Chapter 32
A languid, longing groan drifted from behind me.
“Haa… if only those two buttons had just happened to pop off…”
“I’d be happy if Duke Ainluk even glanced in my direction once.”
“Haaaaaaaah.”
It was instantly obvious—they were young ladies utterly besotted with Alferen.
Edwin had mentioned he had quite a few obsessive fans.
My shoulders stiffened at the thought that one of them might be sitting right behind me.
Sierra clicked her tongue.
“Everyone’s drooling over his body without even knowing the true worth of our Tower Lord. Me? I’d sell my soul just to extract his mana core once…”
You’d kill him, you lunatic…
The chill she sent down my spine was of an entirely different species than the usual fangirl madness.
Lottie leaned closer and I clung to her as another voice sighed dreamily.
“Right? I just want to be hit—once—by the Tower Lord’s patented offensive spell.”
Girl. That’s a suicide request.
One group wanted to murder Alferen, the other wanted to die by his hand. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
I was trembling at Sierra and Glaster’s deranged comedy routine when—
“Kyaaaa! I saw it! He looked over here!”
The back rows erupted in chaos.
Even Sierra and Glaster shut up and half-rose from their seats, butts hovering.
What is wrong with these people?
I lifted my eyes toward the contestants’ waiting area.
Gasp.
Since when had he been staring straight at me?
Alferen’s face broke into a radiant smile the moment our eyes met, and he waved.
“Who’s he waving at?”
“Me, obviously! I’m his number-one fan! Yes, I’m right here, Lord Alferen!”
The die-hard fans in the back started waving frantically, convinced it was for them.
That idiot brother of mine—why is he like this!
Terrified of being exposed, I yanked my bonnet down and ducked my head.
He’ll stop if I ignore him, I told myself.
Then a near-roar exploded from the back rows.
“Wait a second. What is that badge on our duke’s chest? Who broke the rules and gave him a badge?!”
Badge? Oh no. That was me.
There was a rule? I didn’t know!
Still, no one knows it was me yet, so I’ll just stay quiet—
Glaster shot to his feet and shattered my last hope.
“He—he’s coming this way!”
No way.
I jerked my head up.
Alferen was already in the stands, standing right in front of me.
The entire section fell deathly silent. Everyone held their breath, wondering what the Tower Lord could possibly want.
He extended something toward me, who had frozen solid.
“Hold this for me, Delly.”
His jacket.
I took it automatically and pouted.
“Am I your coat rack now? You have a personal locker.”
“It’s chilly by the river. You get cold easily.”
His gentle words prickled the back of my neck.
I heard whispers: Who is that woman that Lord Alferen is worried about?
Even without turning around, I could feel the rabid fans’ murderous glares boring into my skull.
“It’s summer right now.”
I tried to hand the jacket back, politely refusing, but he ignored it completely and instead reached out to tenderly fix the ribbon on my bonnet.
A blatantly public display, as if he wanted the whole world to see.
“See you later, my goddess of victory.”
His fingers brushed my cheek, slow and lingering, making every hair on my body stand on end.
And with that, the culprit who gave him the badge was officially revealed.
He gave a faint, knowing smile.
“We still have things to talk about, don’t we?”
It sounded like a declaration: Run again and this time I’ll come catch you.
Having finished his business, Alferen returned to his spot in a flash.
Even after he disappeared, the silence lingered like a thousand years compressed into one minute.
Then—
“Uwaaaaaaaaah!”
Sierra let out a monstrous screech and pointed straight at me.
“No way! You’re actually close with the Tower Lord?!”
What do you mean “actually”? You didn’t believe me?
I narrowed my eyes, feeling betrayed, and Sierra scrambled to explain.
“I’ve met way too many people who lie about knowing him…”
“As if I’d make up something like that.”
“Y-yes, well, anyway! Rodellia, we’re going to be best friends from now on. You have to stay in Majia forever!”
She was even more excited than when I flashed the check.
Then I glanced behind her and startled.
Glaster didn’t need words—he was screaming with his eyes alone, radiating shock, envy, and searing jealousy all at once.
Lottie spoke in a dark, low voice.
“So there’s someone else he calls Delly… I thought he only allowed that nickname for people he was really close to…”
Why are you the one who’s upset?
Mortified by the rainbow of reactions, I pulled my bonnet even lower and muttered timidly,
“He’s just my oppa’s friend, that’s all.”
Please, please drop it now.
That was when Nanael Barnard suddenly inserted herself into the conversation.
“My, my. ‘Just a friend of my brother’—that’s exactly the kind of excuse cheating nobles always use when hiding an affair.”
A proclamation that said, I know your sin.
And of course, right when the broken engagement between her and Alferen was the hottest topic in society, every eye turned to us even more.
With all attention now focused, Nanael hid her mouth behind her fan and added sweetly,
“There’s no need to hide it anymore, is there? You can be a little bolder now, my lady. Affairs between nobles are practically tradition, after all♪”
She was pretending to encourage me while nailing me to the cross of public opinion, playing the perfect victim—Look how I was discarded because of her.
She wanted to tear my reputation to shreds.
So that’s why she’d been so quiet—she was waiting for the perfect moment.
But Nanael had miscalculated.
In my entire life, I have never once gone easy on someone who threw the first punch.
Not striking first doesn’t mean I lack aggression.
If someone hands me justification for bloodshed on a silver platter, I’m more than happy to accept.
It’s not my fault—they’re the ones who provoked a peaceful person!
In that sense, Nanael had just poured oil on my righteous flames.
Watching her openly slander me in front of everyone hardened my resolve.
I started this mess anyway.
Sitting here defenseless would be idiotic.
If we’re going to fight like dogs, I might as well grab the strongest knight on the board.
The sharpest sword I currently possess is only one.
“Just wear this. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Alferen’s voice flashed through my mind.
Right. When have I ever thought things through before acting?
I’ll deal with the Summer problem when she actually shows up.
For now, I focus on this moment.
The male lead of this novel is my oppa, and the sub-male lead offered me a contract relationship.
Both protagonists are on my side—why should I be scared of a mere villainess?
The engagement is already broken, and my prison ending has vanished.
Everything that happens from now on is a new future, not the one the original story dictated.
There’s no need to fear in advance.
I know the original plot, I’ve prepared—Nanael can try whatever she wants; I won’t go down quietly.
Nothing to hold me back.
After all, she’s not exactly pure herself—everyone knows she changes lovers like gloves.
This is just the pot calling the kettle black.
You picked the wrong girl, villainess.
She probably expected me to panic, burst into tears, and flee.
But I don’t live to be the victim.
If this is how it’s going to be, I’ll become the shameless, sunny, palace-style female lead.
Nanael Barnard, I’ll be the clown that makes you clutch your neck in fury every step of the way.
I toyed with the ring in my pocket and smiled—a slow, meaningful smile.
