20.

She really turned the capital upside down, hunting people down like prey. From gamblers and horse racers, low-ranking soldiers, captains and officers who failed to inherit titles and were thus forced into the military—she chased after anyone who merely wore a uniform, without exception.

Poor noble men were utterly flustered by the bold arrival of the maiden of Valdemore.

“You understand, don’t you?”

“My lady, this is difficult.”

“Please… don’t do this to me.”

They couldn’t even bring themselves to look Rosetta in the eye, crawling pathetically, insisting they’d rather die than be her partner. Each time, Rosetta would cross her arms, bare her teeth, and growl.

“So Montrosa is terrifying, but Valdemore is easy to push around?”

“It’s not that…”

“My words don’t even sound like words, while that bastard’s are the only ones that matter?”

“Please, calm down a little…”

“What do you think the Duke would say, hmm, if he knew you held Valdemore in such contempt?”

It was an outrageous leap, pure intimidation. But the young Marquis Montrosa was someone who could directly harm them at any moment, whereas the maiden—forgive the bluntness—was tiny and appeared utterly harmless. No matter how fierce her threats, compared to Montrosa’s mad dog, she seemed almost endearing.

Especially since she wasn’t waving a jam knife around like some lunatic.

Rosetta was slightly surprised that, whether she bared her teeth or stamped her feet, the men still refused to comply. In her former body, even a slight frown would make burly men crawl like worms.

Surely there must be at least one man untouched by Montrosa’s influence… Yet, as time passed, her confidence began to wane.

Just as she had nearly circled the entire capital, a message arrived from the Duke, declaring he would no longer tolerate such undignified behavior. The next morning, she was seized by the arriving Duchess and immediately thrust into the arms of that damn brat. She couldn’t shake the suspicion that Cardier Montrosa had orchestrated every moment of this.

“My lady, could you lift your chin just a bit higher?”

“Shall I tighten your waist a little more?”

“Which fan would you prefer? And the necklace?”

The year’s first ball was evidently enough to ignite the maids’ enthusiasm to its peak. Not just Anna, but four or five maids clung to her, meticulously inspecting every fold of her dress, every curl of her hair. On their faces shone a firm determination not to let their mistress appear anything less than perfect.

“If you pout your lips like that, your makeup will smudge.”

Anna cautioned as she gently smoothed powder onto her cheeks. The cloud of dust was so thick it felt like a sneeze might burst out at any second. Rosetta wrinkled her nose and dodged Anna’s hands.

“Just do it roughly, roughly.”

“How can I? It’s the first ball of the year!”

“So what? What difference does it make?”

“I know you don’t like the young Marquis Montrosa.”

“You know? If you really did, you wouldn’t have stuck these ridiculous feathers on my head.”

Anna shrugged.

“For one, these white peacock feathers don’t look ridiculous at all, so relax. And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet your destined person tonight.”

Destined person, my ass. Rosetta scoffed. All those pale-faced nobles were just the same bland brats anyway. A real man, in her opinion, was one with muscles forged by salty winds and rigging ropes. Rosetta glanced at her pocket watch and waved her right hand, shooing the maids away.

“Now seriously, stop. Check the time.”

At her command, the maids reluctantly withdrew their hands after a few final touches. As they stepped back, a brief flash of admiration lit their faces.

Rosetta glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Though she’d grown somewhat used to it over the past few days, it still wasn’t as shocking as the first time she’d seen it. Dressed in a white gown studded with finely cut diamonds near the shoulders, with cascading curls, Lea looked like a living doll—beautiful beyond words.

Well, the Duke had poured endless money into covering up her “deficiencies.” This result was perhaps only natural. Rosetta gazed fondly at the sparkling diamond necklace around her neck, then suddenly remembered and asked.

“…What about him? Has he arrived?”

At Rosetta’s question, Anna’s expression flickered slightly. The way the lady spoke made it sound less like she was asking about a dance partner and more like someone she intended to duel.

“He… you know, what Lady Valmont said?”

Rosetta gave a vague nod. Lady Valmont’s nagging was always the same—soft, gentle, advising her to act in a way that would please men. For Rosetta, who had never particularly wanted to stand out in high society, it was passable advice. Not that she ever intended to follow it.

After all, how could one act flirtatious when one had never tried? Rosetta typically didn’t keep a steady lover, preferring instead to satisfy her desires casually and without complications. Physical activity always provided a welcome vitality.

“My lady.”

Lost in rather risqué thoughts, Rosetta turned her head with feigned grace, instinctively flustered. It was the young servant who had been attentively fussing over her.

“The young Marquis of Valdemore has arrived. He’s downstairs conversing with the Duchess.”

“…”

Here he comes. Rosetta made a face as if she’d just bitten into a soggy broccoli.

“Would you like to go down now?”

“…”

Damn it. This is going to be hell. Having to face him all night, wearing these stupid feathers on my head. When Rosetta remained stiff and silent, the attendant gently prompted once more.

“Shall I tell them you need a little more time to prepare?”

If she took as long as she needed, they might still be waiting at dawn. Better to get it over with quickly. If you can’t avoid it, endure it; if you can’t enjoy it, at least endure it.

Rosetta sighed and followed the attendant. She stared at the descending staircase as if it led to a pit of hellfire, then steeled her resolve and marched down firmly. Her bold stride made the Duchess’s expression stiffen. Cardier, who had been chatting with the Duchess with his back to the stairs, turned around at the unusual commotion.

Their eyes met immediately. Cardier smiled, his lips curling lazily. He extended his hand toward the staircase where she stood.

Rosetta stared blankly, oddly offended, until Anna sharply nudged her in the back with her elbow. Rosetta stumbled forward and instinctively took his hand.

“Maiden of Valdemore.”

“…Young Marquis.”

“You look absolutely stunning tonight.”

Rosetta nearly scoffed aloud. She instantly recognized that Cardier wasn’t particularly impressed by Lea’s appearance. Even if she had stood there completely naked, she doubted it would have left much of an impression on him.

In her past life, Rosetta wasn’t someone who could claim to have beauty as exquisite as Lea’s, even with flattery. “Rosetta” was better described as charismatic rather than beautiful—her features were bold, almost androgynous, unlike Lea’s delicate, doll-like charm that stirred protective instincts.

Tall as a man, with blazing red hair, long legs, and a lean, sturdy body like a birch tree. And Rosetta remembered clearly how Cardier, even as a mere puppy, had looked at her—with burning desire.

Those deep blue eyes filled with longing and raw, unfiltered fire… Back then, young Cardier wore all his emotions openly. Staring into them felt like gazing into bubbling blue lava.

And now, after all that, he dares say “absolutely stunning”?

Had he smeared whale oil on his tongue in her absence? His flattery was disgustingly smooth. As Rosetta stood with a sullen, defiant expression, the Duchess quickly stepped in.

“She’s probably just a little nervous—it’s been a while since such a bustling event. Please be understanding.”

“It’s fine.”

Cardier replied, looking down at her with calm eyes.

“She wasn’t the slightest bit rude to me.”

He gently lifted her hand and, keeping his eyes fixed on her face, bent gracefully to press his lips to her knuckles.

“Lea. I’ve come to take you.”

A sudden hush fell, with gasps echoing around the room. A few inexperienced maids even let out squeals. From the corner of her eye, Rosetta saw Lady Valmont’s shocked expression and the Duchess’s pleased smile. Cardier’s intention was blatantly clear.

…This bastard is deliberately spreading rumors.

She tried to pull her hand away, indifferent as ever. According to Lady Valmont, after receiving a greeting on the back of the hand, lightly linking arms was the usual courtesy. But Cardier instead laced his fingers through hers and tugged her closer.

Startled, she looked up—and found Cardier smiling, as if he’d drawn it a beat too late.

“If not me, then who else would be allowed to hold this hand?”