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"Help Mina to the sofa."
I turned away from Camilla and gave the order to my maids. They exchanged uncertain glances, their faces caught somewhere between confusion and discomfort.
"The sofa...?"
It was clear what was holding them back — the idea of allowing a *half-blood demon maid* to sit on the Grand Duchess's sofa felt, to them, like a transgression.
Camilla seemed to feel the same way. The color drained from her cheeks.
"Your Highness, surely you're joking! That sofa is where you and I sit together — where we *talk.* You can't possibly mean to let some vulgar hybrid —"
I looked down at Camilla. Then I repeated the command, more firmly this time.
"Sit Mina on the sofa. Now."
The maids moved without further hesitation. Supported between them, Mina sank onto the cushions with a soft, pained sound.
*What on earth did she do to you...?*
Mina's hair was in disarray, her eyes swollen from crying. But the worst of it was the angry red welts across the backs of her hands. The steaming teapot still on the table. Tea water soaking into the floor. The whip abandoned nearby.
The picture was not difficult to piece together.
I clenched my teeth.
*Cruel creature. No — calling her a creature would be too generous.*
My hands tightened at my sides.
"How much tea is left in the pot?"
A maid lifted the lid and peered inside.
"Roughly half, Your Highness."
I took the teapot from her and carried it to where Mina sat.
"Mina." I kept my voice gentle. "I know you're in pain. But could you do something for me?"
Mina gave a small, careful nod. I leaned down and whispered in her ear.
"Your Highness — why do you need me to do *that*...?"
She blinked at me, uncertain, a little embarrassed.
I gave her a small wink.
"I'll handle everything else. You don't need to worry about a thing — just do as I ask."
Mina considered it for a moment. Then she took the teapot from me, closed her eyes, murmured something quietly, and held it back out with a look of solemn composure.
"Here, Your Highness."
I accepted it with a smile that probably said quite a lot about my intentions.
"Thank you, Mina. Consider this your reward — I'll put on a proper show for you."
I turned and began walking slowly toward Camilla. Something in my expression must have set off an instinct in her, because she went pale before I'd taken three steps.
"That — what are you planning to do with that, Your Highness?"
I tilted my head and let my eyes curve pleasantly at the corners.
"I'm simply feeling left out, Camilla. You've been having all the fun without me."
"W-what...?"
"You damaged my personal maid without my permission." I paused to let that settle. "The natural solution, it seems to me, is that I damage something of yours in return."
I gazed down at her, unhurried, letting the corners of my lips curl.
She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed as though she were making her last stand.
"Your Highness, why are you doing this? I genuinely do not understand what I've done wrong!"
"...You don't know why?"
*The audacity.* My temper flared white-hot before I could stop it. I drew a slow breath to compose myself — and then looked at Camilla's face again, and it did absolutely nothing.
"Do you truly not know why, Camilla?"
"I don't! I genuinely have no idea!"
Even on her knees, held down by my maids, Camilla's eyes blazed with defiance.
"This is *Camilla Dmitri* — *Countess Dmitri* — you are speaking to! Regardless of anything else, I am not someone you treat so carelessly!"
"...I know exactly who you are. Perhaps better than you do."
*Including the part where you're sleeping with your closest friend's husband.* A woman like Lobelia — the kind of noble, kindhearted heroine who only ever wanted to see the good in people — would have needed Cedric's help to bring you down.
*I don't.*
A slow, easy sneer crossed my lips.
*Villainess versus mad dog.* Who wins that fight?
What I knew for certain was that it wouldn't be me losing today. But foolish Camilla was still going, her neck practically corded with tension.
"If you stop right now, I will pretend none of this ever happened. But..."
"But?"
"If you continue, I will take it as a declaration of war against Camilla Dmitri."
"Oh my. Will you."
"And from that point on — I will relinquish both my role as your lady-in-waiting and our friendship."
The corners of Camilla's mouth curved upward. She looked like a woman who believed she had just won.
"You know better than anyone what it means to have me and my family's backing in Northern society, don't you, Your Highness?"
I let out a quiet scoff and bent toward her.
"You know what I've always found interesting about people?"
I came close — close enough to hold her gaze — and placed both hands on her shoulders.
"A person's true character only reveals itself when they believe they have something someone else needs."
As my grip tightened, Camilla's color continued to drain.
"When that moment comes, people tend to split in one of two directions." I watched her eyes. "There are those who are simply glad to be of help — and there are those who use that helpfulness as a weapon."
Camilla's golden eyes went wide.
*Why is someone with such a comfortable place in society showing her real face so plainly?* The thought flickered across my mind with something close to amusement.
I straightened and looked down at her with mild disinterest.
"The second kind always makes the same mistake. They forget that their position can be replaced."
"......"
"It's a remarkably consistent failure of imagination."
Camilla's eyes darted around, her composure crumbling at the edges. I smiled at her lazily.
"So let me ask you something, Camilla. If we parted ways — who would actually be the worse off for it? Me, the Grand Duchess?" I let the pause breathe. "Or Countess Dmitri, a socialite who shines brilliantly for a season and then — *crashes.*"
Something cracked behind Camilla's eyes. She stared at me as if the floor had shifted beneath her. For so long, she had been the one orchestrating every room she entered, pulling every string, steering every outcome.
She had never imagined she might end up on this side of a conversation.
"Be careful, Camilla."
Her gaze had gone hollow. Unfocused.
"The higher you climb, the worse the fall."
I whistled lightly, lifting one finger into the air — then slowly lowering it, like watching something plummet from a great height.
Then I looked down at the teapot.
"Tea holds its warmth for quite a while, doesn't it." I turned it thoughtfully in my hands. "Though I'm afraid by now it's cooled just enough that it would be far more *unpleasant* to swallow than to pour."
"Your — Your Highness —" Camilla's voice dropped to something small and cracked. "You wouldn't."
"I wouldn't worry about lasting harm." I took a step toward her. "Mina prepared something specifically for this. It won't leave a trace that human medicine can detect."
"Your Highness, *please —*"
"Open her mouth."
Whatever remained of Camilla's composure shattered.
"No — *let go of me* — let go—!"
She thrashed and twisted in the maids' grip, but human strength is human strength. However loudly she screamed, she could not overcome them.
"Your Highness, *stop* — I was wrong, I'll admit it — I'll even apologize to that thing — to *her* — whatever you want, I'll do it, just *please —*"
She broke off, turning a furious, desperate look toward Mina.
"Whatever you want! Just tell me and I'll do it — so *please* —"
Her voice disintegrated.
The maids pried her jaw open. Camilla's eyes flew wide with terror.
"I have no interest in Mina accepting a graceless, half-meant apology," I said calmly. "And I have no intention of offering you a tidy opportunity to redeem yourself."
"Ngh — *please* —"
"All I want is for you to understand — really understand — what Mina felt."
And with that, I poured the tea.
Every last drop.
When I finally set the empty teapot aside, the maids released her. Camilla crumpled to the floor immediately, gasping, clutching her throat.
"*Aagh —*"
"*Ugh — no —*"
She shoved her fingers into her mouth, gagging, desperate to bring it back up — but her body refused to cooperate. She screamed. She clawed at her own hair. She rolled across the floor, her magnificent gold gown dragging and tangling beneath her.
"I don't want this — I don't want to *die* — *please —*"
Her eyes, wide and wild and flooded with fear, found Mina.
The moment their gazes met, Camilla crawled across the floor on her hands and knees, dress trailing behind her, and collapsed at Mina's feet.
"*Please* — you have to help me —"
She pressed her forehead to the floor, fingers clutching the hem of Mina's skirt.
"The antidote — do you have an antidote? I'll do anything — it's my fault, I know it's my fault, I *know* — so please —"
Mina stared down at her, clearly stunned. She pulled the hem of her skirt free from Camilla's grip.
"Let go of —"
"I was *wrong!* I know, I know I was wrong!"
Camilla cried and begged and cried some more. And when Mina's silence stretched on, something in her snapped.
"I said I was wrong — I admitted it — how many more times do you *want me to say it?!*"
She screamed it — raw and jagged — and then immediately seemed to hear herself, because she flinched and pressed both hands over her mouth.
"No — no, that's not — I didn't mean — *please* —"
She bent her forehead to the floor a second time, and this time, she wept openly — ugly, childlike, helpless sobs.
"I was wrong. I was completely wrong. I'm sorry — I'm so sorry — *please* just save me, please —"
The more desperate her apology became, the more undone she looked. Her sleek black hair had come completely loose, wild around her face. Her cosmetics ran in dark rivulets down her cheeks.
It really was quite the spectacle.
Mina glanced up at me.
I gave her a small nod.
Mina looked back down at Camilla, her eyes still cold.
"...I will accept the Countess's apology."
Camilla's head snapped up. Something like hope flooded her face for the first time.
"You — really? Then you'll give me the antidote? Right now?"
Mina's gaze dropped.
"No. I can't do that."
"...What? Why not?"
"Because..." Mina's voice was quiet. Steady. "There is no antidote."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"...What does that mean?" Camilla's voice came out thin and shaking. "There's no antidote? There's — *no antidote?*"
No one answered her.
The color left Camilla's face entirely. Her expression — tear-streaked, ruined, unrecognizable — began to tremble.
"...No?"
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