Chapter 66
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 66
Still, now that Yulma was serving me, it was a relief not to have to watch other people drop plates, weep, beg for mercy, and bash their heads on the floor.
“Was it not to your liking?” Yulma asked, glancing at the steak I had absolutely butchered.
Ah, right. I was being a picky eater right in front of the one who’d served me.
“I don’t really care for bloody meat.”
“Pardon?”
“Why? Did you think I’d like that sort of thing?”
What, is there some rule that all villainesses have to eat their meat dripping with blood?
“No, of course not. I will make sure to let the chef know your preferences.”
Yes, please do. Every single time meat was served, it was always rare. Canna or Jelly always had to finish it for me. Come to think of it, I should have just told them to change the cooking style sooner. Instead of throwing my weight around like a proper villainess, I’d been eating whatever was put in front of me, unable to shake my old habits as a subservient underdog.
“Why don’t you come down and eat here more often?”
Was she serious? She clearly had no idea what kind of chaos erupted whenever Evangeline stepped foot in the dining hall. She only said that because she didn’t see the maid who knelt and begged for her life last time, completely ignoring the glass shards digging into her knees. For the record, that maid was healed with holy water and reassigned to a different area.
And she wanted me to watch that kind of circus every day?
“It would make everyone uncomfortable.”
“That’s the only way they’ll get used to you. Besides, how can a chef not even know your preferences?”
“I’ll consider it.”
Yulma grumbled, already showing an excess of professional pride. But I couldn’t really blame the chef. The mismatch in taste was probably because I was a transmigrator. The real Evangeline, being a true villainess, might have actually loved rare steak. And since I usually ate with others, the plates always went back empty, so they probably just assumed I’d enjoyed it.
After I gave Yulma a half-hearted nod and sent her on her way, the Count, who had been silently watching the exchange, finally spoke, his voice heavy.
“Just as Phlox said, you have become quite presentable.”
What on earth was he talking about?
“You’ve become civilized.”
Ah. So that’s what he meant. He was saying Evangeline had finally shed her beastly skin. Good grief, Evangeline, just how rebellious were you before I took over? Even I thought I was acting pretty insolent right now, yet the Count was speaking as if I’d finally become a proper human being.
All I did was catch a falling wine glass and chat a bit with a maid, and I get that kind of praise? I couldn’t even begin to imagine how atrocious her original temper must have been. It was so bad that my current behavior seemed tame in comparison, which was a constant source of anxiety. What if my drastically different personality gave me away as an imposter?
“If you attend the banquet today, I expect you to behave yourself. Just acting as you are now will be more than enough.”
The Count finally got to the point. It was a warning about the Crown Prince's birthday banquet. Seriously, this damn Count. Was the first thing he had to say to his daughter after all this time really an order to behave?
“It’s been a while since you last saw your daughter. Shouldn’t you ask how I’ve been first?”
It was because her dad was like this that Evangeline went astray and evolved into the villainess of the century. Even gentle old me felt the urge to cause a scene after hearing that. From where I stood, this Count was a lost cause, even by the standards of a family-regret novel. If I wanted to trigger a redemption arc with my family, I’d have to look to my mother’s side.
“Right… how long has it been?”
“Probably the first time since my funeral.”
So exactly two months. He’d neglected his daughter for two whole months. Well, considering Evangeline's age, she wasn’t exactly a child. Let’s correct that. He neglected his daughter. And he called himself a father?
“Yes. It has been a while.”
Sensing that I wasn’t about to back down, the Count avoided my gaze, acting as if he were graciously conceding the point. I really couldn’t stand him.
“Did you call me here just to say that? And go out of your way to suggest this pointless dinner, too?”
Canna and Misha had been devastated when they heard I had to dine with the Count. Of course, Canna was sad because she couldn’t eat with me, while Misha had practically screamed for me to fast, arguing that eating right before a banquet was absolute madness.
“No. There is something more important.”
The Count paused dramatically, like he was building suspense for a commercial break. Ugh, just spit it out already.
“Duke Hosaquin will be attending the banquet.”
Duke Hosaquin. That was my maternal grandfather. It was an incredibly awkward relationship. The Count was the reason his own daughter, Amaranth, had been disowned, so there was no way he and his former father-in-law could ever get along.
“Make sure to build a relationship with the Duke.”
Excuse me? He was the one who got cut off, so why was he making me clean up his mess? He should be handling his own damage control. Wait. Was this the setup for a family-regret plotline? But Evangeline was already a full-grown adult.
“At this point? Why?”
It was way too late for a heartwarming childcare story. Unless I regressed back to being a baby, there was absolutely no hope for that genre.
“I hear his health is failing. Rumor has it that he doesn’t have much time left.”
Wow. How is this man so incredibly gullible? If we went by rumors alone, I’d be a demon who sewed dresses out of human skin. I bet if I actually met the Duke, he’d be perfectly hale and hearty, not knocking on death’s door.
“People tend to get sentimental as they grow old. Sentimental enough to yearn for their deceased daughter. Since you look exactly like Amaranth, the Duke will be quite shaken if he sees you in person.”
Amaranth? Where had I heard that name before?
“Amaranth was Evangeline’s—that is, your mother,” the Count added, perhaps belatedly remembering my supposed amnesia.
Ah. So that was her name. It had a strangely familiar ring to it.
Come to think of it, recalling the portraits I’d seen, her face did look quite similar to Evangeline’s. Of course, Evangeline’s mother had a much warmer expression. Her vibe was closer to Canna’s—gentle and kind, fitting for a classic female lead.
“Even if you cannot inherit the title, you are still entitled to a share of his fortune.”
The Count had finally revealed his true colors. In short, since the inheritance would be distributed soon, he wanted me to go play the sweet granddaughter and bring home some cash.
Wow, what a piece of trash. He really was the perfect father for a villainess.
As I was mentally jeering at him, a sudden realization struck me. Wait, is this an event from the novel? Evangeline must have received the exact same order in the original story.
So, Evangeline approaches the Duke. But the grandfather, realizing how rotten his granddaughter is, casts her aside and adopts someone else to inherit his fortune instead. And that someone is Canna! Even if her face doesn’t look like Amaranth’s, her gentle aura is practically identical.
Our Canna was perfect in every way, but her background was a bit lacking for a RoFan female lead. The Duke adopting her would fill that gap perfectly! And it would double as sweet revenge against the villainess. Talk about a satisfying plot twist!
Suddenly, my interest was piqued. As I sat there contemplating, the Count threw another weight onto the scale.
“If my proposal doesn’t appeal to you, you can think of it as a transaction. Is there anything you want from me?”
“A transaction…”
Hmm. What should I ask for? I didn’t really want anything material; I already had the money Evangeline’s mother left her. If I had to choose, what I really wanted was a future where I wasn’t executed, but there was no way the Count could guarantee that. From what I could tell, he seemed like the type who would flee on his own the day the villainess was executed, only to get caught later and face summary judgment.
I didn’t need anything, but I couldn’t just agree to approach the Duke for free. Of course, I had absolutely no intention of inheriting his fortune, let alone handing it over to the Count.
“I only hope it is within my power to grant,” the Count added, probably assuming I would ask for something outrageous. Hey, I have common sense, you know. Though, I could understand his caution. The original Evangeline probably lacked any.
Something I need… something I need… Ah. Looking at the Count, one specific request came to mind.
Her mother’s diary. I had been tearing out the pages where Evangeline’s mother cursed the Count and attaching them to my letters, so the diary had thinned out quite a bit. Since she was a habitual diary keeper, she probably didn’t write just one. Yet, no matter how hard I searched the mansion, I couldn’t find any others. That meant they had to be at the family estate in the territory.
Besides, who knew if another spirit summoning circle might pop out of a different diary?
“Because if your ladyship is present, the painting's influence becomes clouded.”
Suddenly, Gabriel’s firm words came to mind. Of course, my spirit affinity was at rock bottom—a fact certified by the male lead himself—but there might be a summoning circle that could summon something other than spirits.
“I’d like to visit the family estate in the territory.”
“The territory?” The Count furrowed his brow slightly. “When do you plan to go?”
Since I would have to actively participate in social events after today’s debut, it would have to be at least a month or two from now.
“In a month. Or, if you need time to prepare, in about two months.”
“Very well. I will send word ahead.” The Count nodded, then fell into thought and muttered to himself, “Is there even a room for Evangeline at the estate?”
Huh? What on earth was he talking about? Why wouldn’t there be a room for her? Don’t tell me Evangeline has some secret about her birth. No, she looked way too much like her mother for that. Then was she neglected or abused?
“Why wouldn’t there be a room for me?” If he really did abuse her, I wasn’t going to let him off easy.
“You might not remember, but Amaranth hated going down to the territory, so she always stayed in the capital with you. I was the only one who ever went there,” the Count explained patiently, ever mindful of my amnesia.
Ah. So she just hated the countryside. Totally understandable.
“I’ll have them prepare a room for you. A month or two should be plenty of time.”
I’d prefer it if they decorated it in a cozy, warm wood tone… but making that request would only make life difficult for the servants, not the Count, so I kept it to myself.
“Is that all you require of me?”
“Of course not. If I need anything else, I’ll send you a letter.” Did he really think I’d be satisfied with just that? I was a woman who knew no satisfaction.
“Do as you wish. Just… stop sending those dreadful curses.”
Hmph. I was going to keep doing it. It was my choice, after all.
“Why? It’s a passionate confession of love left behind by Mother. I went out of my way to find and send only the parts where she called out for you, Father. Since Mother can’t visit you in person, she has no choice but to reach out through her writing.” I took a sip of my dessert tea. “Or would you prefer she paid you a visit herself?”
The Count shuddered as if a sudden chill had swept through him. What, was he terrified a ghost might actually show up? Hmph. Serves him right.
“You care for her quite a bit, considering you didn’t even know Amaranth’s name until just now.”
“Of course I didn’t. I have amnesia, remember?”