Allison, mid-smirk, froze solid.
“What? What did you say?”
“I said the task you assigned me is complete.”
I gave the pricey desk a couple of brisk taps to square up the report, then held it out to her with a flourish.
The “task” Allison had assigned me had been sorting through a pile of garbage reference material she’d thrown together half-heartedly.
*I’ve done this exact kind of work for years.*
I drove the point home.
“I checked for typos too. Font, formatting, letter spacing — all confirmed.”
“Hmph. No sense of style either! Who’s going to read a wall of text like this?”
“Ah. Would you like to see the version with visual references instead?”
“What?”
“Just in case, I put together a second format as well.”
I retrieved the second report from the desk and offered it to her, just as smoothly.
*People like this always fixate on the packaging over the actual content.*
I’d prepared for it, just in case, and sure enough, she found something to pick at anyway.
Allison looked me up and down, sneering.
“Someone’s trying to look experienced, hm?”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“Well, I suppose you’d have plenty of practice doing grunt work, coming from an orphanage.”
Wow. What an absolute—
Allison eyed me with a smug little smile.
“What, am I wrong? It’s right there in your file. Actually — are your parents even alive?”
“Ah! You guessed correctly. I suppose they must be dead.”
I smiled right back, just as pleasantly.
“But well, whether you have parents or not, everyone still has to work for a living.”
“Ha—?”
“Unless you were born with a silver spoon, that is.”
Allison’s face twisted.
The heroine watched our standoff, visibly on edge.
Grape-Head stood with his arms folded, observing.
“Rowell. Are all the young ones these days this insolent?”
“Not sure. Though I never asked about Team Leader Kafres’s parents, for what it’s worth.”
A first-year picking a fight with her boss? Unthinkable, normally.
Getting screwed over unfairly at work, your boss treating you like garbage — you’re supposed to just endure it, I know.
*The world outside is dirtier still, so grit your teeth and take it.*
But dragging someone’s family into it?
That, you fight back against.
There were lines in life you simply didn’t cross.
For me, that line was my parents.
This life’s “Leila” might have been abandoned as a baby, but thanks to my parents from my last life, I’d been happy.
*I’ve got no money, no status — why should I swallow an insult like that?*
Allison, looking genuinely stunned, stammered.
“You… who do you think you are?”
“Just a new hire, raised at an orphanage.”
Not like it mattered — outside the throne or the truly old noble houses, everyone was pretty much the same, anyway.
Allison glared at me a moment longer, then spun away sharply.
*She’s figured out that going after me doesn’t work.*
Fine. Pick fights with me all you want instead.
I could handle it, since I’d come in as an “experienced” hire in every way that counted. But did she really want to do that to someone as green as the heroine?
Yet every single day, at nine in the morning and three in the afternoon, Allison lined Julianna up and tore into her.
The next day, too.
And the day after that.
“I’m heading out early today. The rest of you finish up and go home whenever.”
Allison clocked out at four, leaving a stack of unfinished paperwork piled on our expensive new desks.
*Absolute monster.*
We spent the rest of our time quietly working through it.
*Two more days and we’re done with this place anyway.*
And just as we were nearing the end of the day’s work—
“That…”
“Hm?”
Grape-Head suddenly spoke to me, quietly.
“Why don’t you say anything to me?”
“Well — you’re from the Mage Tower, and your parents are alive.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Of course it matters.”
This guy came from an elite family, on par with the male lead or the mastermind.
*Even picking a fight, apparently, has its standards.*
But Grape-Head looked at me like he genuinely couldn’t follow the logic.
“That doesn’t make sense, though.”
“That’s just how people are. It doesn’t reduce down to a neat zero-and-one thing…”
Wait.
I was in the middle of explaining the world’s unfairness to this sheltered little lamb when I noticed the heroine’s seat had gone empty.
“Hey — where’d Julianna go?”
“She ran off outside. Looked like she was crying, I think.”
“You— why didn’t you say that sooner!”
I’d been so buried in work I hadn’t even noticed!
And the heroine’s crying, and the second lead isn’t even going after her?
If she’s crying, you’re supposed to go get her a can of coffee or something, that’s how the romance starts!
*Honestly, Grape-Head! This is exactly why you’re stuck as second lead!*
If this sends the story spiraling off course and the heroine decides she doesn’t even want to be a palace official anymore, what then?!
*And if she quits the Black Spoon Division track entirely, what then?!*
I bolted out of my seat and hurried out.
Apparently following me wasn’t the “rational” move, because Grape-Head didn’t come.
Thankfully, the heroine hadn’t gone far.
She was crouched in a corner of the garden, hidden from passersby.
“Julianna!”
“L— Leila.”
“Are you okay?”
“Hff—”
Oh no, she really was crying.
Getting caught crying seemed to make it worse — Julianna buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
“Hff, hnngh, hff—”
“Julianna. Don’t cry—”
Wait a second.
A chill ran down my spine as I reached out to comfort her.
*The male lead’s supposed to be the one comforting Julianna right about now, isn’t he?*
How could I have forgotten this scene — where the heroine steps out crying after Allison tears into her, and runs straight into the male lead by chance?
*”Didn’t you say you wanted to join the Black Spoon Division, Crosswell?”*
*”I— I did.”*
*”Then you can’t be crying over something like this.”*
*”…Yes, sir.”*
*Carlyle spoke sternly, and turned to leave — but added, at the last moment:*
*”But if you come work with us, at least you won’t cry over something this unfair.”*
*There was a faint warmth in his voice as he said it.*
Oh, damn it.
I needed to get out of here, fast.
But just as I started to pull my hand back—
“Leila.”
Tear-streaked, Julianna grabbed my hand.
“C— can you stay with me?”
“I— um, that’s—”
“Hff, hnngh—”
…When a coworker was sobbing this hard, I couldn’t exactly say *a man’s about to show up and comfort you, so I’ll be going now.*
In the end, Julianna held onto me, and I ended up crouched beside her, listening to her pour out her heart.
“Hff. What do I do, Leila?”
“Hm? About what?”
“I really wanted to do well… I guess I just don’t have any instinct for this.”
Ugh.
She must have gotten hit harder than I expected by something as trivial as Allison’s remarks.
“Listen, Julianna. You’re not bad at this. You just don’t have the experience yet.”
“Experience…”
“Everyone stumbles when they’re starting out.”
“But you… Leila.”
“Hm?”
“Y— you’re good at this from the start.”
“I’m only like this because I did a ton of grunt work at the orphanage, exactly like that woman said.”
“That’s not—!”
“Anyway, don’t waste another thought on what she said.”
Julianna had stopped crying, but she still looked deflated.
*Tch. She’s got a lot of pride riding on being top of the class.*
This was what happened to people when they got gaslit — they just crumbled.
Not good. Time for some hard truths, then.
“Listen carefully, Julianna.”
“Hm?”
“We’re all going to end up self-employed eventually.”
“Uh— um?”
If you don’t make it to the executive level, you inevitably end up running your own business eventually.
Whether that’s a chicken shop, a café, or renting out property — didn’t matter.
“Not all of us are going to make it to the upper ranks, right? So there’s no need to hang your entire self-worth on this place.”
Don’t stake your whole life on the company!
Julianna, having no idea just how worn-down my thinking really was, took it as comfort and smiled, bright and clear.
“Thanks, Leila. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Ah, it’s nothing.”
“I’m gonna go wash my face — I’ll head back first!”
Julianna sprang up and ran off.
She must have been embarrassed about crying that hard in the first place.
*Right, I’ve got work left too, better get back—*
But I stopped halfway to standing, frozen in an awkward half-crouch.
The male lead was standing right around the corner.
*What is he even doing out here?*
And why wasn’t he looking away, now that our eyes had met? Standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, no less.
*Why aren’t you off chasing after the heroine?*
…But first, I needed to figure out exactly what was going on here.
