"Please stand properly, Lady Cruelton."
The tailor's voice came out strained, like he was trying to reason with a wild animal. He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief that had seen better days. "This part requires precise measurement."
I shifted my weight and shot him a look that could curdle milk.
"Huh?"
He squeaked
"Not-nothing, my lady!" He turned away hastily, fumbling with the tape measure around my waist. His hands shook slightly as he worked.
DING!
+100 HATRED POINTS
CURRENT BALANCE: 5,467
The blue notification hovered cheerfully at the edge of my vision, like a proud teacher announcing test scores.
Another one for the collection. At this rate, I'll hit my weekly quota before dinner.
Rose materialized at my side with that preternatural ability of hers to appear exactly when needed. Her weathered face was composed, patient as stone.
"Lady Cruelton," she said gently. "Please stand properly for Master Pemberton. He cannot complete his work if you continue to fidget."
I whipped around to face her, making the poor tailor yelp as his tape measure went flying.
"Oh, so you're telling me I'm unreasonable?" I let my voice rise, sharp and cutting. "Is that what this is? You think I'm so immature that I can't even stand still for five minutes like a proper lady?"
Rose's expression didn't change. Not a flicker. Not a twitch.
Curse this woman and her unnaturally calm demeanor.
"No, my lady." Her voice remained steady, almost soothing. "I would never think such things. I was simply noting that the Ashford garden party is tomorrow." She paused delicately. "And we've been unable to complete your dress fitting all week due to... various circumstances."
Various circumstances. That's one way to describe my week-long reign of terror.
I'd been absolutely vicious this past week. On Monday, I'd criticized a maid's cleaning so harshly she'd burst into tears-200 points. Tuesday, I'd thrown a teacup at a wall during breakfast because the eggs were quoted "prepared by peasants who clearly had no concept of proper temperature"-550 points. Wednesday had been particularly productive: I'd gone down to the stables and painted a face on one of the horses with expensive imported rouge.
The horse had looked ridiculous. Duke Alaric had been furious. The stable master had nearly fainted.
1500 points, thank you very much.
Thursday through today had been a blur of snide comments, door-slamming, and general unpleasantness that would've made the original Beatrice proud.
And yet, despite my best efforts to be absolutely horrible to everyone in a ten-mile radius, there were exactly two people I hadn't managed to earn a single hatred point from.
Rose, standing before me with the patience of a saint.
And Duke Alaric, who seemed to view my behavior as either amusing or concerning, but never truly hateful.
This steady-as-a-mountain character is going to be the death of me.
I let out a long, theatrical sigh and straightened my posture.
"Fine."
Master Pemberton approached cautiously, like I might bite. To be fair, given my behavior this week, it wasn't an unreasonable concern.
He resumed his work, carefully avoiding eye contact as he measured and pinned and made little marks on the fabric with chalk. His hands still trembled slightly.
Maryann wanted me to continue being the villain? Fine. I'll give everyone exactly what they expect.
She'd said it herself: "Do as you've always done."
Perfect. That's exactly what I'll do.
DING!
The system notification bloomed across my vision, larger than usual.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: YOU'RE ON A ROLL. KEEP BEING THIS EVIL AND IN NO TIME YOU'LL HAVE NO ONE ON YOUR SIDE.
CURRENT TRAJECTORY: MAXIMUM ISOLATION ACHIEVED IN APPROXIMATELY 3 WEEKS.
Oh, now the system wants to be snarky with me?
"I don't remember asking for your commentary," I muttered under my breath. "Shoo. Go away. Your opinions are neither needed nor welcome."
Master Pemberton froze mid-measurement. "My lady? I-I didn't say anything."
Oh no.
Rose's eyes sharpened, assessing me with that look she got when she was trying to figure out if I was ill or just being dramatic.
Then, smoothly, she turned to the tailor. "Pay it no mind, Master Pemberton. My mistress receives prophecies on occasion. It's best not to listen when she's in the midst of a vision."
Master Pemberton's eyes went wide as saucers. He looked at me with newfound wonder, like I'd suddenly transformed from terrifying noblewoman to mystical oracle.
"Of course, Lady Cruelton!" He bowed so deeply I thought he might topple over. "Pardon my manners. I had no idea you were blessed with the sight."
Prophecies. Rose just told him I see prophecies.
I shot her a grateful look. She inclined her head the tiniest fraction-acknowledgment, but not quite approval.
DING!
Another notification, more insistent this time.
SPEAKING OF WHICH...
I narrowed my eyes at the blue text hovering in my vision. Speaking of which, what?
YOU NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN CURIOUS ABOUT MARYANN.
My jaw tightened. Oh, now you want to have a conversation?
Master Pemberton glanced at my face and immediately looked away, redoubling his efforts with the hem of my dress.
You know what? Fine. Let's have this out.
I took a deliberate breath, keeping my voice low enough that it would sound like muttering to anyone listening.
"You didn't tell me Maryann was reborn."
YOU DIDN'T ASK.
"That seems like rather important information to withhold, don't you think?" My whisper was sharp. "What's the point of all this roleplaying if we both know what each other are doing? We're just actors performing a play we've both memorized."
YOUR CURIOSITY MIGHT HAVE DERAILED THE PLOT.
"Derailed-" I bit off the words before I could shout them. Master Pemberton was already looking nervous enough. "The plot is already derailed. She died the first time around. Clearly, something went wrong with your precious narrative."
The system's blue glow flickered.
...
THAT WAS DIFFERENT.
"How? How was it different?"
THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF HER DEATH WERE... COMPLICATED.
"Oh, that's wonderfully vague. Thank you. So helpful."
YOU'LL UNDERSTAND WHEN-
"'When the time comes,'" I finished mockingly. "Yes, I've heard that before. You're about as useful as a chocolate teapot."
Master Pemberton cleared his throat nervously. "My lady? I'm finished with the measurements. If you'll just remain still for one more moment while I mark the final hem..."
I forced myself to stand perfectly still, even though I wanted to pace. Or possibly throw something.
Fine. The system won't give me answers. Typical.
But there was one thing that had been nagging at me all week.
Maryann.
I hadn't seen her since that night. Not once. Not at breakfast, not at dinner, not passing in the hallways. It was like she'd vanished into thin air.
Where is she?
