Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant

"….!"

A sudden chill ran down my spine, the kind that prickled along the skin as though unseen eyes were fixed on me. I rubbed at my ears and muttered under my breath,

"Someone must be talking about me behind my back."

"There are plenty who'd want to, starting with me standing right here."

Amelia's dry voice snapped me back.

"What a cruel thing to admit. I have feelings, you know. I'm hurt."

"As if demons care about such things."

She scoffed and brushed past me, skirts swishing as she headed toward the hall.

"Where are you going?"

"To the drawing room. Guests will be arriving any moment. Someone has to greet them properly."

She was right. Through the tall windows, I could see the slow but steady approach of carriages, wheels crunching on gravel, coats of arms gleaming on their polished doors.

"Why don't you join me?" she said without turning. "You'll find plenty here eager to claim you."

"Claim me?" I frowned.

"As the man who defeated the North's treasured prodigy in the martial tournament, you're a prize in their eyes. Don't be so surprised."

I scratched at the back of my head, suddenly self-conscious. The fame from that match had spread farther than I'd expected.

"Well… whatever they offer, I'm not interested."

"I assumed as much. You wouldn't even accept my engagement."

Her words dripped with just enough sting to make me pause, though her steps never faltered. We bickered lightly until we reached the drawing room doors, where a swell of voices and laughter leaked into the corridor.

Inside, nobles mingled under chandeliers, the air rich with perfume and polished manners. At the entrance, Alice was about to step in alongside another guest.

"Ali!" Amelia's tone was bright, practiced.

Alice turned at the sound, her eyes flickering—first to Amelia, then, briefly, to me. For the barest second, I thought I saw recognition, but she quickly averted her gaze, focusing only on Amelia with the kind of ease that dismissed me entirely.

Of course. In a hall full of nobles, no duchess would openly acknowledge a servant.

"Hmm. So that's Julies."

The voice came from the woman beside Alice. Emma Voss. Even at a glance, she was exactly as the stories had painted her—poise draped over steel, her beauty laced with calculation. A central figure in the West, and now standing here in the North, in the flesh.

"It's an honor to meet the lady of House Voss," I said, bowing with textbook precision.

She waved her fan lazily, dismissing the gesture. "No need for such formality. To be honest, it feels almost burdensome to accept it from the man who brought honor to the West through victory in the North."

I shook my head, voice steady. "Here, I am only Lady Alice's servant. It's natural to show respect to her friends, no matter who they may be."

For a heartbeat, I thought I saw her smile tighten. A brief glint of sharpness passed through her eyes, like a blade hidden behind silk.

"Your loyalty is admirable," she whispered, her voice pitched low enough that only I could hear. "So admirable, in fact, it makes me wonder if you're truly without… other intentions."

Her gaze lingered, testing, weighing.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked carefully.

"Nothing," she said, the faintest curl at the corner of her lips. "Only that I was curious—do you ever think of returning to the West?"

A scouting offer, perhaps. Or a trap disguised as one.

The question hung between us like a string pulled taut, delicate yet dangerous.

Her eyes never left mine, those sharp violet irises glittering with the sly amusement of someone who already knew the answer—or thought they did.

"Returning to the West?" I repeated evenly, keeping my tone as bland as stale bread. "I'm afraid that notion has never crossed my mind."

Emma's fan twitched once, the feathers catching the candlelight like tiny blades. "Never? That's surprising. Most men in your position would dream of climbing higher. The North is… comfortable, yes, but the West is where true power lies."

"Comfortable suits me just fine," I replied, my expression unchanging. "Besides, I don't belong in the West. My place is here."

Her fan stilled. The faintest crease marred her perfect composure, a flicker of interest—or irritation. "Is that loyalty speaking? Or fear?"

I gave a small shrug. "Does it matter?"

Before she could press further, Amelia interjected, her tone deliberately light but edged. "Lady Voss, I wouldn't waste your efforts. He's stubborn as stone, and once he digs his heels in, even I can't move him."

Emma's smile returned, bright and false as a polished mask. "Oh, I enjoy stubborn men. They make for the most entertaining games."

Alice, who had been silent until now, finally turned her gaze toward us. Her eyes lingered on me for the briefest moment, just long enough to send a faint current crawling down my spine, before quickly drifting away.

I brushed it off, pretending it was nothing, and stepped forward to do my duty.

"Lady Alice, this way, please. The maids have finished their preparations."

It was her birthday, after all, and I had taken great care to ensure everything was perfect. From her outfit to the makeup and hairstyling—nothing had been left to chance. I had chosen the best people in each field and even brought in specialists, all to polish every detail and make her beauty stand out like a jewel.

"…Should I go to the dressing room?" she asked softly.

"Yes, I will guide you—"

"No, that's alright." She shook her head faintly. "This is my house. I know the way. You go and make sure the other servants are doing their jobs."

Her unexpected refusal left me blinking in surprise. I was always the one to guide her, always there to ensure no misstep was made.

Then, she turned to Amelia.

"Ami, can you keep me company for a bit?"

"Of course," Amelia answered at once, her lips curving into a smile that seemed just a little too satisfied.

The role that should have been mine had been taken away so easily, like a stone tossed aside.

—Hehe.

Amelia's smug expression, shown only to me with the smallest twitch of her lips, was enough to make my teeth clench.

But irritation aside, what truly unsettled me was Alice herself.

Her attitude was… different today.

It wasn't only about choosing Amelia over me. The way she carried herself, the subtle firmness in her tone, even the flicker in her eyes—it all hinted at something beneath the surface. A shift. A resolve.

And as she allowed herself to be led away, I couldn't help but feel that this birthday would be unlike any before.

The servants worked like ants, moving trays of food and baskets of flowers through the corridors. Musicians tuned their instruments in the corner of the hall, the low notes weaving through the murmurs of gathering nobles.

I stayed at the edge of it all, my eyes following Alice as she disappeared with Amelia toward the dressing rooms.

Something gnawed at me.

She hadn't dismissed me out of carelessness. No, that was deliberate. Calculated. Alice never wasted motions, never wasted words.

"…She's hiding something," I muttered under my breath.

"Talking to yourself again?" A young page passing by tilted his head at me.

I waved him off. "Get back to work."

The boy scurried away, and I leaned against a marble pillar, scanning the crowd. Emma Voss had drifted into the heart of the nobles, her fan fluttering as she traded smiles and barbed compliments with ease. Amelia would keep Alice occupied for now.

That left me free, if only for a few minutes.

My hand brushed against the inner pocket of my coat, where the faint pulse of a hidden crystal stone throbbed against my chest. The return stone I'd bound to Alice's cloak was still resonating—quiet, steady.

Good. She was safe.

And yet, unease still prickled at the back of my neck.

"…The Voss aren't here just for a birthday."

The timing was too perfect.

I glanced at the grand gift table, already stacked with boxes wrapped in velvet and silk. One in particular stood out, the crest of House Voss embossed in gold on its lid.

The gift box.

Something about it felt… wrong.

Not outwardly. To anyone else, it was just another lavish token. But my instincts, honed by too many brushes with schemes and daggers in the dark, screamed otherwise.

I folded my arms, staring at it as if the polished wood would suddenly confess its secrets.

"Julies."

A servant girl tugged at my sleeve, her eyes wide. "The wine cellar steward says the last shipment hasn't been checked. He's asking for your approval before they bring it out."

I exhaled slowly. "Tell him I'll be there shortly."

She nodded and ran off.

I lingered a moment longer, and then also turned around and followed after her.

'I'll have to see Alice, to check out my guess is right or wrong?'.