A knock startled Lollipop out of his thoughts. Sharp, impatient.
Before he could respond, the door to the bedroom creaked open and a voice called out—cool, male, and unmistakably condescending.
"You've been in there long enough. Get out. The maids are waiting."
Lollipop blinked, still kneeling on the bathroom floor, breath slightly ragged from earlier… experimentation.
He stood with slow, calculated movements and reached for the silk robe hanging from a hook by the door. As he pulled it on and stepped out into the bedroom, the sight that greeted him was both jarring and irritating.
A young man stood in front of the bed—leaning slightly, arms crossed.
He was handsome, in a too-refined, almost stately way. Clean, angular features. Chestnut-brown hair swept back just enough to show off his high cheekbones and the faintest shadow of a dimple when his lips curled. His light green eyes held a certain disinterest, tinged with disdain, like everything in the room bored him—including the person now emerging from the bathroom.
He wore the tailored uniform of a high-ranking servant: dark navy trimmed with silver thread, a house sigil embroidered into the lapel.
"Rosalee…"
He said, voice dry.
"How unlike you to be awake. Or indecent."
Lollipop arched a brow, eyes sharpening.
"…And you are?"
The man straightened.
"Ben Bell. Personal attendant to Lord Thornwood Florenzia."
That name again—Thornwood. Rosalee's older brother. The golden heir.
Lollipop kept his face neutral.
"Right. And what exactly does Lord Thornwood want?"
Ben cocked a brow but didn't answer immediately. He gestured with his chin instead toward the doorway behind him.
From it, two maids entered, both young and dressed in finely pressed gray and cream. Their expressions were polite but flat, their movements mechanical—like they were enduring a task rather than performing it with care.
Lollipop noticed the way they didn't look him in the eye. The way one of them wrinkled her nose just slightly when she passed him. The other muttered something under her breath that sounded like "spoiled brat."
And Ben—he said nothing about it.
It hit Lollipop then, all at once.
'They all look down on Rosalee.'
The servants didn't respect him.
They tolerated him. Or rather… her. Whatever they believed Rosalee to be.
A decorative political pawn. A Second playing pretend princess. Worth dressing up, but not worth honoring.
Lollipop folded his arms, brows twitching low with simmering annoyance.
"Get dressed…"
Ben said shortly.
"You're expected at the duchess's tea party within the hour."
Lollipop blinked.
"A tea party?"
Ben's mouth quirked.
"Yes. Surely that empty head of yours can remember that much?"
Lollipop wanted to slap the smirk off his face—but before he could respond, the maids had already begun swarming him, tugging open the wardrobe with clinks and rustles of silks and satins. One began untying his robe. The other was already sorting accessories.
"What's the occasion?"
He asked dryly, letting them guide him to the vanity chair.
Ben's reply was too casual.
"The crown prince is attending."
Lollipop froze.
'The crown prince?! Already?!'
His stomach dropped. His mind ran a mile a minute.
'No no no—it's too soon. I just got here! I haven't planned a single thing, I haven't even figured out how this world works yet and I'm already being thrown in front of a love interest?!'
He barely noticed as the maids slipped a corset around his waist, lacing it tight.
"I thought I had more time, wasn't the starting point at the Noble Academy..."
Lollipop mumbled, before catching himself. The last words came out in a daze.
Ben glanced at him, confused.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He said quickly.
The maids worked efficiently, though without affection, cinching the corset tighter and sliding a long-sleeved rose-pink colored gown over his head, the fabric whispering against his skin. His hair was brushed and pinned with callous fingers. It tugged painfully at his scalp, but he didn't flinch.
Not until one of them opened the makeup drawer.
The taller maid selected a color—an aggressive orange-toned blush—and without hesitation, smeared it across the high point of Lollipop's left cheek.
The result was immediate: blotchy, stark, completely wrong for his snow-pale complexion.
Lollipop turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing at his reflection in the mirror.
"…What the fuck is that?"
He asked flatly.
The maid blinked.
"Blush."
He snapped his head around, mouth tight.
"Blush? On my skin? In that color?"
His voice rose, laced with venom.
"Are you trying to sabotage me? Because that's exactly what it looks like."
The maid's mouth dropped open, scandalized.
"Excuse me?!"
"That looks like I got slapped by a peach and lost!"
He snapped.
"That's not a compliment, sweetheart. It's a war crime. You call that color theory? That's pity-tier cosplay makeup!"
Ben stepped forward, holding up a hand.
"Enough—Rosalee, mind your tone—"
But Lollipop had already swatted the maid's hand away and stood up from the chair.
"Don't touch me with that brush again. I don't care what you think of me, but if I walk into a noble function looking like a powdered tomato, we'll all be socially executed."
He pulled open the vanity drawers and seized a different palette—one in cool undertones, with creamy rose-pink and muted pearl—and began to apply it himself. In practiced strokes, he shaded the contour of his cheeks, shaped his brows with delicate flicks, and painted his lips in a soft bloom of dusky pink.
The transformation was immediate.
From wilted debutante to dangerous, ethereal beauty.
When he turned around, the room was quiet.
Even Ben was watching, the faintest edge of surprise breaking his usual bored expression.
Lollipop tilted his head and gave him a sugary, deadly smile.
"What? Thought I was all corset and no claws?"
He adjusted a stray pin in his hair and turned back to the mirror.
He still wasn't sure how this world worked.
But he was alive. Beautiful.
And no one—not servants, not nobles, not even a crown prince—was going to outshine him.
Ben Bell watched Rosalee with a cool, unreadable expression. His arms were folded loosely, but his eyes were sharp—tracking every movement.
It was absurd.
Just yesterday, the young master—no, young miss, as his master insisted—hadn't even dared to meet his gaze. Timid to the point of uselessness. Whisper-voiced and wide-eyed, always flinching like a kicked dog. He remembered clearly how Rosalee used to stammer "E-Elder Brother Thornwood" like a prayer, barely audible.
Now here they stood.
Rosalee—shoulders back, chin lifted, lips painted like a pink rose in bloom—staring down the room like it owed them a crown.
Ben's brow creased slightly.
It didn't make sense.
This wasn't some slow awakening of confidence. It was a pivot. A performance. A full-bodied transformation in less than a day. And Ben Bell didn't like mysteries inside the Florenzia household.
'Keep an eye on this one.'
He noted silently.
He gestured to the maids without another word.
"Leave us."
The two girls bowed and scurried out quickly, casting Rosalee venomous glances as they went. One mumbled something under her breath, too low to catch, but Lollipop's practiced ear caught the syllables of "snobby freak."
He didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.
Instead, he looked into the mirror one more time and gave himself a look over.
'Humph! They can say what they want, I know I look good! Jealous bitches.'
Ben opened the door and gave a polite half-bow.
"This way. The duchess is expecting your arrival."
Lollipop rose from the vanity, sweeping the skirts of his rose-pink gown with grace that made the silk ripple like water.
He followed Ben out into the corridor—and promptly froze.
The mansion was massive. Monumental.
An architectural symphony of dark cherrywood, ivory columns, and gilded moldings carved with the family crest: a twisted vine of thorns embracing a faceted black gemstone. The halls were lined with towering windows dressed in red velvet curtains, and every third wall bore some oil portrait of a dour ancestor staring down with hollow eyes.
Servants bustled up and down the long marble hall, men and women alike, all crisply dressed in gray and cream. Some were dusting the stair railings or lighting candles in the high iron sconces. Others polished the floors on hands and knees with white gloves that were anything but white now.
And every one of them looked at Rosalee.
No, not at. Through.
The women sneered. The men looked away too quickly.
Some narrowed their eyes. Some scoffed and whispered behind hands. One of the younger footmen—barely more than a boy—let his broom stop mid-sweep as Rosalee passed, blushing before snapping his head down again.
Lollipop saw it all.
He smiled wider.
Let them stare. Let them scorn. They weren't wrong—he was different now.
But he also knew he looked breathtaking, and from the looks on some of those men's faces, his body and makeup were already doing most of the heavy lifting.
'Gods, I'm gorgeous…'
He thought smugly.
'If I had this face and body back on Earth, I'd have charged twice as much—and still had a waitlist.'
His steps were slow and precise, the way he'd once walked into the VIP suite of a five-star hotel. Every movement from heel to hip was deliberate.
But he was watching, too.
He noticed how far away his room was from the heart of the mansion—tucked in the west wing like an afterthought. Too far from the kitchens. Too far from the master wing. Inconvenient. Unloved. Like something to be hidden.
That was useful information.
He began filing details away: two guards posted near the servant's stairs at all times; the way the floors changed from warm wood to cold marble near the central wing; the secret side hallway behind the third wall tapestry marked with fading gold thread.
He didn't remember any of this from the game. But why would he?
'Rosalee was barely in three cutscenes total. A throwaway character. A stepping stone villainess. No wonder the game never even showed the Florenzia estate in detail.'
But it made him uneasy.
If this was a third-rate villain's house, what did that say about the first-rate ones?
And then there was Ben.
Lollipop kept stealing glances at the butler's back as they walked side-by-side down the main staircase.
His movements were too clean, too perfect. And the way he'd stared earlier, the way he was still sneaking looks now from the corner of his eyes—he was observant. Smart.
Dangerous.
'He wasn't in the game. Or at least not shown. A servant of a background character in a throwaway house. But he's a variable now. A problem I didn't account for.'
Lollipop smiled to himself.
'I'll have to plan for him, too.'
He made another mental note:
'Never underestimate the background cast. They can still kill you.'
When they reached the front doors, flanked by more columns and massive bronze handles, a carriage awaited outside.
It gleamed with gold accents and bore the Florenzia crest painted over both doors. The horses were black and regal, fitted with matching red-and-silver barding.
The Florenzia family crest features a deep crimson rose entwined with sharp, black thorns against a silver shield. The rose symbolizes both beauty and passion, while the thorns represent resilience and ruthless protection of their legacy. Above the shield, a golden crown with five points marks their noble rank as Earls, and swirling ivy vines frame the emblem, hinting at their enduring influence and the complexity beneath their refined exterior.
Ben turned, opened the door with mechanical politeness, and gestured inside.
"Your carriage, Lady Rosalee."
The sarcasm in the title didn't go unnoticed. Lollipop arched a brow but said nothing.
He stepped inside, carefully gathering his skirts, and seated himself with effortless poise.
Ben followed after, sitting opposite him. Their eyes met again.
And in that moment—one breath, one blink—Lollipop smiled just a little too wide.
Ben's gaze lingered.
'What are you hiding, Rosalee Florenzia?'
He wondered.
Lollipop, folding his hands neatly over his lap, answered the unspoken thought with a thought of his own.
'Wouldn't you like to know, butler boy.'
The carriage door shut with a heavy click, and the world narrowed into plush velvet cushions, carved mahogany trim, and the gentle sway of wheels on stone.
Lollipop sat back elegantly, legs crossed at the ankles, back perfectly straight. His lips were still, but his mind spun like a roulette wheel.
Across from him, Ben Bell sat with one leg crossed neatly over the other, as he adjusted his white gloves. Not a single hair of his chestnut-brown waves was out of place. His pale green eyes—too sharp for a servant—regarded Lollipop quietly.
A beat of silence passed between them. Then another.
Ben stared.
Not rudely, but intently. As if trying to read an unsolvable riddle etched onto Lollipop's face.
Lollipop leaned into the corner of his seat, one elbow propped up on the padded edge of the carriage window, head tilted slightly as he met Ben's gaze with the faintest flicker of a smirk. Ben was the first to break the silent stalemate.
"You seem different today, Lady Rosalee."
The formality, the mildness of tone—both were masks. He was probing.
Lollipop offered a smile, slow and sly.
"Do I?"
"You do."
Lollipop tilted his head.
"Is that a compliment or a concern?"
Ben's lips twitched at the corners.
"Observation."
Another silence.
Lollipop allowed it, then took a deep breath, letting his voice slip into a more idle, almost whimsical tone as he turned his gaze to the small window.
"Funny thing about families like ours. We spend so much time playing parts, you forget who you're supposed to be underneath it all."
Ben's brows lifted slightly, but he didn't interrupt.
Good. Let the silence work for him now.
"You're being awfully quiet, Mr. Bell…"
Lollipop said, brushing an invisible wrinkle from his sleeve.
"Cat got your tongue?"
Ben's expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened.
"I'm just wondering…"
He said coolly.
"when exactly Lady Rosalee learned how to speak with such confidence. And venom."
Lollipop gave a soft laugh, low and honeyed.
"Ah. So you noticed."
'Let me talk just enough to sound candid…'
Lollipop thought.
'Without saying anything that'll bite me later.'
"It would be difficult not to."
Ben spoke as he uncrossed his legs and leaned slightly forward, just enough to shift the weight in the air between them.
"Yesterday, you couldn't say three words without trembling…"
Ben went on.
"And now you argue with maids, critique cosmetics like a court artisan, and walk as if you own the place."
"Maybe I had an awakening…"
Lollipop said, twirling a lock of glossy red hair around his finger.
"Maybe I've finally decided I'm tired of being treated like moldy cheese in a palace pantry."
Ben's lips twitched.
"Poetic."
"And maybe…"
Lollipop continued.
"You're just bitter that I no longer shrink away from your intimidating, slightly-handsome glare."
Ben blinked.
"Slightly handsome?"
"Oh, don't look wounded. You're above average. The jaw's nice. The lashes too."
Lollipop's eyes trailed lazily down his figure before settling again on his face.
"But it's hard to be dazzling when you're dressed like someone ready to go to a funeral."
Ben let out a faint exhale. It might've been a laugh, but he didn't give it the breath to become one.
"I see."
He adjusted his gloves.
"So this is the new Rosalee, then?"
Lollipop leaned forward, just an inch.
"This is the real Rosalee…"
He said smoothly.
"The one who got sick of being wallpaper."
Ben narrowed his eyes.
"You don't even call your brother 'Elder Brother' anymore."
"He hasn't earned it."
'I only ever recognize one man as my brother and he's not in this world!'
Silence again, heavy with meanings unspoken.
Lollipop adjusted a fold in his skirt and continued, voice softer, as if reflecting:
"The Florenzia family is old. Respected, if not revered. Earl-ranked. But not noble enough for what my parents crave."
He watched Ben's expression carefully. No reaction. Still playing the butler.
"My father, Abe Florenzia, married my mother Lillian because it would help secure power in the southern territories. Their union was cold from the start. She gave him Thornwood, a male heir. And then… me."
Another pause.
"I'm a Second, as you may have guessed."
That stirred something. Ben's brow furrowed, almost imperceptibly.
Lollipop smiled to himself.
"They weren't satisfied with what they had. They wanted more. So they dressed me like a daughter. Trained me like a bride. And aimed me straight at the royal family."
He looked at Ben now, letting his red eyes shimmer with a practiced mixture of vulnerability and mockery.
"Imagine that. Grooming your child like bait."
Ben shifted. Just slightly.
But it was enough.
"Why are you telling me this?"
He asked finally.
Lollipop's smile widened, teeth glinting like a cat's.
"Because it doesn't matter. Everyone in the estate already knows. It's just no one talks about it."
Another long silence filled the carriage, heavy and brimming with unspoken things.
Ben opened his mouth, as if to speak again—but hesitated. His eyes lingered too long on Rosalee's face. On the curve of his lips, the faint freckles under his brilliant red eyes, the long lashes that looked impossibly soft.
He wasn't just curious anymore.
He was intrigued.
Lollipop could feel it. The shift. The tension. He leaned forward slightly, letting the light catch his collarbone and the arch of his neck.
Ben's gaze snapped away towards the carriage window, and he cleared his throat.
"Lady Rosalee…"
He said more stiffly than before.
"...We're nearly at the duchess's estate."
Lollipop chuckled and leaned back, amused.
'Perfect timing.'
As the carriage curved through a grand iron gate, Lollipop let his thoughts drift back into focus.
The name Gwendolyn Aqualar floated through his mind, wrapped in glitter and venom.
Duchess. Powerhouse. Puppeteer of court politics. Her daughter, *Vixtia Aqualar*, was the true thorn in Rosalee's side—the main villainess of the otome game and the heir to the entire dukedom.
Lollipop remembered some of the game's character descriptions clearly now.
Rosalee Florenzia—his current body—had not even been a major villain.
The Florenzia family had used Rosalee to inch closer to Crown Prince Roland Solarmelt. Their plan? Have the "delicate daughter" charm the prince, gain his favor, and elevate the family through marriage.
And to achieve this, he'd been coerced into joining the entourage of the duchess's daughter, Vixtia Aqualar—the game's notorious villainess. But by the time Rosalee had finally earned a place in Vixtia's little pack, it was already too late.
Crown Prince Roland had begun to fall for the saintly heroine: Jill Maze.
The Florenzia plan unraveled quickly.
Vixtia, not one to let others scheme without getting her cut, found out about Rosalee's training and her family's ambitions—and used it to blackmail Rosalee into sabotaging Jill.
Rosalee became nothing more than a pawn passed between queenmakers.
And when that failed too? The family went darker.
They orchestrated a staged kidnapping of the Crown Prince himself, intending for Thornwood—their "valiant son"—to save him and be lauded as a hero.
Lollipop remembered the horror in the route's dialogue when this came to light.
Vixtia exposed the plot just before the second arc.
And the Florenzia family?
Public trial. Beheading. Forgotten.
None of this was even shown on-screen. Just coldly explained by Jill's dialogue after the final romantic ending, told to the player in a few cold lines of dialogue: "The Florenzias have been sentenced to death for high treason. Their estate has been seized."
Lollipop clenched his fingers in his lap.
'Well. Fuck that.'
He wasn't about to die off-screen in some lazy plot dump.
If he had to be a side character, he'd be the kind of side character who stole the show.
No more scripts. No more pre-written scenes.
He was Lollipop. The star of every room.
And if this world thought it could use him?
He'd bite back.
Hard.
The carriage slowed. Outside, rows of violet bushes stretched in meticulous waves across a vast lawn. A grand manor stood tall behind them—taller than the Florenzia estate, with clean white columns and aqua-tinted stained glass that shimmered like sunlight on water.
The duchess's crest was emblazoned on the doors.
The Aqualar family crest displays two elegant swans mirrored gracefully beneath a jeweled golden crown. The swans symbolize purity, grace, and loyalty, while their mirrored posture reflects balance and unity. The crown above signifies their noble status as Dukes, and delicate water lilies entwine the shield's edges, hinting at their refined sophistication and serene authority.
Ben stepped out first, then turned and extended a hand into the carriage.
Lollipop accepted it delicately, stepping down onto the cobblestone path, his gown pooling like liquid satin.
He didn't miss the quick flick of Ben's eyes to his waist, nor the flush of interest that disappeared too fast to be polite.
Yes.
Ben Bell was definitely watching him now.
'Watch all you want…'
Lollipop thought.
'But don't blink. You might miss something.'
Because the game had started.
And this time, Lollipop was playing for keeps.