Chapter 47
“Let’s not give up—just a little more strength, okay?”
Monica helped Gonzales to her feet.
“We need to hurry and meet with the merchant lord.”
“Oh, and could you ask him one last thing? Find out if he can distribute glass jars to store the jam. Tell him to consider it an investment.”
“Of course, I’ll do that.”
If Taylor truly understood her intentions, dozens of glass jars would likely arrive at the duke’s estate within the day.
Gonzales gave a deep bow. Eager to relay the message to Taylor, she lifted her skirt with both hands and swiftly exited the annex with brisk, hurried steps.
Meanwhile, Monica let out a short sigh as she watched Gonzales’s figure fade into a mere dot in the distance.
‘Now comes the hardest part.’
She needed to figure out how to persuade the duchess consorts of House Orsé. Lost in thought, Monica reflected on something she had learned during her conversation with Gonzales—just because she acted differently now didn’t mean people would suddenly trust her.
The ladies would continue to doubt and silently guard themselves against her.
‘If that’s the case… I really didn’t want to resort to this method.’
She wasn’t sure if she could pull off the performance, but she wouldn’t know unless she tried. Resolute, Monica rose from her seat and made her way to her room.
Inside the carriage, an awkward silence stretched between Countess Pencil and Monica.
Yesterday, Monica had ordered the butler to bring her every single invitation to social gatherings she had received.
‘I need to find a small event happening soon.’
Flipping through dozens of cards, she searched busily, looking for the perfect opportunity.
After hours of combing through them all, she decided to attend a garden tea party hosted by Viscount Callan—scheduled for today—alongside Countess Pencil.
“Ahem.”
Staring out the window, Countess Pencil cleared her throat several times, her mouth clearly parched.
It was obvious she didn’t want to be here, dragged along against her will.
Monica had anticipated her resistance and gone to the head of House Orsé, Liam, asking for his support.
As a result, Liam had given a direct order for Countess Pencil to accompany Monica.
The retainers were deeply shocked by this.
To them, Liam’s command felt like cutting ties with family using a blade. It was so unbelievable and unacceptable that even the retainers who had previously supported Liam’s decisions now pleaded with him to reconsider.
This had escalated from a simple issue of social attendance into a matter of whether the lord respected his retainers’ voices.
But Liam stood firm. His will was resolute.
“Do as Monica wishes,” was his final order to them.
Only then did the retainers grasp the seriousness of the situation. Though they couldn’t hide their disappointment, they had no choice but to step back.
Monica could sense the frosty atmosphere lingering in the duke’s estate that morning. It was as cold as the expression now worn by Countess Pencil, seated stiffly before her.
An icy chill.
Where once there had been the warmth of trust, now a frigid air of suspicion cut like a blade.
Please, let nothing go wrong today. Let her at least be able to repay Liam for his faith in her.
Before long, the carriage came to a stop.
“We’ve arrived.”
Monica was the first to step down slowly, turning her head slightly to ensure Countess Pencil was following behind.
She then looked forward. Alongside the carriage now stood rows of knights from House Orsé, stationed as her guard.
A short sigh escaped her lips.
‘This is overkill.’
Liam, fearing she might be killed by those seeking to silence her, had dispatched several knights to accompany her.
House Orsé might have been under Liam’s control, but external threats were another story. While it would have been best for Liam himself to escort her, Monica had refused.
So instead, he chose the next best option—sending multiple guards—and instructed her to return to the estate immediately after the meeting ended.
As Monica and Countess Pencil stepped out, Viscountess Callan came rushing toward them from afar.
“Duchess Orsé! Hello! I received word that you’d be attending our garden tea party today.”
“I’ve just been cooped up at home lately, so I thought a change of scenery would do me good.”
“I hope you enjoy your time here. Thank you for coming.”
As expected, Viscountess Callan greeted Monica with utmost courtesy—yet her attitude toward Countess Pencil was markedly cold.
And it was no wonder. All the guests invited to Callan’s tea party, even the lower nobles, were those without any trace of demonic blood.
“Ah. Welcome, Countess Pencil.”
Viscountess Callan offered only a slight tilt of her head before leaning close to Monica and whispering,
“I had assumed you’d be coming alone. This is unexpected.”
Feigning ignorance, Monica simply shrugged as she followed the viscountess toward the garden. Countess Pencil trailed behind, head bowed like a sinner.
Past the entrance, the garden revealed itself—rows of manicured trees and blooming roses in neat formation.
Two small tables had been set, with about six ladies already present.
As Monica and the viscountess approached, the other women smiled brightly in welcome.
“Oh my, Duchess Orsé! It’s been so long!”
“We’re so glad you came!”
Monica took her time scanning each woman.
‘Just as I thought.’
Though all present were ranked lower than Countess Pencil—viscountesses and baronesses—they all treated her with open disdain.
As Monica took her seat with a polite nod, their rude behavior escalated.
“Duchess Orsé, you didn’t come alone today. Were you scared in the carriage?”
“Indeed.”
“But Duchess, is the rumor true?”
“What rumor?”
“That House Orsé will be playing a polo match against the Crown Prince’s team…”
“It’s true,” Monica replied with a bright smile.
“Oh my! I hope you’re familiar with the rules. You’ve only ever been on battlefields, hunting monsters and fighting wars…”
Subtle glances drifted toward Countess Pencil, who sat quietly in a corner sipping tea.
These noblewomen, in their own refined and elegant way, were discriminating against anyone with demonic lineage.
Monica’s gaze also wandered discreetly to Countess Pencil.
Surprisingly, aside from an occasional blush, she showed no reaction. That alone felt impressive.
Had Monica been in her shoes, tears would’ve welled up from humiliation.
Starting to feel uncomfortable herself, Monica began to worry that perhaps her plan had been misguided.
‘I didn’t mean to push things this far…’
Regret crept in—but a stubborn resolve rose up to carry the plan through.
She had to. Otherwise, Liam’s sacrifice would be meaningless.
An hour into the event, Monica could no longer sit still. She slowly rose from her seat.
“I’m not feeling well today. I think I’ll take my leave.”
“Duchess, is it true what they’re saying? You came with so many guards today…”
“…What are they saying?”
The women hesitated, then Viscountess Callan leaned in and whispered into Monica’s ear.
“They say… the Duke is keeping you imprisoned.”
“…What?”
“You can tell us the truth. We just want to help.”
Monica’s face turned pale with shock. The rumor had twisted that far? The impact struck her like a hammer to the head.
She wanted to explain, to deny it—but first, there was Countess Pencil.
Seeing her still sitting with her head bowed like a criminal, Monica felt as if she were the one on trial.
“I think I need to go now.”
Gripping her head, Monica turned without hesitation and climbed into the carriage. Countess Pencil followed shortly after, head lowered.
Inside, the air was heavier and more stifling than when they had arrived.
‘It’s time to begin. Please… please let me do this well.’
Whispering it to herself like a mantra, Monica finally opened her mouth.
“Countess Pencil.”
Gazing out the window, the countess turned at Monica’s voice and responded with a lowered head.
“Yes.”
That single word showed she was ready to endure whatever elegant, poisonous words Monica was about to throw at her.
“Today made something very clear. The ladies of House Orsé and you, Countess, will probably be ignored in society for the rest of your lives. You’ve got nothing going for you.”
“…”
Countess Pencil said nothing, unwilling to escalate the situation.
She, along with the other women of House Orsé, had been avoiding Monica ever since Angela’s incident.
She hadn’t even wanted to attend today’s event, but her husband had pleaded with her.
The way he clutched at her skirts—she hadn’t seen him like that since childhood.
Unable to say no, she had reluctantly agreed.
At the time, she didn’t even know she would be accompanying Monica alone. That became clear only as she prepared for the outing.
A sigh of relief had escaped her then.
Though it was odd she was alone with Monica, it was better for one of them to endure disgrace than for all of House Orsé’s women to be humiliated together.
