Chapter 69

“Are you really saying it wasn’t Nerys?”

Isabelle fervently defended Nerys. It wasn’t out of pure intention—if it turned out that Nerys was the culprit behind today’s chicken blood incident, she’d be the first to get scorched, so she had no choice.

“Yes, miss. It’s impossible. I was watching her the whole time. She didn’t even glance at the first-year classroom, and even when she stepped away for a moment, I followed her.”

Hearing that, Valentin fell into thought. After a moment, her eyes lit up.

“Then the culprit is obvious. Megara, that nasty wench—this is all because I said a few things to her? Unbelievable.”

Delma, who had been trying to pin the blame on Nerys from the beginning, was disheartened, while Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief. Valentin rubbed rose oil on her hands, deep in contemplation.

She pondered how best to retaliate.

Nothing came to mind that would immediately startle Megara. So, Valentin decided to shift focus slightly. There was no rule that said revenge had to be carried out the same way.

“Wasn’t there a party this weekend for the high nobles?”

A party for underclassmen, but only those whose families were deemed ‘sufficiently high-ranking’—specifically, count-level and above—were invited. Megara would surely attend.

Delma nodded.

“Yes, miss.”

“Contact the host. If Megara’s coming, then I’m not.”

Both Delma and Isabelle’s mouths dropped open.

In the social scene, saying such a thing was no different from declaring open hostility.

Girls could fight among themselves. But showing that conflict before other noble houses was another matter entirely. Delma quickly tried to calm her lady.

“Miss, the party is only a few days away. How can we rearrange things now? If you really don’t want to see her, why not just make up an excuse and bow out?”

“Delma, how could you say that to me? Of all people, shouldn’t you be on my side?”

Valentin expressed her disappointment at Delma’s attempt to prevent a head-on clash.

Seeing that dissatisfied face, Delma hastily retracted her words. After all, her power came entirely from Valentin.

“Of course, miss. I’m always on your side. Yes, I’ll do as you say.”

Delma began thinking up an excuse to give to her actual employers, the duke and duchess. Valentin lifted her chin arrogantly and said,

“If the host refuses, then tell them we’ll be holding a party at our estate soon. Tell them to decide what they want. We’ll throw the most luxurious and dignified party this school has ever seen and only invite those who deserve it. If they want an invitation, they’d better watch their step!”

“Yes, miss. That’s a wonderful idea.”

With bait like that, the host wouldn’t be able to refuse. Delma praised her again, thinking her lady really was clever. Valentin turned her gaze to Isabelle.

“This worked out nicely. I can catch two birds with one stone. Isabelle, I’ll send you the invitations in a few days. Make sure you give one to Nerys. She has to come.”

“An invitation?”

Wasn’t this party supposed to be for people who were ‘worthy’?

The idea that Nerys would be invited to such an event gave Isabelle pause, and she unintentionally questioned it. Valentin smirked confidently.

“A fake invitation. It’s not like she knows what my personal seal looks like, right? I’m in a bad mood, so I need to tease her a little.”

* * *

News that Valentin Elandria was preparing a party with great effort soon spread throughout the school.

Though, unlike custom, the invitations had only been sent a week in advance and the preparations were still underway, no one doubted the party would be splendid.

A fabric shop in downtown Carten had stopped taking other orders to focus on making curtains for the party. Footmen had even ridden horses to a neighboring city since quality ingredients couldn’t be sourced near Carten.

Amid the chatter, those who received invitations were secretly proud, while those who didn’t were disappointed. As the list of invited students grew, the selection criteria became more apparent.

High nobility. Wealthy children from the most historic houses.

So when Isabelle handed Valentin’s invitation to Nerys, Nerys didn’t even need to check its authenticity. Of course it was fake.

“Miss, Lady Valentin specifically asked that Miss Nerys attend as well. You may live separately, but you’re still part of House Elandria, so she hoped you’d help host the guests.”

If Valentin had actually said such a thing, it would signal the end of the world. Still, Nerys found the effort endearing and unfolded the invitation.

As expected. Beneath the beautifully written message was a seal that, at first glance, resembled Valentin’s personal mark—but upon closer inspection, it was clearly different.

High-ranking nobles of the Bistor Empire created personal seals around the time they entered school. Mimicking adults, they stamped them on letters and the like.

To use a seal different from the family crest, one usually had to have at least a small estate of their own. So such seals were objects of admiration.

Naturally, Nerys knew what Valentin’s personal seal looked like. It was such a silly design, it was almost cute.

Valentin probably planned to laugh and chase her out at the entrance, claiming the invitation was fake when she showed up all excited.

But in her previous life, Nerys had experienced humiliations far worse than being kicked out of a party. She even knew plenty of ways to ruin the party experience for those who did attend without a hitch.

Smiling, Nerys folded the invitation again. Then she told Isabelle,

“How thoughtful of Valentin to think of me. In that case, I’ll be sure to attend.”

Got her. Isabelle smiled inwardly with satisfaction.

No matter how cunning she was, there was no way that brat would know what a duke’s daughter’s personal seal looked like. Even if she did, it wasn’t like she had any reason to doubt an invitation personally delivered by Isabelle herself. She probably wouldn’t look too closely.

“Then I’ll go back to doing what you asked me to do, miss.”

“Alright, go on.”

Nerys had sent Isabelle off with some task to keep her away. She’d been dragging her along lately to avoid getting caught up when Megara struck back at Valentin, but Isabelle was nothing but a nuisance now.

As Isabelle scurried off, Diane openly looked displeased.

“Don’t mind her too much.”

Nerys said with a smile, but Diane frowned and muttered,

“It’s weird, Riz. Everyone else who got invited is from a family over two hundred years old, or at least has a marquess lineage on their mother’s side. Why would she invite us?”

Diane had received an invitation from Valentin too. She had kept it a secret, just as Nerys told her.

Nerys replied gently,

“Your family still holds considerable influence in the Empire, Diane. It’s just that fools try hard to pretend that’s not true.”

The hyenas that flocked to House MacKinnon every winter. What did it matter how many generations ago their ancestor had become a noble?

Without money, they had no choice but to seek hospitality from the very families they so looked down on.

Even so, Diane didn’t look convinced.

“Hmm… Still, I doubt your cousin needs our family.”

It was true. There were only a handful of families that House Elandria actually had to appease. And Valentin was especially arrogant, even among them.

“Inviting you is a logical move.”

Nerys believed Valentin’s motive was clearly one of two things: either to pull Diane away from Nerys, or to kick them both out at the party entrance and enjoy the scene.

But Diane didn’t need to know that. Nerys already had a way to end this before Valentin could even make a move.

“I’m heading to the Kartak Institute from here. Have a good class, Diane.”

The two girls parted at the fork on their way to their next classes. Diane, feeling a bit disappointed, waved her hand, and Nerys waved back.

As Nerys crossed the broad courtyard of Kartak Institute, her eyes darkened.

In her previous life, Nerys had hated social gatherings. Angharad waving invitation cards in her face had been nothing compared to the horrors she had endured.

The older she got, the worse things became. Especially because of Megara.

Even in her past life, Megara had always reigned like a queen among her peers. Her power was so absolute that even when she hurled insults in front of everyone, the image of Megara in their minds remained noble and sweet beyond words.

That unshakable image, as hard as diamond, was almost eerie. No matter how wicked her orders or how dirty her schemes, no one but Nerys could ever see a flaw in that little queen.

That near-religious adoration twisted the morals of children as they grew up.

‘Megara can’t be wrong. Because Megara is never wrong.’ That kind of logic was never questioned in class. Just like how ‘Nerys must be wrong. Because Nerys can’t possibly be right.’ went unchallenged.

The shameless double standards only led the others to outdo even Megara in cruelty.

One day—Nerys remembered she must have been around sixteen—she had received a tea party invitation.

By then, she knew no one ever invited her out of kindness. But the name on the invitation was too terrifying to refuse. So she forced herself to attend.

And quickly regretted it.

Megara’s tea party by the lakeside on a beautiful spring day was perfect. The round table was set with colorful finger foods and porcelain painted with roses.

Children dressed in their finest, adorned with glittering jewelry, were served fragrant tea.

Everything looked flawless—except for one thing:

There was no chair for Nerys.

She wasn’t surprised at first. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

But when Megara acknowledged it, Nerys was stunned.

– “Nerys, don’t just stand in the corner. It’s because there’s no chair for you, right?”

– “Yea h.”

Nerys nodded warily. By then, Megara’s beauty had already bloomed like a rose, and she spoke with ease.

– “Your seat is over there. Hyman, bring the young lady.”

Megara’s servant, Hyman, lifted Nerys while she stared, horrified, at the coffin placed near the lake.

No matter how much she screamed to be let down, it was useless. He firmly shoved her small, thin body into the coffin. Before she could climb out, he pushed it into the lake.

To be fair, the coffin was well-made. Probably even waterproof. It carried the pale, frozen fifteen-year-old girl quite far without sinking.

The reason Nerys couldn’t jump out quickly was fear. When the coffin first floated up on the water, Megara had lazily commented,

– “You’re dead, remember? Dead people shouldn’t move.”

Her classmates had been too busy laughing to notice anything else.

Nerys remembered it well. Sitting beside Megara at the time had been Valentin.

Since the two were of similar age and both children of the highest nobility, they often invited each other to social gatherings. Valentin had found it all very amusing that day.

So petty tricks like this meant nothing now.

That day, after dragging herself out of the lake soaking wet, Nerys was served a tea snack made with a dead rat—and was forced to eat it. (T/N: What a fking sick bitch.)

Since then, even the sound of rats scurrying on the ceiling had made her sick.

Anyway, it wasn’t like Valentin would bring a rat to her own party, right?

Lost in thought, Nerys found herself standing in front of the upperclassmen’s classroom. Her next class was [International Resources and Trade]. Last time Valentin visited, Nellusion had come from this direction…

“Nerys.”

A familiar voice, warm and casual. Nerys turned her head with a pleased smile.

Nellusion stood there, smiling as always.

“Heading to class?”