IDKML 10

Chapter 10

“Where on earth—!”

“Oh my, raising your voice like that? Lady Philite has always lacked a bit in etiquette.”

“Perhaps it’s you, Lady Sheffield, who’s lacking. And for the record, it’s not Lady Philite—it’s Chief Aide.”

As if lightning had struck between a snake and a mongoose, Cooper raised his hand to calm them down.
“The new aide has arrived, yes—but what does that have to do with you, Lady Sheffield?”

“It has everything to do with me.”

Even though both Cooper and Iris openly tried to push her out, Lady Sheffield was not someone who could be easily dismissed.

“How could it not be related? If I’m to stand beside him, I must know all of his aides.”

Her tone implied it was only natural, and Iris, dumbfounded, shot back,
“What is that baseless confidence of yours?”

“Oh my, baseless? Tell me—who else besides His Highness the Crown Prince could capture me in an instant, just with presence and gaze, no—just with words? I’m wagering my life on this. If I’m to devote my life to someone, they have to be worthy.”

“What nonsense about wagering your life—”

Iris lunged forward, ready to spit venomous words, but Cooper quickly covered her mouth.
Before Iris could truly explode, the tension-filled air in the room was broken by the sound of a door opening.

Click.

“I’m back. The servants had everything prepared, so I just brought it along. Let’s drink some tea and catch our breath a bit. But what’s this awful smell…?”

Ophelia, setting down a tray and fanning her nose against the overwhelming perfume, blinked in surprise.
“A new aide?”

Lady Sheffield took a deliberate step forward and looked Ophelia up and down.
Ophelia rolled her eyes at Iris and Cooper, silently asking what was going on—but the opponent before her was not one to “speak with the eyes.”

“Red hair and blue eyes… Volshake, I see.”

Lady Sheffield furrowed her brow, as if thinking deeply.
“What on earth did His Highness see in you to make you an aide? Judging by your appearance—hmm.”

Pointing at Ophelia’s face and figure with a finger, she sneered and tossed her fan at Ophelia.
The fan struck the toe of Ophelia’s shoe.

“The fan fell,” Lady Sheffield said with a smirk, flicking her fingers—clearly meaning, pick it up.

This was an old-fashioned act of bullying in high society.
So old, in fact, that Ophelia couldn’t even bring herself to be angry anymore.
She’d been through far worse storms to be ruffled by something so petty.
But that didn’t mean she’d stoop to picking it up either.

“What are you doing?” Ophelia finally spoke.
“Lady Sheffield, you’ve been speaking quite informally for a while.”

“Isn’t that natural? Surely you don’t think we’re equals?”

Ophelia, as one of Crown Prince Richard’s aides—just like Iris and Cooper—was someone to whom Sheffield should be speaking politely.
Strictly speaking, working directly for the Imperial family made Ophelia’s position higher than that of a mere marquess’s daughter without any official post.
But the world rarely followed proper logic.
The Sheffield family’s influence made mutual politeness expected, though the Lady clearly had no intention of showing it.

Iris and Cooper received polite speech only because their families, the Philites and the Halseys, were influential in the Empire.
The Volshake family, however prestigious its name, was now little more than a paper tiger—respected only in memory.
Why would Lady Sheffield hesitate to barge into the Crown Prince’s aide office uninvited? There’d be no punishment for her anyway.

“I don’t know how you ended up here, but since you’ve rolled in, you should know your place.”

Her insults were crude but sharp enough to cut straight to the ego.
Ironically, they provoked not Ophelia, but Iris.
Maybe it was because Iris had been sharing those sleepless, meal-skipping days with Ophelia lately,
or because Ophelia had been quietly, flawlessly handling her duties without complaint.
Whatever it was, a sense of camaraderie had taken root—just enough for Iris to open her mouth in Ophelia’s defense.
But Cooper stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“What—let go, Cooper.”

He removed his hand and raised a finger to his lips.
“Shh. Just watch.”

Though his lips still smiled pleasantly, his brown eyes were sharp as blades.
Ophelia, meanwhile, simply stared at Lady Sheffield.

“What are you waiting for? Are you deaf as well as clueless?”

Before Sheffield could finish, Ophelia smiled brightly—then lifted her leg.
Seeing her raise her skirt slightly, Lady Sheffield’s eyes widened.
Iris smirked; Cooper reached out, trying to stop her.

But contrary to what everyone expected—Ophelia didn’t kick Lady Sheffield.
Instead, her foot came crashing straight down.

Crunch.

Something shattered loudly.
Ophelia said calmly, “Fan? What fan? I don’t see one.”

Lady Sheffield gaped, eyes darting between the crushed remains of her fan and Ophelia.
Ophelia made sure to grind it into the floor with her heel for good measure.
“Surely you don’t mean this piece of trash under my foot is your fan?”

She tilted her head, feigning surprise.
“Oh my! If that’s the case, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know you used trash as a fan.”

She nudged the broken pieces toward Sheffield with her shoe, batting her eyes innocently.
“I’d rather not touch garbage, but since you seem to want it so badly, I’ll push it your way. Anyway, I have work to do.”

Turning lightly, Ophelia added over her shoulder,
“Oh, and by the way—this is the aides’ office. You’re the one who rolled in.”

Lady Sheffield stared, speechless, while Ophelia, ignoring her entirely, poured herself tea.
Cooper glanced between them, then whispered to Iris,
“She’s definitely no ordinary lady…”

But his words trailed off as Lady Sheffield murmured in awe,
“My goodness… there is someone like that.”

Her eyes gleamed as she stared at Ophelia as if she’d just found a rare treasure.

The day Ophelia crushed a fan into trash and accidentally became the person Lady Sheffield decided to “devote her life to,” the world did not reset.
And so, the long-awaited day of the hunting tournament—brought to life by Ophelia’s blood, sweat, and tears—finally dawned.

Before heading to the palace, Ophelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Her mother approached quietly.
She had countless questions built up but had missed every chance to ask them because her daughter always left too early for the palace.
Today, she intended to demand answers—how did she become the Crown Prince’s aide, and what responsibilities did that entail?

“Ophel—oh my!”

Her mother recoiled, clutching her chest, as Ophelia’s eyes flew open—sharp and intense.
Without so much as a glance at her startled mother, Ophelia strode off toward the palace.
Her back was straight, her aura grim and resolute—like a general marching to war.
Her mother could only watch, murmuring softly,
“When did that child’s eyes… become like that?”

Ophelia, unaware of her mother’s presence, pressed her dry lips together and exhaled.

“Please, just this once—let the regressions end within three… no, five times.”

A desperate wish—but only a wish.

She hadn’t slept all night.
After tossing and turning endlessly, she could only mutter bitterly to herself now:
“What is a hunting tournament, really?”

A game.
A sport where nobles chase pre-captured prey within a limited area.
But if that were all it was, why did people train year after year for it so fiercely?

“Damn that champion!”

The winner of the tournament earns a private audience with the Emperor—or the Crown Prince.
In an empire where loyalty to the Imperial family was absolute, even a monkey could understand what that meant.

And of course, the hunting ground would be full of armed participants, wild forests, and beasts—some captured, some not, all unpredictable.

In short: the perfect setting to secretly kill someone and bury the truth forever.

She didn’t even need to experience it to know—

Today will be another day of regression.

“Ugh.”
Ophelia rubbed her aching stomach.
Her temples throbbed; her eyes burned as if she could wash them clean if only she could take them out.

“Stress really is the root of all evil.”

Yesterday, after finishing her work, she’d gone home feeling light as air.
She’d planned to fall into blissful sleep…
until she suddenly remembered what kind of event the hunting tournament truly was.

And then—she kicked off her blanket and shot upright.

“The hunting tournament is dangerous!”