: toying with others, weaving her little games.

It was just like her, I’d thought. Perhaps she’d made some foolish wager with a friend. This entire outing was just one elaborate jest at my expense.

That was why I pushed back. It was on the list, wasn’t it? So I gave her what she wanted. I wanted to test the edges of her charade. To see if she would slip, if the performance would crack.

But instead, tears welled up in those sky-blue eyes of hers, wide and framed by lashes too long to belong to a trickster. And they fell—clear, unguarded, and painfully sincere.

It was a response far beyond anything I’d expected. And I lost my composure.

For a moment, it was like staring at a pure-hearted young woman—fragile, unprepared. And with that image came a wave of guilt.

Grace Saintsbury had devoured more suitors than I cared to count. Given her history, a moment like that in the carriage shouldn’t have even registered on her scale of impropriety.

And yet…I couldn’t get her expression out of my mind.

That tear-streaked face, so openly stricken, haunted me. I couldn’t shake the sense that, somehow, I’d done something truly unkind.

“Are you quite certain that was Grace Saintsbury?” Boris asked, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t confuse her with some wide-eyed debutante, perhaps?”

“I just…don’t understand what she’s after,” I muttered.

“Maybe she’s after your heart,” he said with a smirk. “Perhaps she’s serious about you and wants you to fall for her.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

I had touched her without permission. That much, at least, was undeniable. I kept turning it over in my mind, wondering if I ought to go to her and apologize, when the parlor door creaked open and Mariabelle’s head appeared.

“Oh! Lord Boris, I didn’t know you were visiting,” she said brightly, stepping fully into the room.

“Long time no see, Mariabelle,” Boris said with a grin. “As angelic as ever today, aren’t we?”

She giggled. “You always say that.”

She trotted over to me, a pink envelope clutched delicately in her hand. After a moment’s hesitation—fidgeting slightly, as if mustering her courage—she looked up at me with those wide, doe-like eyes of hers.

“Um, big brother. I have a favor to ask.”

“Yes, what is it?” I asked.

“I’d like to invite Lady Grace—Big Sister Grace—to a tea party. I’ve written an invitation. May I post it?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Boris choke on his tea.

As I’d suspected, Mariabelle had taken quite a liking to Grace since that day. This was unprecedented. Since our parents’ passing, she had never once expressed interest in growing close to anyone beyond Boris and me.

For my part, the idea of her drawing nearer to such an unknown and unpredictable element unsettled me greatly.

“The truth is,” she continued, “I’ve been quite anxious. I rewrote it several times. I just… I hope she’ll read it.”

But with that, paired with the resolute gleam in her smile, I found myself quite unable to say no.

I would simply have to attend the tea party myself.

If only to keep a careful eye on things.

“Hey, Mariabelle,” Boris chimed in. “You wouldn’t mind if I came along too, would you?”

“Of course not!” she beamed. “A tea party with my brother, Lady Grace, and Lord Boris… I can’t wait! I’ll begin preparations at once!”

Boris was thoroughly enjoying himself. Mariabelle was over the moon. As for me, I felt a distinct sinking in my chest.

Still, I clung to hope. That after what had transpired, Grace Saintsbury would respond to the invitation with a clear, unequivocal, resounding “no.”

So, when her reply arrived the following day—“Gladly”—I was at a total loss.

“Just what is it that you’re after?” I mumbled to myself, her tear-streaked face still fresh in my mind.

Chapter 4: Spot the (Many, Innumerous) Differences

TWO days after my spectacular crash-and-burn with Zane, I was flat on my back, laid up in bed, marinating in despair.

“And just when I thought things were finally starting,” I muttered into my pillow, “they came to a big, fat end.”

The gloom in my room was so thick and musty I half-expected mushrooms to start sprouting from my head. I’d had a lovely day, a lovely date, right up until I absolutely wrecked it at the finish line.

They say, “All’s well that ends well,” but in my case, it was more like, “All’s not well that ends well if you make a fool of yourself at the last possible second.”

“Cheer up, milady,” Evan said brightly from the corner. “The plan was a smashing success.”

“Huh?” I mumbled. Success? What the hell is he talking about?

“I put the list in your bag, exactly hoping His Grace might see it.”

“You hate me. You do hate me, don’t you?”

Evan just smiled and waved it off like he hadn’t just confessed to masterminding my social suicide. “Not at all, milady! Don’t you think a list like that shows genuine effort? Honest interest?”

“I think it shows emotional instability and a worrying lack of shame. But sure, tomato, tomahto.”

Honestly, the stuff at the top of the list, like hugging or getting him to call me by name, I could live with that. But the bottom half? Kissing? Pinned down?

That had to have put Zane off.

No self-respecting nobleman would want anything to do with a woman that forward and improper.

And just to make things worse, at the very end, when he was actually trying to grant my so-called “pinned down” wish (or so he’d thought), what did I do?

I cried.

I cried and ran away.

Absolute humiliation. Quite possibly the worst moment of either life.

“At any rate,” Evan said thoughtfully, “I think His Grace’s head is now positively brimming with thoughts of Your Ladyship. Thoughts he cannot, alas, get away from.”

I said nothing. Look—I’ll be the first to admit I don’t understand men very well. I’m still figuring them out. But I couldn’t shake the suspicion that Evan might not be the most reliable representative of the average male experience.

“All he did was lean in a touch, didn’t he?” Yanna cut in. “And you turned all flustered and teary? That’s precisely the sort of gap men adore.”

“She’s right,” Evan agreed. “That kind of genuine, unexpected innocence—it must’ve been nothing like the image he had of you until now.”

“And never underestimate the power of a woman’s tears,” Yanna added. “They’ll undo even the steeliest man.”

Between the two of them, their tag team efforts to reassure me, I felt the massive knot of shame in my chest begin to loosen just a little. Maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t completely wrecked everything.

In the middle of our conversation, a letter arrived, addressed to me, from House Winslet. The envelope was pink. Cute and girlish.

“Oh, it’s from Mariabelle,” I said, turning it over.

Inside, written in sweet, charming handwriting, was an invitation to tea. She wanted to thank me for helping her the other day. It would be herself, Zane, and me in attendance—just the three of us.

“Wow… Maybe you two were right,” I murmured. “Maybe I haven’t blown it completely.”

If I had, he wouldn’t be okay with inviting me over to his place…right?

“Okay.”

This was my shot at redemption. I penned a cheerful reply—“Yes, I’d be delighted to come”—and got straight to preparing. An excuse, an apology, and a big batch of homemade treats.

✶✶✶

BEFORE I knew it, the day of the tea party had arrived.

We drew up to the Duke’s estate—more of a castle, really—and the moment I stepped down from the carriage, I heard a delighted cry.

“Big Sister Grace!” Mariabelle came out the front door to greet us. “I’m so glad you came!” she beamed. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“It’s my pleasure. Thank you for inviting me,” I said, smiling.

Next to her, I saw him—Zane. The shame of our last encounter hit me all over again, and all of a sudden, my face burned. Still, I forced myself to stay composed and offer a proper greeting.

“Your Grace. Thank you again for the other day.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

I tried to smile at him—tried not to let my eyes dart away too quickly. But his face was still far too dangerous to look at for very long.

Thankfully, Mariabelle saved me, tugging me by the hand to lead me further onto the estate grounds.

“Wow,” I breathed as we stepped into the manor and into the garden beyond. “This is beautiful.”

She giggled. “Thank you. I’m quite proud of our little garden.”

There was nothing little about it. Blooms of every color filled the space, alongside perfectly pruned garden trees. It was so lovely, it pulled a sigh of admiration from me before I even realized it. Just being here made me feel lighter.

Though if I was being honest, no small part of that buoyancy came from being with Mariabelle again. She was still here. Still alive, still smiling in this storyline. A girl I never should’ve met, and yet, here we were.

There had been consequences, sure. Saving her had stirred up all sorts of chaos I hadn’t foreseen. But even so, I had no regrets. I’d deal with whatever came.

She led me to a garden gazebo, said there were still a few things she had to prepare, and then skipped off, leaving me alone.

With Zane.

I turned to him, took a breath, and bowed my head. “Your Grace. Please allow me to apologize for the other day. I beg your pardon.”

“No,” he said, calm as ever. “I should be the one apologizing. I acted without your consent.”

Oh, Zane. Always the gentleman.

I had no doubt he was only saying that because he felt guilty about making me cry, and somehow, that made me feel even worse. But there was no time to dwell on that. With the apology out of the way, it was time for the excuse.

“If I might just say that…you were the first man I’ve ever truly fallen for. So when you touched me, I…got a little flustered.”

Yanna had come up with it. And saying it out loud, I was once again struck by its genius. No one, not even Zane, could come up with a rebuttal to that. Sure enough, Zane’s long, sharp eyes widened a touch, then softened into something like understanding.

“I see,” he murmured, giving a small nod.

I then explained how the latter half of the list (yes, that part) had been added without my permission by my ever-helpful brainstorming partner, Evan. He seemed to accept that as well, and with the misunderstanding finally resolved, I could breathe a sigh of relief.

When—

“Why hello there, Lady Grace. A pleasure to meet you. I do hope you don’t mind my suddenly dropping in.”

We were interrupted by a new voice.

I turned and found a tall, slender man with long chestnut hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Instantly, I recognized him as Boris Crumb, Zane’s longtime friend and confidant. They’d shared a few scenes together in the original novel.

“The pleasure is all mine,” I said smoothly. “Grace Saintsbury, at your service.”

I offered him a polite smile, and he returned it—light, easy, and absolutely carefree.

If Zane was the calm before a storm, Boris was the noonday sun. Warm, radiant, and just a bit too dazzling for comfort. I know I’d planned to treat pretty much everyone besides Zane with a degree of hostility, but I figured his good friend deserved an exception.

“But I must say, Lady Grace,” Boris went on with a grin, “I’m quite enjoying this latest reinvention of yours. You look absolutely lovely.”

I was wearing a mint-green dress, light and vibrant like the season, and my hair was loosely done up and pinned with a matching ribbon. I’d gotten a little lost admiring myself in the mirror earlier, so I couldn’t say I disagreed with him.

“Thank you,” I replied demurely.

“All that for Zane, hmm? Lucky man.”

“Mind your tongue, Boris,” Zane said.

That exchange… It made me think that Zane had been talking to Boris about me. Hopefully, good things. But I nodded along all the same.

“So sorry for the wait, everyone, but I’m here now!”

Just then, Mariabelle trotted back, and at last, the tea party could begin. The table before us was packed to the edge with scrumptious, dazzling treats—the kind that warmed the soul just to look at, never mind eat.

But I soon noticed that Mariabelle wasn’t touching a single treat. She just sat there, quietly sipping her tea, ignoring the cakes and snacks altogether. I hesitated. I’d brought some of my own to share, but if she didn’t like sweets, that would be a problem, and the thought kept me from finding the right moment to bring them out.

Just as I was lost in thought, Boris, seated across from me, flashed a smile, then let it twist into something sly.

“Now, Lady Grace,” he said. “Let’s get right to it. What is it about Zane that’s got you so taken with him?”

“Boris,” Zane said, voice stern.

“Oh, I’ve been dying to know too!” Mariabelle added eagerly. “Please, do tell!”

Zane’s scolding had exactly zero effect. Clearly, Boris had made it his mission to protect his friend from the wicked temptress he suspected me to be. Mariabelle, on the other hand, was simply just at that age where romance became the topic of fascination. Her golden eyes practically glowed. Her hands were clasped together in anticipation.

“Lady Grace,” Zane said with a sigh, “you needn’t pay them any mind.”

But I was already sitting straighter in my seat.

“On the contrary, My Lord Duke,” I said, voice clear. “Please, allow me to share my thoughts.”

I knew what I was. I knew the gap between us. Zane was principled, dignified, and respected—everything I wasn’t. But this was my chance. A chance to prove to him, and to those close to him, that I meant no harm.

Beneath the table, my hands curled into fists.

After all, I’d read the novel so many times I’d practically memorized it. I loved Zane and Charlotte. I loved their story. I knew all the good in them, their struggles, and everything they worked so hard for.

All I had to do was put it into words.

“It’s his kindness and gentlemanliness, first and foremost,” I began. “He’s more considerate than anyone I’ve met—always aware of those around him, always looking out for others.”

My voice picked up without me meaning to.

“His diligence, too—I respect that immensely. He’s sincere in everything he does. Whether it’s his family, his friends, his duties—he doesn’t take anything lightly. He treats people with the same seriousness and care, no matter who they are.”

And I just went on and on and on.

The words just spilled out. Effortlessly. Every sentence was something I meant, something I’d seen or felt. Every single word came straight from the heart, and once again, I found myself silently wishing for this good man’s happiness.

I didn’t even notice how long I’d been talking until I finally paused and looked up.

Mariabelle was crying.

“O-Oh dear?” I blinked, unsure if this was a good thing or a very bad one.

Boris, too, looked stunned, eyebrows lifted, mouth slightly ajar.

Had I gone too far? Overdone it with the earnest sentimentality?

Slowly, carefully, I turned to my left. To Zane. “…My Lord Duke?”

He had one hand covering the lower half of his face, fingers splayed just enough for me to see the faintest shade of pink blooming behind them.

“Big Sister Grace…” Mariabelle sniffled. “I had no idea you thought so much of my dear brother!”

“Wait—what?” I turned to Mariabelle. Utterly moved, she dabbed away her tears with a handkerchief.

“To think you’ve paid such close attention to him… I’m speechless,” Boris said next. “You might know him better than even I do—and I’ve known him since we were children.”

I turned to Boris. He looked—and there was no other word for it—impressed with me.

That was good, right? I should be relieved. They’d gotten it. My heartfelt words had landed. Buoyed, I gave them both a small, sincere smile that, I hoped, carried all the determination I felt. To keep doing my best. For Zane, for this world, and for myself.

As for the man in question, well… He was steadfastly refusing to look in my direction. Which, naturally, made Boris grin.

“Zane, don’t just sit there, embarrassed. Say something.”

“Quiet,” Zane hissed.

He didn’t deny it. Which meant he really was embarrassed? That was surprising. I hadn’t flattered him. Everything I said had been true, straight from the heart. What was there to be embarrassed about?

“Zane here gets judged by appearances a lot. So when someone actually appreciates what’s underneath…it hits a little harder,” Boris clarified.

“I said, quiet.”

Makes sense, I thought to myself. In that case, you’re going to be very happy when Charlotte finally comes around and loves you for who you really are, inside and out. Mentally, I gave him a big, encouraging thumbs-up.

✶✶✶

WE talked about this and that for a while, though, notably, Zane stayed mostly quiet. Then the topic shifted to the garden, and before I knew it, Mariabelle was taking me on a tour.

“Then if you’ll excuse Lady Grace and me,” she said cheerfully.

“Mm-hm,” Zane murmured, giving a small nod.

“Enjoy yourselves. We men will be here, taking our ease,” Boris added, waving a hand in mock languor.

And with that, Mariabelle took my hand again and pulled me into their enchanting little garden wonderland for a walk.

“There really are so many varieties here,” I muttered, taking in the sights.

“Indeed,” Mariabelle replied. “Take, for example, this buttercup here…”

She was mid-explanation when I noticed them—two women standing off a short distance away, both in maid uniforms.

Mariabelle followed my gaze and let out a soft sigh. “They’re my personal maids,” she explained. “They double as guards.” Then, a wry smile. “My brother worries too much.”

Ah.

Though the novel never went into much detail, I remembered a line about how, after the untimely deaths of the Duke and Duchess of Winslet, all sorts of opportunists had tried to use the siblings for their own gain.

With Mariabelle being as sweet and charming as she was, and with the recent kidnapping still fresh in everyone’s minds, I completely understood why Zane would be a little overprotective.

I truly did want to get to know Mariabelle better, independent of my ulterior intentions with Zane. So I asked the question that had been quietly sitting in the back of my mind.

“Tell me, Mariabelle… Do you not care for sweets?”

I tried to sound offhand, but at the question, she froze. Then, with a small, self-conscious smile, she said, “The truth is, I cannot eat anything made by another’s hand.”

I blinked. “What?”

“After our parents died, there was a relative who sought to take the dukedom. He…poisoned our food. It was meant for Zane, but I ate it instead.”

A chill ran through me.

“I survived,” she went on, “but the pain was…excruciating. There were days I wished I hadn’t.”

“Oh, Mariabelle…”

“Since then, under my brother’s orders, all our meals are tightly monitored. And I do trust our servants. Truly, I do. But…”

“I understand,” I said gently.

She nodded. “Even if my mind believes it’s safe, my body won’t. The moment something cooked is placed in front of me, I freeze. I know it’s foolish, and that I must grow out of it someday, but…” Her lashes fell, soft and low. “For now, I manage with raw fruits and vegetables. And bread. Only from one bakery, the one I loved as a child.”

Something like a knife plunged into my chest and twisted. This was a fourteen-year-old girl we were talking about. How could she be living well on a diet like that? Sooner or later, her body would pay the price.

None of this had ever come up in the novels. I wanted to cry. It was such a cruel thing that someone as kind and gentle as Mariabelle should be made to suffer like this, again and again.

Zane must’ve known this couldn’t continue. He had to. And yet, he hadn’t done anything bold to help her move past it. Perhaps because deep down, he felt responsible.

“Forgive me,” Mariabelle said softly. “That was rather a grim thing to share.”

“Nonsense,” I replied. “Thank you for trusting me with that.” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

There had to be something I could do. Some small way I might help. I pressed my mind to keep turning…

Then, something did come up.

“Mariabelle. If you’d like, and only if you’d like, how would you feel about cooking something with me?”

She glanced up at me. “Cook… With you?”

“With me. And your two maids. And your chef, of course. I’ll taste everything myself, right in front of you—every minute if need be. That way, it’ll be perfectly safe, don’t you think?”

No doubt no one had ever suggested such a thing. She was a duke’s daughter, after all. But if she could be involved in every step, with her own hands, under watchful eyes, under mine, maybe something would shift.

Her golden eyes were wide. But then, dimmed. “But… I’ve never even set foot in a kitchen before.”

I smiled, warm and certain. “That’s quite all right. I’ll teach you. Believe it or not, I’m actually quite the cook.”

Her face scrunched in thought—confusion first, then hesitation—before falling entirely, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Oh no. Had I overstepped?

“But as I said,” I added quickly, “only if you’d like. Truly. If you don’t feel up to it, it’s perfectly all right to say no.”

Her head snapped back up in an instant. “That’s not what I was thinking! I’m very happy and grateful that you invited me!” She bit her lip. Then came a soft, uncertain, “But…”

“It’s just… When it doesn’t work. When I’m still the same old me. I’ll feel terrible for wasting your time and effort,” she finished.

My chest tugged. Even now, this kind, kind girl was worrying about others. All the more reason she deserved something warm and homemade just for her.

“Oh, is that all?” I said with a smile. “There’s no need to think so far ahead. We’re only cooking, after all. Nothing more. You’d be surprised how satisfying it is, just making something with your own hands.”

I leaned in a little. “And if you won’t eat it, I certainly will. His Grace, too. I’ve no doubt he’d be happy to oblige. Lord Boris as well.”

That got a reaction—a faint grimace. I was close. Just one more little nudge. I gave her a conspiratorial grin.

“And to be perfectly honest… I was rather hoping to show your brother what I can do in the kitchen. See if it might sway his opinion of me. Won’t you help me win him over?”

That did it. Her lips curled into a bright smile. And she nodded, quickly and eagerly.

“Wonderful. Thank you, Mariabelle. So, what shall we make?”

“My mother’s favorite thing to make for me—tomato soup.”

I nodded. “Tomato soup, perfect. Then we’ll start with that.”

“Y-Yes!” She lit up, a smile so bright and earnest it could melt anyone. My heart gave the faintest flutter.

✶✶✶

WITH lunchtime drawing near, we headed straight for the kitchen.

Two hours later, we emerged and found ourselves seated in the dining room: Zane, Boris, Mariabelle, and me.

Before us lay the fruits of our labor—Mariabelle’s tomato soup, lovingly prepared from the late Duchess’s recipe, alongside a few other dishes I’d cobbled together.

It hadn’t been at all easy, working with recipes I’d never heard of and ingredients so fine I was half-afraid to touch them. But somehow, with Mariabelle’s help and the staff’s patient guidance, we pulled it off. The table looked…presentable.

That is, until the realization hit me like a brick.

I had just cooked for nobility. Real, titled aristocrats who’d grown up dining on food prepared by trained chefs, plated to perfection. And here I was, a broke girl from another world, daring to serve them a meal made by my own two mortal, trembling hands.

Ooh, anxiety…

“Huh?” Boris blinked at the spread before him. “Wait—hold on. You two made all this?”

“No, no,” Mariabelle said quickly, waving both hands. “I hardly did anything. It was mostly Big Sister Grace. She was like a sorceress in the kitchen!”

“Now, now,” I said with a smile. “You held your own perfectly well. The way you moved about in there, I could’ve sworn it wasn’t your first time.”

Truthfully, I’d worried midway through that she might grow tired or faint, but she’d kept steady, and I couldn’t have been prouder.

Praised by both Boris and me, she flushed pink with delight, beaming from ear to ear. A sight that cleansed my soul.

Then, at last, the final member of our little circle spoke.

“Incredible.” Zane’s eyes hadn’t left the table.

And with that, the meal began. I didn’t fully breathe easy until I heard the word “delicious” come from Zane and Boris.

It caught me off guard how good that felt. I’d nearly forgotten what a simple word could do after a long, hot, messy stint in the kitchen. The quiet satisfaction of it. The warmth.

But now—Mariabelle.

She sat motionless, her eyes fixed on the bowl before her. One hand held the spoon, trembling slightly. Her shoulders were tight. Her face drawn with tension.

“Are you feeling all right?” I asked gently. “Any discomfort?”

She glanced up at me and gave a faint smile. “No, no. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” I said softly.

And I left it there.

Hovering wouldn’t help. Watching her every move would only make things harder. So I turned back to my plate, giving her space, hoping quietly.

For a few long minutes, she didn’t move—just sat there in silent standoff with the bowl before her.

I dug in, and it was delicious. Remarkable, considering it was Mariabelle’s first time cooking, with only the occasional pointer from me.

Across the table, Zane took another spoonful, paused, and murmured, “It’s delicious. Just like Mother used to make.”

At that, something in Mariabelle’s face wavered. Her eyes shimmered, and then, as if summoned by that one sentence, some quiet courage surged through her. She dipped her spoon into the soup. Brought it slowly to her lips.

Another beat, but that was it.

No more hesitation. She took a single, generous mouthful.

And at once, the tears fell.

In a voice that was barely there, she whispered, “It’s so warm… And delicious…”

Zane lowered his gaze, flustered. “Is that so?” he mumbled. “Thank you,” he added, his hand coming to rest gently against her back.

Seeing that, my own vision blurred. “Thank goodness… Oh, thank goodness.”

Watching her—this small, brave girl—face down what must have been paralyzing, debilitating fear… It hit me harder than I expected. I blinked quickly, brushing away the tears welling in my eyes, and offered what I hoped was a steady, encouraging smile.

“This is only the beginning, Mariabelle,” I said softly. “Next time, I’ll come back, and we’ll make something else. You’re so gifted, you can make anything. I’m certain you can make anything you set your heart to.”

She looked up at me, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard, before, at once, her expression bloomed into a full, radiant smile. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she nodded.

“Yes! Thank you…so much…”

She cried freely. They were happy tears, full and glistening.

And what else could I do but sit across from her, heart full, and hope this would just be the first of many joys awaiting this girl in a life that, until recently, wasn’t even hers to live?

✶✶✶

AFTER lunch, the four of us moved to the salon to rest and chat. But it wasn’t long before Mariabelle nodded off right where she sat.

“It’s been an eventful day,” Zane said, eyes softening as he looked at her. “She also told me she hardly slept last night. Too excited, apparently.”

“You don’t say,” I replied, smiling despite myself at the sight of her sleeping so peacefully. “Well…isn’t she just the sweetest thing?”

During lunch, she’d managed three more spoonfuls of soup—hard-won, each one. Zane and Boris had both cleared their plates and offered their thanks, the high of which I was still quietly basking in. Also, look at me talking to Zane as if it were nothing. No nerves, no fluster. Maybe I was growing a little too.

But with the sun beginning to dip and the heart of the day, the girl who’d brought us all together, fast asleep, I decided not to overstay my welcome.

When I rose to leave, Zane stood as well, ready to walk me out.

“Bye now, Lady Grace,” Boris called after us, grinning. “Be good to Zane, will you?”

“Of course. Until next time, Lord Boris.”

He waved us off, and Zane and I made our way to the front gate, where my carriage should have been waiting. And as we walked, I couldn’t help but notice his steps matched mine more closely than they had before.

“I must admit,” he said at last, “I’ve had the wrong idea about you.” His voice was low, measured. “It’s…rather shameful, really. To see your actions again and again, yet still let myself be swayed by the rumors.”

I gently shook my head. “I’ve given people plenty of reasons to misunderstand me. But know that it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’ve always watched you from afar. And I’ve always wished for your happiness—truly.”

Grace had played the part of the unscrupulous girl for years, long before I entered the picture. It was only natural that his opinion had started low. But slowly, bit by bit, moment by moment, that impression had begun to soften. And that thought made me happy.

Zane’s eyes widened, just briefly, then dropped again.

“…Thank you,” he said quietly. “The truth is, I’ve watched Mariabelle for so long without doing anything. I thought I didn’t have the right. I didn’t realize just how much of that I’d been carrying until today. When I saw her take that first bite, it felt like I’d finally let go of a breath I hadn’t even known I’d been holding.”

His voice faltered—rougher now, softer than I’d ever heard it. It made something ache in my chest.

Just as I thought, Zane’s heart had been weighed down with guilt. When it hadn’t even been his fault. When he’d been just as much of a victim as her.

So I reached out, almost before I realized it, and took his hand in mine. “She’ll be all right,” I said firmly. “I know she will. She even said it herself. She wants to cook again. Eat again. With me.”

He gave a faint nod. “That she did. Thank you.”

“Which means you’ll be seeing more of me around these parts. Hope you won’t mind.”

A sort of wry, defeated smile crossed his face. And with that, he thanked me again.

We walked on in silence.

At some point, I realized that our hands were still joined. And my face, of course, began to burn. I thought I might quietly ease away, give a gentle tug, but…he was returning my hold rather tightly. It didn’t budge at all, so there we stayed, hand in hand.

This wasn’t like during our outing, when he’d offered a hand for formality’s sake. This was…holding hands. Properly. Casually. With a man. While walking.

My heart was making quite the fuss about it.

Before I knew it, we were at the gate. He let go, and with my hand finally free, I reached into my purse and pulled out a small pouch.

“Y-Your Grace, this is for you.”

He eyed it with caution. “What is it?”

“Sweets,” I said, holding it out. “Ones I baked for you. I didn’t give them to you earlier because I thought Mariabelle might feel uncomfortable, but… They’re made with Silkeweed, so… They should be perfect for a little midday pick-me-up.”

Zane’s eyes flared in surprise. But after a pause, he took the pouch and nodded. “Thank you.”

Then something seemed to give him pause. He thought for a moment, then opened his mouth. “Then I would like to do something else for you in return. What would you like?”

“Oh, there’s no need,” I said quickly. “You’ve already given me more than enough, just by agreeing to be my lover. Please don’t trouble yourself over it.”

“I’m not sure about that. I would feel obliged.”

“Don’t be.”

I meant it. I hadn’t done any of this in the hope of some reward. The thought that he even wanted to do something in return was enough for me.

But…what about Zane? He just stood there, deep in thought once more. Then, something in him seemed to settle.

“Understood,” he said, at last. “In that case, I shall fulfill my role as your lover to the utmost.”

“Hm?” I blinked. “R-Right. Thank you.”

Fulfill his role as my lover to the utmost? Whatever that meant, he sure looked awfully serious saying it. But that was Zane Winslet for you, a man of duty and conscience, down to the last.

That said, if it eased his conscience, I was happy to let him carry on. I thanked him again and stepped up into the carriage.

“Grace.”

At my name, I instinctively turned, only to be met with eyes of molten honey. But softer, richer, gentler than I’d ever seen them. My heart stuttered. For a second, I just stared, speechless, until it dawned on me—what should have startled me most.

“I’ll be seeing you. Expect to hear from me very soon.”

My name.

Was that what he meant? By fulfilling his role?

The thought kept needling at me, and I was unable to relax. I was a squirming, fidgety mess the whole way home.

✶✶✶

A few days later, a letter arrived from Zane. And as I read it, it finally sank in, a little bit, the realization that I’d somehow managed to steer the storyline back on track.

He wrote about a few things. That he wanted to take me somewhere of my choosing next time we met. That I was welcome to drop by the estate whenever I liked. That he’d be away in the dukedom for work for about a week and a half.

“It’s all very…lover-like,” I murmured, half in disbelief.

He really was out here “fulfilling his role.” Dutiful. Responsible. Committed to repaying me for helping with Mariabelle by playing the part of the perfect pretend boyfriend. I couldn’t deny it—it was sweet. But if I were being honest, what I wanted wasn’t a man playing a part. I wanted him to fall for me. So maybe this wasn’t quite mission success just yet.

“Oh, I knew it,” Yanna cut in. “The Duke’s been properly swept off his feet by Your Ladyship’s charms, just like I predicted.”

“No, no,” I said quickly, looking up at her. “If it weren’t for your brilliant advice, I’d still be floundering. This is all thanks to you!”

Yeah, you know what? I still had time. Plenty of chances to see him again. With that positive thought in mind, I wrote my reply—something about how happy I was, how I couldn’t wait to see him the moment he got back, the usual bits and bobs—and handed it off to Yanna to post it for me.

Just then, the door swung open, and in strode Evan, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Ah, milady. There you are. I did what you asked. Bought the land.”

“Evan! Oh, thank you; you’re the best. Your reward’s coming, I promise.”

Almost like a proud little errand boy, he walked over and handed me the deed with a flourish.

“Perfect,” I said, scanning it. “The value of that plot should skyrocket in the next few months.”

While I’d been working on Zane, I’d also been working on this little side project. Because as much as my connection with him was important, so was my own future. I was still a villainess with a soiled reputation. Better to bow out of society gracefully and open the cozy little eatery of my dreams than die of scandal at a garden party.

The first order of business, one that could be done as I waited for the price to surge, was to decide on the location of my establishment. Currently, the candidate at the top of my list was Myriel, the town we’d stopped by while foraging for magic herbs. It was nicely tucked away from the capital, not too far from our marquessate, and the land was cheap—all strong points in its favor.

I turned to Evan. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you for another favor down the line. Same deal, but for the plot where I’ll open my eatery.”

He waved me off with a grin. “Not at all, milady. I actually managed to snatch up a little land for myself this time, so I should be thanking you. But if you don’t mind me asking—why not buy these under your own name?”

“Because I don’t want word getting out that I’m the one running the place. Imagine the gossip if people found out I was the one out there giving free meals to children. What would they think?”

“Easy,” he said. “They’d assume you were rounding them up to sell.”

Okay, maybe not that evil, Evan. But still. My fault for expecting him to sugarcoat anything. Oblivious as he was, he was still doing me a huge favor—and one I did intend to repay someday.

“That said,” I muttered, mostly to myself, “this is all much easier said than done. There’s so much to figure out. Way more than I can handle on my own. If only I had someone to guide me through it…”

Because I didn’t want this to be some fleeting charity kitchen. I wanted a real, bustling place where actual paying customers would also want to come to eat and linger. To get there, I needed more than dreams. I needed a proprietor’s brain. Which I was very much in the middle of trying to grow from scratch.

“In that case, why not consult the Marquess?” Evan suggested. “If it’s for Your Ladyship, I doubt there’s a thing he wouldn’t do.”

“Yeah. That’s probably my best bet, isn’t it?”

My father. All I had to do was tell him I wanted to open an eatery, quietly, under the radar, and I knew he’d move mountains to make it happen. Dinner would be the soonest chance to bring it up. I should do it then.

“Your Ladyship, look at all these invitations,” Yanna said, sweeping in with an armful of envelopes.

Fresh from posting my letter, she’d returned bearing the beginnings of my social doom. I opened them one by one: soirees, garden parties, balls, et cetera, et cetera.

Spring marked the start of the social season, and I had little doubt this was merely the opening salvo in what would soon become an endless barrage of invitations.

Now, the old Grace had adored this sort of thing. She’d basked in the attention and even hosted countless events of her own.

Me? Not so much. But I’d committed to the role. So I’d just have to show up, put on the mask, and be the glamorous troublemaker every now and then.

Even if the idea of it filled me with dread.

I said as much, then started sifting through the pile, wondering which event to hit first, when Evan pointed to one of the envelopes.

“In that case, why not the soiree at Marquess Gardner’s? You did get along quite well with Lady Priscilla.”

“Oh, are we friends? Is she awful, too?”

“No, no. Just painfully mild-mannered. Bit of a doormat, really. Last time, you hurled insults her way, and she came away thinking, ‘Lady Grace and I are such good friends!’ That sort.”

“I… I see…”

Well. That would make things easier for me.

…Probably?

I looked over the invitation. It was two weeks away. That gave me plenty of time to prepare.

“Still, Evan, you sure know a lot about these things.”

“Well, I was originally a noble. I’ve even accompanied Your Ladyship on a few social functions myself.”

I blinked in surprise. That was news to me.

I tried to press him for more, but he just smiled and put a finger to his lips. “That’s a secret,” he said, evading the question.

And looking damn fine doing it, if I might add. But hey, everyone has their secrets. If this were one of his, I could let it lie.

“Ah, but do be careful around Lord Lanhart,” he added. “When it comes to matters of romance, he’s about as uninhibited as you were in your prime, milady.”

“Lord who now?”

“Lord Lanhart. Lady Priscilla’s older brother. Next in line to be the marquess.”

“Oh, I see.”

But wait.

“Lanhart?”

Where had I heard that name before…?

The name tugged at something, but I couldn’t quite place it. I racked my brain, came up empty, and decided to shelve it for now.

In the meantime, I RSVP’d a yes to House Gardner’s invitation.

✶✶✶

“OUT of my sight. The next time you think to speak to me so freely—don’t.”

“S-So sorry. So sorry!”

With a snap of my fan and a pointed glare, I sent the latest casualty of Grace’s razor-sharp attitude fleeing. Once he was out of earshot, I let out a quiet sigh.

Since the start of this soiree, I’d been holding my mouth in a tight, unimpressed line, doing my best to look perpetually bored, and it was already exhausting.

Tonight’s look: deep purple dress, dramatic makeup, and all the haughty villainess energy I could muster. From the second I walked in, it was non-stop. Old flings of Grace’s sidling up with awkward small talk. Former lackeys trying to worm their way back into my good graces. A revolving door of attention I didn’t want.

As it was my first time attending something like this, I was very nervous. The fact that I’d come alone also wasn’t helping.

I was tired, overstimulated, and desperate for a quiet corner to slink into when a new voice called out to me:

“Lady Grace! I’m so glad you’ve come!”

I turned to see a girl my age, all sunshine and golden locks. With that bright smile and extra-peppy, painfully polite demeanor, there was no doubt—this had to be Lady Priscilla.

She trotted right up and took my hand. “It’s not just me. When my brother heard you were coming, he was positively beside himself with anticipation.”

I blinked. “Is… Is that so?”

“It is! Look, he’s right over there. I’d so love it if you went to talk to him.”

Following her gaze, I spotted a familiar blond-haired, amethyst-eyed man. A quiet “oh” of recognition slipped out. That was him. The person who’d saved me from that girl who had a problem with me at the opera theater.

Suddenly, Evan’s “uninhibited as me in my prime” comment made perfect sense.

Priscilla caught the look on my face and gave a sweet smile. “Well then, I’d better keep making the rounds. I hope you enjoy the party! Let’s talk again later, all right?”

“Of course,” I said, returning her smile with one of my own.

As she drifted off, I turned my attention back to Lanhart. Gorgeous, no question. As were the multiple girls surrounding him, all laughing and leaning too close. Here was Mr. Life of the Party.

And Mr. Touchy-touchy, Feely-feely if he didn’t get his hands off them sometime soon…

Ugh, just as glib as I’d originally pegged him.

“But… Hold on.”

Watching him work those girls and look damn good doing it, an idea started forming in my mind.

You see, there’s been one nagging question at the back of my mind the whole time I’ve had this whole date Zane plan. One I’d never managed to answer. One that filled me with guilt and general emotional nausea every time I thought about it: How exactly was I supposed to cheat on and dump him at the end of this one-year period?

Maybe this was my answer.

This guy, Lanhart, could pretend to be my affair partner. He was already nice enough to do me one favor at the opera. If I asked, maybe that one favor could turn into two. He seemed the exact kind of guy Grace would normally associate with. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made.

Plus, Priscilla had said he’d been looking forward to seeing me tonight, hadn’t she? No clue why, but maybe that was my in.

Thoroughly convinced, I turned to Lanhart and made my first step in his direction.

“Grace.”

And promptly had my heart scared halfway out of my chest.

I spun around. There was Zane. Standing just behind me, like he’d been there the whole time.

I swallowed hard. My mind spun.

Why was he here? But then I remembered—he’d only been gone a week and a half. It wasn’t unreasonable for him to be back already. And this was a major function hosted by a marquess. Of course, a duke would be invited.

Still… He hadn’t mentioned coming. And in his last letter, our next date had been scheduled for next week.

But all that shock, all that surprise, evaporated under the radiant glow of one simple truth:

I was just so, so happy to see him.

“Just now, were you—”

“My Lord Duke! I’m so happy to see you!” I almost shouted, cutting him off.

Just like that, the noise and nerves and loneliness of not knowing a soul here vanished. Gone. All because of this one familiar face.

I let my villainess mask drop. My lips, which had been stuck in that tight, bored line all evening, finally moved again into a huge, unfiltered smile.

Perfect timing. Any longer, and I swear my face would’ve frozen that way.

My reaction caught him completely off guard. He just blinked at me—silent, unmoving.

We stood there, stuck in this awkward little standoff, until I finally ventured, “Um… Your Grace?”

“Sorry,” he said. “I was…distracted.”

But that still didn’t seem to rectify the situation. He only lifted a hand to his face, half-covering it, and turned away.

Did I come on too strong just now? Too familiar? Whatever the case, I couldn’t help noticing how absurdly handsome he looked tonight. All-black suit, gold trim, the picture of tall, brooding elegance.

And judging by the spellbound looks from the girls around us, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Their whispers floated over:

“Then…the rumors are true?”

“No, I wouldn’t be so hasty.”

I’d heard my relationship with Zane had been the talk of high society, and this, it seemed, was my confirmation. I could feel their sharp, assessing gazes on us.

At last, Zane seemed to pull himself together and turned back to me. “Are you here alone tonight?”

“I am,” I replied.

“Then, should you be amenable, I’d be glad to accompany you this evening.”

“Yes! Amenable? I’d be more than amenable!” But then I caught myself. “Wait!”

I glanced down at myself—at the dramatic villainess getup, the heavy makeup, the everything—and a wave of embarrassment crashed over me.

“Actually, on second thought… I don’t exactly look the part tonight. I didn’t know I’d be seeing you,” I said, shrinking into myself.

At that, something shifted in Zane’s face—something warm. His lips tugged, as if against his better judgment, into what looked like a real, honest-to-goodness smile. The first I’d seen from him. And it hit me hard.

Real hard.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” he said, clearly amused. “You say the cutest things sometimes, don’t you? Don’t worry. I don’t mind.”

“Wh-Wha—”

“Let’s go.” He held out a hand.

“O-Oh!”

Still spinning from the word “cute,” I took his hand in a daze. He pulled me closer, and suddenly, the space between us all but disappeared. Then he shifted his grip, gave my hand a firm squeeze, and just like that, my heart kicked into overdrive.

I… I suppose that thing with Lanhart could wait…

I must’ve looked visibly tense, because Zane gave me a once-over and tilted his head slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, it’s nothing,” I said quickly. “Just been a bit of a night, I suppose. Still winding down from it.”

“In that case, next time you feel like going to one of these functions, let me know. I’ll do my best to make time.”

How kind was that? I knew full well how busy he was. Busier than 99% of the world, probably. And yet he was still offering to show up just because I might want the company.

It moved me deeply.

I only hoped this whole fake lover arrangement wasn’t eating into his time too much. The last thing I wanted was for him to overburden himself because of me.

We strolled down the hall together, drawing plenty of gazes as we went, when all of a sudden, we drew more than a gaze.

A noblewoman, clearly someone of rank, called out to Zane, stopping us in our tracks. She looked at him first. Then turned to me. And I felt it instantly. That sharp, unmistakable flicker of hostility in her eyes.

“And who is this, Your Grace?” she asked, all polite and all venom.

“My beloved,” he replied, straight. Without hesitation.

I blanched. The woman blanched. Honestly, I might’ve out-blanched her.

Because it was downright mortifying—more than I even thought possible—to hear that out loud. He might as well have climbed on a table and shouted it for all the room to hear. And judging by the explosion of whispers behind us, he basically had.

Meanwhile, Zane was the picture of calm. Unfazed. Unapologetic. He gave my hand a gentle tug.

“Shall we move on?” he said. “I’d like to introduce you to my friends.”

“A-All right.”

✶✶✶

FOR a long while afterward, I was paraded around the venue. I greeted nobles who came to speak with Zane, he introduced me to his friends, and with every polite exchange, a little barb poked deeper into my chest.

This was all temporary. A one-year dream with a built-in expiration date. After that, I’d be gone.

The only comfort I had, if you could call it that, was the thought that when Charlotte took over next year, people would compare the two of us and think, Wow, what a glow-up. I’d be the messy prequel. The cautionary tale.

We wandered on. Until something caught my eye—a table in the distance, gleaming under the lights.

Hors d’oeuvres. Snacks. Cake.

I slowed to a stop, eyes locked on the display like it was calling my name from across the room.

“See something you like?” Zane asked, noticing.

I turned to him, solemn. “Could I…have a little cake?”

“A little? Have all the cake you like.”

“Yes!”

I made a beeline for the table. After an evening spent strapped into a corset and making conversation, I was starving. I put two elegant little cakes on my plate and devoured both like they were the best things I’d ever tasted.

Sweet. Fragrant. Exquisite.

Every trace of fatigue vanished like it had never existed.

“Mmm! That is too good! Tart fruit, sweet cream—a match made in heaven!”

No reaction from beside me, so I glanced over. Zane was just staring.

“Um, My Lord Duke?”

He blinked, like he’d just snapped out of a trance, then his lips curved, just slightly, into that rare, quiet smile of his.

“You always look content when you eat,” he said. “Doesn’t seem to matter what it is.”

The softness of it threw me, just as it had the first time. And my heart did not take it well.

I dropped my gaze to my plate, suddenly a little too aware of myself. “A-Aren’t you having any?”

He shook his head once. “No need. I’m fine just watching you.”

Well, fine for you, but maybe too much for me, I thought, stabbing another bite of cake and popping it into my mouth anyway.

Only this one didn’t go down quite as easily.

My stomach was hungry, sure, but my chest suddenly felt tight, full of something else entirely. And just like that, I found I didn’t have much appetite left.

✶✶✶

AFTER that, one of Zane’s acquaintances came by to have a word. There was a certain shift in the air, something weighty, maybe private. And I was nothing if not capable of taking a hint, so I excused myself and made for the balcony.

A long breath left me as I stepped into the night air.

Cool and quiet, it kissed my skin and settled something in me. There’d been something different about Zane tonight, and trying to navigate it and match his energy and interpret his words had left me more drained than I’d expected.

I swept my gaze up, toward the stars.

Charlotte really is lucky. No doubt Zane will be even kinder, even gentler with her than he’s been with me. She’ll get the version of him who’s in love.

“Lady Grace. There you are.”

The voice sliced clean through my thoughts. I turned.

“Lord Lanhart,” I said, blinking.

“Ah, so you do know my name.” His violet eyes crinkled with amusement. “I’m flattered.” As did his smirk.

Up close, it was even more obvious: the man was flawless. Not a single thing out of place. Dangerously handsome—like Zane, perhaps, but polished to a mirror sheen. A different breed entirely.

“I ought to thank you for your help the other day,” I said.

He waved it off with an elegant flick of the wrist. “Please. It’s no easy thing, is it? To be so publicly pursued by one of the most coveted men in the aristocracy.”

Then his gaze raked over me, just shy of impolite.

“But never mind that,” he added. “You look different tonight. Brighter. Lovelier.”

“You think so?”

“I do. This version of you feels more honest somehow. More…Grace. I like it.”

He stepped closer. Tilted his head, just so. That practiced, almost theatrical charm of someone who knew exactly how good he looked and exactly how to wield it.

Then came the curveball.

“Tell me. May I have the next turn?”

“…What?”

He smiled, slow and deliberate. “How long before you grow tired of the Duke? Three months? Come find me then—I’m terribly patient.”

Slick and greasy. Far too greasy. Like the human equivalent of an oil spill.

And yet…exactly the kind of thing the old Grace would’ve gone for, wasn’t it?

I wanted to shut him down then and there. But considering I’d just been planning to ask him for help, I kept my expression cool.

“Um. I shall think on it,” I said airily. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I left him standing there and made my way back toward the hall, only to stop short.

Zane was there. Standing at the entry to the balcony, half-veiled in shadow beneath the archway.

“Oh, finished your conversation already?” I said cheerfully.

He didn’t answer.

“Your Grace?”

Still nothing. He just stood there, gaze fixed on me, his expression tight and unreadable. The way his golden eyes furrowed like that pulled at something in me. I couldn’t look away.

There was something unsettled in him. Something a little stormy. And the longer I looked, the more certain I became that something had gone wrong.

A beat passed. Then another.

Finally, his expression shifted.

“Ah. So that’s what it is,” he murmured. He looked at me then. “It seems I’m a far simpler creature than I thought.”

Now what the heck could that mean? I cocked my head to the side.

Then he smiled at me and took my hand in his.

I still had no idea what had just happened, but seeing that familiar calm in his face again brought a little breath of relief. I curled my fingers around his, letting myself lean into the comfort.

Then his gaze seemed to flick upward, over my shoulder, and darkened by a shade. “You should go home,” he said. “This place is crawling with insects. I’d rather not see you bitten. I’ll escort you.”

“Huh? Insects? There was an insect?”

Oh, no, I started to panic. I hated insects. Couldn’t stand them. Never could. I thought it was still a little early in the season for them to be out, but maybe one rogue early riser had hitched a ride on me when I stepped outside?

Zane glanced down at me then, his mouth curling into yet another of those quiet, devastating smiles.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything crawl too close again.”

…Hm?

For a man talking about bugs, he was putting a suspicious amount of charisma into the delivery. But I didn’t give it much more thought as he led me back into the glittering warmth of the hall, our hands still linked.

Chapter 5: Lie and Truth

THREE months had passed since Zane and I began our little arrangement. By now, we were well into the timeline covered by Holy Maiden, Fated Knight. Though it was a completely different kind of relationship that had evolved in the novel, our relationship was, in fact…relationshipping.

Still, things could be better. Charlotte’s grand entrance was less than nine months away. Nine months to raise Zane’s affection as high as possible.

So, to that end, here I was on this day, with Zane once more, seated across from him at a shop famed for its divine sweets, on another one of our clockwork dates. Every ten days, without fail, he carved time out of what I could only imagine was an impossibly packed schedule just for me.

I took a bite of the apple tart before me. “Mmm! This is delicious. So delicious!”

“I’m glad,” Zane said with a small nod.

“Yes! It really is so, so delicious!” I went on.

“I can see that,” he replied evenly.

Yes, yes, you don’t have to tell me. My sense of vocabulary had abandoned me. But what could I do? The dessert in front of me was so good that it knocked the last functioning brain cell right out of my head. Zane, of course, gentleman that he is, didn’t comment. Just nodded and smiled, pleasant as ever.

Oh, he was so kind. Almost too kind. As much as it warmed me to be treated this way, I sometimes wondered if he wasn’t forcing himself.

“Um, My Lord Duke,” I began cautiously. “You know I’m happy to meet you like this every time, but you don’t have to keep squeezing me into your schedule.”

“I do not squeeze you into my schedule, Grace. I sweep it clear for you.”

“O-Oh, is that so?”

Indeed, Zane had started saying very sugary things to me more and more often over the past three months. His fake-lover game was improving at an alarming rate.

This was a problem. I was supposed to be the one making him fall for me. At this rate, if I wasn’t careful, I’d be the one falling. The only thing keeping me from tripping headfirst was the small matter of my life-or-death mission.

I mean, this was the Zane we were talking about. Handsome, beautiful, powerful, honorable, kind… There was no woman alive who could be treated in a special way by this perfect specimen and not feel some type of way.

“But I hear you’ve been quite busy yourself lately,” Zane said, drawing me from my thoughts.

“I suppose so.” I tilted my head, adopting a thoughtful pose. “Between Evan teaching me magic, my own projects, and studying for what lies ahead, I’ve had my hands full.”

“What lies ahead?” His brow lifted.

“Yes. My plans, my future. The life I want to live, and all that comes with it.”

That life, of course, was my cafeteria. In the time since, I’d secured a spot right in the heart of Myriel before the land prices spiked, and I’d been swept up in preparations ever since.

Fortunately, there was an existing building that suited my needs, so whenever I had a spare moment, I’d head over to get the place ready for opening. My favorite part of the whole process? Designing the menu and every bit of planning and cooking that went into it.

As an aside, I’ve also been making monthly visits to Zane’s estate to have tea and cook with Mariabelle. It’s always a highlight of my month. Mariabelle’s brilliance in the kitchen never fails to amaze me, and those afternoons are the little moments of peace I look forward to most.

She’s even been able to eat more lately, much to Zane’s relief.

Speaking of Zane, he was still giving me that sidelong look. “And what is this life you want to live?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing so important as to be worth troubling Your Grace over…” I replied.

Because truly, it shouldn’t matter to him. What’s it to a duke if someone like me ends up in a quiet little town, while he goes on living blissfully ever after with Charlotte?

Someone like me who, in the future, will horribly, terribly cuss you out and leave you… The thought pricked somewhere deep in my chest, and my head dipped.

“Grace. You really are…”

I lifted my gaze. “I’m what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Shall we go?”

Whatever he’d been about to say, I’d missed my chance to ask.

✶✶✶

WE left the café, and where he led me by the hand next was…a jewelry store. Not just any jewelry store, but one of the highest caliber.

I stopped dead, staring up at the opulent façade.

“Here, Grace,” his voice called out to me.

“A-Ah! Sorry…” I hurried after him.

Inside, the light all but blinded me—showcase upon showcase of diamonds and gems glittered like frost under the sun. My stomach tightened. Just imagining the price of a single piece, let alone all of them together, made my head spin.

Zane was clearly a favored patron; within moments, we were led into a private room at the back, where multiple attendants waited on us with polished smiles. At their urging, I found myself on a plush sofa right beside Zane.

“Were you looking to buy something, Your Grace?” I asked.

“Yes.” His tone left no room for hesitation. “I was thinking of gifting you a necklace.”

“Oh, you were thinking of gifting me a necklace,” I nodded. Then froze. “Me? Gifting me?”

Pause, pause, pause, pause!

The pieces brought out for us, laid one by one on the table, were even more dazzling than anything I’d seen in the front room. The gems were larger, their luster deeper. I was a complete amateur in these matters, yet even I could sense the staggering difference in price. Just gifting me one of these would be enough to make up for the favor he owed me and more. Wait. Could this be…a one-time lump-sum payment to end our arrangement? Cold sweat prickled at me.

“B-But why?” I asked. “It’s not my birthday or anything.”

“Because the second I take my eyes off you…” His gaze swept over me, quiet but intent. “I’m afraid you’ll disappear.”

“Huh? Have I…gotten lost before?”

“Playing dumb, hmm?” A faint smile curved his lips. “You really are a troublesome girl.”

And with that cryptic remark and alluring smile, so began the fitting.

Of nightmares.

No matter what the attendants asked me about my preferences, I had nothing to give. And everything looked good on me in the mirror, so that wasn’t exactly helping them narrow anything down. But Zane seemed determined not to leave without buying something.

I was quietly strategizing an escape when my gaze fell on a piece set at the very edge of the table.

“Um… what’s that?” I asked, pointing to it.

“That is a yellow diamond,” the attendant replied smoothly.

Compared to the others, it was smaller and more modest—but something about its golden hue caught my eye. Still, there was no way I could blurt out I want that one when its price was God knows how much.

When the attendant turned away for a moment, I leaned toward Zane and whispered, “I’m sorry, but nothing here is really to my liking.”

Because if I was going to be this direct, I really doubted he’d press the issue.

As expected, Zane gave a short nod and a quiet, “Understood.” Then he rose, saying he’d have a word with the attendant, and stepped out of the room. Relief washed over me.

✶✶✶

AS I boarded the carriage for the way home, Zane asked that I sit on the bench next to him. Curious, but compliant all the same, I moved around to his side, still holding on to his hand that had helped me up.

I thanked him for the helping hand; he nodded in kind, and it was then that he finally let go, only for him to take that hand and reach it into his pocket.

He produced a small box. Quietly, he flipped it open, tilted the box my way, and I froze.

My breath caught, my eyes widening as a soft gasp escaped me. Nestled inside, staring me in the face, was the yellow diamond necklace from the jeweler.

I flicked my gaze up at him. “But… Why…?”

“You really are a terrible liar,” he said, his voice smooth.

Terrible liar? So he’d seen through that whole “nothing’s to my liking” act? Not only seen through it, but acted on it, going so far as to buy the necklace I’d lingered on for only a heartbeat?

“Will you accept my gift?” His voice had gone almost sweet.