“What?! …C-Count, sir?”
The Count glared at Hassan, then spoke arrogantly.
“You’re not worthy of my daughter. Forbidden sorcery? Do you think my daughter is someone like you?”
It was clear that finding new employment would be nearly impossible for Hassan after this.
—
Count Floret had undoubtedly taken steps to protect me, keeping Mariposa and me strictly separate and dismissing Hassan. Gone were the days when I was belittled for simply breathing, seen as lowly and foolish. My trajectory was different now.
However…
[Giselle Floret ‘Steals’ Count Sehera’s Heirloom?]
[The exact nature of Count Sehera’s heirloom is unknown, but controversy is inevitable in the hands of an unqualified individual…]
[Exclusive Interview with Fired Mage Hassan!]
[“She was truly a foolish young lady. Now my livelihood is ruined…”]
Furious, I gripped the daily gossip paper, Daisy Gossip Weekly, tightly and let out a sinister laugh.
“Wow, they really make it seem like I’m in the wrong, don’t they?”
Perhaps this was the “main character curse” or “unjust narrative” rule the author of “Would You Regret My Death?” had spoken about.
I’d expected this—minor setbacks were standard in stories where the protagonist would eventually shine. Still, I hadn’t expected my actions within the family to clear this “curse” so easily. Clearly, the story needed a dramatic twist.
After waiting a few days to confirm that the malicious rumors wouldn’t die down, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
“There’s nothing better than adding a new keyword to shake things up.”
And that keyword? “Contract marriage with a villain.”
It would serve multiple purposes: earn a fortune, get quality potions, and add some drama to the plot.
With those ambitions in mind, I arrived at the office of Duke Kalinos, head of the esteemed Kalinos family known for their mastery of magic. Presenting a neatly prepared parchment I’d written at home, I declared boldly:
“I’m ready to marry you.”
—
[Giselle Floret: Internal Scandal Report]
1. Tea Party Disruption Incident
2. Heirloom Incident
The Duke carefully reviewed the detailed report I’d compiled, even commenting in admiration.
“What is this…? You’ve organized everything so meticulously.”
“Ah, yes.”
“From news clippings to self-promotion, even a clear structure with a beginning, middle, and end!”
In truth, the report’s quality wasn’t entirely my doing. While drafting it, the necklace—my father’s heirloom—suddenly shimmered and rewrote everything flawlessly.
Apparently, this was the hidden function Count Floret had mentioned. It wasn’t just a disguise artifact; it could also refine and enhance written documents, using much less mana than altering appearances.
Of course, there was one small issue.
“This level of administrative work is unparalleled. Have you worked as a government official before?”
The Duke’s compliment caught me off guard.
“Um, no.”
“Then you must be a goddess of language. No—not even a human.”
What was with this guy? He was oddly respectful now, and his genuine admiration was getting a bit overwhelming.
“Well, yes. Maybe I am. It’s hard to find someone as capable as me, after all.”
With that in mind, I decided to push for more.
“As a goddess of language, I’d like to add two conditions to this contract marriage.”
“What are they?”
There’s an old saying that revenge is best served cold. But in stories like this, the heroine’s revenge needs to be swift and decisive.
“First, shut down Daisy Gossip Weekly using your authority as Duke.”
“Reason?”
Because I’m offended, obviously.
Daisy Gossip Weekly had fabricated lies about me, claiming I’d stolen my father’s heirloom and publishing Hassan’s ridiculous interview.
‘They dare insult me? I’m not that forgiving.’
Still, I calmly gave a valid reason.
“As the goddess of language, I can confidently say their writing is too crude. It’s in desperate need of a shutdown.”
The Duke nodded, seemingly convinced.
“Very well. What’s the second condition?”
It was impressive how casually he agreed to suppress the press. Truly fitting for a high-ranking noble in a hierarchical society.
Smiling slyly, I added,
“Can I get an advance payment?”
One thing I learned from working part-time jobs: never trust the system, and always demand a contract and upfront payment.
This was precisely why I had taken the time to prove my skills and negotiate effectively.
Recognizing my competence, the Duke nodded and said,
“I’ll make a one-time advance payment.”
How generous.
Based on my experience, employers like this are usually very good people.
“Let’s immediately go over the detailed terms of the contract. First, the contract period?”
“The contract lasts a year. My family has had enough of it, to the point that I don’t even want the word ‘marriage’ mentioned anymore.”
I quickly finished taking mental notes.
“Understood. Trouble? That’s my specialty. However, I have one request.”
“A request?”
“Please add a special clause to protect my life.”
What if I act so obnoxiously that someone gets mad enough to try to assassinate me?
“…I’m curious about how dangerous your actions are going to be.”
“I plan to demonstrate it properly, enough to match the amount of money I’ve been hired for.”
I scrunched my eyebrows dramatically to emphasize my point.
He nodded briefly, impressed.
“Of course, I’ll protect you and draft the contract.”
“Yes, my master… I mean, employer. I’ll cause as much trouble and chaos as you need to be satisfied.”
It was a perfect agreement.
‘Alright, this works. I can cause trouble in front of them and pull schemes behind the scenes.’
On the surface, I’ll cause chaos with my in-laws to earn 5 billion.
Behind the scenes, I’ll secretly help the Kalinos family bring down the regretful male leads and Mariposa by using disguises or magical tools—earning even more money.
…And while I’m at it, I’ll sneak some potions from that family to enhance my magical abilities. Perfect.
‘A trouble-causing client hiding their true power… This could be fun.’
The farther this story moves away from being a regretful drama, the better for me.
To top it off, he continued saying things that suited my taste.
“In any case, even if you become the duchess, there won’t be much for you to do.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve already established a system to manage the estate. I also have my late brother’s son as an heir. There’s no need for me to marry or produce an heir myself.”
Perfect.
However, there was still one thing that nagged at me.
“Lastly, may I ask you just one more question?”
“Ask away.”
“It’s a personal question… Why don’t you want to get married?”
Having a wife on paper wouldn’t cause much trouble for Duke Kalinos or his family.
But there must be a reason he’s hiring me for 5 billion.
“Marriage is extremely inefficient.”
“…”
“You’d be forced to waste time every day. Sleeping with someone you don’t want to. Producing an heir like a breeding horse. And loveless marriage goes against research ethics.”
What’s with this overly logical mindset?
And what does research ethics have to do with this?
‘He’s definitely hiding something. But, oh well, not my concern.’
Still, it seemed worth the gamble.
“Understood. Master—no, Duke. Let’s proceed immediately!”
I curved my eyes into a mischievous smile, my signature “troublemaker grin.”
“Before that, to marry, we need the consent of the bloodline and the approval of the council.”
“Hmm…”
“For now, don’t worry about bloodline consent. It’s not strictly necessary.”
Normally, a high-ranking noble like a duke would have to go through a complicated process involving the family council, bloodline approval, and the emperor’s decision for marriage.
But since the Kalinos family owned territory bordering monster lands, their heads of households often died early in monster wars.
As a result, the Kalinos family’s marriages were handled more simply, based only on the duke’s and council’s agreement.
“However, the council might be a hurdle. There are ten members, and five always agree with me.”
“Which means you’re one short of a majority?”
“Exactly. Here’s a list of the five who oppose me.”
‘Wait, he already prepared a list?’
I marveled at his
thorough preparation, but as I scanned the names, my eyes narrowed.
[Council Chairman: Hennessy Kalinos]
‘Might as well target the top dog—the council chairman—right?’
