Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant

Silence lingered for a few seconds, broken only by the faint clinking of cups.

Then Amelia leaned back slightly in her chair and smiled. "You've been a bit on edge lately. Training too hard?"

Alice blinked. "Is it that obvious?"

"You're trembling," Amelia said, motioning gently to Alice's hands. "And I don't think it's just the tea."

Alice exhaled through her nose. Caught red-handed.

"Maybe. The match earlier... kind of got to me."

"Because of your attendant?"

"Because of how close he got," Alice muttered. "He shouldn't be able to do that much damage with limited skills and mana restrictions. But he still pushed me."

Amelia tilted her head, lips curling in amusement. "You're telling me the great Alice Draken is frustrated because her 'helpless attendant' almost beat her?"

"He didn't beat me."

"But he made you work for it."

Alice didn't respond.

Instead, she reached for the teacup again—stopped halfway—then sighed and leaned back.

"Honestly," she mumbled, "I'm more embarrassed by this tea than the match."

Amelia chuckled softly, resting her chin on her hand. "You know... you're not as terrifying as everyone makes you out to be."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment?"

"I mean it."

There was a pause.

This time, it was Alice who broke the silence.

"What brings you here, anyway?"

Amelia grinned. "What else? I rushed over the moment I heard you were under house arrest. Though…" Her eyes wandered around the room. "Seeing I'm able to walk in without resistance, I take it the sentence's already been lifted?"

Alice's gaze dropped for a moment.

The weight at her waist felt heavier than usual.

The sword — a symbol now known to the world — revealed because of her own impulsive choice. It was enough to overturn a decision the Lord's Council had already made.

"It wasn't anything serious," she murmured. "Just... a minor issue regarding Vault."

"Vault?" Amelia blinked, then leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Is this about Julies Evans?"

Of course. Like most girls her age, Amelia's curiosity was boundless. She probably didn't even realize how close she'd gotten to the truth.

Alice didn't answer. Her lips clamped shut.

Amelia's eyes widened slightly. "Wait—hold on. Alice, don't tell me you got put under house arrest over some kind of romantic entanglement with a servant?"

"That's enough," Alice said sharply.

Her voice was calm, but her tone was like ice.

It was true — she'd grown fond of him.

But it was no more than a master recognizing the loyalty of a subordinate. That was all. Besides, she already had a fiancé — an arrangement made by her family.

"It was just a joke!" Amelia said quickly, flailing her hands in the air. "I didn't mean to upset you like that."

Had her expression betrayed her?

Alice took a slow breath and fixed her posture. "Be more mindful of what you say, Ami. A noble's words carry weight."

"You're right," Amelia replied, bowing her head slightly. "I wasn't thinking. Especially with your engagement already in place... Sorry if I crossed a line."

"It's fine," Alice said after a moment. "Just be careful next time."

Amelia brightened. "Good. Then I won't have to compete with you for his affection."

"…What?"

Alice blinked.

Did she hear that correctly?

Compete for affection? Her?

Surely not—

She quickly dismissed the ridiculous thought and cleared her throat, composing herself again.

That's what she kept telling herself, anyway.

Amelia blinked at the sudden shift in mood. Her playful smirk faltered, but only for a second.

"Touchy," she murmured, taking another sip of her tea — which she still pretended to enjoy far too well. "Alright. I'll behave."

Alice let the silence settle again.

The steam from her cup curled gently in the air, carrying the scent of something bitter. She focused on that — on the heat, the taste, the quiet clink of porcelain — anything but the thoughts clawing their way up her chest.

She didn't want to talk about the Vault.

Or Julies.

Or the sword.

Or the way her heart started pounding in strange, uneven rhythms every time he did something reckless for her.

She just wanted to drink her damn tea in peace and pretend — for a moment — that things were still simple.

But of course, with Amelia Frost in the room, peace was a myth.

"My father suggested the idea of an engagement to the Evans Baronial family," Amelia said, as casually as if she were commenting on the weather.

Alice's hand jolted, and the teacup rattled sharply against the saucer.

Second time.

This was the second time Amelia had brought it up — like it was nothing. Like it meant nothing.

The tea, which had once been bitter in a comforting way, now tasted sharp, acrid — like something sour had spoiled it.

She forced herself to swallow, but the taste lingered.

"Pfft—!"

The sound burst out before she could stop it, something between a laugh and a cough. She clamped a hand over her mouth, but the damage was done.

Across the room, Julies Evans — who had been quietly sipping water — choked and sputtered, spraying a fine mist of it in pure disbelief.

"Ah—! I'm sorry!" he blurted, coughing into his sleeve, his face reddening.

Amelia turned to him, unfazed. "It's okay. A minor flaw in a fiancé."

Alice stared.

"Is it really?" Julies asked, eyes wide, clearly unsure if she was joking or dead serious.

Amelia didn't answer right away. Instead, she walked over with unhurried grace and offered him a handkerchief.

Julies froze, visibly uncertain whether he should accept it or just curl up into the nearest corner of the room. He reached for it hesitantly, his fingers brushing hers as he took it.

"Thank you… I think?" he mumbled.

Alice watched the exchange from her seat, her jaw clenched.

There was no reason for her heart to tighten like that. None at all.

It wasn't jealousy.

She wasn't… jealous.

She took another sip of tea to distract herself, but it only made her wince again.

Bitter. Everything felt bitter today.

She looked away, eyes fixed on the window, pretending the heat rising to her face was just from the tea.