Chapter 38
From my past life, I learned one important lesson:
When you’re at a disadvantage, act more shamelessly.
People pay more attention to attitude than to truth.
So instead of answering Lady Enica’s question, I raised my chin proudly and said,
“Lady Enica, do we even know each other?”
And my strike hit the mark.
She faltered, stammering, then lowered her head.
“I… I apologize for being rude…”
Enica was the daughter of a count, while I was the daughter of a marquis. My rank was higher, so she technically had no right to approach me so freely.
Of course, it wasn’t unreasonable. We’d never greeted one another before, but of course we knew each other’s existence.
Besides, Enica was close to my sister Leonie. To her, I was probably like a friend’s older sister. And since I was with Owen, she must have been even more surprised. (Though I did wonder how exactly she had recognized him.)
Still, I didn’t like Enica. Now she hadn’t harmed me—but in my previous life, once Leonie became Empress, Enica had been one of her strongest allies.
Leonie had been brilliant at building her image—acting bright, charming, and lovable to win everyone’s hearts. With that support, she became Empress.
But once she held the title, she used her powers ruthlessly, to the shock of the people. Public opinion turned against her.
And in that moment, it was Enica who supported her—and used me as her weapon. She spread the idea that “Leonie is still better than Sophia becoming Empress.”
The strategy worked. I became isolated.
When Leonie poisoned me and I wasted away blind and frail, Enica was the one who called me “a blind, withered twig.” That nickname spread through society until it stuck.
So no—Lady Enica was not someone I could underestimate, even if she was only seventeen right now. If anything, this was the time to strike first.
I spoke in a cool, arrogant tone:
“Then tell me, Lady Enica—what brings you all the way to Cantalice alone? You seem to have some secret errand you’d rather no one discover.”
“N-no! It’s not like that!”
“Oh? Then you can tell me exactly why you’re here, without a chaperone, all the way from the capital, right?”
“T-that’s…”
She faltered again, bowing her head. Clearly, she hadn’t prepared a lie. Probably never thought she’d run into anyone here.
But why was she here?
Let’s see… first I spotted her at that expensive restaurant her family couldn’t possibly afford. Now here, in this tiny pottery workshop only insiders knew about.
…Ah. I see.
So she was preparing for the Empress’s birthday banquet.
Enica’s mother had once been the Empress’s lady-in-waiting, and they were still close. Likely, the Empress had entrusted her with secret arrangements. Then Enica’s mother sent Enica here to help, since Enica was well-known for her good taste.
The puzzle pieces fit together perfectly.
But of course, for now it was only my guess.
I turned to Owen with a calm smile.
“Owen, didn’t you say I could buy whatever I liked?”
Calling him “Owen,” not “the Duke’s son,” made Enica’s eyes widen.
“Of course, Sophia,” he replied.
“Then I’ll take this.”
I pointed to the very teacup that would someday be used at the Empress’s birthday tea party.
The price… let’s just say even my monthly allowance as a marquis’s daughter—equal to three months of living costs for a commoner family of four—would barely cover it.
“Wait…!” Enica blurted out.
As I thought—she had her eyes on it too.
But Owen quickly stepped in before she could argue.
“Would one be enough, Sophia?”
“Hmm… of course not. My family will need some, and I might host a tea party too…”
I pretended to think, then widened my eyes innocently.
“How about… two hundred?”
Enica’s mouth fell open silently.
I realized a moment later that I might have gone too far. But Owen’s face didn’t even twitch—he nodded smoothly, making my outrageous request official.
The old master of the workshop glanced over at us, her eyes flicking between me, Owen, and Enica. Clearly, she understood everything.
Before I could say anything, she spoke:
“Well, if I don’t take on other work, I can manage that in about a month.”
Owen bowed politely.
“Thank you, ma’am. We’ll look forward to it.”
“Of course,” she replied with surprising ease.
Hah. The two of them really were in sync.
The old woman had looked gruff at first, but she seemed secretly entertained by the drama unfolding before her.
Meanwhile, Enica’s face had gone pale.
“A-a month?!”
Her voice rose in shock, then she quickly covered her mouth.
Because with my order, she wouldn’t be able to use this workshop for a whole month. Not only had I stolen the cup she wanted, but I had blocked her from ordering others too.
She hesitated, then suddenly grabbed the hem of my dress with both hands.
“Lady Bartoli…”
“Yes, Lady Enica?”
“Could I… speak with you for a moment?”
She tilted her head toward the corner, clearly begging me to talk privately. Her desperate look was almost pitiful.
I let her pull me aside.
Enica pleaded.
“Lady Bartoli, please… have mercy.”
“On what?” I asked sweetly, my voice sounding smug even to my own ears.
She explained frantically,
“I had my eyes on that teacup since this morning. I don’t need two hundred. Please, just… sell me seven of them. I’ll pay double—no, triple if I have to!”
Seven, huh?
Of course. That matched exactly—the Empress plus the six young noblewomen invited to her private tea party.
I feigned innocence.
“I didn’t think Lady Enica was the type to be so unreasonable. If you need teacups that badly, order a different design. Or try another workshop.”
“Lady Bartoli, I already visited eight other workshops in Cantalice today! And none of them had anything as perfect as this. I mean it!”
Her face was on the verge of tears.
I thought it over.
In my past life, she had hurt me deeply. Especially with that awful nickname—the blind, withered twig. That wound had never healed.
But, to be fair, she had only ever supported Leonie. She hadn’t held any personal grudge against me. And from her perspective, the nickname had been a clever tactic to isolate me. She was skilled at playing queen of society.
And in this life… none of that had happened yet. Maybe it never would.
If anything, it might be useful to have Enica owe me a favor.
“…Alright.”
“Huh? …Huh?!” She jerked her head up.
“Really?”
“You said you only need seven, right? Or do you not want them anymore?”
I pretended to turn away. Enica quickly grabbed my hand.
“No, no! Thank you so much! How much should I pay? Just say the word!”
“Forget it. Just pay the full price to the master. I’m not a broker.”
“…My goodness.”
Her mouth fell open.
I turned away as if it was nothing. But she still didn’t let go of my hand.
When I looked back, her eyes were sparkling as she gazed at me.
“What now?” I asked.
“Lady Bartoli… I just wanted to say this. Your dress is truly beautiful.”
“…What?”
Why bring up my dress now?
But she was completely serious.
“I’m not saying this because you gave me the cups. I thought so the moment I first saw you. It’s refreshing and eye-catching.”
“…Ah. I see.”
I answered flatly.
Of course. Enica admired people with good taste. In my past life, I always wore plain, modest dresses—nothing she would ever like.
Ha. No wonder we never got along.
But in this life, I had lived through countless fashion trends. My current style might seem outdated to me, but to others—like Enica—it was strikingly new.
