~Chapter 6~
Yuli faltered, instinct urging her to step back—but she clenched her fists and steeled her heart.
No.
After all the times she had tormented Camilla, there was no way she would let that wretch turn the tables now.
“Ugh!”
Yuli grit her teeth, raising her hand to strike—
“How dare you lay a hand on my sister!”
“L-Lady Nina?!”
Yuli froze. The gentle, ever-smiling Nina now stood before her, her eyes blazing with fury.
“You were about to hit her, weren’t you?!”
“L-Lady Nina, th-that bastard child spoke to me—”
Nina’s glare sharpened like a drawn blade.
“Get out.”
“Wh-what?”
“I said, get out! I can’t stand the sight of you!”
Pale and trembling, Yuli was driven out of the room without another word. As Camilla watched Nina’s tearful, indignant face, she felt a spark of genuine admiration.
So the meek little girl has fire after all. As expected of the heroine.
“Sister… has that maid always treated you like that?”
“As you see. I am only the family’s illegitimate child.”
“You’re my sister, no matter what!”
Nina’s fierce declaration made Camilla’s chest ache faintly.
“I can’t forgive her. I’ll tell Mother and have her dismissed!”
“…Thank you, Nina. But how will you tell her?”
“I’ll say she was rude to you—”
Camilla shook her head softly.
“No, the Baroness will never allow that.”
No—if Yuli were to be punished, it would have to be by Camilla’s own hand. Nina looked troubled, but Camilla paid it no mind.
“For now, Nina, hand me the basket.”
As she rummaged through the herbs Nina had gathered, Camilla’s eyes gleamed.
Good. Everything I need is here.
Despite her aching body, the part of her that was Yoon Mira urged her forward. She had to prove her worth—quickly—if she wished to survive.
“Shall I show you how to make medicine?”
“Yes, please!”
With Nina’s help, Camilla sat before the desk and unpacked her small mortar and pestle—the very tools she had brought from the hut.
Mother used to make me grind the ingredients whenever she brewed poison. So I brought it with me after all…
Suppressing the bitterness, Camilla placed the herbs into the bowl.
“My mother taught me much about mountain herbs. I used to mix different kinds just for fun.”
Her mother had drilled into her the names, properties, and poisons of every plant. Now, with her past life’s knowledge awakened, Camilla realized how the herbs of this world compared to those of her old one.
If not for her teachings, I’d be helpless here. For that, at least, I should be grateful.
Without that knowledge, she wouldn’t even be able to identify ingredients in this world with its archaic names.
And Mother knew a separation method even modern science lacked.
Pouring water over the crushed herbs, Camilla sprinkled in powdered sansol and shredded silon leaves. The liquid thickened into a viscous salve. She stirred clockwise until it shone faintly.
“There—we’re done. Would you help me apply it, Nina?”
Nina nodded eagerly, helping her spread the salve across her swollen ankle.
The effect was almost immediate. Camilla rose from bed and spun lightly in place.
“Wow! Sister, are you already healed?”
In truth, the medicine was merely a local anesthetic—it only numbed the pain. But Camilla smiled as if fully recovered.
Some cold compresses later will do the rest.
“Yes, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Thank you for helping me.”
“Mother’s medicine never worked like that! You must be a sorceress!”
Camilla chuckled inwardly. Her ointment was not only stronger than poppy extract, but also free of its dangerous side effects.
This would be her wager—her path to survival.
“Nina, during the family dinner tonight, could you tell Father what you saw?”
“The Baron?”
“…Yes. Tell him you saw me make medicine.”
Her plan was only beginning.
Camilla began walking about deliberately, feigning complete recovery. She wandered through the kitchens and the stables—places where accidents were common—and before long, she overheard that the stablemaster’s son had been kicked by a colt.
She hurried over and applied a small dab of her salve. The boy’s pain faded almost instantly, his tears replaced by wonder. Grateful, the stablemaster promised to tell everyone about her miraculous medicine.
Before long, whispers spread through the mansion—of a girl who could heal with strange new ointments. Servants with ailments began to visit her in secret.
And after several days, the Baron of Mowin summoned her.
As Camilla entered, the Baron sat waiting, his cold eyes calculating.
“The physician said you would be unable to walk for days. Yet here you are, quite spry.”
“Yes, my lord. Thanks to my medicine.”
“Medicine? You mean poppy extract?”
“I’m afraid not. I used an ointment of my own making.”
Feigning ignorance despite surely having heard the rumors, the Baron regarded her with detached curiosity.
“You made it yourself? Show me.”
Camilla drew a small vial from her sleeve. The Baron examined it, turning it toward the light.
No wonder his eyes gleam—an effective, non-addictive anesthetic would be priceless in this age.
Where this world relied on crude opiates or strong liquor for pain relief, her salve was far more potent—and safe.
“Can it be demonstrated?”
“Yes. But perhaps it’s better if one of your trusted servants tries it, my lord. I might deceive you, after all.”
The Baron’s brows rose at her boldness. After a pause, he summoned his butler, Norman. Camilla watched as the ointment was applied to his arm, and at the Baron’s nod, the man drove a dagger into his own flesh.
Thud!
Camilla gasped, startled by the suddenness.
“How do you feel?”
“Astonishing, my lord. I feel the blade, but no pain—nor any drowsiness.”
The Baron’s eyes glimmered with greedy delight. Dismissing the butler, he gestured for Camilla to sit.
“How did you come to know of this? Did your mother teach you?”
“No, my lord. I was merely playing with herbs and thought… it might be fun to experiment.”
“Fun, you say…”
He studied her as though appraising a golden goose.
“You’re quite the prodigy. Could you teach me how to prepare this ointment—and others like it? From tomorrow, we’ll experiment with more herbs together.”
Camilla met his hungry gaze with an innocent smile.
“I’m afraid it won’t be that simple, my lord.”
“What?”
Feigning bashfulness, she replied,
“It’s rather embarrassing—I don’t have proper tools. And there are many more formulas I’ve yet to perfect…”
At that, the Baron’s tone softened.
“What do you need? Speak freely.”
Camilla hid her amusement behind a sweet smile.
“I’d like a small apothecary to work in, with the right ingredients and the newest books on medicine. And, if possible…”
“Yes? What else?”
“I’d like to join the family for dinner, Father.”
The Baron’s face changed—first surprise, then warmth. He drew her into an embrace.
“Of course, my daughter. Call me Father from now on.”
Camilla smiled against his chest, hiding the cold calculation behind her eyes.
“Of course. But… you’ll still test the meals first, won’t you?”
Still, it wasn’t yet time to escape the poisoned table.
It’s fine. I’ll prove myself little by little, survive, and flee this house before the story begins.
If she could stay until adulthood, she’d earn enough to buy her freedom.
“Oh, and Father,” she added, feigning shyness, “may I also change my personal maid?”
The Baron agreed readily, his greed outweighing suspicion. Camilla smiled, sensing victory. She had finally secured a place among his “useful assets.”
“Forgive me, my lady!”
The next day, Yuli was dragged away by servants, wailing and begging.
Camilla did not look back.
Those who know the family’s secrets never leave unscathed.
Straight-backed, she walked away from the chaos behind her.
It was her first step toward the future.
