~Chapter 20~
‘First, let’s investigate thoroughly until I’m sure.’
“Miss?”
“Ah, yes!”
Corel, her nanny, chattered brightly as she tidied up breakfast.
“Last night at dinner with the other servants, they all wanted to befriend me, saying I’m the beloved nanny of the future Duchess! It felt great, like I was a person of power. When would I ever experience this again~”
Riden paused her worries and listened to Corel’s cheerful rambling.
She had asked Corel to converse often with the servants to build rapport quickly. It seemed she was performing her task well.
As Corel talked, she picked up a glossy cherry and popped it into Riden’s mouth, then softly stroked her pale cheek with concern.
“You’re feeling uneasy, aren’t you?”
“Hmm?”
Startled by Corel’s sudden serious tone, Riden blinked.
“You think I don’t know your worries, my lady? You’ve spent your whole life at the Count’s estate, and now you’re suddenly in the capital, facing marriage and trying to get close to new family members. It must feel so alien and hard.”
“Corel…”
‘No, it’s not a new family I want to get close to, it’s new money…’
Though Corel’s guess was far off the mark, her warm words to comfort her still made Riden’s chest tighten with emotion.
“Corel, don’t leave my side today, okay?”
“Oh my, of course. Where would I go?”
Just as Riden reached to hold Corel’s hand and share her warmth—
“Oh my, it’s time.”
Corel pointed at the wall clock. It was 9 AM.
“Huh?”
“Good luck today, my lady!”
“We’re coming in!”
At that instant, unfamiliar voices rang from outside. The door swung open, and servants rushed in to whisk Riden away.
“Corel!”
She looked back at Corel, who waved peacefully, her eyes filled with betrayal.
The room fell quiet once Riden left.
‘My lady, you mustn’t rely on this old woman forever. You must bond with your new family.’
Smiling gently, wrinkles forming kindly around her eyes, Corel popped the leftover cherry into her mouth.
9 AM sharp – Temporary Atelier
Riden was dragged into a small atelier created just for her fitting.
She entered and her eyes widened.
‘This is… amazing.’
Under the flood of natural light, countless colourful fabrics and accessories sparkled.
Even though this atelier would be dismantled in a few days, its quality was extraordinary.
‘The Kenwulf family truly misses nothing…’
Such a flawless setup required immense money and manpower.
As she admired the atelier, her gaze met a man sitting in the corner with his legs crossed.
It was Marick, her future brother-in-law.
Clad in white like a saint, he lowered the documents he was reading and smiled radiantly.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, my lord.”
She bowed politely, then hesitated.
He seemed in an especially bright mood today. She tried to think of a topic to avoid awkward silence, but someone else beat her to it.
“Our little chick has arrived!”
It was Twiffany.
Last night, Riden had finally learned that the “chick” nickname they used in their cryptic conversations referred to her.
Blushing, she protested shyly.
“Please don’t call a person a chick…”
“Oh? But we’re just following the Duchess’ orders. If you have complaints, please take them up with her~”
Twiffany teased playfully and turned to Marick.
“My lord, it seems the lady dislikes the Duchess’ nickname. Shall we inform her immediately?”
Marick waved a rolled-up memo in amusement.
“What a shame. If the lady dislikes it, I suppose I must send this now.”
‘Why does he have a memo ready? And a pen?!’
Marick, pen in hand, began scribbling notes on his knee.
“What should I write… hmm… ‘Mother’s chick rejects her given name.’”
“Ah, no! My lord, it’s fine, really! I’ll be the chick! Haha… what a… lovely nickname.”
Seeing her forced smile, Marick crumpled the note lightly.
“Really? Then I won’t send it.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Good. I like that name Mother gave you.”
“…Yes.”
The image of Samantha’s fiery red eyes flashed in her mind, and her heart raced uncontrollably.
She pressed her chest, trying to calm her pounding heart.
‘I vowed to change from my past life… but it seems this body still wants to be cautious around people.’
The Duchess was terrifying.
Angering her future mother-in-law could bring any manner of retribution.
“Hey there!”
This time, Minolo approached, barking out orders.
“Can’t you see the chick is blinded by the sun? Why isn’t anyone closing those curtains? Hurry up!”
“Yes, sir!”
Servants scurried to obey.
‘They’re really treating me like an actual chick now…’
Riden could only smile awkwardly as Minolo set a stool down for her.
“Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
She sat demurely as instructed when—
Knock knock.
At the sound, everyone except Serawang froze in place.
Henji looked around her powder room.
Cashmere, silk, vicuña, premium linen…
All the luxurious fabrics she thought were hers had disappeared.
Shoes and other accessories too – gone.
Her once grand powder room now felt barren.
“Hoo…”
She let out a deep sigh and opened the only box left.
Inside were flashy, gaudy fabrics with an unmistakably middle-aged feel.
They were bought by her father, Baron Dolomy, thinking they suited her taste.
Originally, she had planned to discard them without use. But now, she had no choice but to make her debutante dress from them.
‘Can I even debut like this?’
Staring into nothingness, she clutched the fabric until her knuckles turned white.
Seeing his daughter’s ragged breathing, Baron Dolomy stepped forward anxiously.
“Calm down first, Henji. Please…”
“Father, was I ever going to debut at all?”
Despite endlessly sending letters to the Duchess, no replies came. Baron Dolomy had prepared alternative plans, secretly gathering funds to request help from other nobles in the capital.
“Of course you will. I’ve arranged everything! Even if the Duchess ignores you, it’s no problem at all.”
But instead of calming her, Henji’s body shook harder as she yelled,
“No problem? Then what is a problem?! Who is this noble you’ve found? Are they powerful enough for me to stand out? Are they as grand as the Duchess’ support?!”
“……”
“If I wear this shabby fabric, everyone will look down on me!”
In her mind, she saw herself under the ballroom lights, compared endlessly to the Count’s daughter.
She could not bear it.
Her father looked at her with pity.
‘No, this was supposed to be mine…’
Henji clenched her teeth, forcing her reason to return.
‘Even if she is the chosen bride, Ethan truly loves only me! If I give up, what then? He will set everything right when he knows!’
Until then, she would endure.
Finding better materials or talent than the Duchess’ now was impossible.
‘I’ll have to persuade them to prepare my debut along with hers…’
“Father, you know my success is your only path to glory, right? Listen carefully to what I’m about to say.”
Hearing her next words, Baron Dolomy’s face hardened with resolve.
Back in the Atelier…
Marick, who had been casually watching Riden’s fitting process, answered the knock with an authoritative voice.
“Enter.”
In walked Baron Dolomy.
Following a step behind was Henji, head lowered, her spirit utterly crushed.
