Chapter 17. Eve’s Tea Party (2)

<Dear Sister Kasha,

The date for my tea party is set!

It’ll be at two o’clock in the afternoon, one week from now.

Can you help me, just as you promised?

I really want to put Lady Fenilton’s nose out of joint.

I’ll be waiting for your reply.

With kind regards,
Eve Aranias>

As Kasha read Eve’s sweet handwriting, reminiscent of her face, a smile spread across her lips.

“Of course, Eve.”

Finally, she had an excuse to visit the grand mansion more frequently.

Since that day, there had been no word from Leon, leaving Kasha feeling anxious.

‘Whether in this life or the last, Leon, you’re truly not an easy man to deal with.’

The only persistent contact was the insufferable Simon.

He had even tried visiting the count’s residence several times, but Kasha had consistently turned him away, ensuring they never crossed paths.

‘But I can’t avoid him forever.’

Around this time in her previous life, Kasha had handed over a few magic tools to Simon.

That was likely why he was acting so desperate now—eager to get his hands on those devices.

However, those very magic tools, crafted merely to earn his favor, had ended up being used just months later as weapons that led to the complete defeat of the Holy Knights in the Sacred Demon War.

In this life, Kasha had no intention of giving any magic tools to Simon.

But would Simon, especially given the people backing him, let the golden goose slip away so easily?

‘Before they make a move, I need to set the pieces on the board.’

With that thought, Kasha set Eve’s letter aside.

First and foremost, she had to make sure Eve’s tea party was a success.

Yet, knowing so little about tea parties, Kasha would have to enlist help.

Rising abruptly from her desk, she had someone in mind to visit.

And she knew exactly who to bring along when she did.

She swiftly opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

* * *

“So… how do I look?”

Daryl asked, looking over his shoulder with a nervous expression.

“You’re fine. And here.”

Kasha said, shoving a bouquet into his hands.

“I asked the gardener to put this together, and Sena did the wrapping.”

Daryl looked at the bouquet, stammering, clearly flustered.

“Wh-why are you giving this to me?”

Kasha stared at him, barely concealing her exasperation.

“Give it to Miss Margaret.”

Kasha said pointedly. ”

You’re not supposed to keep it.”

“Ah, I see.”

Daryl scratched his head with his large hand.

“I didn’t even think of that.”

‘Of course you didn’t. You’re as dense as a bear, Brother,’ Kasha thought as she lifted her skirt slightly to ascend the stairs.

They were now standing in front of Viscount Yonder’s mansion.

This visit had been prompted three days prior when Kasha had joined Daryl for breakfast unexpectedly.

“It’s unusual for you to ask to eat together,” he remarked.

“…Brother.”

“Yes?”

“If you’re planning to propose to Miss Margaret Yonder… you should do it soon.”

Her words were direct and to the point, completely disregarding any pleasantries. Daryl stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Uh… what? I mean, how did you… how do you even know about that?”

“If you keep hesitating, you’ll lose her, Brother.”

“…”

Daryl was struck silent, completely unprepared for this blunt advice from Kasha.

“Viscount Yonder will likely marry her off to any suitable match that comes along,” Kasha continued confidently.

She had her reasons for saying this.

She recalled a time in her previous life when she had accidentally overheard Daryl, drunk and heartbroken, mourning Margaret’s marriage in the garden before she fled to the Tower.

‘I never even got to confess… How could she marry so soon?’

Daryl had been crying like a heartbroken child, wiping his tears with hands the size of dinner plates.

‘And to think she was sold off to that perverse Marquis Baron… like some kind of transaction.’

As Kasha thought of that moment, she narrowed her eyes. Daryl, offended, protested.

“‘Sold off’? That’s harsh. She’s a noble lady. Her father would never do something like that.”

Sometimes, Kasha wondered if her brother was even more naive than she herself had once been. It seemed almost like naive obliviousness ran in the Ruschino bloodline.

Without masking her exasperation, Kasha replied firmly.

“Not all fathers are like the Count of House Ruschino, Brother.”

At this unexpected remark, Daryl struggled to come up with a response, too surprised even to comment on her referring to their father as “the Count.”

While he was aware that Viscount Yonder was somewhat of a social climber, he had never considered that he might actually try to “sell off” his own daughter. But then again… would that man be capable of such a disgraceful act? Sacrificing noble Margaret for his ambitions?

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Daryl realized he’d been too focused on his own feelings and hadn’t considered Margaret’s situation.

Watching him fall silent, Kasha knew her advice had sunk in.

From the following day, Daryl began visiting Viscount Yonder’s mansion diligently. And three days later, the two of them found themselves standing side by side at the front entrance.

Knock, knock.

A servant opened the door shortly after.

“We’re here to see Miss Margaret Yonder. Daryl Ruschino of House Ruschino and Lady Katiana Ruschino.”

Daryl spoke on Kasha’s behalf, and the servant, who seemed familiar with Daryl’s visits, bowed and gestured them inside.

“I’ll escort you to the young lady’s room.”

The Yonder mansion was flashy, though not exactly luxurious. They were clearly striving to keep up with the capital’s trends but were held back by financial limitations.

Knock, knock.

The servant stopped at the door at the end of the second-floor hallway and knocked.

“Please come in.”

Came a soft, composed voice from within.

Daryl moved to enter immediately, but Kasha blocked his way.

“…What?”

“I’ll go in first.”

“Why? And what about me?”

“I’ll make sure to speak well on your behalf… just wait here.”

“Oh… thank you, Kasha. I didn’t think you cared enough to do this for me.”

Kasha had only made this excuse to speak with Margaret privately, but Daryl looked genuinely touched.

Avoiding his damp eyes, Kasha entered Margaret’s room.

“Lady Margaret.”

“Lady Katiana.”

The two women curtsied to each other.

“It’s been two weeks.”

Margaret said, averting her eyes with a somewhat awkward smile.

“Yes,” Kasha replied.

“I wanted to thank you… for what you did at the ball. I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly that night, and it’s been on my mind since. I’m grateful you came to visit me,” Margaret said, gesturing for Kasha to sit.

Looking closer, Kasha noticed how weary Margaret’s face appeared.

‘She must have been through a lot,.’

Kasha thought, accepting Margaret’s invitation.

“It was nothing. Brother Daryl has been quite worried about you,” Kasha replied.

At this, Margaret blushed slightly.

‘So, there’s hope after all. Good for you, Daryl.’

Kasha thought, discreetly glancing around the room.

Though small, the room reflected Margaret’s neat and dignified nature. The fabrics on the curtains and furniture, the small paintings on the walls—all were modest but tasteful. It was a sharp contrast to the house’s overall atmosphere.

‘It seems I came to the right place after all.’

Just as this thought passed through her mind, Margaret spoke again.

“Lady Katiana… why did you help me that night?”

“Hmm?”

“Honestly… I’m ashamed to admit it, but when you faced difficulty, I just watched. I was concerned, but… I lacked the courage.”

Margaret’s expression grew shadowed with guilt and shame.

Perhaps what troubled her most these past few days was that it was Kasha, whom she had ignored, who had come to her aid.

‘Margaret is a kind and conscientious person,’ Kasha thought.

“Were you bothered that I stepped in?” Kasha asked bluntly.

Margaret’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Of course not. To be honest, in that moment… you looked almost radiant as you extended your hand to me,” she said, giving a weak smile.

‘Yes, and so did you, Margare.’

Kasha thought, recalling how Margaret had been the only one to offer her a hand when she had collapsed at the Duke of Tairaut’s ball in her previous life.

Though she had quickly retracted her help under Odette’s intimidating glare, the gesture had still been rare and meaningful.

‘Not everyone goes through a grueling death and a return to the past as I did.’

Margaret’s reaction had been entirely normal, perhaps even noble in its restraint.

And people as genuine and principled as Margaret were few and far between in Kasha’s experience.

“Lift your head, Margaret.”

At Kasha’s words, Margaret slowly looked up. She met Kasha’s eyes and seemed almost spellbound, then spoke.

“This is strange.”

“What is?”

“You seem… quite different, Lady Katiana.”

“Do I?”

“Of course, I can’t say I knew you well before. But seeing you now, you’re nothing like I had imagined from afar.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You seem strong and confident.”

“Then, Lady Margaret, you should try living like that too.”

“What?”

“If you keep molding yourself to fit your family’s expectations and circumstances, you’ll never… be who you want to be.”

“…”

“It’s unfair if only people like Odette get to live exactly as they please, isn’t it?”

At the mention of Odette, a flash of anger and fear appeared in Margaret’s eyes.

Kasha spoke soothingly.

“I’ll help you.”

“…”

“Is that hard to believe?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“Then, what do you think of my brother, Daryl?”

“Pardon? I don’t… what do you mean?”

Margaret’s cheeks flushed deeply. Kasha looked at her, sincere.

“My brother will protect you. So, even if you need to lean on him, try… living as you wish.”

Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.

“But… wouldn’t I just be taking advantage of him? I have nothing to offer, and… my father is already arranging a marriage for me, essentially selling me off for a sum of money.”

Kasha glanced toward the door.

“If you took advantage of my brother’s feelings… I think he’d actually be glad.”

“Oh, what…”

Margaret chuckled, her tears momentarily halted by Kasha’s surprising remark. Watching her laugh, Kasha felt certain.

“Don’t let them sell you off, Lady Margaret.”

“Lady Katiana…”

“Choose for yourself. I’ll help you.”

At Kasha’s bold reassurance, Margaret smiled through her tears, seeming visibly lighter, as if the weight of her burdens had been lifted, simply by having someone support her.

As Kasha watched Margaret’s smile, she felt an odd sense of warmth.

Confiding in someone of her own age, lending strength to each other—it was the sort of bond she had only read about in books and once dreamed of, the kind usually labeled “friendship.”

Even after coming back from death, she hadn’t dared to hope for something like this, suspecting it would be too much to ask for, even foolish to desire.

Yet now, sitting across from Margaret, who had extended a hand to her once before, Kasha suddenly wondered if this was what friendship felt like.

Without thinking, Kasha spoke up.

“So, Lady Margaret… does that mean we’re friends now?”

Margaret laughed, answering with an easy confidence.

“Of course, Lady Katiana.”

The two of them shared a smile.

Lost in conversation, Kasha had all but forgotten Daryl waiting outside the door. After a while, she suddenly remembered why she’d come in the first place.

“Oh, Lady Margaret, could I… ask you a favor?”

“…Of course. What is it?”

“Have you ever hosted a tea party?”