Chapter 13
The boutique owner, Petisha, collapsed onto the sofa in exhaustion after Maddy’s carriage departed.
“Record sales today…”
“Exactly. But do you really think she and His Grace the Grand Duke are going to marry?”
The shop was in shambles after Maddy had swept through it like a storm.
“Well, it’s probably just a passing fling. Either way, we made the sale, so it’s a win for us.”
Petisha was certain.
The Grand Duke was a responsible and noble man—no way would he actually marry some girl from the slums. That idea was absurd.
But Maddy, who was planning to turn that absurd idea into reality, hadn’t spoken a single word since she left the boutique.
She looked like a completely different person from when she first arrived by carriage.
And it wasn’t just her appearance that had changed.
Her posture was straight, hands neatly folded, gaze steady.
She exuded such grace she could pass for a noble lady from a prestigious household.
Rayley was silently stunned by the transformation. Changing someone’s outer appearance was one thing—but altering the atmosphere they gave off? That was something else.
She recalled the “orders” Grand Duke Yullikian had repeatedly stressed before leaving the estate.
[“Rayley. Make Maddy as glamorous as possible… no, still keep it neat. Emphasize a vintage elegance. Hmm, but don’t make it too boring either. Make it jaw-dropping at first glance! But don’t make her look too aristocratic either—give her a hint of languidness. Got it?”]
Back then, it all sounded ridiculous. She had answered awkwardly, unable to hide her cold expression.
[“I-I’ll do my best.”]
Now, she just wanted to say this to the anxious Grand Duke:
‘Your Grace, it’s not Maddy—it’s the future Grand Duchess. And she seems to be doing it all on her own.’
Rayley decided she would stick close to Maddy. It was instinctual.
This woman… is powerful.
While Maddy was off buying clothes, Count Montenegzando barged in.
“You’re here, Uncle.”
Yullikian warmly welcomed Count Montenegzando—the very man who had once tried to poison him—without showing a hint of suspicion.
In fact, he smiled brighter than usual and escorted the Count into the parlor.
The Count didn’t even sit down before scowling deeply and jumping straight to the point.
“You know why I’m here, don’t you? Where is that woman? Who gave you the absurd idea to propose to her?”
Even in just three sentences, his contempt for Yullikian was clear.
He had always been this way.
Ever since the death of Yullikian’s parents, the former Crown Prince and Princess, Count Montenegzando had forced himself into a guardian role, becoming overbearing and controlling.
Yullikian never imagined he would go as far as to try and kill him.
He unclenched his fists with effort, maintaining his smile.
“She’s getting ready to greet you. Just a little delayed.”
The Count muttered with a sharp tone,
“…Your Grace. You need to dress the part. Wearing cheap-looking clothes diminishes your dignity.”
“Haha, I’m old enough not to be scolded for my wardrobe.”
“Still, one must uphold a certain standard. A slum girl? Ha!”
Yullikian merely shrugged.
“I’ll take care of this. You do nothing. I’ll soon introduce you to a proper woman worthy of your station.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m already in love.”
“Love doesn’t feed you.”
“I feel full even without food.”
“That’s only because you’re too young and naive! For now, just do as I say!”
Just as the Count’s voice rose, the parlor doors burst open—without even a knock.
“Good afternoon!”
A clear, confident voice rang out. Both Yullikian and the Count turned toward the door.
Maddy stepped in, wearing a deep emerald silk dress, just low-cut enough to show her collarbone—she looked unmistakably like a noble lady.
Her hair was elegantly pinned up, revealing a long, graceful neck. She wore long lace gloves, possibly to cover scars.
As she made eye contact with Yullikian, she smiled gracefully.
Yullikian mentally noted to give Rayley a bonus.
Glamorous but vintage, noble-looking but not stiff—slightly languid.
Maddy checked every box.
Of course, her composed expression helped sell the look.
A unique aura surrounded Maddy in the silk dress and shawl. Despite having never worn fine clothes before, the silk and emerald necklace suited her surprisingly well.
She hadn’t entirely lost her rough edge—but now it exuded a kind of aristocratic charm.
She looked like a privileged rebel who had never gone hungry a day in her life.
“…You look stunning, Maddy.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
She smiled and gave a small curtsy.
It wasn’t just Yullikian who noticed. Count Montenegzando’s eyes widened briefly before he quickly masked his surprise.
‘…She’s got a decent face. But she’s just a slum rat. A little intimidation and she’ll run for sure.’
The Count stared at Maddy in silence.
“Goodness. Can the Count not hear me? Your Grace?”
“That can’t be. My uncle was just—”
Before Yullikian could finish, Maddy marched up and yanked off the Count’s white wig.
Before he could protest, she screamed directly into his ear.
“HEL! LO! SIR! MY! NAME! IS! MADDY! NICE! TO! MEET! YOU!”
“Aaagh! Are you insane?! Stop that at once!”
The Count tried to fix his disheveled wig as Maddy stared innocently.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you might be hard of hearing. Can you hear me now?!”
She exaggerated her hand gestures and raised her voice.
“Yes! I can! So lower that vulgar voice of yours!”
“Oh, that’s a relief. Right, Your Grace?”
“Yes, I’m glad to see my uncle looking so well.”
Even now, Yullikian was calmly smiling—which the Count couldn’t understand.
Then someone knocked on the parlor door. When asked what the matter was, a servant peeked in and asked politely,
“Your Grace, shall I bring in the liquor you mentioned?”
Yullikian, who had ordered no such thing, hesitated—until he saw Maddy wink at him.
“Yes, bring it in.”
The maid entered with a small bottle of liquor and three glasses.
“What’s that?”
The Count asked.
“Absinthe,” the maid answered quietly.
“…Absinthe?”
Maddy placed absinthe spoons over each glass and set sugar cubes atop them. She then slowly poured the green liquid over the cubes.
When the glasses were half full, she struck a match and lit the sugar cubes.
The room filled with the scent of melting sugar and alcohol.
“…Absinthe can be dangerous if you drink too much, can’t it?”
Without speaking, Maddy watched the flame go out, then smiled faintly.
“Yes, you’re right. If you drink too much at once, you could die. Still, isn’t it a beautiful drink?”
She continued brightly.
The Count twitched.
The poison he had given to his agent Mailey was also green.
His hand trembled. Did this girl bring absinthe by coincidence? Or did she know?
And if she knew—did Yullikian know as well?
His eyes darted nervously between the two.
Then Maddy held out a glass to him.
“Count, please have a drink.”
She smiled sweetly.
“Go on.”
Her emerald eyes gleamed like jewels.
Maddy didn’t wait for the Count and drank her glass in one go, closing her eyes to savor it.
“Mmm… delicious. I could die happy.”
In that moment, the Count was sure.
This woman knew he had poisoned Yullikian.
When he heard earlier that Mailey had suddenly vanished, he hadn’t thought much of it. Probably just drunk somewhere.
But now… what if she had found out and disposed of him?
His pupils trembled.
“Your Grace…”
“Yes, Uncle?”
“This woman is trying to…”
He couldn’t say “threaten me.”
And he couldn’t reveal what he hadn’t been directly asked.
Besides, he wasn’t sure if Yullikian even knew.
“By the way, Uncle. You’ll congratulate us on our engagement, right?”
Even now, this fool was thinking about marrying a slum rat.
The Count wanted to smack the clueless Grand Duke upside the head.
He had pitied the boy after he lost his parents and helped him a few times, but now? The boy had inherited a dukedom and was still this naïve?
As the Count prepared to yell, he saw Maddy pull a small glass vial from her sleeve—and his eyes bulged.
It was the same vial of poison he had given Mailey.
“T-That! Why do you…”
His trembling hand pointed at the vial.
“Maddy, did you bring your own absinthe?”
“Yes. I heard it tastes best when poured from small glass vials like this.”
“Just don’t drink too much. It’s bad for your health.”
“Of course.”
She cheerfully poured more of the green liquid into her glass and downed it.
“Ack! No, wait! That stuff—!”
“Why? What’s wrong, Uncle?”
“Spit it out! If you drink too much—! No, that is— Hey!”
While the Count panicked, Maddy gave him an innocent shrug.
“Why are you so alarmed, Count? You look like I just swallowed poison. Hohoho.”
Then, mid-laugh, her fingers began to curl unnaturally inward.
“…Maddy?”
Her green eyes trembled—then rolled back. Her body stiffened, limbs flailing like she’d been struck by lightning.
“Hey! Are you okay?!”
Yullikian jumped up to support her collapsing body.
“Aaah! I told you not to drink it all at once! We need a doctor!”
But in the next second, Maddy straightened herself and burst into laughter.
“Haha! Surprised you, didn’t I? You looked so tense, Count—I just wanted to play a little prank!”
“Is that all? You nearly gave me a heart attack. Haha! You’re unbelievable.”
“Kyahaha!”
“Hahaha!”
Watching them laugh like nothing had happened, the Count’s legs gave out and he collapsed into his seat.
Maddy rested her chin on one hand and looked at the Count, eyes gleaming with a hint of madness.
“We make such a lovely couple, don’t we? Like… you know, those things. Don’t we, Count Montenegzando?”
Only one word came to the Count’s mind:
“Cockroach.”
