Chapter 07
“…If you work long enough, you’ll learn with your body.”
If learning by watching looked like that, shouldn’t she debut as an actress? The brief silence right after that was slightly irritating.
“How old are you exactly?”
“Since you’re seventeen, I’m seventeen too.”
So basically, she wasn’t confirming she was actually seventeen. Lucy answered my question but didn’t give a straight answer. She was dodging the core of it.
Suspicious.
I looked at her with a doubtful gaze, but she still maintained her elegance.
If I was suspicious, Lucy was ten times more so. No one in the Dycus family doubted her.
“Do you just randomly set ages like that?”
“Miss, do you think chatting with me will solve that?”
She immediately understood my desire to distance myself from the books even for a second.
“Alright, fine. I’ll do it, but can I take a short break?”
I buried my head in the book again. Around me, bees buzzed and flew. When I waved my hand, this time they circled Lucy.
Tap tap—
The woman who entered the room wore a dress tightly buttoned up to her neck, her eyes behind glasses sharp and shining. All her hair was tied tightly in one knot. She looked so strict that not even the tip of a needle could enter.
She seemed slightly older than me.
Her slight bow, just enough for the hem of her dress to brush the floor, was precise. Our eyes met, but she only bowed politely, saying nothing. She lowered her head slightly and waited for something.
“Miss, you should speak first.”
Lucy whispered into my ear. For someone who called it “troublesome formalities,” she knew exactly what to do.
“Ah. Who are you?”
“Elizabeth Greed. Pleased to meet you.”
She introduced herself in a low but firm tone. Her pronunciation of her name was particularly pleasant. It sounded familiar.
“Wow. The author of this book!”
After all my complaints, the author herself appeared. Feeling awkward, I flipped to the first page of the book.
“Could you sign here…?”
Elizabeth Greed, who had been expressionless, let out a faint chuckle.
“From today, I will be your etiquette instructor. We have a long way to go.”
Lucy lightly covered her mouth with her hand. Only Lucy laughed at my joke. All my suspicions toward Lucy vanished with that smile.
“Oops. Sorry.”
Clatter—thunk.
The knife plunged into the plate. A chunk flew and splattered onto Elizabeth’s dress. Expressionless, she wiped the pudding off her face with a handkerchief. Her stern expression reminded me of a female version of Jerob.
“Again.”
Each time the sound was made, a new pudding plate was provided. I tried several times, but the same thing happened repeatedly. Either too weak to cut or too strong, causing a loud sound. The food flew again.
“Keep your shoulders straight and don’t make a sound. You applied too much force with the knife. It will break.”
Elizabeth immediately approached and firmly held my elbow, signaling me to relax.
“Be careful not to ruin the shape. Once you master the force in your hands, it won’t break.”
She taught me how to handle utensils using the fragile pudding. The silverware looked sparkling and beautiful but was impractical. It was so heavy my wrist trembled from the strain.
Usually, when possessed, there’s some advantage.
Buzz buzz—
‘So you exist.’
The bee buzzing around me proudly displayed its presence. That was the only perk: a shiny little insect. I noticed immediately and let out an angry buzz.
“You can eat pudding with a spoon.”
“Next, take a sip of water.”
I argued with her, but she ignored me expertly. Reluctantly, I followed her instructions and brought the glass to my lips.
“Don’t leave lip marks on the glass.”
A direct correction followed. Even with makeup, it was impossible not to leave traces. No matter how slightly I curled my lips inward, marks remained.
“How do I do that?”
“Use skill.”
She was rumored to be a perfect teacher, but teaching me was not easy.
I grew up in an environment unfamiliar with forks and knives, so using them skillfully was already remarkable. She probably saw me as just a girl lacking etiquette.
I needed chopsticks. I had once moved sixty-five beans in a “best chopstick-handling and eating contest.”
“By the way, do debutantes even eat at the banquet?”
“No, they don’t.”
“Huh?”
The glass almost clinked. After enduring it all day, my arm cramped at night—and it was useless!
“Don’t bite the rim of the glass. No marks will remain, but it ruins your facial shape. You must master basic etiquette before advancing.”
Solid foundations are needed before moving on. I had heard similar advice during exam prep. Teachers in every era thought the same: build from the root.
With less than three months until debut, was it really possible? According to Elizabeth, correcting me would take over three years.
“Solra. Oh. Elizabeth.”
Aileen appeared at the table wearing a light yellow dress. Her voice was the happiest sound in the world.
“Mrs. Dycus.”
Elizabeth greeted her with perfect etiquette.
“Mom! Are you okay?”
I ran up and grabbed Aileen’s hand.
“Yes. I wanted to see if you were doing well.”
“You look much healthier.”
Indeed, her complexion had improved. Her pale cheeks had a healthy blush. Jerob stood firmly beside her, wearing a deep purple uniform.
He slightly nodded toward Elizabeth. His gaze scanned the puddings smeared on the floor and returned to me. His brow twitched just a little.
‘Correct! Displeased!’
“Solra Dycus.”
“Yes, brother.”
The bees that had been endlessly buzzing around hid behind me again. They were particularly afraid of Jerob.
“Go.”
Why did that sound like a death sentence? Was it just my imagination? The low voice sent chills down my spine.
“Me? Where to? Um…mom?”
I held Aileen’s hand tightly. This didn’t feel like a trip to a good place.
Help me. SOS!
“Go ahead. It’s been a while, so I should talk with Eli.”
She didn’t notice my signal.
“Hoho. Eli. How have you been? It’s been a while.”
“You’re still beautiful, madam.”
The further the ladies’ conversation went, the colder I felt.
Whirrr—
The bee that always hovered around me sat on the pudding. It didn’t even attempt to follow me.
What is this?
“Sign.”
I checked the documents Jerob Dycus handed me several times.
Fake Little Sister Employment Contract.
‘No way. I have to sign a contract? From Dycus?’
I looked over the contract repeatedly with Jerob. I rubbed my eyes. I couldn’t believe it.
The Dycus family accumulated wealth with ruthless methods.
Monopolizing essentials like iron, wheat, and salt. Exploiting peasants who didn’t pay taxes.
Slavery, illegal gambling, usury—everything under Dycus control if it made money.
By day, people paid the royal family; by night, the Dycus family.
Officially, the main business was mining and crafting, but humans were treated as tools. Labor without end, countless artisans imprisoned.
In the original story, Solra nearly lost her life in a crafting village just because she was a Dycus.
The contract was surprisingly proper for the Dycus way.
‘Wow. Five-day workweek?’
Hours, breaks, compensation for injury—all were detailed. Sick days, annual leave, vacations—everything was meticulously listed.
All costs for maintaining Solra Dycus’s dignity are covered by the Dycus family.
Although the contract mostly favored me, I hesitated to sign it.
“Are there any secret clauses?”
I flipped the page just in case.
Of course. What did they think of me!
On the back were handwritten notes in elegant script:
Obey Jerob Dycus’s orders as the top priority.
After work, report directly to him.
“Directly? My working hours are supposedly until I sleep.”
“You report then.”
Alone in a dark room with Jerob Dycus in the dead of night? With that dangerous body and face? With my former favorite?
“Isn’t that too risky?”
“Diane Haiste.”
His expression turned even colder.
“Just joking. Haha. I only said it because it’s late and you might be tired.”
“I don’t care.”
Jerob’s blunt reply suggested nothing inappropriate would happen.
People here really had no sense of humor.
“Report to my teachers instead.”
“Others’ words cannot be trusted.”
Tiring. Living in constant suspicion would exhaust anyone.
“Very well.”
I placed the contract neatly on the table.
“What are you doing?”
“Contracts are usually negotiated. This is my demand.”
The Dycus family will treat Diane Haiste kindly.
“Kindly?”
“Yes. Treat me like a real younger sister.”
In Solra Dycus’s memories, Jerob was a stoic but caring big brother.
When returning from the castle, he brought sweet treats.
He tied up messy hair after searching for a four-leaf clover.
On stormy nights when sleep didn’t come, he secretly worked on paperwork.
“Diane Haiste.”
“Yes.”
“You speak as if you know the story between me and Solra.”
