The Count's eyes widened in astonishment.
"Are you proposing a wager with me?"
"Predicting my misfortune without any basis is no different from casting a curse on me. At the very least, you should place a proper bet."
"They said you accomplished nothing despite the position your aunt arranged for you! Looking at that, your future is plain to see!"
"Really? It's remarkable how someone who couldn't even anticipate my rebuttal can so easily declare my future."
"Ugh…" The Count ground his teeth.
"Fine. The world is indeed full of the unexpected. Especially when I recall how you, who were always faultless in your etiquette, were fumbling during the spring tea party!"
Ugh, the memory of that day made my mind momentarily blank.
February of this year. The thing that made my life most difficult after possessing Dory's body was aristocratic etiquette. I barely managed to evade the Count and Countess's suspicious gazes by spending sleepless nights reading etiquette books to master the basics.
Around March, the Countess hosted a tea party inviting the third prince. I thought I could just quietly sip my tea during the event.
But between the overly tight corset, the nervousness of being in front of my future husband, and his infuriatingly crooked gaze, I made a series of small mistakes that left Tristan sighing audibly.
Still, I stood my ground.
"Have I embarrassed the family even once since that day? I've learned from my mistakes and improved every day. So why is Father so eager to confine me to the past? Is it because that's the only excuse you have left to chastise me?"
"You, you… How dare you speak to your father like that!"
"I'm practically on the brink of being sent to a convent and having to serve a new father figure. Why should I hold my tongue?"
"…."
"Let me ask again. If I succeed in winning the prince's heart, what will you grant me as a dowry?"
"Hmph, if you manage that, I'll give you whatever you want! If you forge a connection with the royal family, there's nothing I wouldn't provide!"
"Really?"
When I stepped back and glanced around the house, the Count panicked and frantically waved his hands.
"Wait! I don't mean literally everything. I just mean I'll ensure preparations that won't bring shame to the royal family!"
"Understood. I'll trust you."
"Ahem. But! If you fail to win the prince's heart by the end of this social season, you're going to the convent. Don't expect another chance next year!"
"I understand."
Even with his voice rising in a thinly veiled threat, I replied calmly, leaving the Count scowling as he swallowed his frustration. I maintained a steady expression, bowed politely, and left his study.
Me, to the convent, and my dowry to Natalie?
Not a chance.
'The opposite will happen.'
Having endured today's barrage of nonsense, I was about to return to my room when someone blocked my path.
Approaching with a soft scent of perfume was a striking beauty with fiery red hair like a blooming rose.
"Sister?"
It was my second sister, Natalie Redfield.
She curled her lips into a sly smile.
"Hello, my darling little sister, Dory."
Charming. I'd sooner feel more affection meeting an ex-boss on the street.
Though the original story barely touched on Natalie's interactions with Dory, her actions as a villainess were predictable.
Mocking her unpopular younger sister.
And my prediction was spot on.
"I heard you didn't manage a single dance with Prince Tristan today?"
"Yes. You're well-informed, I see."
"Oh my, really? I was only teasing because your attire suggested no one would have chosen you. But to think it was true!"
Natalie tipped her chin and let out a sharp, exaggerated laugh. Even her laughter was a perfect caricature of a classic villainess.
"Prince Tristan may be like that, but to think even other men merely passed you by. How pitiful. Without the prince, you have no place to go, isn't that right?"
Her taunt was painfully typical.
But I didn't feel angry.
Despite all her efforts as a villainess, her fate was a one-way ticket to a convent in disgrace. What a pity. How did you even end up as a villainess?
Maintaining a calm smile, I replied, "Indeed. It would've been nice if I were half as beautiful as you, Sister."
30% flattery, 70% genuine sentiment.
If I had to possess someone, I wish it had been a beauty.
Instead, I ended up in a side character without even a defined face, leaving me mostly as my original self. It's a bit of a bummer.
Now then, what would the villainess say?
'Should I share half my beauty?' 'Perhaps you'd be better off being reborn entirely?' I half-expected such lines as I tilted my head.
…Huh?
Natalie seemed flustered.
"D-Dory. What did you just say?"
"Pardon?"
What's wrong with her? Did I accidentally say something offensive?
"I said I'm envious of how beautiful you are, Sister."
"And then?"
"That's all!"
The idea of being called beautiful must be something she's heard her entire life. Why would she be surprised?
"Well… Unlike my somewhat ordinary carrot-colored hair, your hair is as vibrant as flames, and your posture is impeccable…"
Even as I continued listing her attributes, Natalie's startled expression didn't ease. Soon, her eyes narrowed.
"Compliments out of the blue? That's unusual."
"Have I never complimented you before?"
"Maybe you have, but it's hard to remember since you always follow it up with, 'Inner beauty is more important. I'd rather read books than waste time on makeup.'"
"…"
"Ugh, whatever. You're ruining my mood."
Natalie twirled a strand of her fiery red hair.
"For the next ball, choose a proper dress, will you? It seems there isn't a single man in this country sophisticated enough to appreciate your so-called 'inner beauty.'"
With those sarcastic words, Natalie walked away. I stared blankly at her retreating figure.
Did she just say Dory used to go on about inner beauty?
Hmm…
I do enjoy reading more than dressing up, but I've never thought that books and appearances were mutually exclusive.
Now that I think about it, wasn't this novel published around 20 years ago?
Back then, it was all about how villains only cared about looks, how women who focused on their appearances were shallow, and how villains were always other women's enemies…
Not that I plan to defend a villain who picks fights with her little sister.
Villains are meant to be dealt with by the heroine, after all.
Considering I'll be dragged to countless events until this social season ends…
Might as well enjoy all the desserts I couldn't afford in Korea!
Of course, the best treat will be watching Tristan's embarrassing moments unfold.
Regret it all later, will you!
***
Club Ares.
Named after the god of war, the place reeked not of valor but of indulgence. At one of its tables, a man threw down his cards.
"I'm done! Two pairs with Queens twice in a row? Are all the Queen cards drawn to you or what?"
"The Queen recognizes her King, I suppose."
Despite another victory, Tristan didn't seem particularly pleased. He set his cards down as well. A waiter, sensing the end of the poker game, promptly prepared brandy.
Instead of reaching for the glass, Tristan's gaze turned to the club's door. For the past two hours, the thick velvet-covered door had remained unopened.
"If I'm not mistaken, it's rather quiet for a Saturday. Do you know why, Alex?"
"Well… Maybe it's just the bad weather."
"What a convenient excuse. So convincing."
Tristan turned his eyes to his old friend. Alex shifted uncomfortably before conceding defeat.
"There's a new private salon that meets every Saturday. It's called the Sacred Salon."
"A first for me. What do they have there? Fairies juggling fire?"
For a weekly event to thrive, it must offer extraordinary entertainment. But Alex's answer was unexpected.
"Scandals."
"…What?"
"They gamble on scandals in high society. From who'll dance with whom, to when some noble's affair will be exposed, to divorces and beyond."
"…"
Tristan's well-defined brows twitched in rare, peculiar shapes.
"Something so… so beneath anyone but those whose only joy in life is gossiping at the corner of a ballroom… and it's thriving on a weekly schedule?"
"That's right."
"For once, I understand why my grandmother laments, 'Today's youth are utterly depraved.'"
At last, Tristan picked up his glass. Alex continued explaining.
"It apparently started as a small gathering of noblewomen whose daughters had debuted a few years ago but hadn't yet married."
"Hmm."
"But as the group grew, discussions expanded to estates, business ventures, hidden heirs, and mistresses. Naturally, scandal-lovers of all ages flocked to it."
"That's odd. The larger such groups become, the more diluted their information usually gets… Unless."
Tristan quickly realized what he'd overlooked.
"Who runs this salon?"
The quality of a gathering depends entirely on its leadership. Alex grinned.
"That's the kicker. The host is a woman called 'Madam Abigail.'"
"Never heard of her."
"Of course not. It's an alias. Everyone at the salon wears masks, Madam Abigail included. But she's said to know all the secrets of the capital's nobility and influential figures."
Lowering his voice, Alex added:
"Some even joke that she might be the Queen herself."
"What? That's absurd! My mother would never—"
"It's just an exaggerated metaphor. It means she knows a lot."
"She'd faint if she heard such nonsense!"
"Which is why I wasn't going to tell you. If you're this shocked, imagine how others would react."
"They'd probably try to destroy the place. Hah…"
"Good. Then keep it to yourself, all right?"
"Who'd believe me anyway? Consider it forgotten."
"By the way…" Alex hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping.
"How's the breakup plan coming along?"
"What? Breakup?"
Tristan flinched like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. Alex looked equally startled.
"Why are you so surprised? Weren't you planning to stage a scandal with some lady and cut ties with your current fiancée?"
"…"
"You said it was your goal for the year during our New Year's drinks. Don't tell me you've had a change of heart?"
"…No. Of course not."