~Chapter 8~
“Why, Father—your joy is mine as well.”
Camilla replied with gentle grace, then hesitated as if in thought.
“Though… would it be all right if I sat beside you?”
“Of course!”
The Baron gestured warmly to the seat opposite Nina. The Baroness’s brow immediately twitched upward.
“Considering the child’s… origins, isn’t it rather improper to seat her so near?”
“Madam.”
The Baron’s voice chilled the air.
“Are you contradicting me?”
“…I misspoke.”
Camilla hid a quiet smile.
So, even the Baroness is no exception once she oversteps the line.
In truth, the Baroness who ruled this mansion never appeared in the original Downfall of Nina. According to the story, she was expelled to her family estate when Nina turned fourteen—stripped of her power and position.
That absence was precisely what left Nina unprotected and drove her toward her ruinous fate.
One more year. I’d love to see her gone sooner, but it’s not time yet.
To escape safely, Camilla needed influence and allies. And to properly enter society, she still required the Baroness’s favor.
The soft clatter of silverware signaled the start of dinner. The atmosphere was tense at first, but it was the Baroness who broke the silence.
“In a month, Duke Escalus will hold a grand ball for his son’s birthday. He has asked that we bring our children, claiming he wishes for them to find suitable company among their peers.”
Ah. That ball.
The Baron nodded thoughtfully.
“Hmm. Nina has never yet attended an event beyond these walls.”
“No, my lord. But the duke’s ball is an honor befitting our family. I was thinking of bringing Nina and Ares.”
The Baron laughed.
“Ares? My dear, you dote too much on your nephew. Isn’t he rather frail?”
Ares was the son of the Baroness’s younger brother. After his parents’ deaths, the Baron had considered adopting him but kept him instead in a half-acknowledged limbo, testing his worth.
“Drake Everett, heir to the Everett family, will also attend. It would be good for Ares to make an impression. They’re both boys, after all.”
At the mention of the Everetts—the Mowins’ long-standing enemies—the Baron’s eyes gleamed with interest.
“Hah. Now that I think of it, that’s quite a sound plan. You have my approval.”
The Baroness smiled triumphantly. She had won his agreement—and yet, not once did she so much as glance at Camilla.
…My turn, then.
Nina’s bright voice cut through the tension.
“A ball? Like the ones in fairy tales—with flowers everywhere and tables full of sweets?”
The Baroness laughed softly.
“Yes, my dear. You’ll see for yourself soon. We’ll visit the dressmaker together.”
“Yay! But—what about Sister?”
The Baroness’s smile stiffened.
“She won’t be coming.”
“What? Why not?”
“A girl who can’t even pass her etiquette lessons properly has no business at a noble’s ball.”
“But Sister’s better at both the greeting test and dancing than I am—”
“Nina, enough. A lady mustn’t argue.”
Rebuked, Nina lowered her head.
Camilla decided the moment was ripe.
“The Baroness is right.”
The woman’s eyes, cold as winter frost, snapped toward her.
“Her judgment is sound,” Camilla continued smoothly. “But… if I may, I’d like to offer the Baroness a small gift.”
“A gift?”
Camilla lifted her gaze modestly.
After regaining her past-life memories, she had been examining every corner of the mansion—searching for weaknesses hinted at in the original novel.
And yesterday, I finally found one.
The Mowin estate possessed a vast hedge maze garden, meticulously tended by the Baroness herself. By watching quietly from the attic overlooking it, Camilla had caught a glimpse of the woman entering the maze—hand in hand with a young knight.
Sir Dylan.
A handsome second son of a good family—the very lover whose affair would one day see the Baroness cast out.
A perfect Achilles’ heel.
Camilla had taken inspiration from that secret, spending several days preparing a gift that could not be refused. Now she withdrew a small glass jar and smiled.
“I’ve been working on a new ointment, my lady. It does wonders for the skin.”
At first, the Baroness merely frowned, not bothering to hide her disdain. But Camilla knew how to shift the tide.
“Father,” she said lightly, “if you’d like, I could also prepare a sample for our family apothecaries to test its effects.”
“Oh?” The Baron’s eyes sharpened with interest.
“And,” Camilla added delicately, “if the results prove promising, perhaps you might consider allowing me to attend the ball… to demonstrate its potential?”
The Baroness immediately cut in.
“There’s no need for that.”
She could not bear the sight of the girl currying favor with her husband.
“It may not even work properly. I’ll test it myself first before you waste the Baron’s time.”
Perfect.
She had no real intention of persuading the Baron—her true target had always been the Baroness.
After all, society is her domain.
If the ointment proved effective, the Baroness herself would ensure Camilla’s presence at future gatherings under the guise of “supervision.”
The Baron frowned but eventually nodded. The Baroness accepted the bottle with thinly veiled irritation, while Camilla smiled sweetly, her expression unreadable.
“As you wish, my lady.”
The results came swiftly.
Within days, the Baroness summoned Camilla to her private chambers.
“Quite impressive. Bring me more of that ointment.”
So, it worked.
No doubt the woman had been fretting over her age—especially compared to her youthful lover. Camilla bowed gracefully.
“Of course, my lady. I’ll have more prepared at once. But… may I ask something in return?”
“What is it?”
The ball.
In the original story, Nina’s first party was pivotal—the place where she met Drake Everett, her future fiancé, and several key figures who shaped her fate.
To escape this mansion safely, Camilla had to attend that event. Among the guests would be the one man she needed to meet—
The young Duke of Escalus.
Nina’s destined betrothed, and in the future, the commander who controlled the city’s guards and gates.
“I’d like to accompany Nina, my lady. I wish to observe what sort of cosmetics noblewomen prefer firsthand.”
The Baroness’s face twisted.
“You dare—!”
Camilla’s tone remained soft.
“If I were to make such beauty products, my first thought would, of course, be of you.”
The Baroness hesitated. It was, unmistakably, an offer of exclusive privilege. What lady could resist that?
She studied Camilla with narrowed eyes, calculating.
“…There’s no need. If it becomes necessary, I’ll say so.”
Camilla’s lashes lowered slightly. Had she failed?
But then the Baroness added,
“Still, someone will need to watch over Nina at the ball.”
Not a failure, then—a victory.
Camilla hid her smile behind a polite bow.
“I’ll take great care of her, my lady.”
A silent agreement passed between them. From now on, the Baroness would take Camilla to every social event Nina attended—so long as she continued supplying those miraculous creams.
And once the woman had grown dependent on her creations, she would never let Camilla go.
“But,” the Baroness said coolly, “if Nina embarrasses herself at the ball, I’ll hold you responsible.”
That’s harsh, Camilla thought dryly.
Still, for a price, one must accept terms.
She lifted her chin, meeting the Baroness’s gaze with quiet defiance.
“Then, my lady, I have a condition of my own.”
