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〈 Chapter 7 – Facade For Everyone 〉

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Three weeks had gone by without so much as a single conversation between Garnet and the duke, her father. She didn't know if this was natural for the Valeria family members to be so distant from each other, but she had no reason to break this state of affairs; there was nothing to be gained even if she talked with her father or mother. Approaching either of them would have also exposed her to unnecessary scrutiny with absolutely no profit.

Despite her desire to avoid both of her parents while pursuing her objectives, she knew that sooner or later she would be forced to interact. At the very least, she understood why she was called upon at the current time. His Majesty, Prince Roland Ulric, her dreadful fiance, was en-route to ruin her life. At his current pace of travel it was fully expected for his entourage to arrive in the evening.

She had somewhat mentally prepared herself to deal with meeting her father, but the moment she stood before the doors of the duke's study her false sense of security, from whatever measly preparations she had made, began to falter. She opened the doors and entered the room as if she were entering the maw of a great beast. Pushing on the brass doorknob of the large wooden door she could feel how clammy her hand was. With a heavy heart, she had closed her escape route and consigned herself to an inevitable prison; it was a one-on-one cage match with no referee.

Though the room was well lit from the large windows it felt darker due to her pessimism. She turned around to see one man sitting at a large wooden desk working away on various documents cluttering the surface. Even with her arrival and entry he seemed unperturbed while remaining engrossed in his work. She warily walked forwards until she stood in front of the desk and her father.

The pen had ceased movement and the strong gaze of an unimpressed man locked onto her. The red eyes and severe countenance seemed to appraise her momentarily before showing displeasure.

"No manners. Announce yourself and wait, or were you simply too obstinate to care?"

Garnet hadn't known about either procedure beforehand. No matter how much she wanted to act prim and proper to avoid suspicion, it was impossible to do something she had no knowledge of.

"Your mother has told me about your behaviour these past few weeks, calling it unacceptable and erratic. More of the same with your servants ... disappointing."

There were only a few tense moments where she had made contact with her mother in the few weeks that had gone by. Her experiences so far were to be at the receiving end of several cold looks while they passed each other in the hallways of the manor and one teatime invitation which had to be declined. Her subtle mother seemed to be the indirectly malicious type: she was a sly bitch who, rather than directly reprimanding Garnet, would complain to her husband. Then the duke would later reprimand her from a position of even greater authority and more dire consequences.

"You've been allowed some freedom in consideration of your health, but with his Majesty's arrival, you will behave more appropriately."

Behaving appropriately was Garnet's primary concern because she had no idea how to, and the outcome of failing to do so was grossly undesirable. Commanding others must come naturally to the man because she was already unable to imagine him without an air of dominance, and in that demanding preeminence there was no room to disagree.

"I shouldn't need to remind you to commit yourself to our house and his Majesty. Mind yourself well so you don't incur any displeasure. If you were less capable, then your life would be very different. Don't forget that."

The connotation that she would be punished if she did not perform as expected, pervaded each word he took the time to enunciate.

"You may leave."

Without her even having the opportunity to say a single word, she was dismissed. In that grateful moment, she immediately began her withdraw by scurrying past the furniture in the large study, passing through the large doors as if she were escaping hell, and promptly dashing through the halls to the flimsy bulwark that was her room.

She had managed to overcome the meeting with the duke. Although the relief from her temporary success lasted only a moment. The heavy pressure and intimidation she had felt caused her confidence to crumble.

It was already partially hopeless for her to manage the prince's reception program. Fine dining, socializing, entertainment, conversation, and leisure were events already slated to occur. Further adding fuel to the fire was the warning and corresponding pressure she had now received on top of it all.

Leaning against a wall with her head down she spat out some rather dismal words.

"Somehow, I've got to get through this crisis."

 

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Irritation and restlessness welled up from within Garnet. In a few hours, she had been transformed into a picture-perfect aristocratic girl.

The skirt of her heavily embroidered gown ballooned outwards reminiscent of an upside-down tulip. When she lifted her arms they felt constricted by the form-fitting tailoring and pestered by the large ruffled sleeves, which fanned out as they reached the cuffs. The ruffles didn't stop their attack at only the sleeves; they even climbed up to her neck throttling her with more ostentatious embellishment. The tightly braided hairstyle made her feel as if she no longer had hair and instead was simply wearing a poorly shaped helmet with flashy ornaments.

She was a noble girl dressed to the nines, but her mind was at sixes and sevens. She looked the part, and none would question that she was a flower of high society. That was precisely the reason she found it so depressing. Rather than the excessive opulence of her getup, it was simply too much to see herself dressed up like a frilly doll. She was certain that she had lost a part of her sanity in those frills. In response to the crimson gown and prison of lace, she could only tilt her head back to stare blamingly at the heavens while exasperatedly sighing.

"I look fucking fantastic."

She frowned and looked around quickly to make sure that nobody had heard her curse. Fortunately, she was alone.

It was a bad habit of hers to swear often from any annoyance, whether large or small, but in her current life, she realized it was beyond unacceptable. The ghastly face Mira had made when she had cursed in private was something to remember. Decorum was one of the many hurdles she would have to overcome to get by, however, it was incredibly hard to contain herself when she felt like ripping out her hair, screaming, and stomping her heels in frustration every single day.

A creaking noise came from her room door. She had only a moment to see a small pair of spying eyes through the gap before they disappeared. Time and time again she would see only parts of the gnome-like figure peeking out. It was a child's curiosity, her little brother's curiosity. And each time she pursued that mischievous sprite she would, at best, end up seeing only the back of a six-year-old child fleeing from her. She certainly had no intention of chasing the mite now, lest she end up tripping over the hem of her ridiculous dress.

The fact that her oversights were so grievous, that she didn't even know she had a brother until recently, made her question her fundamental methods. Perhaps from the very start she should have just taken the easy way out by claiming a bad case of amnesia, but her wariness of the unknown prevented her from doing so. How would she be treated by a prideful, elitist, and cutthroat family after affirming her state of mental disability? For each stressor, it would alleviate some of the bite, but there would be a price to pay in her freedom and future. Choosing to tread the path of amnesia meant giving up the majority of all possible options and throwing her fate to the wind.

She thought that perhaps her decision had come down to a sort of reckless abandon where she believed that many of her errors would ultimately end up inconsequential since her primary plan involved running away. She had resolved herself to this struggle filled journey. Maybe unconscious overconfidence in her ability to handle her situation had cursed her. Her life wasn't entirely hopeless after all. By means of a little bit of bribery and a tiny bit of blackmailing, she had recently managed to obtain a favourable, under-the-table, faux diagnosis from the doctor, fully usable as an excuse. By capitalizing on her falsely diagnosed health issues, she would temporarily have a flexible justification to escape many situations she couldn't handle, as long as she remained consistent and didn't overuse the tactic.

"Milady, it's time to go down to the foyer."

Garnet's heart clenched and she jumped up at the sudden voice from behind her. Rotating her head to the side she saw her shadow, Mira, who had entered the room stealthily during her brooding session.

"I-I didn't mean to startle milady! It's just that the prince is to arrive soon ..."

She apologetically lowered her head as her apprehensive words fizzled out. It was comforting to see the familiar uncertain and pitiful state of her maid. Having Mira, who was her equal in desperately struggling through life, nearby gave her a sense of camaraderie. Either that or it caused her distasteful pleasure due to schadenfreude.

Once she obtained the knowledge, power, and money she needed, she would flee from the possibly deadly limbo of her villainess life. No matter what, with no other choice, she would bear all the unreasonableness and persevere.

 

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Garnet stood in her designated place beside her father and the conniving bitch that was her mother. Her mother was holding hands with her little brother, who could no longer run away. The cold treatment she received from her mother was now being fully contrasted with the tenderness and doting directed towards her younger brother. A delightful smile, which she had yet to see her mother make, had been directed towards the child at least three times in duration she had been waiting here to meet her fiance. She wondered about why her mother was so partial towards her brother and seemed to otherwise despise her. It was an enigma that she was ill-posed to explain. However, even if she wasn't able to explain it, the effective reality was clear. Her mother, who despised her, was an enemy, and her father, who seemed to see her as tool for profit, was an enemy.

The Valeria family weren't the only ones to stiffly wait on the prince's arrival. There were cleverly positioned servants ready to make every step the royal guest would take convenient. If he so much as sneezed, then there was most certainly a servant at the ready with a tissue, and another prepared to say, "Bless you."

She felt antsy from the hour-long wait in the foyer. Though she was permitted to seat herself on a small leather stool the servants weren't so fortunate. It must have been unpleasant to stand still for so long, but the status of the guest demanded this degree of punctuality. It would be a catastrophe should the prince arrive without a proper greeting, especially for her father, who only hours prior gave her insight into his expectations for propriety.

Were horse-drawn carriages ever known for their punctuality? The only means of communicating the royal's imminent arrival had been the herald, who rode posthaste on horseback to the estate.

It was surprisingly silent. The only noise that broke the stiff atmosphere was the humdrum and meaningless conversation between mother and son. It was quiet enough that when the guest arrived everyone knew before the knock due to the sound of horses outside the entrance.

Despite her confident self-directed bluster, she was crumbling inside. Surely she wasn't the only one with feelings of trepidation when those doors opened letting in a draft of chilly late winter air.

Walking boldly through the doors was a young man with retainers in tow. Despite the young man being the main attraction, her gaze still shifted to the armed men. Whether it was their stature or their powerful presence, they all seemed to fit the image of martial men to not be taken lightly. Boots marched over the stone floor, swords at their waists swayed, and the clanking sound of metal armour plates sliding and grating over each other filled the room. Whether young or old, each member of these royal knights looked courageous and capable. She was thoroughly impressed. However, her senses returned from the temporary distraction to the pressing issue at hand.

The overly handsome prick before her was guaranteed to be the prince, her fiance, with a 100% confidence interval. His glinting silver hair put K-pop to shame and screamed for attention. Steel-blue eyes filled with confidence casually scanned the room. With an overly handsome face sculpted by the gods, he smiled cordially. She was already transfixed in place. It's as if he were trying to tell the world he was a male lead in an otome game, and the shining halo above him was a scourge painfully blinding her eyes.

*Ugh. I already can't stand this fucker! He's more handsome than I ever was! Somebody, anybody, punch him in the face. At the very least, please pie him in the face.*

In her displeasure, she began to wonder whether they were even the same species. Perhaps the rest of the people in this room were a type of human subspecies with misplaced facial features, where the nose, eyes, and mouths were only in approximately correct locations? The poor chumps were afflicted with the curse of Picasso.

"Duke and Duchess Valeria, I am overjoyed at the welcome you've provided me, and the hospitality to stay in your home on such short notice."

He warmly opened his arms in a flourish and the gratitude in his voice appeared to be real. In return, the duke gave him a crisp reply.

"It is our honour to provide accommodations for your highness."

The prince lightly nodded his head in acknowledgement and with lingering pleasantry directed his attention towards the duke's wife.

"Duchess Valeria is as beautiful and refined as ever."

It was a mystery how her mother could show such a sweet and bashful smile, an expression that didn't suit her one bit, on demand. It was an unsettling and skillfully fabricated facade.

Her little brother stared upwards and was completely entranced by the prince who looked down on him gently. While tousling the boy's hair he spoke endearing words of encouragement.

"And you've grown so much since I saw you last. You are surely the pride of your mother and father. Make them proud."

Once he finished those pleasantries he then turned his full attention to her. A few short strides carried him uncomfortably close in front of her.

"When I heard you fell ill I was beset by anxiety. It must have been painful. The only thing I could do was come here to see you."

His voice was pure and his eyes were filled with concern. There didn't seem to be any falsehood in his tone or delivery. That was precisely the problem. He seemed too earnest, but not enough to be melodramatic. Was he genuine?

He extended his hand in front of her and with pleading eyes he implicitly encouraged her to take it. She was left with no other choice but to rest her hand on his while trying to prevent her well-practiced sweet smile from cramping.

"You're still as lovely as ever. I'm blessed that I can be with you today."

With those short words he knelt and planted a kiss on her hand. Shivers spread throughout her body and a jolt of electricity up her spine made her want to suddenly jerk away. Although the kiss had only lasted a moment Garnet's mind had already overloaded.

*This dirty bastard is sucking on my hand like a fucking vacuum cleaner! What does he think he's doing? Slurping somen noodles? Disgusting!*

Though her thoughts drifted off on a tangent in the heat of the moment, her mouth was able to transmit some form of adequate communication.

"I-I'm so grateful for your highness's concern ..."

She had thought long and hard about what kind of adversary she would have to face. No matter the friendly face and honeyed words, she resolved herself to not trust him. Trusting any romantic capture target had the inherent risk of dancing toe-to-toe with a high-functioning sociopath. Perhaps capture targets' feelings burned so passionately in otome games precisely because they were crazy, and that was somehow nauseatingly relabelled as love.

The prince, a primary capture target and likely a target of the highest difficulty, would have a corresponding flaw of equal proportion. However, the flaw that should have been present was not immediately externally apparent. He seemed to be otherwise caring, concerned, and wholly amicable. This was the first red flag that something was seriously wrong within him internally; there is no telling what was going on inside the man's head!

He could be a huge pervert. Maybe he is a yandere who will eventually kill her, a natural-born schemer and violent. What if he is an empty shell only faking human emotions and is actually soulless, just waiting for a heroine to redeem him? He could be a major sadist, or perhaps he has strange fetishes like masochism because after spending years with a fiancee like Garnet he still smiles so brightly. Does he like that kind of roleplay? Frightening.

Regardless of all that, he was possibly the greatest threat to her life, especially since she felt as if she could be lulled into complacency. Maintaining the status quo was risky. Without fundamentally changing the trajectory of her life a deadly story could unfold. She was trapped in an unnatural and uncertain situation that required attentiveness. Naivety, negligence, and wishful thinking were sins she could not afford to make.

In the end, it was as depressing as it was stressful. She wasn't able to read his character or intentions, but over his short stay at the Valeria residence maybe his mask would fall off providing her with some insight.

When all the formalities were said and done, she felt herself being pulled and led away by a hand firmly gripping her own. She prayed that her new arch-nemesis would develop incurable erectile dysfunction.

*Please, anyone, save me ...*

 

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〈 Author's Note 〉

Oh man. I got the no show update bug.

https://forum.scribblehub.com/threads/chapter-releases-dont-show-up-on-latest-updates.1127/

And I posted a really messed up unedited version somehow so for the first 2 hours I furiously attempted to correct the grammar and wording last night. I should have just deleted and then edited the chapter and reposted. I finished editing at 02:00. Why did this chapter take me so long to write and so long to edit compared with all the other chapters!!! If you read this chapter in the first hour it was posted sorry! Clearly I was rushing myself to just post the chapter and then mistakes were made. Things went wrong =D.

I said I would post this chapter today. It was 00:15 when I finally posted so I have to redefine "today" as, "It's still today if I haven't gone to sleep yet ..."

If I ever mess up my grammar and editing in the future please send me a message. Anyone at any time. If there's anything that is unclear in my writing, any mistakes, or any improvements I can make please send me a message. With a chapter number and text.

I wanted to try writing POV chapters for all my characters in first person for a while, then convert it to third person. The idea was that maybe it would help me get out material more easily or that it would help me connect with my characters' senses and environments so that when I converted it to third person it would end up making the story feel more immersive and detailed. But I don't want to write the story in first person since it would feel strange for so many different characters.

As many may know, I have added "An Odd Rose – Logs" to the story before chapter 1. I post a lot of minor updates and announcements there as a sort of series writing diary. It helps me record my progress, keeps me regularly working on my story, satisfies some people's curiosity about what I am doing, and boosts my motivation. The Author's Notes will now focus more on the story, chapters, and polls with much less tangential fluff.

There used footnotes in the story above for Schadenfreude, Picasso, and Somen. I'm just going to include them here now.

[1] Schadenfreude Definition - pleasure derived by someone from another person's misfortune.

[2] Picasso was a famous artist. He is notably known for his abstract portraits where faces had skewed, colorful, and misplaced features.

[3] Somen Noodles - delicious Japanese noodles that people loudly slurp. Slurping the noodles loudly is a sign to the chef that the meal tastes good.

One time I was eating some somen or soba noodles at a restaurant in Japan and the family I went with said, "You eat your noodles so silently." I had many question marks above my head at that moment. They said it like they were seriously concerned for me. Then I tried to slurp loudly, but I breathed the soup in and started having a coughing fit. Let this be a lesson to you all. Stealthily eat your noodles and don't try to be a hip slurper.