After that, I had Jane accompany Anna back to her quarters and making sure she was safe and help her pack up.
With my name backing her, the other servants wouldn't dare bully her again. Not unless they wanted to deal with me. Villainess privileges, I guess.
Of course, nothing comes without a price. By standing up for Anna, I'd already attracted unwanted attention. And if I hadn't concealed myself again right after, that damned Marquis—yes, the one who'd been staring earlier—would have waltzed right up to me. Imagine the nightmare: him chatting, me pretending to care, the whole room watching. No thank you. I disappeared the second I could.
I pray to god-
[Xipe: Sorry Honey, even I can't manipulate fate that easily~]
Oh. The god system is back.
Neat.
[Selene: Everything should be okay now!]
[Eros: Wow~]
…oh god. If anything, Eros speaking means that something is bound to happen.
And then, just when I thought things couldn't get worse—
"Announcing the arrival of His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Peter Edencrown!"
God. Why. Out of all the people who had to be here, he shows up?
The crowd went instantly silent, all eyes turning toward the entrance. The infamous prince himself strolled in like he owned the place, which… technically, he kind of did. His gaze swept across the hall, sharp and calculating, like he was searching for someone specific.
Everyone knew the story, of course. Adele and Peter—the golden couple. The future romance of the empire. Every noble had whispered about it for months. So naturally, everyone assumed he was here to see Adele.
Please. Please. Please… I specifically told him not to attend this banquet just the other day.
Sure enough, Adele hurried forward, bowing gracefully like the perfect lady. "I greet His Imperial Crown Prince—"
"Where is Josephine?"
…
Excuse me?
The words hit harder than a slap. Adele froze mid-bow, her smile cracking. "I… beg your pardon?"
But Peter wasn't looking at her. He was scanning the hall, eyes flicking over faces like he was hunting prey. Nice try, Adele. Unless you've figured out how my concealment skill works, you can't cover for me.
And then—our eyes met.
Oh. Fuck.
The murmurs started immediately. People whispering, nudging each other. Peter walked right past Adele without so much as a glance, murmuring under his breath, "As I thought."
Nope. Absolutely not. I started weaving through the crowd, ducking behind taller nobles, practically crawling just to avoid him.
[Hecatia: Hah! This is hilarious!]
Shut up. Don't you dare laugh.
[Loki: Even I can't believe your luck. The Crown Prince himself ignoring Adele and chasing after you? Classic!]
This isn't funny! If he corners me here, in public, I can't exactly kick him in the shins and run.
I ducked behind a group of ladies, then spun around another cluster of lords. He was briskly moving through the room, ignoring everyone who tried to greet him. His eyes—locked on me.
Fantastic. Just fantastic.
And then, mercifully, the lights dimmed.
Oh, hell no.
It was time for that tradition. The stupid ballroom dance that always came after the formal announcements. Every noble family had to step into the spotlight, one by one, and perform a token dance. "Unity," they called it. I called it torture.
Still, tradition is tradition. Which meant I had to walk toward the front with the Konrow family. Under the lights. With everyone watching.
"Ugh…" I groaned under my breath, dragging my feet like I was headed for execution.
But hey, silver lining—I wasn't paired with Peter. At least not immediately. Percy turned to dance with my mother, Adele twirled off with some duke's son, Mark partnered up with a viscount's daughter. Everyone else just flowed with the music.
As the orchestra struck up the opening notes, I stiffly followed the steps, moving through the routine like a badly oiled puppet. Just enough to avoid humiliation.
And Adele? She wasn't paying attention to her partner at all. Her eyes were fixed straight on me, sharp and intent. Like she was silently daring me: Do something. This is your cue.
I smiled sweetly at her. Then, while holding her gaze, I deliberately stepped backward. And back. And back. Until the shadows of the crowd swallowed me whole.
Gone.
She blinked, stunned, while I giggled quietly to myself. The fact that I'd managed to escape that ridiculous performance without drawing too much attention? Glorious. Victory tasted even better than the profiteroles earlier.
[Tyr: You sneaky little rat. You really ditched them mid-dance.]
Exactly.
If they want their perfect family performance, Adele can have the spotlight. She's welcome to it. I'll be over here, safely hidden, pretending this whole evening never happened.
And if Peter still insists on finding me? Well… let him try.
Of course my brilliant escape plan lasted all of two seconds.
Because as I slipped through the crowd, I smacked straight into someone. Hard enough to stumble.
I looked up—and froze.
That smirk. Those smug eyes.
Peter.
The urge to strangle him right there was almost overwhelming. If I hadn't been in public, with every noble in the hall watching, I might have.
Naturally, the collision drew immediate attention. The crowd hushed, eyes swiveling toward us like hounds scenting blood.
Peter leaned slightly forward, extending his hand toward me. His voice carried smoothly over the silence. "May I have this dance, My Lady?"
[A faint, audible laughter can be heard from the gods!]
[+1000 Faith Points]
Pfft—fuck off. This isn't funny.
But the truth was, I had no choice. If I refused him in front of everyone, it would be political suicide. Refuse the crown prince? Yeah, I'd rather not get branded as treasonous tonight.
So I did the only thing I could. I placed my hand in his. His lips brushed the back of it, and the crowd rippled with murmurs.
I smiled, of course. That carefully cultivated villainess smile, sharp enough to cut. Inside, I wanted to stab him with my fork.
He caught the flicker of violence in my eyes, and the bastard only smiled wider. "It's fine. I'm a dead man anyway."
My lips twitched. "You do realize I already have a fiancé?" I muttered through clenched teeth.
The nobles around us gasped audibly. Has Lady Josephine ever been close to the Crown Prince?Is this an affair? The whispers spread like wildfire.
Peter didn't care. Not one damn bit. He twirled me effortlessly into the center of the floor, ignoring the etiquette, ignoring Adele's glare from across the hall. "I don't care, Milady," he said under his breath. "Besides… that might change."
Oh, I was going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully.
So I did the only acceptable thing a noble lady could do in public: I stepped on his foot. Hard.
He didn't flinch. Didn't even twitch. But I knew it hurt. I ground my heel down for good measure.
His smirk didn't falter. "We're talking after this."
The orchestra swelled, the nobles clapped politely, and I forced my body to keep moving in rhythm with his. Outwardly, we must have looked like a picture-perfect couple, gliding across the ballroom floor.
Inside, though, my blood boiled. He had no right. No right to barge into my carefully planned background life, no right to drag me into the spotlight.
[Xipe: He's obsessed with you. It's hilarious.]
Shut up. Not. Funny.