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82.
"That's ‌‌not it...."
Alicia closed her mouth, having started to say that such a deep and beautiful blue gaze was uncommon.
Octavio spoke with confidence.
"Besides, why would the Duke of Johannes trouble himself ‌‌‍‌with an engagement to someone like Rebecca? ‌‌‌That woman has been abandoned by both the Earl and God himself. Don't you remember her pitiful final appearance? It's impossible for her to show her face without a single scar in such a short time. And there's no way House ‌‌of Obelia has the wealth to procure such an expensive dress."
Despite Octavio's words, Alicia remained deeply uneasy, clutching at her chest as she spoke.
"House of Obelia has certainly paid off all their debts...." ‌‌‌
"Octavio."
At Grace's cold summons, both Octavio and Alicia turned their heads.
"The Earl has ordered that the second floor be checked for a final inspection."
"I was planning to do just that. The servants' movements have seemed rather unreliable. By the way, you were nowhere to be seen throughout the entire ball—where were you?"
Octavio asked with a probing tone.
Grace didn't spare him a glance as he looked her over with displeasure, ‌‌‌and she spoke.
"Must I report my every move to you?"
At Grace's cold tone, Octavio shrugged his shoulders.
"Of course, there's no need. I understand. Then I'll take my leave."
Octavio cut through the crowd and leisurely ‌‌‌climbed the stairs ‌‌toward the second floor.
Once he had departed, Grace turned her gaze toward Alicia.
As Grace's indifferent eyes fell upon her, Alicia reflexively shrank back once more.
But soon she ‌‌‌straightened her posture, reminding herself that she was the Countess and Grace was merely a subordinate.
Grace spoke in a tone like grating sand.
"Lingering in a corner for so long is hardly appropriate. Didn't you tell me until my ears ached that you are the ‌‌hostess of this ball? Go out and fulfill your role as mistress of the house. You said you wanted to enter society, didn't you? I shall introduce you to Marchioness Petunia. If you win her favor, your place in society will be secured."
Though her tone was not particularly kind, it was markedly different from Grace's usual condescending attitude toward her.
Moreover, she was even offering ‌‌‌‌to help.
Alicia, bewildered, followed in Grace's footsteps.
"Marchioness Petunia, may I present Alicia, Countess of Devonshire."
"Oh my, Grace. It's been so long."
Petunia greeted Grace with a radiant smile.
Her ‌captivating gaze passed over Grace's expressionless face and came to rest upon Alicia, who stood fidgeting.
"A pleasure to meet you. Are you enjoying the ball?"
Alicia, tense and rigid, made an effort to conceal her stiffened expression, forcing an innocent and ‌‌guileless smile as she spoke. ‌‌‌‌
Her only advantage was her harmless and innocent beauty, so it was best to emphasize that quality.
Fortunately, the ‌‌effect worked—Petunia's sharp gaze softened somewhat.
"Of course I am. ‌The autumn ball at Devonshire is my favorite gathering. I hear you oversaw it this time—your taste is quite classical. It's no different from the previous balls."
"Thank you so much! I put in so much effort!"
In truth, seeing that it ‌‌‌was no different from what Grace had been doing all ‌along, her backhanded compliment was suggesting that Alicia had done almost nothing.
However, Alicia, unfamiliar with the intricacies of high society conversation, accepted Petunia's praise at face value and expressed her gratitude with genuine delight.
"How foolish she is."
Petunia had harbored some expectations, having heard that ‌‌‌‌Alicia was the woman who had pushed Rebecca aside and seized the position of Countess.
Though rumors suggested she was a vulgar commoner and a fool, Petunia's assessment was somewhat different.
I found myself curious about someone willing to dye their hair and change their eye color—surely such determination spoke of a brilliant schemer with grand ambitions.
Yet now, seeing her in person, she was nothing like the rumors suggested: merely a shallow, foolish ‌‌girl blinded by greed for position.
Petunia quickly raised her mask to her face, ‌‌concealing the smirk that threatened to surface.
The ornate peacock feathers adorning her mask shimmered delicately.
'Still, she'll serve as a pleasant diversion for now.'
House of Devon possessed extraordinary wealth, and there was nothing to lose in befriending its mistress.
From what I could see, Alicia was precisely the type who would eagerly present me with rare jewels and ornaments at the slightest kindness.
Petunia excused herself from the surrounding guests who constantly sought her attention, then linked her ‌‌‌arm through Alicia's.
"I've ‌‌‌been so eager to meet you, but the Earl has monopolized his wife so thoroughly that I've had difficulty approaching. You're far more beautiful than the rumors suggested, my dear."
Alicia's heart swelled at the fact that Petunia—among the most distinguished of the nobility—had chosen her.
Ever since Julian's provocation, ‌‌‌the guests had treated her with subtle disdain, which had wounded her deeply.
Yet now the queen of high society herself was linking arms with her affectionately.
The vacant expressions on the faces of those who had dismissed her were truly satisfying ‌‌‌to witness.
Moreover, Petunia occupied a position remarkably similar to her own.
Once the mistress of the ‌‌Marquis of Lancaster, Petunia had borne him a son when he had no heir.
When the original Marchioness died of old age, Petunia boldly ascended to the position of Marchioness Petunia.
Her son naturally became the heir.
I had heard ‌that the Marquis of Lancaster adored both Petunia and her son dearly.
The greater his favor, the greater her power became.
Though Petunia had entered society under the Lancaster name, she had since become so renowned that her name alone had become a title of distinction.
Alicia gazed at Petunia with eyes full of admiration.
Despite her origins as a mistress, she had become the object of so many people's longing. Alicia wished to become like her.
Alicia observed Petunia's lustrous, passionate crimson hair and her sharp, commanding features as she spoke.
"But beauty alone isn't ‌‌‌‌everything, is it? Please teach me so much. I wish to become like you, Marchioness Petunia."
A flash of irritation flickered across Petunia's deep green eyes.
The nature of Alicia's expectations toward her was thoroughly unpleasant.
Alicia clearly ‌‌‌believed they shared similar circumstances.
'How amusing.'
Though my family lacked ‌wealth, I was nonetheless born a noblewoman. Alicia, who had crawled up from some provincial obscurity, could never match ‌‌my origins.
Moreover, she had seized Rebecca's position through contemptible scheming and divorce.
I, however, had legitimately waited my turn and inherited the position of proper wife.
It would be a lie to claim I wasn't tempted by the Marquis's fortune, but I had never deliberately pursued him.
During my time as his ‌‌‌mistress, I never schemed to claim the first wife's position, which is precisely why public opinion favored me.
'No matter how hard you struggle, you'll never become like me.'
Petunia laughed silently to herself, though she revealed nothing on her face.
She had been bored anyway, and watching Alicia nurture such hollow hopes seemed delightfully entertaining.
Petunia glanced ‌‌‌‌briefly at Zeppelin, who was enthusiastically explaining his business plans.
Alicia seemed scarcely interested in whatever her husband was saying, her eyes instead covertly fixed on Petunia's bracelet.
'I should match her level appropriately.'
Petunia pressed her hand to her forehead and spoke.
"I'm getting a headache ‌‌‌‌trying to understand what ‌‌the Earl is saying. Let's not do this—shall we head over to that fountain instead? A chocolate fountain, no less. How delightful."
"It seems the Marchioness shares my sentiments. I was quite astonished the first time I saw it myself. The taste is exquisite, so do try some."
"I'd love to."
Alicia offered a shy smile without pretense, and Petunia responded with a radiant one of her own.
Already, whispers began circulating, ‌comparing her to Alicia.
Most were nothing but ‌backhanded compliments—disparaging Alicia while elevating herself.
Even by her own standards, it was rather tasteless entertainment, yet situations ‌like these never failed to amuse her.
This season, she had found quite the suitable foil.
* * *
"How much longer?"
"Almost ready."
Standing outside the carriage while waiting for Julian, I kicked at a pebble idly.
Kanna, observing my restlessness, bristled with indignation.
"How dare ‌‌‌‌he keep Rebecca waiting. The audacity of this man."
"There's much to prepare. We must ‌‌make our way ‌‌to the Hall of Light, after all."
"People are watching you. It's hardly a necessary role for you ‌‌to play. You should simply wait quietly in the carriage."
"Listen here. I can hear you perfectly fine. I've never met anyone quite as insolent as you. Besides, isn't it stranger that I don't want to see that twisted face of his?"
Julian's complaint rang ‌‌‌out as the ‌‌carriage door opened with a dull thud. He descended the steps.
I gazed at Julian, who wore a brown wig.
He had changed into a navy tailcoat. With a white mask adorning his face, he was utterly unrecognizable.
I reached up ‌‌to adjust his brown wig as I spoke.
"Brown hair ‌‌‌suits you well. You've procured a ‌‌‌‌natural-looking wig."

Julian's eyes sparkled as he gazed at Rebecca.
"Does it suit me?" ‌‌‌
"Yes. I like that your hair is down too. No one will think it's you."
"You also look good in a maid's uniform... wait, is ‌that not a compliment?"
"Anything that suits you well ‌‌is a compliment, in its own way."
Listening to their exchange, Kanna touched her own black ‌‌‌‌hair thoughtfully.
She recalled the shops she knew, wondering where she might obtain hair dye.
Just then, Rebecca clapped her hands together.
"Enough idle chatter. It's time everyone returned to their positions."
"What about Croa?"
"Croa has already infiltrated the Hall of Light. Leo just brought word that everything is prepared."
Rebecca gazed down at Leo, who yawned widely at her feet, with affectionate eyes.
Julian observed the two of them—Leo and Rebecca—whose rapport was so good it irritated him, alternating his gaze between them.
Suddenly displeased, he spoke curtly to Leo. ‌‌‌‌
"You stay here and keep watch properly. If anyone spots the carriage, come report to me immediately."
'I'll do fine on my own. Don't order me around, kid.'
Leo replied tersely.
Julian was desperate to reveal Leo's true, spiteful nature to Rebecca, who was ‌‌‌‌gently stroking Leo's head.
But she wouldn't believe him anyway.
Julian sighed.
At times like this, it frustrated him that Leo was the only one who understood his words.
Three black cats positioned themselves imposingly near the carriage, assisting Leo.
"Well then, shall we go?"
Rebecca pressed the maid's hat firmly onto her head.
Kanna stood beside her in identical attire.
Rebecca was heading to the Estate, while Julian was bound for the Hall of Light.
Before parting ways at the crossroads, Julian turned back and spoke to Rebecca.
"May fortune favor you."
Rebecca smiled softly and replied.
"May fortune favor you."
The Runaway Countess ‌‌‌‌‌Returns
E-book Publication

January 12, 2022
Author

Ginnamilgahneul
Publisher

Desert Fox
Publisher.

Woongjin ThinkBig Co., Ltd.
Submissions.

naver.me/54VzzLSn
Blog. ‌‌

blog.naver.com/wj_fennecfox
Twitter.
‌‌‌
@wjt_fennecfox

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