Moreover, the diary was written in the first person, meaning there were no names. Evangeline's mother was unlikely to have inscribed her own name on the cover.
"Are you going to continue behaving like this?"
"Don't worry, Father. In the imperial palace, I shall be meek and reserved, exactly as you requested."
The Count clearly wanted to add something more, but after these words, he only pressed his lips into a thin, bloodless line.
"You should be careful too," I continued, my voice light but pointed. "You ought to show at least *some* outward concern for your weakened daughter who's lost her memory. Isn't that right?"
In my opinion, the Count was the far bigger problem. He had absolutely no interest in his own daughter, so even when strange rumors began to circulate, he chose to do nothing. As a result, people gossiped even more freely, reaching the point of absurdity—claiming that even her own father had disowned the villain.
I must have struck a nerve, because he remained stubbornly silent.
"Well then. I'll be going."
The conversation was over, and Misa had asked me to return early since preparations for the ball were urgent. I turned and left without another glance.
And immediately regretted it the moment I crossed the threshold.
"You're *late*!"
Misa was waiting for me, her eyes sparkling with barely contained fervor.
I was seized the instant I entered and subjected to a complete cleansing from head to toe. There was no other way to describe it. For the first time since I'd inhabited Evangeline's body, I'd been so thoroughly scrubbed, polished, and perfumed.
Even with Gabriel—the main character himself—our physical contact had been limited to handshakes and the occasional kiss on the back of my hand. But here... I couldn't even count how much incense they'd rubbed into my skin during the massage. Now a thick, sweet floral aroma emanated from me, so heady it made my head spin.
Daisy and Hena completed my makeup and hairdo under Misa's watchful supervision, literally hovering at my side. Kanna's hands weren't quite dexterous enough for the task, so Misa promptly banished her to a corner, where she sat as a silent, vigilant guard.
Gold and silver powder was dusted through my hair, after which the curls were carefully set. The most astonishing part was that they didn't tangle or clump together; instead, they fell apart into soft, silky strands at the slightest movement.
_This is the work of a true virtuoso._
The dress also underwent revision. I'd been certain it was completely finished during my last fitting, but after trying it on again, Misa declared there were details requiring correction. She assured me this was the final version.
The delicate workmanship wasn't immediately obvious, but certain changes caught my eye at once. The bodice now featured rich red rubies, cut into the shapes of blooming flowers. Debutantes traditionally held bouquets, but in recent years, fashion had simplified—floral embellishments were now attached directly to the bodice or woven into the hair.
"Fresh flowers are especially valuable right now," Misa explained, adjusting a fold of fabric. "However, such decorations wilt quickly, so a separate maid is usually brought along to replace them throughout the evening."
She paused, choosing her next words with care.
"Real flowers would certainly suit you, my lady. But you're different from other young ladies. You're more... *mature*."
By "mature," Misa meant my age. Typically, one attended a debutante ball at sixteen, but Evangeline was a full four years older. It felt rather like placing a graduate student beside a group of wide-eyed freshmen. In that case, dressing identically to them would have been a mistake.
Fortunately, the flower-shaped rubies suited Evangeline far better than living plants ever could. Their deep scarlet hue matched the color of her eyes, creating a striking, harmonious effect. As I examined the stones and touched them carefully with my fingertips, Misa smiled slyly and winked.
"And speaking of the jewels—it wasn't I who prepared them. They're from Sir Gabriel."
_Gabriel?_
Suddenly the rubies felt heavier than they had a moment ago. Why did he insist on doing things like this? I was deliberately maintaining a "proper distance," yet he still managed to slip in these awkward, intimate gestures.
When the white lace gloves were drawn over my hands, the preparations were finally complete. I was surprised at how warm the fabric felt against my skin, and Kanna, blushing slightly, admitted:
"It's raining outside. What if you get cold and catch a chill, my lady? What would we do then?"
"Will the lady truly catch cold?" Misa asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Yes! After all, our lady is *sickly*!"
"Ah... You care so deeply for the lady, Miss Kanna," Misa said admiringly.
Kanna straightened her shoulders, beaming like a child praised before adults. And for some inexplicable reason, a strange, soft warmth washed through me—as if the sun had broken through the clouds inside my chest, despite the downpour beyond the windows. I suppressed a smile with effort and simply said:
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, my lady! You truly do look wonderful!"
As Kanna had said, I looked genuinely stunning. My wavy hair gleamed like scattered silver sand, and a vibrant, unusually bright blush colored my lips and cheeks, giving me the appearance of a living porcelain doll.
_That's exactly how it should be._
To be a villain in a novel, one needed a look capable of charming the heroine and driving the protagonist to distraction.
The preparations were complete. Misa cast a final, appraising glance over me and closed her eyes with obvious satisfaction.
And it wasn't merely a figurative expression—because in the next instant, she swayed dangerously.
"Now I have no unfulfilled wishes..."
"What? Lady Artemisia, wake up!"
Daisy barely managed to catch Misa before she collapsed entirely. I watched anxiously, thinking she'd lost consciousness, when I heard a quiet, rhythmic snore.
"It appears she's fallen asleep from exhaustion."
It was difficult to imagine the level of fatigue required to fall asleep while standing. The dress had been a rush order, and Misa must have barely slept the entire time. Her collapse wasn't surprising in the least.
_She'll definitely need a generous bonus._
"We can't leave her like this. Misa needs to be taken to her room."
"Yes, my lady."
Hena and Daisy, supporting Misa on either side, carried her out of the room. She was considerably taller than both of them, so her feet dragged along the floor. I couldn't help wondering if they should have found a different method of transport.
"A corpse was carried out of the lady's chambers...!"
"She's still alive!"
Judging by the voices, other servants had gathered outside the door. It hadn't been closed yet, so I could hear Hena's hurried explanations. Though, admittedly, the word "still" sounded rather ominous. Of course everyone was mortal, but the phrasing was unfortunate.
"She fainted from exhaustion. Please help carry her to her room."
"Y-yes, of course..."
It seemed the two of them couldn't manage alone, so they recruited additional servants. I could already imagine a new rumor circulating through the mansion by tomorrow: that I had made Misa collapse. Come to think of it, that wasn't entirely untrue—she *had* exhausted herself working on my dress.
_And that's precisely how rumors spread._
I clutched my head. Meanwhile, the two girls, having handed Misa off to the servants, returned. Misa was resting, all preparations were complete, which meant it was time to depart.
"My lady, shall we leave now?"
"What time does the reception begin?"
"At eight in the evening, so we still have roughly three hours."
"I see... Then ask the Count when he plans to leave."
I'd never attended a reception of this caliber before and had no idea when one ought to arrive. Perhaps it was customary to appear early and make polite small talk? No—by all accounts, the principal figures should arrive last.
I was tensely reviewing novel clichés in my memory when one of the maids, visibly embarrassed, spoke up hesitantly.
"M-my lady... they say the Count has already departed."
_What?_
The preparations hadn't taken all that long, and yet he had calmly left *alone* without waiting! There was still ample time before the reception, and this heartless man had already abandoned the mansion?!
Even though I hadn't intended to ride in the same carriage with him, I still felt a sharp pang of irritation.
_No matter._
I would leave later, and without haste. There had been no word from Madame Toten, so Bishop Marik would likely serve as my escort. And if I arrived too early, I would only spend unnecessary hours feeling nervous in her presence.
To pass the time, I began playing with Pudding. At that moment, Jelly, who had been standing by the window, suddenly called out.
"Master."
_What a way to address me!_
Ever since Jelly had first called me "Master" in front of Raphael—clearly intending to irritate him—he'd stubbornly continued using it. I'd asked him countless times to simply call me Evangeline, but, as expected, my requests had been utterly useless.
"Someone is approaching."
"Who?"
It seemed unlikely anyone would arrive unannounced. Who would venture out in such weather? Perhaps Gabriel.
I walked to the window beside Jelly and peered out. Beyond the glass, all I could see were thick streams of rain pouring down in a solid curtain. Though, come to think of it, Jelly—being a beastman—possessed far sharper eyesight than I did. No wonder I couldn't discern anything.
I continued staring in the direction of his gaze. After a while, something moving materialized in the gray haze. The silhouette grew clearer, and then a horse burst onto the road, its rider hunched against the deluge.
That alone told me it wasn't Gabriel. His horse was always black and thoroughbred, as stern and disciplined as its master.
The rider—wrapped in a sodden cloak—dismounted and, noticing the closed gates, did not enter. Instead, they stopped outside, as if hesitating.
"The scent is unfamiliar. It appears this person has business with you, Master. Shall I bring them?"
Having been scolded once for acting on his own initiative against those watching the house, Jelly was now clearly cautious, awaiting my decision. I nodded, and he immediately brightened, practically wagging his tail with joy.
He looked exactly like a dog who'd been given the command *fetch*, and it made me slightly uneasy. Sometimes I wondered whether he was truly a wolf at all, or simply a very large dog.
"Just do it without causing harm. Bring them carefully."
I added this hastily, fearing he might drag in a semi-conscious victim. If it were a secret observer, they would hardly have appeared so openly. And if it were a knight sent by Gabriel, or a guest who had come specifically to see me, maiming them would be entirely unacceptable.
"O-o-okay..."
Jelly said this with a characteristic grunt, then vanished. I barely had time to blink before he reappeared directly in front of me—this time with the cloaked figure in tow.
_What a disaster, Jelly!_
I had meant for him to descend, escort the visitor properly, and bring them through the house like a civilized person—not use magic to transport them instantaneously to my private chambers!
_You might as well write "I'M A MAGE" on your forehead and parade around the mansion!_
"As you requested, I brought them safe and sound."
"That's not... exactly what I meant..." I sighed heavily. "Although no, you did well, Jelly."
_What else would I expect from you?_
I forced down the growing headache and focused on the stranger. The person he'd brought was absolutely drenched, their cloak dripping steadily onto the floor, the fabric clinging heavily to their figure. And it was from beneath that sodden hood that a voice suddenly emerged.
"Lady Rohanson..."
"Madame Toten?"
I carefully drew back the hood and saw a face I hadn't expected at all.
_Madame Toten._
Why on earth had she appeared *now*? I'd heard nothing from her, and then—right on the eve of the ball—she materialized so suddenly and dramatically, as if the entire scene had been staged!
Though, considering we were living inside a novel, such theatrical entrances were perfectly fitting for the genre.
The downpour had left Madame Toten looking alarmingly pale. Her cloak, despite its best efforts, hadn't fully protected her from the rain; she was clearly soaked through to the bone. The distance from the Marquise Toten's residence to our house was considerable even by carriage—to make the journey on horseback in such a deluge would have been utterly exhausting.
No wonder her condition seemed so dire.
She was murmuring something incoherently under her breath, but when she heard me address her, she appeared to come to her senses. Madame Toten glanced around, then widened her eyes, clearly bewildered by her surroundings.
"What's going on? I was just outside, wasn't I?"