Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant

Emma let out a soft laugh, though it carried no warmth.

"You're more stubborn than I remembered, Lady Draken. Possessive to the last breath."

Alice said nothing. She didn't need to. She knew better than anyone how deeply her possessiveness ran—especially when something, or someone, had already slipped through her fingers once.

Emma tilted her head, her smile sharpened by a cruel edge. "Demon or not, it is still a pity. I would have liked to take this Faceless Imposter for myself. Imagine—a thief bound to the Voss name, a servant for three generations. It would have been… amusing."

The air between them grew heavy, sparks flashing in the silence as their eyes locked. For a moment, it felt as though the polished table between them might crack under the weight of their hostility.

Then Emma's expression softened, her tone shifting to something more pragmatic. "Well, no need to obsess. As long as we can announce publicly that the Voss family contributed to his capture, that will suffice. What matters most now is restoring the prestige that thief stole from us."

Alice's lips curved faintly. Emma was a Voss through and through—practical when it counted.

Emma didn't press further. Instead, she closed her fan with a delicate snap and set it aside, her smile transforming into the flawless mask of noble etiquette. "Do check the gift box carefully, Lady Draken. You will find it… enlightening."

Alice inclined her head ever so slightly. Information on the Phantom Thief—that much was certain.

Emma rose, extending her right hand. Her smile, bright and gracious, could have been painted into any etiquette manual, the picture of courtesy.

"The deal is settled, then."

Alice stood as well, placing her hand in Emma's. Their grip was firm, their smiles perfectly polite, and yet the tension still lingered in the air like smoke.

"Let's keep it friendly," Alice said smoothly. "Between fellow ducal families."

Their hands parted at last, the masks of civility never slipping.

Faceless Imposter… Alice thoughts burned cold and sharp. You will not escape me. Not this time.

-----

[Confidential Report on the Phantom Thief]

That was the true "gift" Emma had tucked away among the elegant trinkets in the box.

A stack of carefully bound papers, thin yet heavy with meaning.

Alice spread them across her desk, eyes narrowing as she read the neat script.

[First recorded appearance: 24 years ago, at the estate of Count Fer.]

[Subsequent thefts consistently targeted the great noble houses of the West.]

[Suspected to operate alone in most cases—no evidence of accomplices.]

Her lips pressed into a thin line. With an impatient flick, she crumpled one of the pages in her hand.

"…Tch. Worthless."

The words slipped out sharper than she intended.

Emma's painted brows rose ever so slightly from behind her fan. "Worthless? That is decades of carefully sealed intelligence, Lady Draken. Not something we just toss to the wind."

Alice leaned back in her chair, the paper still balled tightly in her fist. "It tells me nothing I didn't already know. Twenty-four years of crimes, and yet the same pattern—alone, untouchable, untraceable."

Her tone was cool, but the disappointment was plain.

Emma tilted her head, the feathered fan hiding the amused curve of her lips. "Then perhaps the problem is not the information, but your expectations. You asked for knowledge of the Phantom Thief. I delivered exactly that."

Alice's eyes cut toward her, sharp as glass. "And yet nothing of the one I seek."

The fan snapped shut with a soft click. Emma's gaze glimmered knowingly. "…Faceless Imposter."

For a brief second, Alice's silence confirmed it louder than words.

Emma sighed softly, a sound like silk rustling. So that's it… her eyes were never on the Phantom Thief at all.

"Then you ask the impossible, Lady Draken," Emma said, her voice carrying both mockery and weariness. "Your little demon thief is far too new. His name only just began crawling across the northern papers. No one in the West has reliable records yet. Not even we."

Alice's nails dug lightly into the paper she still held. The crisp sound of it tearing filled the quiet room.

"So be it," she said at last, her voice cool, but her eyes burned with something far harsher than disappointment.

Emma fanned herself again, watching Alice with a mix of curiosity and wariness. One thing was now beyond doubt.

Alice's true prey wasn't the Phantom Thief.

It was the Faceless Imposter.

"If your goal was Faceless Imposter, then why did you asked about information on Phantom Thief?"

"You don't need to know."

Just as she was about to dismiss it, Alice changed her mind.

Emma is a blood relative of the Western Duke of Voss.

In other words, a person skilled in catching criminals.

With her help, it might be possible to catch him.

"The Phantom Thief and he are colleagues."

Emma's fan paused mid-sweep. "…Colleague?"

Alice let the crumpled paper drop to the desk, her gaze never leaving Emma's. "Yes. Faceless Imposter isn't merely some upstart copycat or petty thief, as you assumed. He's tied to the Phantom Thief himself."

For the first time, Emma's mask faltered. "Impossible. You've seen the records yourself—he has always operated alone. Meticulous. Calculated. Untouchable. The Phantom Thief has never relied on anyone."

Alice's lips curved, though the smile carried no warmth. "And that's precisely why no one ever suspected it. His reputation as a solitary phantom makes the perfect camouflage for hiding an accomplice. Or perhaps… a successor."

The snap of Emma's fan closing cut the air. "If what you say is true, Lady Draken, then you've just shaken the foundation of twenty-four years of intelligence. Do you realize what that means?"

"Of course I do," Alice replied calmly, her fingers drumming against the polished wood of her desk. "It means there's a thread. And if I follow it, I may pull both of them into the light."

Emma narrowed her eyes, searching Alice's expression. "…So that's why you demanded the Phantom Thief's file. Not because you cared about him, but because you hoped his trail might lead you to the other one."

Alice inclined her head slightly. "Precisely."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled only with the faint rustle of Emma's silken skirts as she shifted.

"…Faceless Imposter," Emma repeated slowly, almost tasting the words. "A demon masquerading as a thief. And now you tell me he is linked to the man who humiliated my house for decades." Her eyes glimmered with cold fire. "If that is true, Lady Draken… then your north holds more danger than I suspected."

Alice leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering, sharp as a blade drawn in candlelight. "Danger or not, he is mine. That is why I cannot hand him over to you. Because his capture isn't just a matter of prestige. It's a matter of necessity."

Emma studied her for a long moment, then finally gave a soft, humorless laugh. "You're as ruthless as ever. I should have remembered—Drakens never ask questions idly. Always, there is another layer beneath."

Alice's smile deepened just a fraction. "You see, then."

Emma's gaze lingered, sharp and assessing, as if she were trying to pierce straight through Alice's carefully composed mask.

"You speak as though this Faceless Imposter belongs to you," she said softly, almost musing. "But beware, Alice. When nobles start claiming ownership of demons… it never ends well. Not for them, nor for their houses."

Alice's expression didn't shift, but her nails tapped against the desk, one deliberate beat after another. "He isn't mine in that sense. But he appeared in my territory. He crossed my path. And once something crosses into my orbit, Emma, it does not leave without my permission."

Emma's lips curled faintly, the edges of her smile sharp. "There it is—the infamous Draken pride. You haven't changed at all."

Alice leaned back slightly, her eyes gleaming like shards of ice. "Pride has nothing to do with it. This isn't about titles or glory. This is personal."

For the briefest instant, Emma thought she caught something raw in Alice's eyes—humiliation, loss, a wound that had never quite healed. But it was gone in the next blink, hidden beneath cool composure once more.

"Personal…" Emma echoed, drawing out the word. Her fan fluttered lazily, though her gaze remained sharp. "How intriguing. Perhaps, then, I should leave you to your hunt. After all, when the Drakens bare their fangs, even the empire takes notice."

Alice didn't answer. She simply picked up the torn scrap of paper she had crumpled earlier, letting it fall slowly from her hand. It drifted like ash to the floor.

Emma gave a small, mocking bow, the picture of graceful politeness. "Then I'll consider our business concluded for now. Do not disappoint me, Lady Draken. If you claim the north will handle this Faceless Imposter, then see to it that you succeed. I will not have your failure reflect back upon me."

Her skirts whispered across the polished floor as she moved toward the door.

"Emma," Alice called, her voice smooth but edged with steel.

The Voss heiress paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

"If you wanted to capture the Faceless Imposter, How would you do it?"

"It's seems that we to change the terms of our deal."

Saying that she turned around once more and looked at Alice with smrik on her face.