Chapter 11
The cover, which must have once been purple, had discolored into black. It looked poorly cared for, and inside there were many torn pages.
“This is something special I’m giving you. Since you’re a regular.”
“I’m not a regular.”
“The master and servant are one body. Naturally, that makes you a regular!”
“I’m one body all on my own, though.”
“Right, right!”
It seemed the old woman’s idea of “regular” and “one body” was different from what I knew. Humans were diverse, so it wasn’t surprising that things weren’t always the same.
Without thinking much of it, I paid for the book. Maybe I had become a “regular” just because I had bought so many novels the other day.
For several days, Herace and I had been exchanging letters, and in the end, we decided to attend the viscount’s tea party together. A few days ago, I had even sent him a scenario enclosed with the news.
For reference, there were Scenario A, Scenario B, and Scenario C. Before, I only divided Scenario A into variable situations A-1, A-2, A-3, but this was a big leap forward.
Unfortunately, the book the old lady from the bookshop treated as special wasn’t of much help. I thought it might have useful narratives, but it was full of theories about saints and holy men, and childish curses. On top of that, there were meaningless illustrations of half-beast, half-human figures.
‘I’m not a saint. And Herace isn’t some holy man either.’
In fact, there had only ever been one saint in this empire. Just once. And he died so quickly that people rarely even mentioned him. Instead, it was often called Mother’s mistake.
“That’s not the important part.”
Herace’s last letter had arrived only yesterday, and as always, it read like a riddle. Troubled, I reread our exchange:
-
This time, may I use that wish coupon?
-
Yes. I’m someone who can accept winning and losing cleanly.
-
If you can answer so briskly, I guess that means skinship is fine too.
-
That’s something we’d have to discuss, so perhaps we should put it on hold.
-
Don’t worry. I’ll take it step by step so you can adapt.
Step by step—did that mean he wanted to hold hands first? As I was mulling it over, Clara woke me from my thoughts.
“My lady, it’s time to go out.”
Even as she approached, I stayed still and asked,
“No letters came?”
“None, my lady.”
It was the perfect scenario. A reply full of exclamation points would’ve been normal. So why… why not?
‘Ah, could it be that!’
Maybe Herace was struck speechless and couldn’t send a letter. Or maybe he’d forgotten to say he’d follow it because it was already flawless.
At that thought, my lips loosened into a smile. My stiff, tense body relaxed as well.
“Did Duke Grey say he’d send you something? Shall I disguise myself to fetch it? What about a bush disguise!”
“…I’ll tell you if I ever need that.”
Who knew Clara would be so passionate about my love life. Sometimes she was so much like a detective that it made me suspicious, but more than that, I admired her.
‘Today’s scenario follows the laws of novels—but with an extra dramatic punch.’
I firmly believed we still needed to bicker.
Psychologically, people tend to feel more affection for those who were once unlikable but became likable, rather than those they liked from the start. If we applied this principle, then moving from a “troublesome” couple to a “lovable” one would double the impact.
Today’s novel law #1: we meet by coincidence. Since repeated coincidences are later called fate, it was perfect.
Novel law #2: we argue without caring about our surroundings. Protagonists often fought openly in public. And they always had the mental fortitude not to care about others’ gazes.
Most important of all—I had to storm out in tears. How thrilling would that be?
“I’ve already won, Herace.”
A real-life version of cutting the scene. Herace could never beat a scenario refined to this degree.
Viscount Haines, the host of this tea party, welcomed me warmly. He extended both hands as though he had been waiting just for me.
“Come in, please.”
For a moment, I almost thought I wasn’t a villainess but a saint. Thinking it must be a mistake, I blinked—but his attitude didn’t change.
“Everything has been prepared perfectly for you today.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“So beautiful. Your eyes, your hair, like jewels. I was a fool not to realize it until now.”
Only then could I assess the situation.
Unlike before, I had dressed up with full intention today. It seemed Viscount Haines was shocked by this flawless appearance, following the fashion of high society.
He must have judged that one had to maintain strict etiquette before someone who looked like nobility among nobles. A wise man indeed.
“If there’s anything at all you dislike about this party, please tell me. Lady Light is a most precious guest.”
“Then, thank you again for your warm welcome.”
“Please, be at ease. Enjoy everything.”
After finishing my graceful greeting, I sat at the table placed in the very center of the garden, as directed by Viscount Haines. Noble guests were already seated elsewhere.
“There’s something off here.”
Normally, a tea party would have one or two large tables, with guests divided among them to encourage close, lively conversation.
But my table was isolated, placed in the very center of the garden, apart from the others. Strange.
“Still, asking to change seats wouldn’t be very noble of me.”
Suppressing my urge to line the tables up neatly, I tried to think positively. This seat was perfect for a novel’s protagonist.
As I waited quietly, a familiar figure came into view. My partner and contract holder—Herace Grey.
Wearing glasses he didn’t usually wear, Herace sat across from me.
“Have your eyes always been bad?”
“That’s the first thing you say upon seeing me?”
Herace’s gaze deepened, the corner of his mouth turning down slightly.
“That’s your evaluation of me?”
“That’s not an evaluation—what I want to confirm first is whether we should act according to the scenario.”
“I asked first, didn’t I.”
Herace had no intention of backing down. In the end, I scrutinized him more carefully than before, from head to toe.
A violet vest embroidered with fine floral patterns, a neatly tailored jacket, and a purple brooch near his chest. A perfect outfit.
“It looks like the work of a master artisan. The silk embroidery subtly enhances your noble elegance.”
“Mhm.”
Herace frowned slightly, as if that wasn’t the point. I must have failed to read the meaning behind the outfit.
“The flower pinned to your jacket especially shows good taste. The purple rose is striking. They say purple roses symbolize imperfect love. But I don’t think you wore it for that meaning. I think you meant its other meaning—eternal love.”
“I didn’t know purple roses had two meanings. I thought it was just one.”
“Then I must have overlooked your true intent. Forgive me.”
“No. Eternal love, imperfect love—they both fit.”
Herace’s smile was sly yet tender. Resting his chin on his hand, he chuckled softly.
“They both fit, but the real reason I chose the purple rose is sitting right in front of me.”
“…You’re saying I’m the reason?”
“Yeah. This color—it’s you.”
