“I have something to say to the distinguished guests gathered here today.”
Mariposa stepped aside from the elevated platform in Floret Hall. In the shadowed spot she vacated, a short, older middle-aged man, the Viscount Milpianne, appeared.
“I would like to announce the union of the Floret family and the Viscount Milpianne’s family.”
Beside the Viscount stood Giselle, her expression somber. The Viscount extended his wrinkled hand with a sly smile.
“Oh, Giselle. What a beautiful lady.”
“…”
“How do you find my hair? Isn’t it lovely and shiny?”
However, Giselle remained silent, lowering her eyes quietly as if lamenting her situation.
The nobles below the platform exchanged glances, bursting into mocking laughter.
“Lady Giselle has that same deep-sea fish look, as usual.”
This was a remark about how her face seemed as gloomy as a deep-sea fish.
Those mocking Giselle fluttered their fans as they gossiped about the high society.
“Today is a day when even high-ranking nobles were invited. Shouldn’t the fiancée be a little more dignified?”
“Seeing her brazenly standing there in that old dress, she truly is ‘everyone’s lover,’ isn’t she?”
“If she gets engaged to the Viscount Milpianne, she really will become ‘everyone’s lover,’ won’t she?”
Giselle was notorious for clinging without dignity to both the Marquis Bertaut and the Duke Leshaniel.
At the sarcastic remark calling her ‘everyone’s lover,’ Giselle, as usual, lowered her head without protest and let out a sigh.
“Sigh…”
Her slender hands trembled slightly, like a puppy caught in the rain.
At that moment, Mariposa coldly whispered to Giselle,
“It’s the day of your engagement announcement, and you’ve come dressed in such a pathetic and vulgar dress, Giselle Floret.”
Just as Giselle seemed on the verge of tears, the smiles on people’s faces grew even wider.
Giselle slowly raised her head and parted her trembling lips.
“Oh, how annoying.”
In an instant, the atmosphere froze.
“What did you just say?”
“I said, it’s annoying.”
“…What, what did you say?”
“What’s wrong? Do you have something blocking your ears?”
Giselle’s lips twitched as if she were about to bite someone, and her eyes widened.
Mariposa, shocked, opened her mouth.
“Your, your ears? Blocked?”
“I was talking to myself, but you must have sharp hearing, Mariposa.”
Had she gone mad all of a sudden? In any world, the rule is the same: you don’t get close to someone who’s gone mad.
Everyone lost their words and took a step back from her in unison.
—
‘Yeah, your passive-aggressive nonsense won’t work on me anymore.’
If this were the first life of Giselle, a regret-filled heroine, maybe it would have.
But with 3,650 days of part-time work experience, including a barbecue restaurant, a movie theater, a kids’ café, a government office, and even a home shopping call center…
That’s right.
In my second life, as a modern person, I had become the god of part-time jobs, a master at dealing with troublesome customers.
‘Gossip behind my back, insults to my face, go ahead and try. I’ll block it all!’
In my past life, I faced countless difficult customers who thought they were above service workers.
First, during my very first part-time job at a promotional stand in a supermarket!
“Isn’t this a sale? So why isn’t the discount applied? Are you mocking the customer?”
A father holding a baby threw a toy at me like it was my fault.
I bowed my head like a sinner and muttered,
“This item is not part of the sale…”
“So you’re saying I’m wrong? Call the manager!”
“The, the manager is…”
“Is this how you train your part-timers here?”
“I’m sorry, sir…”
“Forget it. Just get me the manager! No point talking to some part-timer.”
At that moment, I was overwhelmed with a deep sense of humiliation.
I cried a lot that day.
But after three years at the academy of life, or ten years in the service industry, you become an expert in the anthropology of difficult customers.
“Hey, part-timer! There’s hair in my food! Get the boss out here!”
“The chef is bald, sir.”
“Er… well…”
Usually, people like that would back off if you just told them the facts. But some were persistently annoying.
“Hmph, I know meat, and how is this one serving? It’s clearly not!”
“It is one serving, sir.”
“I’m from Majang-dong. I’m an expert. And this is not one serving! Call the boss!”
On the table, there was raw meat that hadn’t even been cooked properly.
As all the other customers turned to watch, I deliberately began to sob loudly.
“The owner… passed away last night.”
“W-what?”
The troublesome customer looked utterly flustered, his eyes darting around. Everyone around was whispering, aiming their comments at him.
“Wow, the owner passed away?” “What? Picking a fight with someone who’s dead? What a jerk.”
At that moment, the BBQ restaurant owner, who was about to come out of the kitchen, quickly backstepped, mouthing, “Yeah, I’ll resurrect tomorrow.”
Wiping away fake tears, I spoke quickly and matter-of-factly.
“To explain on behalf of the late owner, we weigh everything on an electronic scale. See?”
“When did you even bring out that electronic scale…?”
“150 grams per serving. Exactly right.”
I can still vividly remember the look on that troublesome customer’s face, red with embarrassment.
‘After dealing with all kinds of insufferable customers for over ten years, starting from my teenage years, do you really think I can’t handle passive-aggressive attacks?’
Compared to modern-day complainers who file complaints day and night, these nobles seem as fragile as flowers in a greenhouse.
I tilted my head slightly as I glared at Mariposa.
“Giselle, I can no longer tolerate your rude behavior. I told you to be quiet.”
“Excuse me.”
Time to activate step one of the “troublesome customer elimination technique.”
First, lower your voice, slow down, and change the atmosphere. And then…
“Did you, by any chance, have fish today?”
I calmly pinched my nose, pretending to block the smell.
With absolute composure and tranquility, I landed a personal insult.
Mariposa’s face turned beet red in an instant, realizing what I meant.
“What on earth are you saying, Giselle? So filthy and uncultured.”
“Ugh, fine. I get it. I’m dirty, so I’ll just grab a trash bag and bury myself in the ground. What’s the point of me being alive?”
“W-What are you saying?”
Step two of dealing with troublesome customers: when they’re dazed, hit them with a sharp and exaggerated self-deprecating comment to shut them down.
Mariposa, lost for words, glanced around before fixing her gaze on the table next to the platform.
‘I can see how this is going to play out next. She has poor anger management.’
And I know what’s coming.
Given the nature of this world, which irrationally targets me, I knew exactly what she would do.
As expected, she grabbed a teacup, her face contorted with fury, and threw the tea toward me.
Splaash!
“Oh, my goodness!”
“Viscount Milpianne!”
“A-Are you alright?”
But the tea didn’t hit me.
The stream of tea suddenly veered, striking none other than the face of Viscount Milpianne, who had been fiddling with my hand—well, not exactly his face.
“H-Huh…”
The tea struck the wig that had been masquerading as a full head of hair.
Plop.
The black wig fell pitifully to the ground.
Under the chandelier’s light, his bald head gleamed brightly.
“My, my hair… What on earth just happened?”
The Viscount’s face turned pale as he grasped what had occurred.
He fumbled to pick up his wig from the floor, stomping his foot in frustration.
I covered my mouth and giggled mischievously.
“Oh dear, what could have happened? Must’ve been the wind! Maybe it was Mariposa’s breath?”
Of course, Mariposa didn’t have the ability to curve tea in midair.
‘Thanks to you treating me like a maid, I’ve learned a cleaning spell or two, you know?’
Though my mana was almost depleted, I could still manage a simple wind spell.
Mariposa would never know.
She believed I was incapable of do
ing anything.
And, well…
‘This isn’t over yet.’
Swish!
I pulled out something black from the pocket of my dress and smiled slyly.
