And yet, one of the most hated parts of this banquet is finally happening.
Me and Grandma arrive at the room before the giant dust-covered staircase that every medieval mansion seems legally required to have. Of course, the rest of the Konrow family is already gathered, waiting like crows on a branch. Tradition dictates that before descending to the hall, every member of the main family must assemble together. Charming, right?
As much as possible, I didn't want to see them. Talking to my family is like tempting fate—say one wrong word and I might end up regretting it for the rest of the night. Or worse, the rest of my life.
Normally, Angelica, Josephine—well, me—and the others would line for the front like some kind of aristocratic show. Not today. This time, I stayed tucked behind my grandmother. Safe position. Lots of reasons for that. For one, I didn't want to be the family's punching bag. For another, I was actively avoiding that damned Marquis. And, honestly, the less I stood out, the better. It's already been years since they decided not to notice me unless I gave them reason to.
"Percy von Konrow," someone announced.
My father. The current head of the Konrow family.
The Konrows, if you didn't know, are the rulers of the western side of the empire. And in the novel, Percy von Konrow was famous for being a notorious, vicious man who stopped at nothing to get what he wanted. He even used his family as pawns. That was, of course, until Adele came along and somehow reformed him—turned him from a monster into… well, still a monster, but one who doted on his "darling daughter." His affection for her is the only way he even knows how to "care."
Me? He was indifferent. Completely and utterly indifferent. In his eyes, I was useless. A child with no value, no purpose. And while I can't fully wrap my head around why that is, I know the root cause: the Konrows are filthy rich. Connections to the underworld, backing from the empire—whatever shady deal you can think of, they've dipped their hands in it.
That means the only talents worth recognizing are the rare ones—swordsmanship, magecraft, divination. Adele's talents. My so-called "skills" in alchemy and craftsmanship? Commonplace. Forgettable. Laughable, even.
So, yes, Father ignored me. And Josephine—the original—used to butter him up, beg for his approval, try to prove she wasn't worthless. Me? I can't be bothered.
Then there's my mother.
Jessica von Konrow.
A vixen in every sense of the word. She's well-known in the upper circles of nobility and wields social power like a whip. Once upon a time, she was the belle of the empire, envied and admired. She married Percy when he was at the height of his influence, and together, they became a power couple people whispered about.
But deep down, Jessica always coveted the empress's throne. She still does.
Like my father, my mother despises me. Hates me. Sees me as a worthless wench trying too hard. Her reason? The same as his: I was unlucky the moment I was born. Black-haired women are considered cursed in this world. From the second I opened my eyes, she was disgusted. She didn't raise me. Didn't even bother to pretend.
The only one who ever cared for Josephine as a child was a nanny. Samantha. She was the mother of Jane.
My mother, of course, never wasted a glance on me. No talent, no beauty, no use—ignored completely. But Adele? Naturally, she opened up to her. Adele could keep up with Mother's techniques and charm, not to mention she had the kind of beauty that drew people in without even trying. Even I can admit it—Adele is dazzling in that "enemy protagonist" way.
Then there was Mark von Konrow. If Adele was talented in magic, Mark was the opposite side of the coin—talented in swordsmanship. From a young age, he was showered with affection. After all, he was the heir. People treat talented children like rare jewels, polishing them until they shine. That was the rule in this family. The rest of us? Forgotten.
There was even a time, long ago, when both Mark and I would play together. For a moment, it felt almost normal. But once it was revealed that I had no talent at all, he started looking at me differently. Cold. Distant. As if my very existence insulted his honor as the heir. In this family, having no talent is worse than being a criminal. And me? I was the example carved into stone.
Whenever Mark's gaze fell on me, it was sharp enough to cut. Like he wanted me to vanish on the spot. Whatever. Let's just get this over with.
"Announcing the arrival of the Konrow family!"
At the announcement, we moved toward the grand entrance. The sound of applause erupted the moment the doors opened. I don't recognize most of these people, but Josephine's memories whisper their names—western nobles, imperial dignitaries, influential aristocrats from across the empire. A sea of silk and diamonds, and every last one of them watching us.
A waiter bowed politely, offering champagne. Tradition dictated that I accept one only after my family took theirs. Fine, whatever. I lifted a glass after the others did.
My mind had drifted, but then Percy's formal words cut through the air. I wouldn't have even noticed if my grandmother hadn't nudged me.
"I, Percy von Konrow, hereby proclaim Adele von Konrow as a legitimate child of the Konrow family."
Adele stepped forward, pulled at her skirt, and bowed gracefully. Percy's expression didn't falter as he declared, "Henceforth, anyone who questions the legitimacy of Adele will be struck down."
He raised his champagne high. "To my daughter, Adele von Konrow!"
The hall erupted with cheers, nobles lifting their glasses in unison.
I couldn't help but be amazed. This was the exact scene described in the novel, now unfolding before my very eyes.
I forced a smile, raised my own glass, and drank.
But Adele's eyes lingered on me—sharp, searching, almost doubtful.