After Being Reborn, My Wife Sapped Away the Game's Female Lead - Chapter 3

The atmosphere was quiet to the point of being eerie.

Carlo, Dell, and Ella stared in dumbfounded silence at Fiona, who had collapsed onto the floor. Cynthia, meanwhile, had already returned to her seat and resumed drinking her tea. She looked as calm as if nothing had happened at all, as if Fiona had simply tripped and fallen on her own.

It was Fiona’s lady-in-waiting who finally snapped back to her senses first, letting out a shriek before hurrying over to help her young mistress up.

Cynthia had put her full strength into that punch, aiming precisely for the gap in the corset’s whalebone stiffeners. A pampered noble lady like Fiona, who wouldn’t even deign to attend practical combat classes at the Royal Academy, had no way of withstanding a blow like that. Once she was helped to her feet, she was left utterly speechless for a long while.

Completely unlike her mistress’s overbearing personality, Fiona’s lady-in-waiting wasn’t nearly as bold as Ella and Dell when it came to talking back to her master. Instead, she appeared rather timid and submissive. She wanted to say something in Fiona’s defense, but she simply didn’t dare open her mouth without her mistress’s explicit command.

It was at that exact moment that Carlo chimed in with impeccable timing: “It seems the weather is truly sweltering, causing Fiona to feel dizzy and take a tumble. Why don’t you help her to a guest room to rest first? I’ll have someone show you the way.”

Dell stepped forward and added, “It would be our pleasure to assist you.”

The lady-in-waiting hesitated, unsure whether she should accept the offer.

Fiona had just barely recovered her breath when she heard Dell’s words. Worse still, her lady-in-waiting hadn’t immediately rejected them. This drove her into a towering rage.

She shoved her lady-in-waiting aside and demanded with extreme fury, “Are you just going to stand there and watch me get bullied? Whose side are you actually on?”

Knocked to the floor, the lady-in-waiting didn’t dare say a word and could only sit there crying softly.

Only then did Fiona feel her mood improve slightly. She gritted her teeth and glared at the culprit: “Cynthia, how dare you hit me?”

“That joke isn’t funny at all, Fiona,” Cynthia said, setting down her teacup as if she had just heard a terribly unfunny joke. “You really ought to consider changing into something more suitable for traveling. Look at you. You’ve clearly been fried silly by the heat.”

Ella nodded, her face full of genuine concern as she chimed in, “Lady Cernan, shall we summon a healer for you? Your complexion looks dreadful.”

“Don’t you always claim to uphold the aristocratic code of conduct? Why are you suddenly too cowardly to admit it?” Fiona sneered. “Or perhaps I should go tell His Highness Mita that his fiancée is nothing more than a crazy woman who resorts to physical violence against others.”

“How can I confess to something that never happened?” Cynthia replied smoothly. “As for Prince Mita, feel free to tell him whatever you like. That has always been your freedom, and I have never once interfered.”

Fiona shrieked, “Aren’t you afraid that His Highness will call off the engagement?”

“If he wants to, he will do so regardless of whether you say anything or not, and vice versa.” Cynthia picked up her teacup once more. “I sincerely hope you can bring me some good news.”

Fiona gave her lady-in-waiting a hard kick before storming off in a fury.

Once the mansion’s front doors closed once again, the reception room finally erupted into laughter.

Carlo laughed unrestrainedly for a long while before wiping away a tear of mirth and turning to Cynthia. “You are really something else, actually landing a punch like that.”

“You weren’t bad yourself,” Cynthia said, a warm smile finally touching her face. “I hadn’t even figured out what to say yet, and you had already found an excuse for me.”

“Well, since she was the one who came looking for trouble, I couldn’t just let you take the blame for it.” Carlo slouched back against the sofa, his posture utterly lacking in decorum. “Besides, I never expected her to be stupid enough to actually throw a tantrum.”

“You can’t measure everyone by the same standard,” Cynthia said with a faint smile. “That would be terribly unfair to Fiona, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re awfully catty today,” Carlo remarked with a sigh. “Though it is quite strange. You haven’t asked a single thing about Mita this entire time.”

“I’ll leave those kinds of questions to Fiona.” Unwilling to steer the conversation in a direction she disliked, and even less inclined to explain why she had suddenly grown so cold toward Mita, Cynthia asked instead, “How are things between you and Lilica?”

“Us? Same as always,” Carlo replied. “Her father wants me to become engaged to her because, aside from me, he can’t seem to find any other poor sap.”

“It’s terribly impolite of you to talk like that,” Cynthia reproved disapprovingly. “Lilica is a proper young lady from a distinguished family. Although her health is delicate, she has a gentle nature and loves to read. I’m certain that as far as wives go, you couldn’t possibly find anyone more suitable than Lilica.”

“Indeed.” Carlo was too shocked for words, taking a long moment to recover his composure. “Cynthia, are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Cynthia answered with absolute confidence. “Trust me, Carlo, no one loves you more than Lilica.”

She still vividly remembered the news she received just before her death in her past life: Lilica had enlisted in the army solely to avenge Carlo. In Gogolos’s societal worldview, women, especially noble ladies, were strictly forbidden from having anything to do with a male-dominated environment like the military.

Not to mention someone with Lilica’s extremely frail health. She must have loved Carlo to the absolute depths of her soul.

Carlo stood up, pointed in a specific direction, and asked, “Are you certain the person you’re talking about is Lilica? The Lilica who is far more masculine than I am?”

“Young master,” Dell murmured quietly from behind him, offering a tactful reminder. “I imagine neither Miss Cynthia nor Miss Lilica would appreciate hearing you say such things.”

Carlo looked at Dell, who offered him a knowing, shared smile in return.

A sudden, sharp ache rippled through every bone in Carlo’s body, and he slumped defeatedly back onto the sofa. “Never mind, say whatever you want. I am certainly not going to marry Lilica, no matter what.”

“Oh well,” Cynthia said with a helpless shrug as she stood up. “Which room is she staying in? I’ll go check on her.”

Before Carlo could say a word, Dell beat him to it. “Miss Lilica is likely taking her afternoon nap at this hour. Perhaps you could pass the time by reading a book in the study?”

Cynthia glanced at the grandfather clock by the wall. “But it’s already nearly four o’clock.”

Dell’s smile remained flawless. “After all, Miss Lilica’s health is somewhat delicate.”

Though he didn’t quite understand the play, Carlo chimed in anyway. “Right, go read a book for a bit.”

As soon as Cynthia had been escorted away to the study, Carlo turned to Dell and demanded, “What on earth are you playing at? It’s one thing for Cynthia to actually believe Lilica’s health is poor, but why are you doing this?”

Dell offered a sincere suggestion: “Young master, perhaps you should go speak with Miss Lilica first and ask for her perspective? If I had to guess, I’d say Miss Cynthia likely believes more than just the part about Miss Lilica’s poor health.”

Could things possibly get any more absurd?

When Carlo finally caught up with Lilica, he quickly discovered that yes, they certainly could.

“You really had the nerve to make all that up. Since when did you have a favorite poet, and who was it that complained their literature classes always made them fall fast asleep?” Carlo was at a loss for words, reduced to sheer admiration. “I’ve lived this long, but I’ve never been so impressed by anyone. Lilica, take a look at your own arms. Aren’t they thicker than Cynthia’s legs? And you actually had the gall to fake a delicate illness?”

“I didn’t want to lie either, but she said I looked so obedient and cute when I was reading!” Lilica paced frantically around the room, running her hands through her short brown hair until it looked like a bird’s nest. “You have no idea how gentle Sister Cynthia is when she compliments me!”

She wasn’t wearing the long dresses expected of a noble lady. In fact, she wasn’t wearing a dress at all. Instead, she wore trousers and a shirt like a man, complete with heavy cavalry boots on her feet. Her bedroom lacked the vanity table standard in every young woman’s quarters, replaced instead by a workbench outfitted for maintaining weaponry and armor. A two-handed greatsword taller than half a person rested on top of it, flanked by cleaning cloths and bottles of oil.

Meanwhile, her lady-in-waiting was excitedly rummaging through a large trunk. “Perfect! The Count just had a brand-new dress sent over yesterday. There’s no way Miss won’t fit into it this time!”

Carlo didn’t subscribe to traditional notions of privacy regarding women’s clothing and simply sat in a chair, watching Lilica pace the room in a panic. “Seriously, why don’t you just tell her you don’t like those things? It’s not the end of the world.”

“Of course it’s the end of the world!” Lilica’s boots thudded heavily against the floorboards. “That’s Sister Cynthia! The very model of nobility! If she ever saw me looking this wretched, she might as well just kill me.”

Dell sighed from the doorway. “I wonder when the young master will ever care about anything that much.”

“Shut up,” Carlo snapped, pointing a finger at Dell before turning his attention back to the gown the lady-in-waiting was holding up. “Seriously, are you sure you want her to wear that?”

The lady-in-waiting’s expression was one of fanatical devotion. “This is the latest fashion from Gauss! Miss Cynthia is bound to love it!”

“It certainly is popular,” Carlo nodded with a grimace, then added helpfully, “Fiona was wearing that exact style when she arrived today.”

Before the lady-in-waiting could process the words, Lilica snatched the dress out of her hands and hurled it straight out the window.

Almost instantly, a startled shriek rang out from below.

She peered down and realized the timing of the dress’s descent was rather unfortunate. A master and servant happened to be passing right underneath the window. The person walking in front took the full brunt of the heavy gown, their upper body completely covered by the voluminous skirt, leaving only their lower legs and ankles visible.

Lilica pulled her head back with a guilty wince, silently debating whether she should pin the blame entirely on her maid, Tina.

As the master of the estate, Carlo felt obligated to investigate the situation. One glance out the window, however, revealed a major problem: “Isn’t that Ella, the girl who follows Cynthia around, walking right behind her?”

Lilica froze.

Is it too late for me to just faint right now?