The teacup was halfway to my lips when Valeria spoke, her voice smooth as poisoned honey.
"Courtesy," she said, rolling the word like she was tasting rot. "How generous of His Majesty to elevate a commoner simply for catching the queen's eye at a charity event. One would think the court has run out of nobles to fawn over."
Dairus didn't look up from his plate. "The decision is made. We will not embarrass House Noctyra by refusing."
Valeria's fingers tightened around her fork until the silver creaked. "Of course, Uncle. We'll be the picture grace."
I sipped my tea, hiding my face.
In the game, this was exactly when Valeria began her small rumors, then escalated accidents—classic villainess starter pack.
And I, Liriel Noctrya, was supposed to be her eager sidekick. Hard pass.
Kael, silent since I sat down, finally moved. He reached for the crystal decanter of juice with the kind of precision that made you wonder if he practiced sword forms with tableware. His violet eyes flicked to me briefly. No expression. Just... observation.
Note to self: do not piss off the brother.
I set my cup down too hard. Porcelain clinked against the saucer. Three heads turned.
Sh*t
"Something on your mind, Liriel?" Dairus asked, neutral ton, though it felt like interrogation.
"Uh." Think noble. Think villainess. "I was wondering how crowded the welcoming reception will be."
Valeria arched a brow. "Since when do you care about crowds? You usually complain they ruin your view of eligible bachelors."
I shrugged. "People change." Pulse, staring at pretty boys all day gives you neck cramps. Ask me how I know—i spent three years drooling over capture targets on my phone screen.
Silence stretched. Kael's lips twitched—not smile just the ghost of one. Dairus studied me over his coffee rim.
"You will attend the reception with Valeria. Both of you will behave."
Translation: don't start a war before dessert.
Valeria inclined her head, perfectly obedient. "Naturally."
I nodded too. "Got it."
Dairus's eyes narrowed slightly at my modern slang, but after a long moment, he just took another sip of coffee and let it pass.
Progress? Next time I'll try Affirmation, my Lord instead of Got it. ThoughRoger that would be way funnier.
Breakfast ended. Valeria swept out first, probably to sharpen her claws. Or practice her "icy glare" in the mirror. Girl's got commitment issues... to being nice.
Dairus murmured something about council meetings and followed. Kael lingered just long enough to give me one last unreadable look before leaving.
The hall emptied. I exhaled. "Well. That went... not terrible?"
Mira appeared at my elbow like a nervous ghost. "My Lady, shall I escort you back to your room? I can have the servants prepare your favorite—those lemon tarts from the royal bakery."
She clutched her apron hem so tightly her knuckles were white. Poor kid. In the game, she'd been terrified of Liriel. Waiting for the next outburst. Can't blame her—old me would've yelled if the curtains were the wrong shade of lavender.
"Hey," I said softly, "you don't have to walk three steps behind me. We can... walk together."
Her eyes went wide. "T-together?"
"Yeah. Like normal people." Who knew being decent was so shocking? Next I'll tell her the sky is blue and watch her faint.
She hesitated, then took a tiny step forward. Baby steps.
Halfway down the corridor, she whispered, "Lady... are you feeling unwell?"
I snorted. "Define unwell."
"You said thank you this morning. And now you're... walking with me."
Ah. Reputation. Precedent. Old Lieriel didn't see servants as people—just props in her noble life.
"I'm turning over a new leaf," I said. "Less screaming at servants. More... not that."
Mira blinked. Processing. I sighed. "Don't worry. I'm not dying or possessed by a shadow vein spirit. Just trying not to be a complete—" I paused. "Well, you know."
Mira gasped, then giggled softly. "Oh no... forgive me, my lady—"
"Relax," I grinned. "We'll keep that between us."
She nodded vigorously, cheeks pink.
Back in my room, I dismissed her with actual gentleness and collapsed onto the bed the moment the door closed.
Cassian.
His name floated uninvited, attached to the mental image I'd crafted: soft blue-gray hair, gentle eyes, black-and-gold outfit with intricate gloves that hide the scars on his hands. Quite. Kind. That "sorry-for-existing-too-loudly" type that makes my chest ache.
I'm the game, he had attended every major event, always on the edges, helping Seraphina silently, never asking for anything in return. My chest tightened. Stupid fangirl heart. I'm supposed to be a sophisticated side Villainess, not a teen with a wall of posters!
The welcoming reception was next week. Big court event. Tons of nobles.
Cassian would be there. He always was.
I rolled onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow.
Calm down. You are not twelve anymore. You do not get heart palpitations over fictional characters made real.
But damn it—he was real now. Breathing. Blushing? Probably smelling like whatever fancy cologne viscount wore.
And I had exactly five days to figure out how to accidentally run into him without looking like a total stalker.
Step one: stop acting like the old Liriel.
Step two: survive family breakfast without modern slang.
Step three: profit. Somehow.
A knock at the door. Mira returned, holding a silver envelope.
"My lady? An invitation just arrived. The palace is hosting a pre-reception garden banquet in five days—for younger nobles to familiarize themselves before the formal event."
My heart did a traitorous flip.
I took the envelope, fingers steady only through sheer willpower. Names of attendees were listed inside. Long columns of noble house.
There.
Viscount Cassian Veldt.
I pressed the card to my chest for one brief, embarrassing second before catching myself.
But this time, I wasn't playing for the heroine's route.
~🫶