NOVEL NEXT chapter 8 - Didn't Know! - 8
After the tea party incident, something subtle began to shift between me and Lady Firnea.
She was still as capricious and self-willed as ever, but now there was a kind of expectation in how she treated me—something that hadn’t been there before.
It felt like she no longer saw me as just a convenient tool that would do whatever she asked, but as someone from whom she could actually learn something.
“Virdem.”
The day after we returned to the estate, the young lady summoned me to her room. Unlike the usual bored whims, her expression this time was serious.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Last time… that girl named Emily. What do I have to do to not lose to girls like her?”
A blunt question. It wasn’t about not wanting to be hurt—it was about not losing. A flicker of bottomless competitiveness leaked from her words.
I paused to think for a moment, then opened my mouth.
“The most important thing is for you not to act according to the opponent’s intent, my lady.”
“Not act according to their intent?”
“Yes. Yesterday, Lady Emily locked you in the shed to humiliate you, and she wanted to enjoy seeing you flustered or enraged. If you had made a scene or used magic on the spot, that would have been exactly what they wanted.”
Firnea bit her lip. She looked frustrated, but unable to deny the truth.
“Then what should I have done?”
“First, maintain your composure. If you appear panicked or furious, the opponent believes they’ve succeeded. Second, assess the situation. Why are they attacking me? What’s their goal? What’s their weakness? Third, choose the most effective response. Sometimes ignoring them is the answer, sometimes you need to rebut them logically, and sometimes… as I did yesterday, you need to reverse the situation with a touch of threat and bravado.”
“That’s hard.”
Firnea muttered with a slight pout.
“It is difficult. It’s not something one can learn overnight. But with steady practice and thoughtful reflection, it’s certainly possible.”
“How are you so good at it?”
“I’ve… seen and learned a lot.”
Including from my previous life. I gave her a vague answer.
“If such situations happen again in the future, please don’t react right away. Instead, send me a signal. 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, I’ll take it as a sign that you ‘need time to think,’ and I’ll interrupt the conversation or steer it away. If you touch your left ear, I’ll understand it to mean ‘that person seems to be lying,’ and I’ll question their statement or ask for proof.”
Firnea’s eyes lit up with interest, like a child discovering a new secret code game.
“That sounds fun! Then… what should it mean if I wrinkle my nose?”
“Maybe it could mean, ‘I really don’t like that person and want to crush them’?”
At my joke, Firnea burst out laughing.
“That’s a good one! Wrinkle the nose!”
“Got it, got it.”
And so, a few secret signals were decided between Firnea and me.
Whether they would actually be effective was still unknown, but at the very least, they would give Firnea a moment to think before acting on impulse.
Over the next few days, Firnea showed a surprising amount of enthusiasm for social training.
She immersed herself in the various role-playing scenarios I presented and seriously considered what the most effective responses might be.
Of course, she still asked things like, “Can’t I just blow them away with magic?” fairly often—but at least she no longer seemed to think of magic as a universal solution to everything.
“Virdem, what scenario are we doing today?”
Every tea time, Firnea would look at me with eyes full of anticipation.
“Today, let’s learn how to detect criticism hidden inside compliments.”
“But if it’s a compliment, why would it be criticism?”
“For example, if someone says, ‘Lady Firnea is truly a genius. You’re so exceptional that others can hardly keep up with you,’ it might sound like praise, but what they’re really saying is, ‘You’re so stuck-up that you have no friends,’ or ‘You’re an uncooperative lone wolf.’”
“Oh… it means that?”
Firnea furrowed her brow. The aristocratic way of speaking seemed far too complicated for her.
“What should I say in response to something like that?”
“There are several ways. One is to take it as a compliment and thank them, then add, ‘I’ll try harder so I can be helpful to others,’ showing both humility and willingness to cooperate. Another way is to face their hidden intent head-on and say, ‘That’s too generous. I still have much to learn. If I have any shortcomings, I’d gladly like to hear them.’ The best approach depends on the person and the situation.”
Firnea nodded earnestly as she listened to my explanation. She looked as serious as if she were studying a difficult magic theory.
Of course, theory alone wasn’t enough. Real experience was necessary. But it wouldn’t do to deliberately put her face-to-face with someone like Emily again.
I decided to create a safer environment where she could practice.
A few days later, I quietly inserted a garden walk and conversation time with lower servants into Firnea’s afternoon schedule. When I reported this to Maclaine, he looked at me with a puzzled expression.
“Conversation with the lower servants? The young lady would never want something like that…”
“It’s a small step to foster her social skills. I believe she needs experience communicating with people from different classes.”
Of course, I had another motive. Among the lower servants, there were those who respected and feared Firnea, but also a few who harbored resentment.
It was inevitable. The way Firnea treated those beneath her was utterly appalling.
Waking the cook at 3 a.m. to make her tea, for instance—she seemed to view people as tools rather than fellow humans.
Other nobles weren’t like this. It didn’t seem to be out of malice, but… the servants who endured it inevitably developed a kind of resentment.
Their clumsy, immature expressions of discontent were the perfect level for Firnea to safely practice handling real-life conflict. Of course, I intended to supervise the entire time.
Whether Maclaine guessed my real intentions or simply saw the young lady’s changes in a positive light, he allowed it without objection.
“Understood. Just be careful not to let anything unpleasant happen.”
“You have my word.”
That afternoon, Firnea and I took a walk through the garden. As expected, a few lower servants approached hesitantly and greeted us.
Firnea, just as I had taught her, smiled gently and responded.
“Mm, you’re working hard.”
Short, but dignified. It was obvious she had practiced, but it wasn’t bad. The servants bowed, looking a bit dazed but honored.
Then, a young gardener tending the flowerbeds glanced sideways at Firnea and muttered under his breath.
“Haah, I have to tend the garden again today…”
The voice was quiet, but both Firnea and I heard it clearly. The young lady’s brow twitched. A face on the verge of wrinkling her nose. I quickly reached out and gently grabbed her arm, sending her a glance.
Stay calm. Assess the situation.
Firnea took a deep breath, then stepped toward the gardener and asked,
“Am I getting in the way of your work in the garden?”
The directness of her question caught the gardener off guard.
“A-Ah, no! I didn’t mean it like that…”
“Did I accidentally damage the flower beds without realizing it? If I did, I’ll apologize.”
Firnea spoke calmly and politely, just as she’d practiced. Instead, it was the gardener who began to fidget and offer excuses.
“Not at all, my lady! That was just a slip of the tongue! Of course someone like you wouldn’t be a bother! I was just… lost in thought for a moment…”
“Then I’m glad. But tending the garden actually looks quite fun. If you don’t mind… would you be willing to teach me some basic techniques sometime?”
That part was Firnea’s own improvisation—something I hadn’t taught her. The gardener flushed all the way to his ears and bowed deeply, looking touched.
“I-It would be an honor, my lady! Just say the word, anytime!”
The situation had completely turned around. The gardener apologized for his careless grumbling and now was showing goodwill to the young lady. Firnea turned back to me with a triumphant expression.
Her eyes clearly said: “I did well, didn’t I?”
I gave her a small nod in silence while marveling inwardly.
Firnea was undoubtedly a quick learner. It wasn’t just raw talent—she also had an exceptional grasp of context and how to apply what she’d learned.
She was perfectly capable when she put her mind to it. Perhaps she’d simply missed out on the proper social education because of Pitus’ excessive doting.
From that day on, Firnea often spent a bit of time chatting with lower servants or visitors.
Of course, she was still awkward and clumsy at times, but the old habits—like disregarding others or threatening them with magic—visibly diminished.
Instead, she made efforts to listen to people and express herself calmly. The change was slow, but it was real.
While Firnea continued her social training, I found myself with a new side project.
Namely, ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) the dwarven legacy I’d taken from the abandoned mine—specifically, the magic crystal known as the Heart Fragment.
In my spare time, I secretly studied the red crystal in my room.
It pulsed faintly, as if it were alive.
Inside the crystal, an immense density of mana was compressed, yet it remained perfectly stable. I couldn’t even begin to guess how that was possible.
The dwarven book included a few crafting techniques that made use of the Heart Fragment, but decoding them was a challenge in itself.
The pages were a tangled mix of ancient dwarven script and encrypted symbols. What I had learned during my butler training wasn’t nearly enough.
If only I could decipher and make use of this…
It might become a powerful weapon I could use when I finally gained my freedom ten years from now.
One night, while I was hunched over the dwarven book and the Heart Fragment, struggling to make progress, the door suddenly burst open.