Chapter 14
Vidalia watched as the other girls pointed at Camélia and whispered among themselves. Her heart skipped a beat. Camélia pressed her lips together, staring at the door through which Angela had just fled, her expression troubled and embarrassed.
Vidalia already knew her sister was an idiot—but seeing her act like this was always just as unsettling. By brushing off the Duke of Greenwood's daughter so coldly, Angela had just revealed her true personality… and publicly humiliated Camélia's kindness.
That, Vidalia could not forgive.
She let out a trembling sigh. It wasn't her responsibility if her sister ruined her own life. Hugging the pastry box to her chest, Vidalia approached Camélia, who still hadn't moved.
"Miss Camélia?" Vidalia called softly, startling the girl and her friends.
"W–Who are you?" asked the indigo-eyed girl cautiously.
Vidalia blushed, barely restraining herself from screaming like an overexcited fan. Taking a discreet breath, she clutched the hem of her skirt.
"I am Miss Angela's servant," Vidalia said, bowing lightly as etiquette demanded. "My name is Vida."
"Oh… pleased to meet you, Vida," Camélia replied, clearly unsettled. "You're quite young to be a servant," she added in a murmur.
All eyes turned toward them. Several girls stared wide-eyed at Vidalia's perfect bow and formal introduction. Her age and appearance were certainly shocking—but that actually worked in Vidalia's favor.
It was strange that the servant had better manners than the young lady herself.
Vidalia smiled behind her veil.
"I apologize for her rudeness," Vidalia said politely. "Miss Angela tends to dislike people who are more beautiful than she is," she whispered, openly admiring Camélia's beauty without restraint.
With this veil on, she could stare as much as she wanted—Vidalia realized happily.
It would be wiser to stay on Camélia's good side. Perhaps one day she could find work at the ducal estate after escaping the Sullivan household… though she might have gone a little too far just now.
Camélia and the girls around her stared at Vidalia in shock.
"I–I mean!" Vidalia panicked. "She's just shy and sensitive! If you'd like, I can talk to her and explain—I'm sure she'll come apologize properly!"
She couldn't even hear herself anymore.
She just wanted to make a good impression on one of her favorite characters.
"There's no need to apologize," Camélia said gently, her eyes filled with compassion. "I was planning to apologize to her myself, but I'd be grateful if you could help me find her."
Vidalia wholeheartedly agreed. Spending time with Camélia? This day just kept getting better.
She glanced around the room—everyone was staring at her with pity. She wanted to sink into the floor from embarrassment.
Quickly, Vidalia followed Camélia to escape the unwanted attention. Before leaving, she cast one last look at the room.
She had changed Camélia's future.
"I don't see her," Camélia said, scanning the square outside.
She's not here. Angela was so foolish she ran off without even looking where she was going—and abandoned her servant without a second thought. Vidalia snorted, clutching the pastry box to her chest. The carriage was due in an hour. She wasn't worried about the self-proclaimed princess of the street—her sidewalk prince would surely escort her back to his shack.
Suddenly, the sound of horses shouting erupted from a nearby street.
Vidalia's eyes widened.
She didn't go and get herself killed, did she?!
At the mere thought of blood, Vidalia was ready to flee and start a new life in the sewers.
She rushed toward the commotion, Camélia following behind to her surprise. A crowd had already gathered. Pushing her way through despite a few scratches, Vidalia reached the front—
—and saw Angela crying in the arms of a blond teenage boy wearing an elegant, clearly expensive frock coat.
Vidalia glanced around and noticed a carriage with its door wide open.
It didn't take a genius to understand this cliché.
Angela had run, nearly gotten run over, and the worried passenger had stepped out—only to find a pretty girl in tears because of him and feel compelled to comfort her.
How tragic. How touching.
Vidalia rolled her eyes skyward.
And of course—this guy was literally a prince.
In the original novel, the prince found Angela crying in an alley, offered his help, listened to her story, then scolded his fiancée. But now? This was a real-world cliché.
The boy said something to Angela. Vidalia watched as they walked toward the carriage and helped Angela inside.
Then the boy turned his head.
Blond hair. Red eyes.
They vaguely reminded her of her mischievous friend.
Vidalia shook her head.
Arzhel was far more handsome—and at least he didn't belong to the royal family.
Edgar narrowed his eyes at the crowd. Vidalia followed his gaze and saw Camélia staring at him, tears shining in her eyes.
Then Vidalia froze.
Edgar shot Camélia a cold, hostile glare before climbing into the carriage. The coachman snapped the reins, and the carriage disappeared around the corner.
The crowd quickly dispersed.
Vidalia stuck her tongue out at the departing carriage before turning back to Camélia, who stood with her head lowered, fighting back tears.
Poor Lia. She deserved so much better.
Angela was a real bitch.
"Who was that guy? And why did she get into a complete stranger's carriage?!" Vidalia blurted out loudly, full of disgust.
Camélia looked at her, stunned.
"You mean… they didn't know each other before?" she asked quietly.
Vidalia turned to her. "Of course not! We just arrived in the capital—Angela doesn't know anyone here," she explained, then added innocently, "Do you know him?"
Camélia looked away, then sighed deeply.
"He's my fiancé," she said, her voice breaking.
Vidalia frowned.
So this was the guy who hurt her idol.
"What? Does he hug every crying girl and invite them into his carriage?" Vidalia snapped. "How can he glare at his fiancée like that and be so gentle with someone else?! What a jerk!"
She'd gone too far.
Camélia sniffled beside her, and Vidalia realized it immediately.
"I–I'm sorry, Miss!" Vidalia rushed to apologize. "I didn't mean to—"
But to her great surprise, Camélia burst out laughing, tears streaming down her face.
Vidalia blushed.
She was really too pretty.
"No, you're right," Camélia said with a weak smile. "I'll give him a piece of my mind next time I see him."
Suddenly, Vidalia caught a delicious scent.
Meat.
Naya glanced at her flatly, rolling her eyes.
No judgment.
Vidalia turned and spotted a grilled meat stand. Without hesitation, she grabbed Camélia—who yelped in surprise—and Naya, dragging them toward the vendor.
Her eyes sparkled at the sight of the dishes. It had been so long since she'd eaten meat.
"Two servings, please!" she said excitedly.
The vendor laughed and handed over the food. Vidalia beamed and paid with the pastry money. After all, Angela would never ask for the change—she probably didn't even know any was left.
Vidalia handed a plate to Camélia, who hesitated, staring at the meat like it was an alien object. She clearly had never eaten street food before.
Vidalia sat on a bench facing the square and patted the space beside her.
"This is the first time I've ever been in a situation like this," Camélia admitted, sitting down.
"When you're heartbroken, you eat," Vidalia said wisely, digging in.
She had no idea if that was true—she'd never had her heart broken. But the moment she took a bite, she moaned in delight.
It was so good.
She shared small pieces with her fairy friend, who nearly cried from happiness.
So much for judging her.
"I'm not heartbroken," Camélia denied, taking a small bite—then freezing. "Oh! This is delicious!" she exclaimed, eyes shining.
Vidalia laughed at her reaction.
Camélia was adorable.
"When that boy speaks badly to you and paints you as the villain of the story, you'll be sad," Vidalia said. "Angela will complain—trust me. She'll do it all week."
And Vidalia would have to listen to every single complaint.
She sighed, eyes closed. Doomed.
"How can you speak so freely about a young lady?" Camélia asked, raising an eyebrow. "And you know etiquette perfectly… are you a noble?"
Vidalia tilted her head, thinking.
Her grandfather was a noble. He had adopted her mother. And her biological father was also a noble—an awful one, but still.
As for etiquette, she had attended all of Angela's lessons from the beginning. Madame Elva had always insisted she stay—probably because no one wanted to be alone with Angela.
At least the Sullivan household had been useful for something.
"No," Vidalia said casually. "She's my half-sister."
Camélia choked on her meat.
"A–Are you alright?" Vidalia asked, alarmed.
Camélia waved it off, coughing.
"She's your half-sister?!" she exclaimed. "So the rumor is true…?"
Vidalia scratched her cheek awkwardly. Why did her instincts tell her she could trust the moon-haired girl?
"Please don't tell anyone," Vidalia said quickly. "I don't want to be involved in all this."
Camélia studied her for a moment, then sighed.
"Alright. It doesn't concern me anyway," she said calmly.
Vidalia felt her heart melt.
She was falling in love.
"Is it true that Miss Angela dislikes people who are more beautiful than she is?" Camélia asked casually, watching the passersby.
Vidalia stiffened.
She hadn't spoken to people this much in ages—and now she was blurting things out without thinking.
"I—uh…" Vidalia stammered.
Camélia turned to her, brows furrowed.
"Is that why you wear a veil?" she asked gently.
"Y–Yes… and no," Vidalia replied, looking away. "I look like my mother."
Her gaze drifted forward, filled with longing.
"She hated my mother," Vidalia said quietly. "Elysia hated her."
Camélia took Vidalia's hand and squeezed it, offering silent comfort.
Vidalia looked at her in surprise—then smiled softly.
Arzhel had done the same once.
A few minutes later, Camélia stood up.
"It's time for me to go," she said with a sad smile. "This was my first time eating street food… it was wonderful." She laughed softly. "Thank you, Vida. I promise I'll return the favor next time."
Vidalia nearly cried.
She had made a friend.
"I'm the one who should thank you," Vidalia said, standing and turning to her.
"For what?" Camélia asked, curious.
"For everything," Vidalia replied, bowing lightly before leaving.
~~~~~~
Vidalia returned to the Sullivan manor with a light heart. She had never felt like this before. Since arriving in this world, her life had been an emotional roller coaster—and she was certain it would only intensify in the future.
But she wasn't alone anymore.
She handed the pastry box to a cook before heading off to rest, waiting for Angela's return.
It was time to forget the past and focus on the present—to prepare for the future.
Maybe she could even enjoy herself.
Who knew?
She recalled her sister's memories, the novel she had devoured in her past life. A long sigh escaped her lips as she gazed at the sky through the large window.
They said you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
Angela was the perfect example.
How could she have ever loved—admired—idolized someone so arrogant, condescending, and narcissistic?!
A mistake of youth, she told herself.
She slid down the corridor wall with a groan of despair. Naya looked at her with pity, shaking her head and patting her cheek, trying not to laugh.
Vidalia narrowed her green eyes at her mocking fairy friend.
So many regrets.
If only she still had some meat to comfort herself.
Forgetting the past would be difficult—with one of her greatest regrets as her mistress.
She should probably start stockpiling good meat, Vidalia thought, mouth watering as she brushed her dresses aside.
To be continued.