Chapter 1

“You useless brat!”

The impact of the slap sent me, Agnes Eventail, flying until my back slammed hard against the solid stone wall of the living room. I stumbled and collapsed onto the floor, then pushed myself up to look at the man who had struck me—my own father.

“To think you couldn’t ensnare a prince, let alone a lower-ranking count’s son! Do you have any idea how much money I’ve poured into you over these past seventeen years? You’re a parasite on this Marquis house!!”

I stood up slowly and rubbed my swollen cheek, only to find blood on my wrist. It looked like the corner of my mouth had been cut.

“I am terribly sorry.”

As I calmly pulled out a handkerchief to wipe my mouth, I observed my father as he continued to rant and rave, hoping to avoid further scolding.

My poor, pathetic father seemed to believe without a shadow of a doubt that I was capable of capturing the hearts of noble sons.

Anyone with even a modicum of sense could see that such a thing was impossible.

“The Potato Lady.”¹

That was the nickname the nobles of my generation whispered behind my back in high society.

The prestigious Marquis House of Eventail.

Our family was only called that back in my great-grandfather’s era, when he served as the Prime Minister’s right hand.

Nowadays, the family did nothing but take pride in its bloodline, clinging to the “good old days” when we were at our peak.

Having abandoned any attempt to adapt our lifestyle or businesses to the modern era, our house was now perceived by everyone around us as “fossil nobles”—unappealing relics with moldy values.

Time had stopped for my family; they lived in the present while trapped in the past.

Naturally, that outdatedness applied to me as the daughter of this house as well.

Since childhood, I had been forced to dress like a “proper noble lady” from that bygone era. I was drilled in the education of that time, and if I showed even the slightest interest in anything trendy, it was met with total rejection.

Consequently, I couldn’t keep up with the conversations of other ladies my age.

They had no interest in the archaic topics I was knowledgeable about, and a distance naturally formed between us.

The result was a relationship where I was unilaterally mocked and snickered at whenever we met.

It wasn’t just the ladies; it was the same among noblemen of marriageable age. If anything, they were worse.

They would look at me with blatant, ridiculing smirks and even invented a “punishment game” where the loser had to confess their love to me. Ultimately, they branded me with that disgraceful nickname, “The Potato Lady.”

By the way, “Potato” was their favorite label for me.

It’s true that our family estate is in the countryside, but still…

I stood up unsteadily and left the room to escape my father. It was dangerous to stay there.

“Hey! I’m not finished talking to you!”

My father’s shouting echoed from behind the door, but he would likely calm down in a bit.

While his anger at my incompetence wouldn’t vanish, his brain would eventually recover enough to weigh his impulsive rage against the risk of leaving a permanent scar on a daughter he still needed for a political marriage.

—Well, as long as he isn’t picky about the groom, I suppose a political marriage is still possible.

At any rate, I was exhausted from the party at the Earl’s estate. I brushed the dust off my hand-me-down dress, rushed into my small bedroom, and shut the door.

“Sigh… I’m truly worn out. That estate was so far away.”

Outside the window, the world was already dyed in the colors of the dark, and an owl hooted somewhere in the distance.

Lifting the hem of my dress somewhat roughly, I threw myself onto the sofa, letting my simmering frustrations take the lead.

“Honestly, it’s infuriating! What does he mean, ‘Go ensnare a fiancé candidate’? As if I could ever pull that off! That count’s son likes delicate, glamorous beauties. I’m the exact opposite—the Potato Lady!!”

If anything, I was big-boned, possessing a sturdy build for a girl.

Perhaps due to my skeletal structure, no matter how hard I struggled, I could never become slender or dainty.

Then there were my incredibly thick eyebrows, hair so coarse and voluminous that it was impossible to manage, and the forced, overly traditional makeup.

To top it all off, I was wearing a white dress handed down from my grandmother and antique accessories that had certainly seen better days.

They had been forced upon me under the excuse that the quality was high and the size was roughly the same.

Unlike my grandmother, who had black hair, my hair was a silver so pale it was almost white, and my skin was on the fair side as well.

…Do you see the problem? If someone like me wore white, I became entirely monochromatic.

I could have blended into the white curtains of the count’s grand hall and no one would have noticed I was there.

Furthermore, dresses made in the old style were incredibly heavy.

Nowadays, lightweight dresses were being manufactured everywhere, but my family shunned them, claiming such things were “cheap-looking.”

The Princess herself wore them, so I wanted to ask what on earth could be cheap about that.

Since our house wasn’t particularly wealthy, I had obeyed in silence, but I still felt a lingering sense of resentment.

In a venue filled with glamorous young ladies, I was the only one who clearly stood out like a sore thumb.

There was no way a count’s son would choose such a conspicuously awkward woman as his future partner.

Our house had sent a proposal for a political marriage to his family, but nothing had been officially decided yet.

The plan was for us to close the distance at today’s party and make the match known to those around us.

However, the count’s son himself spent the entire time escorting another lady as if fleeing from an engagement with me, even going so far as to dance with her repeatedly in front of everyone.

The guests surely recognized that lady as the count’s son’s true partner.

Then, as the finishing blow right before the party ended, he publicly declared his courtship to her.

“Wait… what…?”

It was ridiculous.

What was the point of me attending that agonizing party?

Why did I endure that heavy dress for all those hours?

Why did I travel all that way by carriage to the count’s estate?

The nobles who knew of the situation looked at me and snickered. “Well, what can you expect when the opponent is the ‘Potato Lady’…?” they whispered.

Give me a break. This was supposed to be a political engagement based solely on mutual interest.

As for the Count and Countess, they gave me a quick “We’re so sorry” afterwards, then promptly wrote a letter to my father declining the engagement proposal and entrusted it to me.

I couldn’t exactly bring myself to say, “No, please send the letter separately,” so I ended up accepting it. I handed it to my father, and that was why I got hit.

By the way, regarding the previous matter with the prince, I had been forced to participate in the scramble for the position of the Second Prince’s consort, only to be defeated without ever getting a single chance to speak with him.

Even now, only bitter memories remained of that ordeal.