Chapter 13
I found myself with nothing to occupy my time.
Adel managed everything with such proficiency that my involvement was unnecessary. Aside from Rilda, I had been assigned four other servants. While they possessed a streak of arrogance, they currently maintained a facade of obedience under Adel’s supervision. I realized that interfering at this stage would only create complications for us both.
“Your hair is truly striking, My Lady,” Adel remarked. She had guided me to the vanity and was now running a brush through my locks.
“You think so?” I asked.
“It reminds me of clouds at sunset,” she replied warmly.
I felt a flush of self-consciousness. Comparing my hair to soft clouds was a far cry from the explosive mess it usually resembled. I wondered if Adel was some sort of saint. Only days prior, I had been wandering the grounds of the estate with a wild, neglected mane because I lacked even a single attendant to help me. Adel surely knew the unflattering stories about my appearance, and she had likely witnessed the state of my hair herself. Despite that, she chose to speak with such sweetness.
“It only looks this way because of your skill,” I told her. “Because of you, the staff have stopped looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.”
A soft laugh escaped Adel, her gentle expression brightening further. “My Lady, perhaps we should focus on improving the health of your hair?”
I nodded in agreement. “It does feel quite parched and coarse.”
I recalled a detail from the world of The Princess of the Silver Lily. In that world, the status of a noblewoman rested on a triad of pillars: her education, her conduct, and her physical presentation. While looks were technically the final priority, they were the first thing anyone actually noticed. Elaborate gowns and expensive gems were merely secondary decorations. True distinction was found in the meticulous grooming of one’s hair, the porcelain smoothness of one’s hands, and the sharp, sophisticated light in one’s eyes. These were the true benchmarks of the aristocracy.
By those standards, Tulia had been a failure from the very top of her head.
“We should start by removing the dead ends,” Adel suggested. “Pink hair is a rare treasure. If we can restore its luster, it will be breathtaking.”
I gave my consent, and almost immediately, the damaged strands fell away, leaving my hair resting neatly just past my shoulders. Adel then worked a fragrant, sweet-smelling oil through the strands. As she began to weave my hair into an intricate braid, a memory of my previous life as Han Ina surfaced.
I remembered watching my mother style my younger sibling’s hair. Back then, I had been gripped by a strange, hollow jealousy. I had craved that simple sense of belonging and warmth. It was the quiet, unshakable confidence of a child who knew they were cherished by both parents. Seeing that bond always felt like a thousand tiny cuts to my heart. My sibling was the natural product of the union between my mother and stepfather, after all.
Once Adel finished, I reached up to touch the finished style. It wasn’t the hair of Han Ina anymore; it was Tulia’s vivid pink silk sliding through my fingers.
“What is the current status of Tulia Frazier?”
The question echoed through the Grand Duke’s private study after the advisors had departed. The silence following a large meeting always felt more profound when the room was empty, yet this massive chamber never felt hollow. It was anchored by the sheer weight of a single man’s authority: Assis Grand Duke Frazier, the sole Grand Duke of the Empire.
Ruk Kelfosher, his primary counselor, answered without hesitation. “The young lady is faring well since Viscountess Aubrey provided new staff. She has a head maid and five others now. I have also ensured her other requirements are being met.”
The Grand Duke glanced at him. “Since when do you concern yourself with such minor domestic affairs, Ruk?”
“Well, she is the only grandchild who brings you fresh jam every single day,” Ruk replied with a hint of a smile. “I felt it was only right to return the favor.”
Ruk was likely the only person on the continent who dared to speak to the Grand Duke with such levity. In any other setting, he was the picture of formal deference, just like everyone else who stood before the head of House Frazier. The Grand Duke noticed a brief shadow cross his advisor’s face, a flicker of something unspoken. He chose not to press the matter; he knew that if there were a true crisis, Ruk would have presented it formally.
“Ah, Your Grace,” Ruk added, changing the subject. “Marquis Aster Frazier has sent word regarding your birthday celebration. He will not be attending.”
“You mean he refuses to come,” the Grand Duke corrected coldly.
Ruk lowered his head, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. It was common knowledge among the nobility that ever since the passing of Princess Hyacinthia, the eldest daughter, the relationship between the Grand Duke and his heir, Marquis Aster, had become as cold and distant as a winter peak.
Attempting to lighten the mood, Ruk smiled. “The other grandchildren and young masters will be present, of course. The twins are expected to arrive at the primary estate shortly. The halls will be quite spirited for a change.”
“Tulia doesn’t exactly have a warm relationship with those two, does she?” the Grand Duke asked.
“That is correct,” Ruk admitted.
“And the feeling is mutual?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The Grand Duke reflected on Tulia’s history. Her refusal to stay in the main castle hadn’t been a simple act of teenage defiance. She had been at odds with her twin brothers since they were small and had insisted on living in isolation. He had found it bizarre that she chose a renovated warehouse over the luxury of the castle, but he had trusted his youngest son and daughter-in-law to look after her. Instead, they had been playing a deceptive game with the girl.
“Those miserable fools,” the Grand Duke muttered.
Had Lilius and Aubrey been mere employees, he would have had them executed. However, they were his own family. Remembering a promise made to his late wife, he decided to limit his reaction to a stern reprimand for the time being. He understood his son’s deep-seated feelings of inadequacy, even if he didn’t excuse them.
Ruk spoke up to reassure him. “I’ve taken precautions to avoid friction. Her new living quarters are situated as far as possible from the wing occupied by the Marquis’s family.”
The Grand Duke remained silent, acknowledging Ruk’s thoroughness.
A few days of deceptive calm passed before the trouble began one morning.
“My Lady, wouldn’t this gown be perfect for your visit with His Grace?” Rilda suggested, holding up a garment.
I looked at the dress and felt a wave of skepticism. Rilda was clearly Aubrey’s puppet. Only two days ago, Aubrey had come by to ‘suggest’ that I promote Rilda to a senior position. Since Aubrey still controlled a significant portion of the estate’s internal management, I had found it difficult to say no.
“I’ll follow my aunt’s advice then,” I had told her at the time.
Aubrey had smirked behind her fan, pleased with my compliance. “I knew you were a sensible girl, Tulia. You see, people from the Borderlands aren’t entirely reliable. The nobility here in the Capital are very firm on that point, even if you haven’t realized it yet.”
I had listened to her drivel with one ear while ignoring it with the other, thinking about how much of a fool the original Tulia must have been. Unlike Lilius, who at least attempted to hide his malice behind a sweet exterior, Aubrey didn’t even bother. She treated me like a complete moron. It was strange—in the original game, there was never any mention of conflict between Tulia and the Lilius couple.
Then again, that was the nature of classic villains. They were often as dim-witted as they were malicious, unknowingly digging the holes they would eventually fall into.
Right, but look at you two…
I watched Rilda, who was already putting on airs as if she owned the place just because of her new title. My eyes drifted back to the dress she was pushing on me.
“My aunt sent this specifically?” I asked.
I wasn’t the same idiot Tulia they used to know.
