Chapter 20
“You came?”
“I was just passing by.”
Carolie’s words were sharp, but her eyes remained glued to the cake on the table.
Instead of scolding her, Calliope gave a small nod toward the empty seat across from her. Carolie quickly plopped down and grabbed a fork. Behind her, Carolie’s maid stood stiffly, glancing nervously down the hallway.
Calliope ignored the fork and instead brought the warm teacup to her lips, sipping quietly.
“The Marchioness doesn’t usually come this way. Don’t worry too much.”
Besides, even if Carolie had broken her dessert limit, Circe wasn’t the kind of person to make a big deal out of it. She was cold and practical, yes—but not to the extent of applying strict discipline to her own daughter. When the maid gave a small nod of understanding, Carolie, now with a mouth full of cake, suddenly frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“Owhe yow nou?” (How’d you know?)
“Finish chewing first.”
“…How did you know?”
“What? That the Marchioness rarely comes around here?”
“Yeah.”
“There are ways to know these things.”
Calliope gave a mysterious little smile and rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on the table. Of course, she couldn’t exactly say, I know because I’ve already lived this once.
Carolie took another bite of cake, chewing slowly before narrowing her eyes.
“My teacher said you shouldn’t do that.”
“Who? The etiquette instructor?”
“Yeah. A proper lady always sits up straight.”
“She’s right. But sitting like that all the time is hard, isn’t it? That’s why I only do this in secret.”
“But I’m right here.”
“Oh… good point. Will you keep it a secret for me? I’ll keep one for you too.”
Calliope smiled while still resting her chin on her hand. Carolie turned her head away with a huff.
“I don’t do things like that. I’m a proper lady.”
“Really? That’s impressive. I find it difficult.”
But after a while, a small foot began to bounce beneath the table. Children, after all, had a hard time hiding their excitement. Pretending not to notice, Calliope leaned back against her chair and raised her cup again.
Surprisingly, the time spent with her usually noisy little sister felt… peaceful.
In the past, they could hardly stand to look at each other. But now, things were different. It was strange how much could change just by her own choices. That realization helped ease the tension in her heart.
Calliope and Carolie continued to enjoy their little “non-parties” every few days. Carolie, who had once been obsessed with cookie cake, soon developed an interest in macarons.
Both were painfully sweet—Calliope couldn’t understand the appeal—but since Carolie liked them, she let it go. Though, lately, her little sister had been eating too much, and Calliope figured it might be time to start limiting her.
“You’ve had three already. How about stopping for today?”
“Why are you nagging me too now?”
“I get why the Marchioness put a limit on your sweets. You eat like you’ve never seen food before.”
“I do not!”
Carolie, curly hair bouncing in frustration, was holding both a cookie and a macaron—one in each hand.
Calliope gave a helpless smile and reached out. Thinking her snacks were about to be taken, Carolie quickly jerked her hands away. But instead of taking anything, Calliope gently brushed a few crumbs from her sister’s lips and stepped back.
“A proper lady shouldn’t walk around with crumbs on her face.”
Realizing her misunderstanding, Carolie flushed with embarrassment.
“I-I knew! I left them there on purpose!”
“Oh? Saving them for later in case you get hungry?”
“Exactly!”
Grasping at any excuse to cover her embarrassment, Carolie said the first thing that came to mind. Her maid gave a small, awkward smile.
“Well then, you’re very clever.”
Calliope laughed quietly as she wiped her hands and took another sip of tea. Spending time with her talkative little sister was starting to feel easy. Had she ever felt this relaxed since coming back to this house? She’d never imagined the sister who used to resent her could be this adorable.
But just as she let her guard down, a loud click came from behind.
There it is. She’d been wondering how long it would take.
As Calliope turned her head, she caught a glimpse of brown hair slipping behind a tall cabinet. Pretending not to notice, she returned her gaze to the table—just in time to see Carolie smudge more cake across her cheek as she spoke with feigned indifference.
“Kaphir’s here, isn’t he?”
“You seem bothered by your brother.”
“No, he’s probably here to spy on me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Kaphir’s always trying to lecture me. He didn’t like that I came here in the first place.”
Calliope didn’t respond right away. Instead, she thought about the boy still hiding behind the cabinet. Kaphir was considered a gifted child—bright, quick on his feet, good at sports. And yet, for someone born of Illan and Circe, he had a surprisingly naïve side.
“Should I bring him over?”
Calliope smiled, chin in her palm. Carolie wrinkled her nose.
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not? Let’s feed him some cake too. If he’s an accomplice, he can’t tattle on you.”
Carolie didn’t want to share her cake, but the suggestion clearly tempted her. Her eyes sparkled, and the grin that spread across her cake-covered cheeks made her look like a mischievous imp.
“You gonna catch him?”
“How? He’s fast, even if I grab him.”
“I’m probably faster and stronger.”
Maybe not when he’s grown—but for now, she likely was. Unlike her past life, she’d trained in hunting and swordsmanship this time around. She held a finger to her lips and quietly rose from her seat.
The corridor outside the terrace stretched in a straight line, lined with ornate decorations. Kaphir was hiding behind a particularly tall and narrow cabinet—one that offered little room to run if spotted. Likely realizing this, he’d gone completely still, crouching behind it.
In the past, she would’ve just thought he was being annoying. But now? Now he just seemed like a kid.
Kaphir grew more anxious with every step he heard approaching. Hiding and spying like this wasn’t something a proper young gentleman should be doing. Still, wasn’t it Carolie’s fault for responding to the invitation, just to eat cake?
As his mind spun, the footsteps drew nearer—too close. Kaphir made a decision: On the count of three, I run. Running away wasn’t proper either, but this was a tactical retreat!
As the footsteps stopped right in front of him, he silently counted—One, two, three—and bolted in the opposite direction.
But something yanked at his waist.
“Wait—hold on!”
Calliope’s urgent voice rang out as she reached for his shoulder. But before she could grab him properly, Kaphir stumbled. The edge of his coat had caught on a small ornamental hook jutting out from the cabinet.
As he tipped forward, the cabinet—taller than Calliope—began to fall toward him.
Without thinking, she threw herself at him.
Crash!
The cabinet toppled with a thunderous crash. Calliope, having shoved Kaphir out of the way, fell beside him.
A groan of pain escaped her lips. Disoriented, Kaphir opened his eyes to see her body curled protectively around him. Her ankle was pinned beneath the cabinet.
The items that had been displayed inside were now scattered in shards across the floor. Blood welled up from her knee, where a shard had cut through her skin. Kaphir’s face went pale with fear.
“Kaphir!”
“Miss!”
Carolie and Susan, who had been waiting for them to return, came running with horrified expressions.
“Stay there. It’s dangerous.”
Calliope’s voice trembled with pain. She didn’t want the girls stepping on the broken glass in their soft indoor slippers. Thankfully, the cabinet—tall but narrow—wasn’t as heavy as it looked. Still, her ankle was completely trapped.
She took a deep breath and looked at Kaphir.
“Are you hurt?”
“N-No. I mean, yes—no. I’m fine.”
“Carolie looks shaken. Take her to her room. And call someone. My ankle’s stuck.”
“Y-Yes!”
The maid who had come with Carolie gave a quick nod and gently lifted the trembling girl into her arms. Carolie didn’t resist. For a child usually so stubborn, her silence spoke volumes.
“Servants will be here soon, so don’t worry. But… where’s your attendant?”
“I, uh… I came secretly. If I brought a servant, someone would’ve noticed…”
Kaphir averted his eyes, guilt and panic plain on his face. Calliope sighed—not aloud, but deeply within—and turned to Susan, who stood frozen nearby.
“Susan, please help Kaphir back to his room.”
“But what about you, miss?!”
“Others will be here soon. Go, quickly.”
Reluctantly, Susan looked at her with troubled eyes before helping Kaphir up from the floor and guiding him away.
“We’ll be right back!”
“I’ll be fine.”
As the two disappeared down the corridor, Calliope was left alone in the wreckage.
“Ugh…”
She tried once more to pull her ankle free, but the cabinet merely shifted and made the pain worse. It would be best to wait.
Her hand stung, and when she lifted it, she saw tiny shards embedded in her palm. There wasn’t a single part of her left untouched. Still, after the rough hunting trips in the mountains, this level of injury wasn’t too alarming.
Silence returned to the corridor. Cold silence.
Then, footsteps echoed toward her—several of them. More than one person.
“What’s going on here?”
The cool voice came from a woman with sleek violet hair, neatly styled without a single strand out of place. Her dress, luxurious and unadorned, flowed as she walked. It was the Marchioness—Circe.
Behind her followed nearly a dozen servants.
She must’ve been heading out for something.
Of all times for her to see me like this…
Calliope bit the inside of her cheek, hard.
