episode_0008

After the tea party incident, a subtle change arose between Lady Pirnea and me.

She was still capricious and self-willed, but her attitude toward me began to carry a new kind of expectation—one that hadn’t been there before.

It seemed she had started to see me not just as a convenient tool that could do anything she ordered, but as someone from whom she could learn something.

“Virdem.”

The day after we returned to the mansion, the lady summoned me to her room. Her expression was serious, unlike the usual bored look she wore when calling for me.

“Yes, my lady.”

“That girl from last time… Emilly. How do I make sure I don’t lose to someone like her?”

It was a direct question. Her words—not lose rather than not get hurt—hinted at an endless competitive streak.

After a moment of thought, I opened my mouth.

“The most important thing is not to act as your opponent intends.”

“Not act as they intend?”

“Yes. Yesterday, Lady Emilly locked you in the storage room to humiliate you, hoping to see you panic or lash out in anger. Had you caused a scene or used magic there, you would have played right into her hands.”

Pirnea bit her lip for a second. She looked frustrated but had to admit I was right.

“Then what should I have done?”

“First, remain composed. If you show panic or anger, your opponent will think they’ve succeeded. Second, assess the situation. Why are they attacking me? What is their goal? What are their weaknesses? Third, choose the most effective response. Sometimes, ignoring them is the answer. Other times, you must counter logically. And sometimes… like what I did yesterday, you may need to flip the situation with a mix of threat and bluff.”

“That’s hard.”

Pirnea pouted.

“It is. It’s not a skill you can master overnight. But with steady practice and thought, it’s entirely possible.”

“How are you so good at it?”

“I’ve… seen and learned a lot.”

Including memories from my past life. I dodged the question vaguely.

“From now on, if such a situation arises, don’t react immediately. Give me a signal instead—a glance, a prearranged word, anything. I’ll assess the situation and advise you on how to respond.”

“A signal?”

“For example, if you lightly scratch your right eyebrow, it could mean, I need time to think. I’ll then pause the conversation or steer it elsewhere. If you touch your left ear, it could mean, That sounds like a lie. I’ll then question their statement or ask for evidence.”

Pirnea’s eyes sparkled with interest, like a child learning a new secret code.

“This sounds fun! Then… what if I scrunch my nose?”

“I really dislike that person and want to crush them?”

At my joke, Pirnea burst into laughter.

“I love that! Nose scrunch!”

“My lady, that should only be used in truly urgent situations.”

“Fine, fine.”

And so, Pirnea and I established a few secret signals of our own.

How effective they would be remained to be seen, but at the very least, they could give her a moment to think before acting impulsively.

Over the next few days, Pirnea showed surprising enthusiasm for social training.

She immersed herself in the various role-playing scenarios I set up, seriously considering the most effective ways to respond.

Of course, she still often asked things like, Can’t I just blast them with magic? But at least she no longer seemed to think magic was a universal solution.

“Virdem, what scenario are we doing today?”

During teatime, Pirnea would look at me with eager eyes.

“Today, let’s learn how to spot veiled criticism hidden in compliments.”

“Compliments but also criticism?”

“For example, Lady Pirnea is such a genius—so brilliant that others can’t keep up. On the surface, it sounds like praise, but the underlying meaning could be, You’re so outstanding you have no friends, or You’re a lone wolf with no teamwork skills.”

“Ugh… really?”

Pirnea frowned. The intricacies of noble speech seemed too convoluted for her.

“How do I counter that?”

“There are several ways. You can take it purely as praise, thank them, and add, I’ll strive to be more helpful to others. This shows humility and willingness to cooperate. Or you can directly address the hidden intent: You flatter me. I still have much to learn. If there’s anything I lack, I’d gladly hear it. Which method to use depends on the person and situation.”

Pirnea nodded earnestly, as if studying a difficult magic theory.

Of course, theory alone wasn’t enough. She needed real-world experience. But I couldn’t just throw her back into encounters with girls like Emilly.

I decided to create a safer environment for practice.

A few days later, I quietly slipped garden strolls and conversations with lower servants into Pirnea’s afternoon schedule. When I reported this to MacLaine, he looked puzzled.

“Conversations with lower servants? Why would the lady want such a—”

“It’s a small attempt to cultivate her social skills. I believe she needs experience interacting with people of different statuses.”

Of course, my real goal was different. Among the lower servants, some naturally respected and feared Pirnea, but others harbored quiet resentment.

It was inevitable. The way Pirnea treated those beneath her was nothing short of appalling.

Waking the chef at 3 a.m. to brew tea, for instance—she seemed to see them not as people but as tools.

Of course, other nobles didn’t act like this. It didn’t seem malicious, but… the servants who suffered under it naturally held some resentment.

Their clumsy, unrefined complaints were the perfect level for Pirnea to practice on safely. Naturally, I planned to supervise closely.

MacLaine, perhaps sensing my intent or simply viewing the lady’s change positively, agreed without further objection.

“Very well. Ensure nothing untoward happens.”

“Rest assured.”

That afternoon, Pirnea and I strolled through the garden. As expected, a few lower servants hesitantly approached to greet us.

Following my instructions, Pirnea smiled softly and acknowledged them.

“Hm, you’ve worked hard.”

A short but dignified remark. It was clearly rehearsed, but not bad. The servants bowed, bewildered yet flattered.

Then, a young gardener tending the flower beds glanced sideways at Pirnea and muttered under his breath.

“Ugh, today of all days to tend the garden…”

His voice was quiet, but Pirnea and I heard it clearly. Her brow twitched—she was on the verge of scrunching her nose. I quickly caught her arm and signaled with my eyes.

Stay calm. Assess the situation.

Pirnea took a deep breath, then approached the gardener.

“Am I in the way of your gardening?”

The unexpected directness flustered him.

“N-No! That’s not what I meant—”

“Did I unknowingly damage the flower beds? If so, I apologize.”

Pirnea spoke calmly and politely, just as we’d practiced. The gardener fumbled over his words.

“Not at all, my lady! It was my mistake! How could you ever be in the way? I was just—”

“Then I’m glad. But gardening does look interesting. If you don’t mind, could you teach me the basics sometime?”

This time, it was Pirnea’s own improvisation—something I hadn’t coached. The gardener flushed and bowed deeply.

“O-Of course, my lady! Just say the word!”

The situation had flipped perfectly. The gardener, who had muttered in complaint, was now apologetic and even eager to please. Pirnea turned to me with a triumphant look.

Her eyes said, Did I do well?

I gave a slight nod, silently impressed.

Pirnea truly learned fast. It wasn’t just talent—her ability to understand and adapt to situations was remarkable.

She could do anything if she tried. Maybe she just lacked proper socialization because of Pitus’s excessive doting.

From then on, Pirnea often took time to chat briefly with lower servants or visitors.

She was still awkward and clumsy at times, but her habit of ignoring or threatening others with magic had visibly decreased.

Instead, she listened and tried to express herself calmly. The change was slow but undeniable.

While Pirnea’s social training progressed, I found myself with another task.

The dwarven relics from the abandoned mine—especially the mana crystal called the Heart Fragment.

In my spare time, I secretly studied the red crystal in my room.

It pulsed faintly, like a living thing.

An immense density of mana was condensed within, yet it remained perfectly stable. I couldn’t even begin to guess the principles behind it.

The dwarven book contained methods for crafting magical tools using the Heart Fragment, but deciphering it was difficult.

It was written in ancient dwarven script mixed with encoded symbols. The knowledge I’d gained from butler training was woefully insufficient.

If I can decipher and utilize this…

It might become a powerful weapon I could use once I gained my freedom in ten years.

One night, as I struggled over the dwarven book and the Heart Fragment, the door to my room suddenly flew open.