I tried to appear kind and unvain, so I chose from my wardrobe only white outfits without embellishments. Yet it seemed to have no effect whatsoever on my reputation.
Artemisia glanced at me and cautiously delivered her verdict.
"Mm... It truly suits you, but the style is a bit... outdated..."
"This was the late Countess's dress."
"And this feeling—that you don't follow fashion trends—very classic, yet at the same time *incredibly* original! I love it!"
_Well then._ So it looked rather good after all.
---
## — Raphael's Observation —
Raphael watched Artemisia sort through the fabrics with an almost frightening concentration and couldn't suppress a heavy sigh.
Just moments ago, she had scared the living daylights out of everyone with her wild talk of leather and human skin. Now, as if nothing had happened, she was constantly suggesting styles that, in her professional opinion, would be ideal for Lady Rohanson—showering her with compliments so generous they bordered on excessive.
Whatever one might say, the brother and sister were remarkably similar.
"Sir Gabriel, how do you like this fabric?" Artemisia asked enthusiastically, holding up a bolt of shimmering silk. "Isn't it simply *made* for a lady of her complexion?"
_If Misa truly believed her younger brother was in love with Lady Rohanson, then why was she so eager to portray the commander and the lady as a perfect couple?_ Raphael couldn't decide whether this was a display of the highest professionalism or something else entirely.
At that moment, a familiar face approached him.
"Sir."
"Long time no see, sister," he replied with a slight nod.
Daisy silently handed him a letter, her expression flat and unreadable.
"Pass this on to Sir Gabriel."
"A love letter?" Raphael chuckled, attempting his usual levity.
Daisy responded to his joke with a cold, piercing look—not deigning to offer even the ghost of a smile.
"You can read it yourself first, if you wish."
_Really? She won't even let me joke._ Raphael grumbled under his breath and unfolded the letter. His eyes scanned the opening lines, and his amusement evaporated instantly.
"Bishop Javaniya...?"
The surprise at the familiar sender's name was short-lived. After reading the entire letter, Raphael cursed silently. _Spying on the Rohanson estate?_ Damned old man—was it time for him to retire to his grave? If he died naturally, they could somehow arrange a proper funeral. But at this rate, he was digging his own grave with remarkable enthusiasm.
"Is Mrs. Dolline Ponor alright?" he asked carefully.
"What do you mean?" Daisy's voice was flat. "Yesterday she taught her lesson and left as usual. Why?" Her eyes narrowed. "You don't believe me?"
"Sister, you are now completely on Lady Rohanson's side."
The very same nun who had once informed on Evangeline Rohanson—after the orphanage incident—had completely sided with the lady and become one of her most devoted maids. A woman cornered by fear and helplessness had proven capable of baring her thorns and defending her mistress with desperate determination.
"Your commander is also head over heels in love with the lady," Daisy retorted sharply. "Is there any law that prevents me from feeling the same?"
These words made it unmistakably clear that Gabriel had, in fact, become attached to Evangeline Rohanson—even though he suspected her true nature. Since this was undeniably true, Raphael found nothing to say in response. He fell silent.
He himself didn't fully understand what was truly happening in the commander's soul. These were certainly not the warm and gentle feelings usually called *love*. And yet, the way Gabriel had carefully concealed everything concerning Lady Rohanson during their recent meeting clearly demonstrated how deeply he cared for her.
The most ironic thing was that Raphael was doing everything in his power to help such a commander. His gaze involuntarily slid toward Evangeline, currently wrapped in the cloth Misa had draped around her. She looked tired and distant, as if she'd been forced into someone else's puppet show against her will.
Those crimson eyes blinked slowly—and settled directly on Raphael.
That single look was enough.
The oppressive feeling emanating from Evangeline made his heart constrict painfully in his chest.
_Ah. So that's how it is._
"Yes... it seems we've all fallen under the demon's spell," Raphael murmured, barely audible.
Misa. Daisy. The commander.
And even himself.
---
## — Evangeline's Misunderstanding —
_What are they even doing?_
Daisy and Raphael sat suspiciously close together, almost touching, and something strange—something elusive—hung in the air between them. My finely-honed reading instincts immediately sounded the alarm.
_Raphael... do you actually have feelings for Daisy?!_
But wasn't Daisy supposed to be paired with Jelly? After a moment's consideration, I formulated another hypothesis. What if Raphael was one of those lonely masters of love who never find happiness themselves, but selflessly dedicate their lives to helping their boss build a romance? Such characters were common enough in novels.
I continued watching them with mounting disbelief when Daisy suddenly handed Raphael a letter.
_A letter? Seriously?_ What—was this a *love letter*? So it wasn't about unrequited feelings after all?
Daisy's lips parted slightly, and I instinctively tensed, straining to catch every word.
"...head over heels in love. Is there any law that prevents me from feeling the same?"
**_What?!_**
She said it outright! No evasions! No subtle hints! So Daisy had just *confessed her love*. He was in love—and she felt the same? The unexpected turn of events made my heart race with excitement!
So Raphael wasn't the one suffering quietly on the sidelines. Apparently, *Daisy* was the one harboring feelings for *him*. Both the letter and this intense intimacy suddenly made perfect sense. Thinking back, Daisy had also been standing by Raphael's side when we first met.
_It seems I had the roles wrong from the very beginning._
_Jelly... it turns out you're the one left with unrequited love!_ Although, with your popularity among the children, it wasn't quite so tragic.
My curiosity flared once more. I stole another glance in their direction—and immediately found myself staring directly into Raphael's eyes.
_Caught._
I quickly pretended I hadn't been eavesdropping or interested in the slightest, looking away with practiced nonchalance. I desperately wanted to know what would happen next, but just then—as luck would have it—I had been noticed.
"How about this fabric, my lady?"
"I like it."
I feigned meeting his eyes purely by chance and threw myself into demonstratively selecting fabrics with Artemisia, nodding with exaggerated enthusiasm.
"Really? I thought so too! What *exquisite* taste this lady possesses! It will suit you magnificently. And it complements Sir Gabriel's dress uniform perfectly!"
Artemisia wrapped me tightly in layer upon layer of material.
"Ma'am, I can't breathe."
Before I could properly complain, the fabric gradually loosened. _Phew..._ I had barely survived.
"Now we need to take measurements..."
Artemisia cast a furtive glance toward the men. Of course—taking measurements would require me to undress, which meant she was gently but firmly requesting their departure. Taking this unspoken signal, Gabriel immediately rose to his feet.
"Lady, you must be weary from receiving so many guests. I shall take my leave."
I had to admit—Gabriel really was a considerate man. The moment I indicated it was time for him to go, he began departing without hesitation. However, perhaps he genuinely was busy, and it would be impolite to detain him further.
"I completely trust you to create an outfit befitting the lady," he said to Artemisia.
"Even without those words, I would have done everything in my power."
Artemisia nodded, then paused as if remembering something important.
"Oh yes, my lady. About the chaperone I mentioned earlier."
Gabriel had also mentioned he would try to find a chaperone for me. And that was where things had grown troubling. Had his efforts truly failed? Perhaps the negative publicity surrounding my name was so overwhelming that every candidate had withdrawn?
Evangeline's mother had died long ago. Ties with her maternal relatives had been severed entirely. And the Count had limited himself to sending tutors without ever considering a chaperone. I, likewise, possessed no means of finding anyone suitable.
"The Marchioness of Toten has graciously agreed to serve as your chaperone."
"Marchioness Toten?"
"Yes. She is a deeply devout woman who visits the temple frequently. The Marchioness has one child, and he is said to be in poor health. Upon hearing of your circumstances, she mentioned that your situation reminded her of her own child."
_There she was._ It was fortunate that at least one person had been found. She must have heard only the rumors about Evangeline's frail health—not all those bizarre stories circulating around my name.
"She possesses many connections, so she will certainly be of assistance."
_"Will be of assistance."_ Warmth, as befitted a protagonist, was reserved solely for his chosen one. It seemed that for Gabriel, even people were, in a sense, merely a means to an end.
"The Marchioness asked whether you might meet with her separately before the Crown Prince's birthday reception. Would that be possible?"
Of course it was possible. _Marchioness Toten_, was it? The very name sounded as though its bearer were destined to be gentle and kind. I was certain that if not her, there would hardly be anyone else in the world willing to serve as my chaperone.
"If she sets a convenient day, I can arrange to come then."
"I'll visit her myself."
No—since she had agreed to be my chaperone, I couldn't possibly force her to travel to the Rohanson estate. My already tarnished reputation could only deteriorate further.
"Please inform her that I will call upon her in two days. Tomorrow would be too soon."
"Wait! Three days! Please give me at least three days!" Artemisia interjected frantically. "Even if I don't have time to finish the dress completely, I'll bring a preliminary version tomorrow and adjust it on-site!"
I had intended to take decisive action and depart tomorrow, but Artemisia insisted vehemently, pushing back the deadline. _Couldn't I simply wear one of the dresses I already owned?_ However, she proved utterly adamant on this point.
"I would very much like the lady to wear a dress crafted by *my* hands."
"But won't you be occupied with the debut gown?"
"Not at all! Not in the slightest!"
"Well... alright then."
Since it posed no threat to me, I allowed her to proceed as she wished. Artemisia immediately brightened, her entire demeanor transforming. She clearly possessed a fierce professional ego—clients should wear only garments she had created, and nothing else. That was undoubtedly the principle.
There was no need to wait an entire week, and three days was perfectly acceptable. Nothing urgent demanded my immediate attention. Therefore, taking Artemisia's advice into account, we decided I would visit the Marchioness in three days. Gabriel promised to send her a letter in advance.
"Sir Gabriel."
"Yes, my lady?"
"Might you visit me again before my debut?"
I harbored no hidden agenda. I simply had no one else to teach me the dances. I had learned the individual steps, but I had never attempted to combine them with a partner. Among all my acquaintances, only Gabriel knew the male part.
_By the way—was this truly a romance novel?_ It struck me as peculiar that the only aristocratic man I had encountered so far was Gabriel. Did he not possess sufficient charm to attract rivals naturally? Or had he cleared his path in advance, eliminating all possible competitors so that only one route remained?
"If the lady calls, I will come at any time."
Gabriel spoke these words with a slightly embarrassed smile and immediately gave his promise. With his appearance—capable of captivating hearts at first sight—he didn't necessarily *need* to monopolize anyone.
Artemisia, standing nearby and overhearing this exchange, clasped her hands together and gasped with theatrical delight. For a moment, I caught myself thinking that I probably looked exactly the same mere moments ago, when I had been watching Raphael and Daisy.
---
After Gabriel and Raphael departed, Artemisia and her assistants began taking my measurements with meticulous care. Just moments before, she had been talkative and animated, but now she was utterly focused, her expression serious and intent. There was no denying it—she was a true master of her craft, one Gabriel had chosen with excellent reason.
"Artemisia. If it doesn't seem presumptuous... might you sew dresses for my maids as well? It isn't urgent—there's no need to rush."
It still pained me to remember how the children had been looked down upon because of their shabby clothing. Certainly, I had purchased plenty of ready-made garments for them before, but *custom-made* clothes were an entirely different matter. Besides, since Artemisia was a renowned artisan, now was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of her presence.
"Of course, my lady." She agreed without the slightest hesitation, her voice warm with genuine approval. "I sincerely cannot understand how such dreadful rumors could circulate about such a caring mistress—one who even thinks of her own subordinates with such consideration."
I appreciated how she responded immediately and with such confidence.
_Excellent. The payment will be double._