For the rest of the damn banquet, I didn't even bother sticking with them. Instead, I told Grandma I was going to meet someone—which was a lie, obviously. Josephine never had anyone to meet. Even when she was "well-received" in high society, it was only because she bore the Konrow name. People tolerated her antics because of the title.
Sure, she was wealthy in her own right too, but come on—what's impressive about being rich when your entire family already owns half the empire's economy? Even Josephine admitted that fact herself. Strip away the money and the title, and she had nothing else to show.
No talents. No true friends. No acquaintances. Why? Because all her energy was spent groveling for scraps of attention from her family.
Which, honestly, works out for me. Perfect alibi. Nobody expects me to actually mingle, so I just slipped into the corner, barely casting [Conceal] on myself so no one would see me, and went straight to the only reason I could tolerate this banquet at all: the food.
What the hell else was I supposed to do? Socializing? Out of the question.
Meanwhile, the rest of the Konrow family basked in the spotlight. Adele was practically glowing, surrounded by men tripping over themselves because she was a bachelorette. Mark drew his own swarm of admirers—beautiful women vying for his attention because, well, he's the heir. Good for them.
Me? I couldn't care less. I just wanted this farce to be over so I could go home.
Josephine herself had always been cold at parties, refusing to entertain people. Way to go, girl. At least on this, we're in agreement.
["I'm still synchronized, you know."]
Oh. Right. Sorry. My bad.
Still, I couldn't help myself. This tarte aux fraises—whatever that means—was divine. And don't even get me started on the profiteroles. Whoever made these deserves a shrine. Honestly, maybe I should head to the capital just to recruit a proper pâtissier.
"Is everything to your liking, Milady?"
Wait—someone's talking to me?
I turned, mid-bite, to see a woman with blue hair in maid attire.
Hmmm… Josephine's memories don't mention her.
"You are?" I asked through a mouthful of pastry.
"Ah! I'm sorry. Allow me to introduce myself…" She fidgeted nervously, fingers twisting together.
"Go on, then," I said, still chewing. If she noticed me while I was concealed, it could only mean one thing: she was drawn to the food, same as me.
"My name is Anna, Milady, and I…"
She faltered, lowering her eyes.
"…I just wanted to know what you think of the desserts," she finished in a small voice, her hands wringing like she was about to be scolded.
I blinked at her, then at the profiterole halfway to my mouth. "What do I think? I think whoever made these is a genius." I popped it into my mouth. "If it's you, then congratulations. At least something is worth here."
Her cheeks turned pink, but before she could thank me, one of the banquet staff snapped at her from across the hall. "Anna! Stop dawdling and get back to the kitchen!"
She flinched like a kicked puppy. No one else noticed. Of course they didn't. Nobles don't bother remembering servants' faces, let alone their names.
Josephine's memories whispered in the back of my head: This girl… she's never been treated well. Always overlooked. Always ignored.
Huh. Sounds familiar.
Anna bowed quickly, clearly intending to scurry off. But before she could, I grabbed another profiterole and held it out to her. "Here."
She looked at it like I was handing her a cursed relic. "M-Milady, I can't—"
"Take it. If anyone asks, tell them Lady Josephine ordered you to taste-test the quality of the food." I smirked. "They'll shut up real quick if my name's attached."
She hesitated, then took the pastry with trembling hands. One bite and her expression softened, the tension in her shoulders melting away. She actually looked… happy.
[So, you're going to recruit her?]
Maybe. She's got talent, clearly. And unlike the rest of these vultures, she actually creates something worth enjoying. If she's being treated like garbage here, then why not? A Konrow name, even one as infamous as Josephine's, carries weight.
Besides… if I ever start my own path outside this family, I'll need people who are competent and loyal. Someone like Anna could be both.
I leaned back, sipping champagne. "Anna, was it?"
"Yes, Milady…"
"Good. Don't disappear. I'll be keeping an eye on you."
Her eyes widened, confusion written all over her face. She bowed deeply before retreating.
For a while, I just let the banquet swirl around me
[You're really going to recruit her, aren't you?]
Obviously. I wasn't stupid. Talent like Anna's shouldn't be wasted on ingrates who treat her like a disposable rag. So I casually waved Jane over, my ever-efficient maid who knew how to read the air.
"See that girl? Blue hair, maid attire. Find out everything about her," I murmured.
Jane's eyes flicked to Anna, then back to me. She bowed. "At once, my Lady."
Good. That was settled. Or so I thought.
Because fate just loves throwing curveballs.
As Anna hurried across the hall, balancing a tray of glasses, she brushed against one of the noblewomen—a tall lady wrapped in too much lace and an ego bigger than her hairstyle.
The tray wobbled. A glass tipped. Champagne spilled onto the woman's gown.
Gasps echoed. Nobles froze mid-conversation.
And the woman exploded. "You stupid wench! Do you know how much this dress costs?!" She smacked the tray out of Anna's hands, the crash of glass cutting through the music.
Anna immediately dropped to her knees, trying to clean it up with her bare hands. "I-I'm sorry, Milady! Please forgive—"
"Sorry? Sorry?!" The noblewoman's voice rose, shrill with outrage. "You dare ruin me and then insult me with such pathetic excuses?"
The woman's jeweled hand lashed out, striking Anna across the face. Hard. A thin cut bloomed on her cheek where a ring scraped her skin.
No one moved. Not a single soul in the hall even flinched. The orchestra kept playing as if this was just background noise. The nobles averted their eyes. Because why would anyone defend a servant?
I felt my breath hitch.
Her small frame, curled on the floor. Her trembling hands. The blood running down her cheek.
Memories slammed into me like a hammer. The orphanage caretaker yelling, striking. The others turning away. The humiliation of being powerless, ignored, disposable.
My vision blurred. My hands clenched.
[Josephine—]
Don't.
The next second, I was striding forward, heels clicking sharp against the marble. The chatter died as soon as they noticed me. The room chilled.
I didn't say a word at first. I just stared at the noblewoman. Josephine's infamous villainess mask slid into place, perfectly rehearsed over years of cruelty. The sneer, the glint in my eyes, the slow curl of my lips.
The woman faltered, taking a step back. "L-Lady Josephine?"
I tilted my head, voice low but sharp enough to slice steel. "Do you know who you just struck?"
Her eyes darted nervously. "A mere servant—"
"Wrong answer."
I leaned closer, close enough that she could see the danger etched in my expression. "That 'mere servant' works in my house. She answers to me. Which means when you raise your hand against her, you raise your hand against a Konrow."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall.
The woman's lips trembled. "I-I didn't mean—"
"Didn't mean?" I snapped, my voice cutting through the air. "Then what exactly were you trying to do? Make a spectacle of yourself? Congratulations. You've succeeded."
She paled.
I straightened, deliberately brushing invisible dust off my gown. "Get out of my sight before I remind you why they call me a villainess."
She nearly tripped over her own skirt in her haste to leave, head bowed, dignity shredded. The nobles parted for her like the Red Sea.
Silence hung heavy. Whispers followed, cautious and fearful. Eyes lingered on me, but none dared speak.
Good. Let them remember why Josephine was feared.
I turned back to Anna, who was still frozen on the floor, her cheek bleeding. I crouched down, ignoring the stares, and gently touched her chin to tilt her face. "You're hurt."
She flinched, tears brimming but unshed. "I-I'm fine, Milady…"
"Liar."
Her lips quivered. The dam broke. Silent tears streamed down her face, dripping onto her apron as she tried to hide them with her hands.
I sighed and reached out, wrapping my fingers around hers, pulling her hands away. Her skin was cold, trembling.
"Tell me the truth," I said softly. "How are they treating you in the mansion?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't. She just shook her head, shoulders shaking, crying soundlessly like she wasn't allowed to make noise.
I felt that ache deep in my chest. That suffocating familiarity.
Without thinking, I pulled her hand tighter into mine. "Enough. You don't have to stay here."
Her teary eyes widened.
"You'll come with me. To the spare mansion. You'll work under me from now on. No one touches you. No one orders you around without my say. Understand?"
Her lips trembled. Then she collapsed forward, pressing her forehead to my hand, sobbing openly now. "Th-thank you, Milady… thank you…"
I patted her head awkwardly, ignoring the nobles still gawking from afar. "Don't thank me. Just keep making those profiteroles."
A watery laugh escaped her, broken but genuine.
I stood, helping her to her feet, then turned my glare back on the room. The crowd quickly returned to their wine and chatter, pretending they hadn't seen anything.
But I knew better. They'd all remember.
And for once, Josephine's infamous villainess mask had done something right.