It Lacks Originality, I Think…

Anna came to summon her for lunch as well, but when Marguerite asked, “Please forgive me now—could you tell them that I was crying and have returned to the kitchen?” Anna made an indescribable face and left Marguerite behind.

She waited for a while, but no one came to fetch her again, so she decided to believe that Lady Yumila had accepted it.

It seemed Yumila had chosen to corner Marguerite without meeting her face to face.

“Are you listening!? You are not fit for this house!! House de Broy is a family of long history. Its origins trace back to the Battle of the White Lily that led to the founding of the kingdom—”

The sound of Anna slamming the table and her angry shouts grew more intense.

‘I’m being bullied… but they still let me eat, so they’re kind.’

They were likely worried that if she grew too thin, attending banquets would expose discord to the royal family. In any case, as long as they were trying to obey the royal order, Marguerite’s safety was assured.

Having faced Yumila directly, Marguerite understood that the shouting and noise were the extent of their show of force.

So no matter how loudly the table was banged—

‘They’re like little kittens with their fur standing on end…’

—she could not help but feel oddly warm inside.

When she returned to her room after finishing her meal, her dresses and shoes were gone.

Hidden, or thrown away—either way, whoever had sneaked into her room must have been perplexed by how few belongings she had.

Her only accessory, the coral pendant, was always worn close to her skin, so they probably had not known what to take to make their harassment effective.

Her books, the next most precious thing to her after the pendant, had been left behind—likely deemed meaningless.

‘It’s a relief they left my books. I’ll put these in the library.’

If she slipped them in among House de Broy’s collection, they would be safe from harm.

‘Now then, I’ll have to look for my dresses and shoes.’

This time, she resolved to search desperately, fail to find them, grow sad, and appear properly wretched.

After a while, Marguerite learned that she had, at least on the surface, satisfied Yumila’s wishes.

When she showed her face from the northern annex to the main building, servants who had been lying in wait swarmed her with insults.

“My, what a dreadful sight! I thought you were some kind of beggar.”

“To think someone dressed like that married into House de Broy.”

“If it were me, I’d die of shame.”

“At least clean her up for pity’s sake!”

She was shoved hard. Then—splash!—water was dumped over her head.

When Marguerite crouched down and began to sniffle, the servants laughed and walked away.

“……”

Once she confirmed their voices were gone, Marguerite returned to a blank expression.

Of course, she was not hurt at all.

‘Passing, but just one step short…!’

Clenching her lips so no sound escaped, Marguerite furrowed her brow.

‘First of all, the water wasn’t muddy! Just plain water! Cold, but not enough to make me shake! Not boiling water either! Half-hearted—everything is half-hearted…! And after harassing someone, you shouldn’t just leave—you need to stay and press the attack!’

They had probably imitated popular novels. One of the books Marguerite had read in the library had a similar scene: a beautiful maid working in a mansion suffered this kind of abuse and cried softly alone.

But being left alone meant no further harassment would follow, which for an advanced practitioner like Marguerite was practically a rest period.

Crouched in the corner of the corridor, fists clenched and trembling, she must have looked like a pitiful girl—though her inner thoughts were the complete opposite.

“What are you doing here?”

At the voice, Marguerite looked up.

Lucien was approaching from down the corridor.

He came to her side, noticed that both she and the area around her were soaked, and frowned with his refined features.

“What is the meaning of that state?”

“I—no…”

“My mother’s orders?”

“……”

She wanted to say “probably,” but she did not know. Marguerite’s silence looked like fear to Lucien.

“You provoked my mother. Have you learned the lesson of your foolishness? …If you have something to say, say it.”

“It lacks originality, I think…”

“What?”

“N-no, it’s nothing. I believe my own attitude was at fault.”

“…I see.”

“I’ve been thinking about how I might avoid offending everyone…”

Marguerite lowered her brows.

“A dinner party.”

“Pardon?”

“In one week, my mother will host a dinner party at this estate. Members of the royal family are scheduled to attend. If you conduct yourself well there, her anger may subside. You said you could do it, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Marguerite nodded. It was likely a dinner party meant to demonstrate obedience to the royal order. If she behaved appropriately as Lucien’s wife, Yumila might acknowledge her.

At the same time, she understood the reason for Yumila’s anger. Preparing a dinner party was the lady of the house’s duty. Yumila must be busy and stressed, and had wanted to vent it on Marguerite.

“We’ll prepare the dress and accessories. We can’t have you appear at a dinner party dressed like that.”

“Thank you for telling me, Lord Lucien.”

She had learned both what lay ahead and something of Yumila’s situation.

Marguerite’s expression bloomed into a bright smile.

“After all, Lord Lucien truly is a kind person.”

“…!”

Lucien caught his breath. Without returning her courtesy, he turned on his heel and quickly walked away.

Marguerite did not know that his cheeks were faintly tinged with red.

‘If that’s the case, I want to help relieve my mother-in-law’s stress, even a little…!’

As always, she was resolutely determined—entirely in the wrong direction.