Living Up to Your Expectations - Chapter 11

“—Laila, come to my study tonight after dinner.”

At the end of the evening meal, Father suddenly turned his gaze to me and quietly gave that instruction.

How unusual. Even when spoken to in social settings, it’s been months since I’ve been summoned “privately” like this.

For a moment, I glanced at the seat across from me and saw Lilith looking down while smiling with just the corners of her mouth. The angle of her eyes, the tension in her back. Everything about her screamed “according to plan.”

Oh my, how obvious. So, she did tell him. She must have gone crying to him immediately about that matter. How transparent—it really helps me out.

The mansion, wrapped in the silence of night, seemed to quietly seep with tension.

Arriving at Father’s study, I knocked and opened the door.

Upon entering the room, what immediately caught my eye was Father sitting in his heavy armchair, my stepmother standing beside him, and Lilith sitting at the edge of the sofa, pressing a thin handkerchief to her eyes.

Oh my, even tears…?

The same person who had so voraciously devoured cake earlier was now trembling with small shudders in her shoulders, quietly sobbing. She’s like a completely different person from the one I saw just tens of minutes ago.

It’s amusing how she positions herself in the most conspicuous spot while keeping her lashes lowered, drenched in those obviously fake tears. She seems determined to stick to her performance as the “poor heroine.”

I can see right through it all. The clumsy schemes and foolish satisfaction hidden behind those tears.

…Well now, what kind of performance is about to begin?

“I heard from Lilith. It seems you broke something very important to her. Is that true?”

Father’s voice was low and quiet. But his tone suggested my status as the “perpetrator” had been decided from the very beginning.

I tilted my head slightly before speaking calmly.

“Yes, it’s true.”

I have no intention whatsoever of lying. After all, no one has ever been interested in hearing my side of the story anyway.

“Why?! Look how she’s crying. Don’t you feel sorry for Lilith!”

As Father raised his voice with enough force to nearly slam the desk, my stepmother immediately pulled Lilith closer, embracing her shoulder. Her hands were gentle, but her gaze was firmly fixed on me.

Ah, what a magnificent performance. The flow was so perfect it might as well have been scripted. I felt like applauding in my mind.

“Because, Father—”

I took a step forward, narrowing my eyes slightly.

“Lilith was making obvious ‘advances’ toward Dario, my fiancé.”

“Advances…?”

Lilith, who had been looking down, slowly raised her face. Large teardrops traced paths down her cheeks, and her voice trembled like a fragile bell.

“Sister, what are you talking about? I just wanted to get along with my future brother-in-law. As a little sister, as family, what’s wrong with that…?”

Though thoroughly disgusted by her artificial trembling voice, I smiled sweetly.

“Lilith. You’ve always coveted everything I have. My dresses, my hair ornaments, even Mother’s mementos. And now Dario.”

Pausing between words, I slowly approached her.

“But let me make this perfectly clear. I will never give up Dario. Even if you’re my ‘sister,’ if you approach him.”

Narrowing my eyes, I formed a smile with just my lips.

“I’ll keep breaking the things you ‘treasure.'”

In that instant, the atmosphere in the room transformed completely.

My stepmother glared at me as if piercing me with her eyes, while Lilith pressed her trembling shoulders against my stepmother’s chest and sobbed.

“Even though you’re her sister…! How can you say such cruel things? You horrible person!”

My stepmother’s eyes glared at me as if harboring flames. But even that anger seemed somewhat theatrical and laughable. And Father, in the heavy, silent air, stood up.

“Ah, Laila. It seems I’ve spoiled you too much.”

I have no recollection of that.

“You are to be confined to your room. Do not take a single step outside. Reflect on your actions.”

He delivered the verdict calmly, yet with a tone of final judgment. I didn’t avert my eyes for even a moment, accepting his condemning words.

And deep in my heart, I laughed silently. But here, one more performance was needed.

“What?! Father! Please listen to—”

“Silence! Oscar. Take Laila to her room.”

“Understood. My lady, let us go.”

The one who took my arm was Oscar, my butler. Pretending to bite my lip in frustration and anger, I let myself be dragged from the room by Oscar.

“Father! Please listen to me. Father—!”

As we left, I glanced back and saw my stepmother and Lilith—yes, those two standing side by side, smiling with apparent delight.

…How disgraceful. Truly.

With Oscar holding my arm as if dragging me, we returned to my room. As we walked through the hallway, everyone we passed remained silent. Only the sound of footsteps echoed quietly.

The moment the door closed, the world transformed.

It became the quiet backstage dressing room for “our” performance. Without turning around, I asked over my shoulder, quietly:

“How was it? Oscar.”

To my question, he responded in his clear voice:

“Perfect, my lady. Your performance was even more splendid than anticipated.”

His words carried hints of praise. Hearing this, I allowed a small smile to form.

Walking to the armchair in the center of the room, I slowly sat down. Crossing my legs, I rested my chin on the back of my hand, propping my cheek. I quietly savored the lingering atmosphere after the curtain had fallen on our play.

With a faint clink of porcelain, Oscar placed the tea he had brewed before me. The aroma rose. Just as I prefer no sugar added at all, just a single drop of milk. The temperature, the richness of the fragrance, all perfect.

The tea he brews is never too lukewarm nor too hot, always prepared exclusively “for me” alone.

I gently sipped the tea. I felt a faint warmth gradually returning to my chilled heart.

“Oscar’s cold performance of calmly obeying Father’s orders was excellent too.”

“That is thanks to your guidance, my lady.”

He said this quietly, a smile gracing his handsome features.

“Though I cannot compare to Lady Lilith’s ‘instant tears.'”

“Hehe, that’s a natural talent of hers. When it comes to playing the ‘tragic heroine,’ I doubt anyone at the academy could surpass her.”

We exchanged glances and shared a small laugh. But within that laughter, warmth and scorn coexisted strangely perhaps because we are “accomplices.”

The “only audience” and “only ally” in this house.

And tonight too, I found relief in that fact.