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Chapter 7
“How did you know there was a portrait of Lea in here?”
Ah—he noticed that too.
I felt sweat gathering in my palms as my lips trembled.
“Well…”
Damn it. What do I even say?
I racked my brain desperately, and with each passing second, the count’s expression grew colder.
“Earlier!”
As panic set in, I quickly came up with a plausible excuse.
“I—I saw you coming into this room, Count. So I… secretly followed and peeked inside…”
“Secretly… peeked?”
Ah, it’s over.
I could practically feel my tongue shriveling up as I apologized.
“I-I’m sorry…”
I lowered my head, but the count said nothing.
Damn it. The silence somehow made it even scarier.
I stood there like a criminal, head bowed for a long time.
“…The key to this room is in the flowerpot outside the door. Check there if it’s locked.”
It was the first time the count had ever spoken to me so kindly.
Blinking awkwardly, I lifted my eyes just in time to see him close the door and enter the room.
I let out a sigh of relief.
Forget the garden. I should just go back and rest.
The Next Day
As soon as morning came, I prepared to head to the marquis’s estate.
I left the mansion with an armful of romance novels I had had the maids gather the day before.
Sir Ulver accompanied me again as my escort.
He looked displeased at having to leave so early, but I didn’t care as I stepped out the front door.
The cold dawn air brushed my cheeks.
I took a deep breath deep into my lungs and climbed into the carriage.
During the ride, I quickly read through the romance novels the maids had prepared.
There was a wide variety—heterosexual romance, BL, all-ages stories, and even 19+ material. All of it would be useful for Uncle.
Sir Ulver didn’t care whether I read BL or even explicit novels with red warning labels.
Thanks to that, I was able to read comfortably.
Before long, the carriage stopped, and I put away the books and stood up.
Alright. Time to begin.
At the Marquis’s Estate
“Beatrice is still asleep?”
I immediately changed direction upon hearing the servant’s report as I headed toward Beatrice’s room.
“As expected, the heroine must start the day early.”
I went straight to the kitchen and borrowed a frying pan and a ladle.
The maid looked confused, but she handed them over anyway.
She would understand soon enough.
I smiled sweetly and headed up to the second floor.
Then I burst into Beatrice’s room.
BANG—! BANG—! BANG—!
I started hitting the frying pan with the ladle.
The uncle—who had been sleeping spread-eagle on the bed—shot up in shock.
Nice. First time doing this, but it works great.
I smiled brightly at him.
“Good morning, Uncle.”
“What the—”
“Early rising is a lady’s duty.”
He stared at me in disbelief, then irritably ruffled his hair.
I walked into his room along with the romance novels I had sent the servants to fetch.
I had the frying pan and ladle taken back by a maid.
“I told you, I’ll fully support you. So from today, I’m going to give you heroine lessons. Please take care of me.”
“Heroine lessons? What’s that?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. A course on how to become a heroine. It’s exactly what you need right now.”
He looked blankly at me, then finally shut up when I clapped my hands firmly.
“First, go wash up and change. You can’t attend class in pajamas. Also, from now on I’ll speak informally. We’re friends, so speaking formally will make the servants suspicious.”
I rang the call bell in the corner, and maids entered one by one.
They placed washbasins in front of him with nervous expressions.
The uncle stared at the basin… and then—
“What are you doing!”
He tried to drink it.
I shouted in panic without thinking.
He frowned and set the basin down.
“Wasn’t I supposed to drink it?”
“I—I mean I just said wash up!”
“But—”
“That’s wash water!”
“You should’ve said so.”
He grumbled and plunged his hands into the basin.
Water splashed everywhere as he washed his face—like an animal.
Where do I even begin teaching him?
I had a feeling this would be a very long lesson.
Sighing, I grabbed his wrist.
He looked at me with dripping wet hair.
So even when soaked, the heroine still looks pretty.
I briefly admired her face before regaining my composure.
“That’s not how a lady washes her face.”
“Then how do you do it?”
“Prepare another basin.”
The maids quickly brought another.
I sat beside him, rolled up my sleeves, and carefully dipped my hands into the warm water.
Thanks to Renée’s memories, I already knew basic etiquette.
I gently wet my face, careful not to splash water everywhere, and rubbed my cheeks lightly.
The uncle watched, then muttered, “What nonsense,” and laughed.
“This is how you do it.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. The important thing is not splashing water.”
He clicked his tongue, then slowly followed my instructions.
“Not splashing, huh.”
At last, he finished washing like a proper noble lady, dripping water from his face.
I gave him a thumbs-up.
“Good job.”
The maids watching covered their mouths in tears, clearly moved.
“Dab gently instead of rubbing hard when drying.”
I demonstrated using a towel, and he obediently followed again.
Finally, the washing was done.
But there was still a mountain of things to teach.
Feeling faint, I stood up.
“Next, let’s go pick out a dress.”
“Alright.”
He stood up, completely unaware of the trials ahead.
Corsets Are Evil
Corsets are the root of all evil.
That was the first thought that came to me when I arrived in this world—and it returned now as I looked at him.
The uncle clutched the dressing table, gasping for breath like she was dying.
Behind her, maids ruthlessly pulled the corset strings tighter.
Each tightening made her face turn paler.
“Ow! It hurts!”
“Endure it. It needs to be tighter.”
“Damn it…!”
At my firm instruction, she swore and lowered her head.
I understood the pain. I wore one every day too.
If it were up to me, I’d throw corsets away and live comfortably.
But then I’d be treated as a freak by other nobles.
And if I suffered for it, the heroine definitely couldn’t avoid corsets.
A heroine labeled a freak would be problematic.
“Now, breathe in!”
She inhaled weakly on cue.
Her hands on the dresser trembled.
At my signal, the maids pulled the strings tighter.
“Ghk…!”
“I think that’s enough.”
I examined the now impossibly thin waist and told them to tie it off.
“You mean she has to live all day wearing this…?”
