Indeed, just as Kanna had warned, the main temple was breathtakingly luxurious—opulent enough to rival the imperial palace itself. Even Hena let out a soft gasp at the sight, her eyes widening at the gilded spires and marble colonnades.
But Kanna remained utterly unmoved.
Any child her age would have been enraptured by such beauty, yet Kanna's expression held something closer to *hostility*. Her jaw was set, her gaze sharp and unwelcoming.
Hena decided it must be because the mistress's distaste for the temple had somehow rubbed off on her sister. Why else would Kanna harbor such animosity toward a place she'd never even visited?
Perhaps it was the coachman's overly reverent bow, or perhaps it was the sight of them emerging from a decorated carriage bearing the coat of arms of the Counts of Lohanson. Either way, they attracted attention immediately. The temple's main parishioners were aristocrats, and the surrounding grounds had been landscaped into magnificent gardens—perfect for idle nobles with nothing better to do than gossip.
And gossip they did.
"Look at the coat of arms on that carriage. Whose family crest is that?"
"What coat of arms? You mean this raven?"
"No, you fool—it's a *phoenix*. The crest of the Counts of Lohanson."
"Does Count Lohanson even have children? I've never seen them before."
"He has a daughter. A sickly one, I've heard."
"Ah, right. So which of those two is she?"
"How should I know? Probably whichever one looks more *pitiful*."
"Oh, but didn't they say she *died*? Must have been just a rumor."
"Or perhaps, like her family crest, she rose from the dead."
"Ha! Well said!"
Their whispers dripped with caustic mockery, each word sharper than the last.
_So this is why the mistress refuses to come here._
Hena felt a flash of something hot and bitter in her chest—something close to the resentment she imagined her mistress must feel. Though she knew the *true* reason ran far deeper.
_Do these people even realize,_ she thought grimly, _how close their cruel jokes come to the truth?_
If the mistress had been present, not a single one of them would have dared utter a word. Evangeline Lohanson possessed an authority that transcended titles, an aura that made even the most pompous aristocrat feel small and insignificant in her presence.
But Evangeline wasn't here.
---
"Excuse me, young lady. Might you be Ms. Lohanson?"
From the cluster of onlookers—who had been appraising them like merchandise on display—one particularly bold man stepped forward. His gaze was fixed squarely on Kanna, drinking in her delicate features and composed demeanor.
He had clearly mistaken her for the count's daughter. After all, Hena stood nearby with her sun-tanned face and work-roughened hands—hardly the image of nobility.
Hena stepped forward, her voice steady. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, sir. I am the mistress's servant."
"Oh? Is that so?"
The moment the man realized Kanna wasn't the heiress he'd hoped for, his entire demeanor shifted. The veneer of politeness evaporated like morning dew, replaced by naked arrogance and undisguised disdain.
Hena's stomach tightened. She stole a glance at her sister, afraid Kanna would be wounded by such an abrupt change in treatment.
But Kanna merely continued to smile, serene and unbothered.
_Good,_ Hena thought with relief. _She didn't notice._
The man snorted. "Well, yes—you certainly don't *look* like a Lohanson. You're dressed far too poorly for that."
Hena flinched.
_We should have listened to Kanna. We should have gone to the atelier first._
She didn't care about her own plain dress—she was a maid, after all. But hearing such words directed at *Kanna* made her blood simmer. Worse still, it cast a shadow over her mistress's reputation. The mistress herself never paid attention to such things, which meant *Hena* should have been more vigilant.
The man wasn't finished.
"Your mistress must be quite cruel," he continued, his voice carrying deliberately so the surrounding crowd could hear.
Hena's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that, sir?"
"Well, isn't it obvious?" He spread his hands in mock bewilderment. "She sends you to the temple but can't be bothered to give you decent clothes? The Counts of Lohanson have more money than they could ever spend. Surely you're aware of that?"
"What should I be aware of?" Kanna asked, her voice light, curious.
The man covered his mouth with one hand, as though preparing to share a scandalous secret. But his voice didn't lower at all—the gesture was pure theater.
"Her mother hails from the Hosakuin ducal family, you know. But it seems the duchess doesn't care much for her daughter." He smirked. "Can't even buy decent clothes for her own maids. How *tragic*."
He burst into laughter—loud, braying laughter that echoed across the garden. The sound drew the attention of nearby aristocrats, who began to titter behind their fans, eager to join in the mockery.
But Hena didn't laugh.
No—she was frozen in place, suddenly terrified to look at her sister's face.
Because what she glimpsed from the corner of her eye was far more frightening than any aristocrat's cruelty.
Kanna's smile had vanished the instant the conversation turned to their mistress. Her face was now completely blank—smooth and cold as polished marble. In all the years Hena had cared for her sister, she had *never* seen such an expression.
Or had she?
_When?_
The memory surfaced unbidden: Donau's body, impaled on his own sword. Kanna standing over him, her face exactly like this—empty, unreadable, *dangerous*.
A chill crawled down Hena's spine.
_What if Kanna kills this man?_
The thought was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet Hena found herself genuinely afraid.
But then—mercifully—the laughter died.
All at once, as if someone had doused a fire.
"...Mistress."
The word rippled through the crowd in a breathless whisper.
No one would *dare* laugh in the presence of Evangeline Lohanson.
---
## — Meanwhile, at the Lohanson Estate —
_I wonder when Hena and Kanna will return..._
They had left quite a while ago, and there had been no word since. My parents must have felt this same gnawing worry whenever I came home late.
The thought struck something tender in my chest, and suddenly, homesickness welled up inside me. My eyes stung with the threat of tears.
_How are they doing? Mom... your daughter has become the villain in a romance novel..._
"When will they return?" I murmured aloud.
"They've probably barely reached the temple by now," Jelly replied.
I glanced at my watch and blinked in surprise. It really *hadn't* been that long. So much had happened today that it felt like five hours had passed.
Earlier, with Hena and Kanna gone, I'd decided to take my lunch in the dining room. I hadn't been there in quite some time, and my sudden appearance sent the entire staff into a panic.
The cook apparently cut himself in his excitement. The maids, serving dishes with trembling hands, dropped a plate—it shattered across the floor with a sound like breaking bones.
They apologized profusely, standing *on* the shards as they bowed, begging for forgiveness. I could see blood on their hands and feet where the porcelain had cut them, but they kept their terrified gazes fixed on me, as though expecting punishment.
_What kind of villain am I, making people bleed just by showing up?_
I told them it was nothing—accidents happen—and ordered the butler to treat their wounds with holy water immediately.
The Count dined separately, as always, leaving me alone in the vast dining room. The servants stood frozen along the walls, afraid to even *breathe*. The only sounds in that cavernous space were the clink of my cutlery and the soft slurping of my soup.
It was painfully awkward.
_How I miss Kanna and Hena..._
It seemed their friendship alone wouldn't be enough to shed Evangeline's fearsome reputation. After all, just because I'd changed *inside* didn't erase the original Evangeline's past misdeeds. To everyone else, I was simply the same cruel mistress—perhaps with amnesia, but unchanged in nature.
I hadn't expected to miss Kanna this much. Her unwavering support, her steady presence at my side. And now I was *worried* about them, too.
_Maybe it was a mistake not to go with them?_
I'd only stayed behind because I didn't want to see that painting—the portrait of the dead man. But in hindsight, I should have at least waited for them at the temple.
_This won't do._
"Jelly," I announced, rising from my seat. "Let's go to Kanna."
I had, after all, a personal taxi service: a wizard—or rather, a shaman from another world—who could transport us there in an instant.
_I feel like a mother who sent her children on errands and is now secretly keeping an eye on them._
Before leaving, I changed my clothes and tucked some money into my pocket. I chose a modest white dress from Evangeline's wardrobe—her usual outfits were far too ostentatious for my taste. Besides, there wasn't much else to choose from.
_To shed the villain image, I need to dress more simply. I'll have to buy myself some new clothes eventually._ I'd never thought about it before, since I rarely left the house.
"You're paying far too much attention to that little human," Jelly grumbled, watching me prepare. Despite his complaints, he combed my hair himself and even selected an umbrella that matched my dress perfectly.
_It turns out Jelly is a tsundere._
A cold-blooded knight *and* a tsundere wolf spirit... I wonder who'll appear next? Probably some courteous aristocrat with a perpetual smile plastered on his face.
"It's called *overprotection*," Jelly added pointedly.
_Jelly, you just don't understand!_
This is a dark romance novel—the kind where the heroine gets kidnapped and nearly killed *right at the start*. In stories like these, heroines stumble into danger even while riding in perfectly safe carriages!
I never imagined I'd worry this much about Kanna after her kidnapping. I think I'm suffering from separation anxiety...
Meanwhile, my cat remained completely independent. Pudding had gone out for another walk, so I left him a note. It's fortunate he can read. I glanced at Jelly for confirmation, and he gave a small nod.
_So Pudding really is literate. Good to know._
"Shall we go?" Jelly extended his hand toward me.
Physical contact seemed to be a universal prerequisite for teleportation, regardless of the world. I placed my hand in his, and Jelly murmured the incantation.
I closed my eyes for just a heartbeat—and when I opened them, we were already inside the carriage.
No dizziness. No disorientation.
_Jelly must be an incredibly powerful mage._ Given his appearance, he was almost certainly one of the key characters in this novel. And key characters *always* possessed some extraordinary ability.
"I transported us directly into the carriage so no one would notice our arrival," Jelly said. "Are you satisfied?"
"Yes. Well done."
We had materialized inside the Lohanson carriage. Through the window, the temple loomed in the distance, its spires gleaming in the afternoon light. Kanna and Hena weren't inside—they must have already headed toward the entrance.
But then I spotted two familiar silhouettes in the garden.
A crowd had gathered around them. People were whispering behind fans and gloved hands, and a well-dressed man stood before two young women, speaking with animated gestures.
_They've been stopped._
The man was clearly an aristocrat—expensive clothes, confident posture, self-satisfied expression. Could this be the kindly nobleman I'd just been imagining?
I studied him more closely and relaxed.
No. He looked far too smug, too *unctuous*. Everything about him screamed "minor character." Probably some self-important womanizer trying to charm the heroine with empty flattery.
I wanted to intervene immediately—but then I stopped myself.
_Wait._
According to classic genre conventions, this was the moment when the *protagonist* was supposed to appear and rescue the heroine from her annoying admirer. I'd already accidentally prevented Gabriel from displaying his heroism once before.
_Let's see how this plays out. We're right next to the temple—Gabriel should have the perfect opportunity to prove himself._
While I waited, I decided to eavesdrop on what this pompous fool was saying.
"...Dressed too poorly."
_You **bastard**._
Kanna and Hena weren't wearing maid uniforms—just ordinary, simple clothes. They looked perfectly clean and presentable. What was this man talking about?
But he wasn't finished.
"Your mistress is too cruel. She sends you to the temple but can't be bothered to give you decent clothes. Isn't that right?"
_Damn it._
My plan with the carriage had backfired spectacularly. Evangeline's infamous reputation had caused them to attract exactly the *wrong* kind of attention.
Honestly? I felt ashamed.
In my defense, I didn't care much about *my own* clothes either. But still—I was clearly at fault here. And listening to criticism from some... some nobody, not even a proper supporting character, just a low-level *extra*—
It was unbearable.
"Her mother is from the Hosakuin ducal family, you know," the man continued, his voice carrying across the garden. "But it seems the duchess doesn't care much for her daughter. Can't even buy decent clothes for her own maids."
_That's **enough**._