Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant

The rustle of silk faded as Alice disappeared behind the hedges, leaving only the faint scent of roses and the echo of her words behind.

I let out a slow breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"…Storm-like, indeed," I muttered.

Beside me, Amelia's parasol dipped slightly as she turned her gaze on me. Her eyes, soft at first glance, were sharp as daggers if you looked too long.

"You're slipping, Julius," she said lightly, though her voice carried no mirth. "Usually you're quicker with your tongue."

I gave her a side glance. "What can I say? Being the butt of a duchess's joke is exhausting. Even I get tired of playing the clown."

Her lips curved faintly, but there was no laughter. "You weren't playing the clown just now. You were distracted."

I stiffened.

Amelia was no fool. She'd seen exactly where my eyes had gone, exactly what had held my attention.

I forced a smirk. "Distracted? By what? The flowers? They're lovely, sure, but I don't usually lose my head over roses."

"Mm." Her reply was noncommittal, but her gaze didn't waver. "If that's what you want to call her, then fine—roses."

The parasol tilted, casting her face half in shadow. For a moment, she looked older, sharper, less like the cheerful countess she pretended to be.

"You should be careful, demon."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the air like steel. Not just a warning—an accusation wrapped in silk.

I kept my mask steady. "Careful is my middle name."

Her lips curved, not into a smile but into something close. "No. Trouble is your middle name. Careful is the one thing you've never been."

"Rest assured, my lady. I've lived in the human world longer than you think. Never been caught once."

What I didn't add was the real reason—because I wasn't a demon in the first place. No one could ever pin me down for something I wasn't. But that secret wasn't leaving my lips.

"Besides," I said casually, "hasn't Lady Frost already obtained half of what she wanted?"

Her eyes narrowed. "…What do you mean by that?"

"If she's asking favors from other nobles, then she's moved beyond the place she once stood, hasn't she?"

The change was immediate. The color drained from her face, and for once, her composure cracked.

"…How did you—?"

How? I didn't need to spy to know. From the Velra case to the Wampa mess, the pattern was obvious. Even geniuses have moments when they can't bend irrationality to their will. And Alice—she wasn't the type to sidestep trouble.

No, she was a magnet for it.

If there wasn't a storm in sight, she'd go and make one. That much, I'd learned.

For someone like me, who only wanted to live a long, quiet life, she was a walking disaster. A risk wrapped in silk gloves and noble poise. The kind of person I should stay miles away from.

But I couldn't.

Because her life was my life. That little fact glared back at me every time I opened my status window. If she fell into danger, so would I. If she faced something like Velra again, who knew if she'd make it out alive without me?

That's why, after that fight, I prepared. Just enough to intervene if the worst came.

"There's always a way to know everything," I said with a faint shrug. "The world's full of convenient magical tools."

Her gaze sharpened, suspicious. "You… you didn't. Tell me you didn't plant a listening device on her."

Bingo.

I didn't answer immediately, letting the silence twist between us. Then I tilted my head.

Not just a listening device. I attached a return stone to her cloak as well. If she's in danger, she'll be pulled back before anyone can land the final blow.

Her breath caught, shock and disbelief flickering in her eyes.

I leaned back slightly, keeping my tone light even as the truth pressed heavy between us.

"In the end, whether she likes it or not, I'll always know."

"You… what?"

Her voice cracked before hardening again. Shock gave way to outrage, and her hand curled into a fist at her side. "Do you even understand what you've done? You violated her trust! You—"

"Saved her life," I cut in smoothly.

Her eyes blazed. "Don't twist this! Attaching magical devices without her knowledge—are you insane? If she ever finds out—"

"She won't," I interrupted again, unbothered. "And even if she does, it's not like she'll throw the cloak away. She's far too practical for that."

Her mouth opened, then closed, as if the retort died on her tongue.

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice, the humor slipping away. "You think Alice would hesitate to use a tool that guarantees her survival? Even if it came from me?"

Her jaw tightened. "That's not the point."

"It's exactly the point," I shot back, my eyes locking with hers. "We both know what she's like. She runs headfirst into storms no sane person would touch. She provokes enemies stronger than herself because backing down isn't in her nature. Someone like that doesn't live long without insurance. That's what I am. That's what those measures are."

Silence pressed in between us, heavy as stone.

Finally, she exhaled sharply, looking away. "…You're reckless. Arrogant. And the fact that you're right only makes it worse."

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "I'll take that as a compliment."

She glared at me, but her anger had shifted—less raw outrage now, more of a simmering frustration laced with something she wouldn't admit. Reluctant acceptance.

"…You're playing a dangerous game," she said at last, voice low. "If she learns the truth, you won't just face her wrath—you'll lose the very trust that lets you stay by her side."

"I don't need her trust." I leaned back again, arms folding across my chest. "And isn't this is good thing for you? Finally I would be away from your Alice."

Her eyes widened slightly at the bluntness, but she didn't argue. Not this time.

Instead, she muttered under her breath, almost too softly to catch, "For a demon, you're far too human."

I pretended not to hear, though the words lingered.