Oh my, to think Her Ladyship discovered me already.
Even under the guise of a sunny day, a tempest seemed to surge behind her, clouds roiling with thunder and shadows creeping across the light. Ett could feel the weight of that scrutiny pressing against her, as though the very air had thickened and darkened her vision. She cleared her throat, lifting her chin with a delicate, controlled gasp that barely concealed her amusement.
"Amazing," she murmured, letting the words linger like a soft echo. "You can do both; no wonder the other empires never caught on."
Akan's eyes flickered with a casual amusement, the kind born of someone used to admiration and envy alike.
"Hm? That seems a bit... Ah! Worry not, Your Ladyship. My gaze is only for women."
Ett let that pass. For now, she would believe it.
"Yet you're good at seducing men, too, hm?"
The words barely left her lips before a cold shiver ran down her spine. Dangerous. The man or was it still a man in disguise has held a presence that clawed at reason itself. Males, females, none were immune.
And she had that peculiar sense of recognition, a memory of familiarity that whispered of Akan's every calculated move. He was an annoyance she could read like the back of her hand, and that made him all the more perilous.
"Well, it's their own fault," he said, arrogance dripping from every syllable.
Hah. Such impertinence.
"Then you, my maid," she said, the observation quiet but laden with weight.
"Mhmmm," came the soft reply, deliberate and measured. Ett watched him closely.
Every step, every tilt of his smile was an exercise in refinement and etiquette. Even as he moved casually, there was an undeniable elegance to him. Her gaze fell briefly on the way he accentuated his chest.
"How much cotton did you put in?" she asked, the curiosity masked in casual indifference.
"Enough to draw attention and heavy enough to make it bounce," he replied, demonstrating with a practiced motion that made the subtle movement appear almost natural.
Big…bounce…
She recalled her old manga readings. His exaggeration was uncannily realistic, unnervingly so. Ett's mind wandered for a split second, imagining her own form and its differences, before the thought receded.
"Shall we enter your new abode, Your Ladyship?"
"Very well."
Inside, the room glimmered with an opulence that made her palace chamber feel like a tomb.
She lingered on the threshold, the bright sunlight spilling over polished floors, gilded moldings, and soft tapestries. It was beautiful, yes, but she felt like an interloper, unworthy of such warmth and light.
"Your room lies adjacent to mine, Your Ladyship. Call upon me should you need anything. I shall prepare your bath."
"Hah."
"I could even assist you with your garments, if you desire," Akan added, his tone teasing but precise.
Ett shuddered.
Experience was written in every inflection of his voice, every flicker of movement. He had served countless women in such ways, though never crossed boundaries that mattered.
"Out."
"As you command."
She sank into the chair by the window, letting the sunlight illuminate her fatigue. Her gaze drifted across the room and back into memory.
This was where the male lead would study, and yet the female lead the one not yet adopted by the baron would come later, exceptional even among her peers, tutored by a viscount before entering the academy.
"This is where other transmigrators starts their path, academy, schools route." Heh.
Ett allowed herself a brief flicker of curiosity: who, among these prodigies, might one day pose a threat to Guren? Could they even be allies? The thought dissolved as quickly as it arose.
The male lead was incorruptibly virtuous, and Guren…a collision was inevitable. Yet if the boy were twisted early, perhaps a path could be guided. Ett had no stake here beyond the unseen hand of the Dean and the necessary observation of events.
"I really wanted to sleep."
She stretched her hands lazily. So tired. But she could not rest in sweat, nor could she neglect protocol.
Eru came to mind. Where had she been these months? Did her absence from the palace signal something amiss? Ett's chest tightened slightly. Even brief concern was unfamiliar, yet persistent. Would the audience have remembered her if she did not intervene? Could the sweet, overlooked Eru still exist as in the first chapters?
"Your bath is prepared, Your Ladyship. Permit me to serve you," Akan's voice sliced through her thoughts, a playful edge hidden beneath respectful formality.
"Roll," Ett said firmly.
"Yes, yes," he replied, with the measured obedience of a chameleon who knew every shade of human expectation.
In the novel, his proficiency was darker, more intimate in cruelty. He had the ability to disassemble people slowly, savoring terror without committing direct murder.
A dangerous talent one Ett would never underestimate. The butterfly effect of allowing someone like him freedom could twist events into nightmares. Keeping him close, restrained, yet useful, was a necessity she understood instinctively.
The next day, the academy's halls awaited them. Professors had finished the tour, and students were guided into the ceremonial hall. Ett and her classmates took their seats, each aware of the other's presence but maintaining the delicate balance of formality. Ember-eyed, radiant, the child was seated beside her once again. Ett's gaze swept the room, mapping intentions and positions.
Why did this one linger at her side, peeking at moments during the tour? Perhaps the girl's parents sought to cultivate connections with the Archduke's daughter. Ett's glance slid over her chest, noting rank and lineage a daughter of an earl from the northern reaches. An acquaintance of the male lead was likely, and even minor influence must be accounted for.
Leeches could not be allowed free access.
The welcoming ceremony began with applause and official greetings. Ett observed every detail, noting the distinction between courtesy and true intention. Then, the Dean approached, a figure of imposing grace. White hair flowed past shoulders, tall and straight, movements precise, eyes carrying both experience and measured judgment.
A noble presence sharpened by time, every gesture spoke of years carved in discipline. Even in youth, Ett recognized a rare capability here, a mind and soul untarnished by complacency.
Again, they made eye contact, and Ett's pulse shifted slightly.
"…then students, may you learn and serve Adiand without shaming your empire when you graduate."
Short, measured, almost perfunctory. Yet the weight behind the words lingered.
Now, the male lead. She sought him in the sea of students. At the front, just as described: white hair bright as moonlight, eyes dark as midnight, laughter spilling into the world, lighting hearts with its pure energy. A contrast to shadows that had haunted Ett's memory, a force untouched by tragedy yet she contemplated the eventual cruelty to come.
The death of his sister, the sharpening of his resolve, all followed. Ett's thoughts darkened, strategic and unfeeling, noting how events must proceed to preserve narrative integrity and personal objectives.
Then, the earl's daughter approached, eyes bright with excitement. Childhood friend, she said. Ett watched closely, mapping every gesture, every inflection. A minor player in the grand tale, yet perhaps useful.
"Do me the honor of introducing me," Ett said quietly.
The girl hesitated for barely a heartbeat before nodding. In the garden, amidst blooms of pale blue roses, the scene was set. Black roses, Ett thought, would have suited her better. Here, colors bled from nature itself, unadulterated, unmanipulated, yet still stunning.
"Lady Ettna!" came a voice, crisp and polite. "I am Erecid, second son of Garth."
Polite, precise, respectful. Even in youth, he carried the weight of lineage and expectation. Ett observed microexpressions, a millisecond's frown as he acknowledged her concern for his father.
The conversation unfolded, cautious and measured, children aware of Guren's shadow over their actions. Ett teased, observed, and cataloged reactions, noting their fear and respect, the strange combination that only the strong could inspire.
"Don't bother me further," she said finally, a dismissive but light note. The garden returned to quiet.
Now that she sees this little guy, Ett's wondering about the other son. Veralis. Hm, surely he is still alive.