The Price Is Your Everything - Chapter 13: Nothing in This World Is Useless

“You’re still lying? Look at this—it has my initials!”

“A could be my initial too!”

That much was true, and the children watching began to whisper. Both Alecto and Angharad’s names started with A.

Nerys smiled coldly to herself. This was precisely why she had chosen Alecto.

If the initials had been M, L, or I, Angharad would have quickly apologized, claiming she had mistaken it due to its similarity. But when there was room for debate, Angharad would argue endlessly. The stain of suspicion, once placed, would never fade—just as it hadn’t for Nerys.

However, it was precisely this obstinate behavior that implied intent. Alecto, her face flushed red with anger, shouted fiercely:

“The embroidery’s done by my maid! If you’re so confident, let’s have your maid and mine sew the same initials onto a ribbon. The one whose stitches match this wins, and they’re the rightful owner. If you lose, I’ll tell my father! Your father’s nothing compared to mine!”

The conflict between the Count of Islarni and the Baron of Nine was too lopsided to even be called a fight. While Count Islarni wasn’t a particularly powerful noble among counts, he still wielded enough influence to hold the title.

Angharad collapsed onto the floor, wailing. The children around her cast cold gazes her way. Diane tilted her head.

“Why would anyone use someone else’s ribbon?”

“Who knows? Usually, just because you’ve lost your own doesn’t mean you’d assume someone else’s belongs to you. Maybe she thought she wouldn’t get caught.”

Diane nodded, finding Nerys’ explanation reasonable.

“Riz, you’re probably right. But how did Alecto figure out the ribbon Angharad wore was hers?”

“Good question.”

Feigning innocence, Nerys shrugged. She, of course, knew everything.

It had started two days ago. In the dormitory’s student laundry room, Alecto’s maid, having lost her mistress’s ribbon, had searched the area thoroughly.

Nearby, a very similar ribbon was found discarded. It was stained with the scent of lavender.

Not every student used the student laundry. Laundry was laborious work, so most students with few or no attendants sent their items to external laundromats in town. Recently, Nerys had stopped by one such laundromat under the guise of dropping off her laundry.

She had approached one of the staff members and said, “Excuse me, but I think I lost a ribbon after coming here. It’s my only luxury item, so I’m worried it got mixed with someone else’s belongings.”

The staff member, seeing Nerys’ modest appearance and hearing her mention having “only one luxury item,” believed her story. They retrieved several ribbons that had just been delivered, including Angharad’s ribbon, which still bore an unremoved lavender stain.

While the staff member was distracted, Nerys discreetly took her intended target and, pretending she hadn’t found her ribbon, left, saying she might have dropped it elsewhere. She waited for the day when Alecto’s maid would be doing laundry.

Finally, while Alecto’s maid was away from the dormitory laundry room, Nerys swapped Alecto’s ribbon from the pile with Angharad’s.

The laundromat, realizing a ribbon was missing, had searched their premises thoroughly. It wasn’t until Nerys returned for her “laundry” the evening before the party that they “coincidentally” discovered the cream-colored ribbon lying near the laundry tub.

The ribbon, now freshly cleaned, was sent to Angharad just before the party. Preoccupied with decorating the banquet hall and preparing food, Angharad’s maid hadn’t noticed the faintly embroidered initials. Even if she had, she likely assumed the laundromat had accidentally swapped the ribbons and figured it could be exchanged after the party.

Had Angharad not chosen to wear cream-colored clothing today, this plan might have failed. But Nerys wasn’t worried—Angharad had spent too much money to blend in. She’d poured every coin her family gave her into this party, so why wouldn’t she wear the jewelry her father had bought in the capital?

Angharad certainly hadn’t expected her party to end like this. Nerys watched her sobbing on the floor, missing none of her movements.

Had Diane’s servant not spilled lavender punch on Angharad’s ribbon at the last party, Nerys might have needed another way to soil it. What a fortuitous accident.

Just placing spiders in the punch wouldn’t have been enough.

“Riz, didn’t you drink the peach punch earlier? Poor you,” Diane suddenly exclaimed, covering her mouth. Nerys nodded calmly, meeting Diane’s kind gaze.

“It can’t be helped.”

“You’re so sweet.”

Diane clicked her tongue as Angharad, her voice trembling, yelled at Alecto.

“I-I didn’t steal it! The laundromat gave it to me! I thought it was mine…”

“Liar! Then why did you throw your ribbon away? Why was my ribbon at the laundromat? My maid handles all my laundry, unlike you! You ruined your ribbon and stole mine, didn’t you? You didn’t want your father to scold you, so you stole it?!”

The children found Alecto’s words reasonable.

The banquet hall filled with murmurs, and no one laughed or played anymore. Finally, as Angharad left in tears, the children began to leave the hall en masse.

Nerys smiled inwardly. Alecto was a clever child. Nerys hadn’t expected her wit to benefit her one day.

‘Nothing in this world is useless after all.’

—

Angharad wasn’t present at the lower nobles’ gathering held in early the next month. The event only had two hosts this time.

The children, having seen Angharad spending her days silently attending classes with her head bowed and speaking to no one, didn’t question her absence.

“Stealing—even something small—means staying after school for two weeks and meeting with Madam Hoffman. If they don’t show remorse, their family gets notified.”

A fourteen-year-old party attendee whispered to a freshman nearby, who couldn’t hide their smug expression.

“She’s always been a bit strange.”

“Right, but there are always kids like that. You should be careful too—don’t leave valuables lying around like you’re at home. If they claim it was just a maid acting alone, it’s hard to impose additional punishment. Understand?”

Angharad’s maid, Martha, ultimately took the blame for the ribbon incident and was expelled from the school.

It was clear what kind of treatment Martha, born and raised in Baron Nine’s territory, would receive upon returning to her hometown and facing her masters. Still, for Angharad, this must have seemed like the best course of action.

But how many people would actually believe her story?

Nerys allowed herself a small, inward smirk at the atmosphere around her.

‘Strange,’ huh. There probably isn’t anyone here who’s heard that word more often than I have.’

A “strange” child in a social sense wasn’t born that way—they were made.

‘The longer you’re excluded, the more you become excluded.’

As a child, Nerys had been cheerful and bright. But as the ostracism at the academy took hold, she grew darker. Darkness itself, however, wasn’t the real issue.

Even people who weren’t aligned with Megara felt uncomfortable talking to Nerys.

‘Normal’ topics, “normal” responses, “normal” emotional expressions—all of these are learned in childhood peer relationships.’ Nerys had struggled most with learning those things.

When children said someone was “a little strange,” they usually meant their behavior deviated from the norm. And once a child was labeled as different, that label isolated them further.

Just as it had for Nerys. And as it would for Angharad.

Because children instinctively recognize the weak.

—

“Hey, Nerys,”

Hardy, one of the party’s hosts, turned to Nerys with sparkling eyes.

“You take classes with the upperclassmen, right? Does that mean you get invited to their parties?”

Nerys shook her head.

“Not at all. The upperclassmen usually stick to their own groups.”

“That’s a shame. I think you’d do really well at an upperclassmen’s party.”

“Thank you for saying so, but I’ve only experienced formal parties since coming to the academy. Every party here feels grand and exciting to me. Being invited today was already such a meaningful experience, Hardy.”

Hardy’s face lit up with pride, and so did the faces of the other children at the table.

Since this was a lower nobles’ party, the children’s parents were, at most, viscounts, and knights’ children were plentiful. However, few came from backgrounds as difficult as Nerys’. Most knightly families who couldn’t afford tuition simply didn’t send their children to the academy.

A sense of relaxed superiority—and the generosity it afforded—permeated the students.

“You have those beautiful purple eyes, Nerys,” one child said confidently. “You must come from a distinguished lineage. You’re smart and refined, so you’ll surely be invited to many prestigious events in the future.”

It was true, though it was now a painful memory of betrayal. Nerys masked her bitterness with a modest smile.

‘You’ve never invited me to any of your own parties, though.’

—

“Did everyone get their invitations? See you Friday!”

Except for Nerys, the entire class was invited to gatherings under the guise of class parties, often held every two weeks. Even after graduation, it was customary for academy peers to maintain such gatherings, yet Nerys remained excluded.

There had been one time during their first year when Nerys had received an invitation from Angharad. Though it felt strange, Nerys was so thrilled to be included that she eagerly accepted.

She wore her best outfit and went to the location listed on the invitation.

But no one was there.

Even after checking several times, the room remained empty. It turned out the location was a classroom for seventh-years.

The other children’s invitations had listed a different venue.

Still clinging to hope, Nerys wandered nearby until a kind upperclassman informed her that the first-years’ party was being held at Megara’s dormitory.

When Nerys reached the dormitory, she saw her peers laughing and enjoying themselves.

The fine clothes, the exquisite food—none of it had been prepared for her.

As she turned away, blaming herself, she overheard Angharad and her friends talking and laughing.

– “Do you think she actually went?”

– “Of course. She’s an idiot.”

– “Ah, that’s hilarious. We should’ve seen it.”

– “Did you see her face when she got the invitation? Who would want her to come? Angharad, you’re the best.”

– “I wouldn’t go if she showed up. Honestly, her mom was weird when we were kids too. Poor Sir Wilmot…”

Nerys had wanted to believe they were talking about someone else. But the moment she heard the name “Sir Wilmot,” she knew.

Angharad hadn’t cared about any truths while boasting among her friends. What mattered was that Nerys served as a pitiful topic, a way for Angharad to proclaim, “I’m just like you all. Look at her—I’m better!”

—

Nerys no longer cared about such petty gatherings. But that didn’t mean she was okay.

And so, she felt no guilt over what had happened to Angharad. Not anymore.