'What is wrong with these people?'
Susan looked like she was suffering just having to deliver the news. "Princess, the ladies... in particular, Baroness Cleria’s daughter, is asking one more time. She says they have urgent matters to discuss regarding the banquet."
I frowned. I had already kicked them out once; their persistence was almost admirable, if it weren't so annoying. But seeing the look on Susan’s face—a mix of worry and duty—made me change my mind.
"Take me to the hall," I said.
"Yes, Princess. Right away." Susan bowed, but she hesitated before turning to lead the way. She looked like she wanted to say something, her face a mask of conflict. Finally, she took a brave breath. "Princess... are you sure you’re all right?"
"What do you mean?"
"I... I know you don't really want to see them. I’m sorry if I overstepped by bringing the message."
She wasn't overstepping. She was exactly right. I didn't want to see them. Those women were a direct link to the old Charlize—the version of me that spent her days drinking and making everyone else miserable. If I spent too much time with them, I was afraid I’d fall right back into those habits.
"If I refuse, they’ll just keep harassing you and the other maids," I said, standing up. "Better to deal with them once and be done with it."
As I walked, I tried to figure out how to get rid of them quickly. 'Surely they don't have anything important to say about a banquet,' I thought. In my memories, the members of the "Gaemang Club" were all style and no substance. They were spoiled children of wealthy or powerful families who knew how to do nothing but cause trouble.
They were like the spoiled heirs you see on the news back in Korea—loud, arrogant, and completely detached from reality.
I threw on a robe and followed Susan, noticing how she kept her head down, avoiding my gaze. I wondered if Charlize’s old friends had been particularly cruel to the staff. I didn't remember much about that, but the way the maids tensed whenever the socialites were around spoke volumes.
"Princess!"
As I entered the hall, I was greeted by the familiar sight of several young noblewomen. They’d already made themselves at home, and they’d brought their own alcohol.
'Of course they did,' I thought, clicking my tongue.
"Princess! It’s been so long!"
"Why haven't you called for us? We’ve missed you so much!"
"You look stunning, as always!"
They swarmed me, their voices a cacophony of fake excitement. Most of them were from the previous meeting, but there were a few new faces—likely younger girls looking to climb the social ladder by associating with the Empire's most notorious villainess.
I nodded and walked toward the drinks cabinet, pretending to look for something. Behind me, the chatter continued, their voices rising as they forgot I was in the room.
"So I told her, if you can't even get my nails right, you don't deserve to have hands," one of them laughed. "She was so dirty, she didn't even clean the spill properly."
"Ugh, tell me about it. My maid is so slow these days. I had to break a bottle and tell her to clean it up with her bare hands just to get her to move."
"Oh my god, really?"
"Well, she’ll certainly be more careful next time, won't she? These humble creatures... they only learn through suffering."
I felt a sharp pain in my hand and realized I was gripping the cabinet handle so hard the wood was groaning.
*“Tsk, you’re so stupid. That’s why your body suffers.”*
The voice of my old boss, Yoon Ji-hoo, echoed in my head. I’d spent my whole life being treated like a "humble creature" by people exactly like this.
I squeezed my hand shut and then forced it open. A wall seemed to rise between me and these women. They thought they were sharing "tips," but all they were doing was showing me exactly why I needed to leave this life behind.
I grabbed a bottle and returned to the table.
In addition to the alcohol they’d brought, there was a small, expensive-looking bag sitting on the table. A young girl—the daughter of Countess Lotaria, if I remembered correctly—was watching me with shy, expectant eyes.
"Did the Princess see this?" she asked, her voice a mix of pride and false modesty. She covered her mouth as she spoke, a move clearly designed to show off the rings on her fingers.
"My fiancé gave it to me as an early engagement gift. What do you think?"
"If it’s from Viscount Arus’s son... he must have used the iron ore from his family’s mines to pay for it," someone commented. "Is that the new limited-edition color from the capital?"
"It’s beautiful," I said, my voice flat.
The girl took a shy sip of her wine. "I told him I didn't need anything so expensive, but he insisted. He said he wanted everyone to know how much he loves me. Men can be so silly, can't they?"
I wasn't angry. I was just... tired. In my old life as Yoon Ji-hoo, I’d seen this all before. Back in Korea, the demand for luxury items was insane. Everyone wanted to show off what they had, especially if it was a "limited edition."
I remembered a college reunion I’d attended just after one of my friends had been promoted. Everyone was obsessed with her new bag.
*“Wow, isn't that over ten million won?”*
*“My parents bought it for me as a gift for the promotion.”*
*“Well, you have to look the part, don't you?”*
I’d sat there that day, thinking of my parents who had passed away, and secretly hiding my own worn, five-year-old bag under the table. I’d never been part of their world, and I never would be.
The "Gaemang" girls were still admiring the bag, their eyes darting to me as if waiting for me to join in.
"You must be so loved," one of them cooed. "I’m so envious!"
They were practically begging me to talk about Askin. But after my last encounter with them, they seemed to have learned at least a little bit of caution. They didn't bring him up directly.
'At least they have the capacity to learn,' I thought.
I reached for a bottle, and the room went silent as they watched me.
"A drink, Princess?" someone asked. "To your health!"
They all raised their glasses in a practiced cheer. I set the bottle down and pulled out a different one—a pale pink liquid that looked like thinned wine.
"I’m not drinking alcohol today," I said.
"Oh? Why not?"
I poured myself a glass of the pink liquid. It was a non-alcoholic herbal tonic.
"I have a dress fitting for the Goddess Festival banquet coming up," I lied (well, half-lied; the dress was done, but maintenance was real). "I’m on a strict regimen to ensure I look my best. No alcohol, no heavy foods."
It was a total fabrication—Charlize had never cared about "management" before—but I’d found a memory of her occasionally going on health kicks when she wanted to impress a man.
I looked at them with a cold, haughty expression. "Only an idiot would think of drinking right before such a major event. Don't you agree?"
The young ladies looked at each other, their glasses hovering in the air. They quickly set them down and scrambled to find a new topic of conversation.