I stop beside the cheeky boy and pinch his puffy cheek. He gasps as his smug face crumbles. His blue eyes wet.


    “Let go let go let go—” he orders in desperation.


    “Who did you call what again?” I ask, stepping on his toe. “Apologize this instant.”


    “No!”


    “I asked not whether you want to apologize or not,” I say calmly, running a finger through my wavy hair, pressing and scratching the pink out of my skull. “I said apologize—”


    “My Lady!” Essie grabs onto my arm, standing in between us, still huffing and puffing from exhaustion. “Please temper yourself!” she implores I calm the fuck down.


    Very well. I let go. For now.


    Is this the young master she was referring to? To the best of my knowledge Cassandra— I — only have two mildly younger brothers, both of whom are major characters. But this boy is too young, thus he can’t possibly be any of those two.


    He stumbles back, pressing his hand onto his cheek with a sore expression. The boy then, over again, eyes me up and down with a disgusted glare.


    “So why did you call me a whore?” I smilingly ask the boy with a knee-length tunic. “How old are you anyway? Who taught you such preposterous words at such an age?”


    His lips quirk as he musters as much anger as he can on his fine little forehead in the form of creases. Then he points at me, my legs.


    “You walk in such revealing attire despite your noble lineage!” he shouts spitefully, spitting an assault of questions in a high yet somewhat manly pitch: “Do you have no shame at all? Do you do the same in the academy too? Do you not care about our family reputation? This is an insult toward our ancestry in its highest form!”


    Huh? I look down, and indeed, it’s revealing. The skirt barely covers up. The type of clothing one would wear for clubs and parties, not work or day-to-day life. That’s beside the point, though. Why is a boy, at such a young age, concerned about such matters? Surely there is an influence behind.


    “Did your mother tell you this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. I just threw a guess, and yet his appalled expression confirms it.


    “Everybody can see it,” I hear the resentful whispering coming from behind. “This Laothoe is greatly ashamed. I was of the opinion that you would change for the better after attending the academy for so long… yet what a great disappointment you’ve procured upon our names, Young Lady.”


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Turning my head and glancing back, I note an approaching woman with an assortment of makeup on her long face. She looks about fifty, doing her best to come up as someone in their thirties, which only makes it worse.


    Worst of all, despite her violet dress with long-hanging sleeves and vivid colors that build a pretense of aristocracy, she smells foul. So foul in fact, I cannot help but pinch my nose at the tang of disgusting smell assaulting my nostrils.


    Laothoe holds a light yet large fan covering her lower face, stopping right before me and staring me down with her sapphire eyes, her tightly clipped, light violet hair standing on end.


    I turn and face her.


    “You clearly don’t lack in academics,” she mentions scornfully, waving the fan a bit. “And despite your outstanding academic performance, in all the other walks of life, primarily ethics and language that are of the utmost importance for an esteemed noble lady,” she utters with arrogance, glancing at his son for a moment, then back at me, and finishes, “You fail to meet the minimum criteria.”


    This is so very interesting… Perhaps she was the one who instigated an immediate engagement just as I returned from the academy in the first place? A second wife, huh. She wants me gone, doesn’t she?


    According to the plot, Father had a wife he loved dearly, and together they bore four children, two daughters and two sons. Yet she later passed away. And he later married another woman, this very bitch before me. But I didn’t know if they had kids, if any. Anyway, what could he have possibly seen in this painted peacock?


    Laothoe was one of the minor characters, gossiping at the noble banquets about this and that. Basically, a stereotypical prideful noble, a filler character with no depth. I’m not going to jeopardize her as long as she doesn''t ever mess with me. No, really.


    I smile like a stupid donkey and glimpse at the boy, pointing at missus with my thumb. “Is this the whore who taught you the words?”


    His face goes pale. That I can tell why. I look at his elegant mother, who now fumes in silent rage behind the brocade of a red fan.


    Try me, you repugnantly pompous, overtly promiscuous, overly pseudo-intellectual bitch. I’ll drag you down to the trenches and beat you at my own game.


    “You see, she’s covering her whole body because there’s nothing to show. She even covers her face with a mask of overexcess makeup.” I enlighten the young boy with a plain expression. “So she’s envious. And envy is bad. Envy is one of the seven demon generals. You know that much, don’t you? You wouldn’t want your mother to get devoured by envy, would you?


    At the mention of Envy, the boy pales and shakes his head left and right. A kid is still a kid at the end of the day, huh.


    “You dare utter such vulgarity before my face?” Laothoe utters, finally breaking her fast. “You’ve only become more arrogant over the years. The Lord will be greatly disappointed also.”


    Heh. Is that all she can retort?


    “Yet I suppose your actions served your purpose. For the past week, there were so many suitors lining before our household from all across the nobility. Yet such a pity that most neglected your supposedly bright mind and talked of your delicate body instead… It made it so hard to find the perfect fit… But I dutifully picked the one who would savor your youth the deepest…”


    Laothoe… This hoe is fucking dead to me—


    Sharp, steady steps sound across the hallway. We all look to the side, observing the approaching figure. A short man with similarly short pink hair and ocean clear eyes, with a bright belted tunic with dark surcoat.


    So this is him… Priam Dardanos…