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[Chapter 14]
“What?!”
“Isn’t this actually a good thing for you, my lady? Now my poor skills won’t stain your name.”
“You—! Stop right there! What are you all just standing around for? Grab him! Drag him here now!”
But the maids couldn’t restrain an adult man. And they had no reason to. He wasn’t a slave or a servant.
Now, with an even bigger problem than before, Charlotte came storming to me in anger.
“Now what do we do?! How are we going to fix this?!”
Even though I was just an “innocent” bystander.
I blinked innocently and calmly repeated what I had said in front of the Count.
“Why are you so upset…? Isn’t this a good thing?”
“A good thing, my a—!”
“But the Count said the same thing. Or… do you have a reason you can’t go to the Aether Exhibition?”
“What nonsense are you suddenly spouting?”
Flustered, Charlotte raised her voice. I acted surprised and bumped some papers off the table with my elbow.
That’s when Charlotte finally noticed the paper and asked:
“What’s that?”
“Oh… Madam Hilton sent an invitation to a tea party.”
“An invitation? From her?”
Even though Hilton’s success had long since become an established fact, Charlotte still referred to her like in the past—as “that girl.”
“She said she was worried because you’ve been staying away from society lately, so she sent this.”
After reading the letter, Charlotte exploded.
“Ha! Worried, my foot!”
The letter started off with polite small talk about the weather and Charlotte’s health. Then it stated the reason for the tea party invitation.
The real issue was the last sentence:
‘I do hope you’ll attend and brighten our gathering. Those with fear can’t stand proudly under the sun—but surely, that doesn’t apply to you, my lady.’
It was clearly implying: “You’re hiding because you’re guilty, aren’t you?”
“Does she really think this’ll scare me out of coming?!”
Charlotte crushed the letter in her hand.
“Esha! Send a reply immediately. Tell her I’ll accept!”
The letter had arrived three days ago. And the tea party was today.
No proper social event is planned in just three days. That meant Hilton had rearranged her original gathering just to include Charlotte at the last minute.
“If Charlotte doesn’t show up, people will say it’s because she’s guilty.”
Charlotte must have realized the same thing I had.
The maid couldn’t refuse Charlotte’s orders.
“Yes, my lady.”
Once the maid scurried off, Charlotte looked at me.
“You’re coming too.”
“M-me?”
I hesitated, one hand covering the cheek that was still swollen.
“So what? Just cover it with makeup or something.”
Even though she was fuming, Charlotte wasn’t ready to give up using me as her decorative background.
“Probably because I’m the only one she can drag along.”
“Alright…”
I nodded and hid my smile.
Madam Hilton hated Charlotte. So a party she went out of her way to host could only mean one thing: a trap. But Charlotte hadn’t thought that far.
“This is perfect. I was going to attend alone if I had to.”
Maids pulled me away to get dressed. After applying heavy makeup for the first time in ages, Charlotte looked satisfied.
“You should’ve looked like this all along… See? You look way more like a lady now.”
She gave me a pat on the back and shoved me into the carriage.
“Hurry up, we’re late.”
“…Okay.”
Charlotte probably thought that as long as she looked composed at the tea party, everything would be fine.
Because in her mind, the only thing that mattered was herself.
What she didn’t know was—
People were already suspicious.
“For the past four years, I’ve been exploited by Lady Rohilton. All I received in return was enough money to buy art supplies—and if I didn’t finish a painting on time, I’d often get kicked.”
The painter Charlotte had trampled on was now speaking up—not as a tool, but as a person.
A person with feelings, pride, and dreams.
When we arrived at Madam Hilton’s tea party—at the very trap she had planned—Charlotte screamed.
“Lies! They’re all lies!”
As if she had been waiting for this, Hilton brought out a canvas.
“Then can you explain this? Why the painting this man created right before my eyes exactly matches your style?”
Charlotte turned pale and clamped her mouth shut. I hid my laughter behind her.
“I’m so glad you’re an idiot.”
Because the one who designed this trap—was me.
Before I turned back time, Charlotte had been exposed for using a ghost painter and was socially ruined. But the circumstances were different.
Back then, it was Madam Seona who raised the first doubt.
“My lady’s hands are far too clean. Not at all like someone who paints. There’s no sign of brush usage—not even a trace of paint. Even if you wash up well, there should still be paint under your nails.”
Madam Seona noticed right away. She had also gained fame through painting and quickly sensed something was off.
“I just hate getting my hands dirty! I wash them immediately!”
“That’s not all. You don’t seem to know much about art supplies either. Not knowing the name of your favorite art store—I can understand that. You could send a maid. But not knowing which artisan’s brushes you use? Isn’t that a little odd?”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“Since you want me to get to the point, let me ask directly: Did you really paint this?”
Madam Seona pointed to a painting Charlotte had submitted months ago, titled “Bravery.”
“If you’re just trying to slander me—”
“This is an important issue, my lady. That painting seems to mock Viscount Durnare. Doesn’t it?”
“Bravery” depicted a woman holding the severed head of a lion.
When the painting was submitted, Durnare had just gotten engaged to Camilla—causing a huge stir among noblewomen, especially those who had admired him. Charlotte was one of them. She even approached Camilla asking if the engagement was fake, only to be brushed off coldly.
Seona pointed out that the timing and content were too suspicious.
“The Durnare family is often represented as the crouching lion of the East. Their crest is even a lion. But in this painting, the lion’s head is severed, and the woman holding it wields a sword. Are you saying the Durnare family will be destroyed by a sword-wielding woman? Perhaps Lady Ahwila? I understand you had feelings for the Viscount, but isn’t this going too far?”
Since Durnare’s territory covered the East, a noblewoman like Charlotte insulting his family was a serious matter.
Sure, the painting could’ve been interpreted differently. But Charlotte lacked the wit or knowledge to explain it away—and eventually spilled the truth.
“…T-the truth is, I didn’t paint it.”
She wanted to dodge the responsibility.
So the ghost painter was summoned, trembling.
“How could someone like me know the Durnare family crest? I only meant to paint a strong woman.”
He was shown mercy and spared the punishment of having his hands cut off. His claim that he didn’t intend to insult the family was accepted.
But since the painting was still problematic, he was banned from painting for life.
Considering that Charlotte got off with just being shunned socially—even though she gained fame from his work—it was a harsh sentence.
“I couldn’t let that happen again.”
Also, I couldn’t wait two years for Madam Seona to appear in the Eastern social scene again. So I chose a more direct path.
I made the painter go to Madam Hilton himself.
