~Tpmma 08~

Chapter 8

I dodged the question skillfully.

“It’s nothing remarkable. I just thought that, for the two of them, there were stronger reasons not to greet each other than to do so.”

“Reasons not to?”

“And I have no reason to explain him, either. Excuse me.”

I slipped away from the cluster of people listening. The back of my head itched.

“How did she know?”

“I thought she’d be useless at this kind of thing since she’s always holed up reading books… but she acts like she knows everything…”

Well, it’s thanks to all the reading.

Once I put some distance between myself and the crowd, a maid lowered her voice to ask:

“Miss… could you at least tell me?”

“I’ve already decided.”

That cut her off immediately. Who would believe me even if I told them I knew the story?

Eight years ago, Maria’s parents followed a conman who promised great wealth and ended up abandoned in the desolate North. That place was none other than the Frost Hill territory.

While her parents struggled with every hardship to adapt to the North, the neglected Maria became a target for slave traders—but just in time, young Master Arthur, passing by, rescued her.

From then on, things became predictable.

They became friends, occasionally quarreled, then reconciled with Arthur bringing her snacks at the duke’s mansion, Maria reading books to Arthur when he didn’t feel like studying, their hands brushing by accident, and both turning red…

By the time they reached sixteen—friends, yet more than friends—disaster struck.

Monsters scaled the castle walls, and Maria’s mother was sacrificed.

Maria’s father lost all reason, insulting the Northern Duke with, “How can one who cannot even protect their own people be treated as a duke?” and, unable to tolerate such a barbaric place, fled the North with his daughter.

Afterward, he entrusted Maria to their relative, Baron Meyer, to be raised as a proper lady, insisting that she forget the hardships of the North entirely.

Meanwhile, the Northern Duke, furious that the South would remain oblivious to their sacrifices, ordered his son never to associate with Southerners again.

The two teenagers likely understood both fathers’ perspectives—most keenly, that their first love could never be realized.

Five years later, Maria, deliberately debuting late in society to avoid her first love, unexpectedly reunites with him, thinking the same thing.

When they ran into each other earlier, their pupils must have shaken like earthquakes.

In their heads, they were shouting: Don’t act like you know me. Don’t get close again!—but their hearts were racing.

It was cute.

And also… enviable.

I wonder if anyone likes me. Someone I could poke in the side and get affection from, rather than a fiancé I’m supposed to marry.

…Probably not.

“Time to head home.”

“Understood! I’ll fetch the carriage!”

The maid ran toward the doormen at the entrance.

I pretended to take one last glance at the botanical garden scenery, surveying the area.

It felt like someone was watching me.

Usually, when you think ‘it must be my imagination’, it isn’t.

But I couldn’t spot the culprit.

Whoever it was, I hoped they’d speak up whenever they wanted. I was irritated just thinking of my ex-boyfriend, who filed complaints at the library every time we fought.

By the time April was coming to a peaceful close,

my father, at the breakfast table, wore a sour expression as he spoke.

“Natalie… it seems fewer suitors have come to see you this year than last. What do you think?”

The arrow of scolding unexpectedly struck my sister.

But I couldn’t relax. If you aim at the powder keg, you’ll catch some sparks too!

The powder keg, Natalie replied gracefully:

“It’s a good thing for Mother. She has less trouble entertaining unworthy suitors with tea and smiles.”

“Is this the time to speak as if it’s someone else’s business? You’re already twenty-three. You need to marry this year!”

Father hesitated briefly, then added:

“Of course, it can’t be just anyone. Find a man with status and wealth!”

Mother’s delicate voice interjected:

“Natalie, how about going to the chapel with me this weekend? If you show piety, the other ladies will notice you again.”

“I’ll pass. I have no desire to watch Mother flaunt donations to the nuns while pretending to be pious.”

“How can you speak like that? Even investments in the chapel are for your benefit, right, Dory?”

The arrow returned to me.

Is Dory always the one to side with Mother in these situations?

But he was still busy eating, so no answer came.

“Ugh… hahah…”

“…Dory. Haven’t you been eating a lot lately?”

“Ah, no!”

Mother frowned and instructed the maid:

“From now on, no snacks in Dory’s room. And when putting him in a ball gown for a banquet, tighten the corset an extra inch!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You need to control your appetite! Tch, how can a lady eat like a goat…”

The atmosphere was utterly ruined.

Natalie jumped up as if her appetite had vanished:

“Today, tell the suitors I’m not here. I don’t think I can say anything good in this mood.”

“Natalie! Even as a titleholder, you must at least meet them—”

“If you want to see a titleholder humiliated at the Count’s mansion, go ahead and call them.”

Before leaving the dining room, Natalie whispered to me:

“Dory, come to my room after breakfast.”

Why is she calling me? Are we even close?

But my question was drowned out by my father’s angry voice:

“Natalie, come back here! Natalie!”

By then, my sister had disappeared down the hall. Father buried his face in his hands and sank into his chair.

“Damn it. I wanted to talk about the minor duke.”

“Ah, dear. You mean the young man Arthur Albion?”

“You know too? That the minor duke of Frost Hill has appeared in society?”

“Of course! The whole salon is abuzz. Even at last weekend’s chapel, that’s all anyone talked about before the service.”

“…So, what about him as Natalie’s potential husband?”

Ah, so that’s the main point.

Unexpectedly, Mother shook her head.

“I’m skeptical. Will Natalie even want to go North?”

“Does it matter if she wants to? We need to see if this marriage is possible first.”

“She’d be fine in terms of appearance and ambition, but she’s two years older than the young man, which is concerning.”

“Hah, if only she’d chosen the first or second prince, none of this would be an issue! Why must she open her eyes wide every morning…”

Father’s arrow turned to me next:

“Why are you still there?”

“Eh? I’m still eating…”

“Didn’t you hear Mother say to stop? Before you miss the third prince—”

“Yes, in this mood, if I eat any more, I’ll just end up vomiting it later!”

I slammed my spoon down and left the dining room immediately.

An angry voice echoed behind me:

“Dory! Why are you acting like this too!”

Why, you ask?

Ask your own life that question!

The Count and Countess are truly annoying.

It’s already been three months living as a daughter in this house. Over that time, my resentment toward Natalie has softened a bit. With parents like them, how could a child turn out normal?

Dory grew up well-behaved… but not just because he’s good.

Children of aggressive parents usually evolve in one of two ways: fight back, or quietly bottle it up.

I, in reality, was the latter.

Which is why I understand Dory so well.

‘Dory… you didn’t wait and trust Tristan just because you’re kind.’

In this era, a lady’s only real path to independence is through marriage.

Dory risked it all on Tristan, a lottery ticket of sorts. Even knowing the odds were low, he clung to it because it was his only hope.

‘How bitter…’

I clicked my tongue inwardly as I stood outside Natalie’s room.

“Sis, I’m—”

“You’re late. Go back to your room.”

“Eh?”

Training me like a guard dog, huh?

…At that moment, Natalie’s door burst open, and maids carrying dresses poured out. One even held a box.

Their skirts swept toward my room.

“Sis! What’s all this?”

“I told you before. Your dresses, which aren’t even worth a sack of flour, are discarded. Wear my clothes instead. I had them altered to your height.”

“….”

Isn’t her phrasing getting harsher?

Am I supposed to be thankful for this?

Then Natalie added:

“Of course, some men might like a boring girl like you. So try your usual style first. If that fails to catch attention, then wear my clothes.”

“Eh? Try what?”

“You know better than I do.”

I didn’t.

But Natalie’s lashes lowering signaled the end of discussion.

The door closed, and I trudged back to my room, dumbfounded. The maids struggled to put Natalie’s dresses into my wardrobe.

“How many did she bring?”

“Eight in total.”

Too many! Even after giving me these, does she have clothes left to wear herself?

The box was full of sparkling accessories—rings, necklaces, gloves, even masks for parties.

“Miss, would you like to try one on now?”

The maid held out a dress reminiscent of Carmen: red frills cascading like a waterfall. But while the skirt was full, the top was bare.

Wearing that, my shoulders would be completely exposed.

“Any other dresses?”

“They all reveal about the same amount of skin.”

“…Just put it away for now.”

“Yes. Miss Natalie, really… she could have just discarded what she didn’t like, but instead, she’s troubling Miss Dory…”

A voice showing consideration for me.

Yet, somehow, I blurted out the opposite.

“It’s not trouble.”

“Oh! My apologies.”

The maid, thinking she’d spoken out of turn, covered her mouth and hurried out.

Well, Natalie is someone worth suspecting.

‘But would Natalie go to such lengths just to bother her sister?’

Is it out of sisterly care, or did she really dislike my clothes?

Just when I thought the latter was possible, a maid who had stayed behind approached and whispered:

“Miss, there’s a letter for you.”