Iris returned with a steaming bucket of hot water, and the small, tin bathtub was quickly prepared. The bath was a luxury this body hadn't experienced often. The original Silvie's memories were full of cold, brisk washes with a cloth.
After I was clean, and after I'd spent a solid five minutes just staring at the new, vibrant `MP: 50/50` bar in my status window, Iris helped me dress.
We weren't going to any more parties. The dress she pulled from the wardrobe was a simple, dark-blue traveling frock. It was durable, practical, and utterly plain. The dress of a destitute baron's daughter who was being politely (and quickly) "escorted" out of the capital.
"There you are, my lady," Iris said, fastening the last button on the back. "Shall I fetch you a roll and some cheese from the kitchen?"
A growl from my stomach answered for me. I'd fallen asleep before dinner and just spent what felt like two days fighting for my life in a magic dungeon. I was starving.
"Yes, please, Iris. That would be..."
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.
It wasn't a polite tap. It was a sharp, authoritative, expensive-sounding knock on the thin front door of our rented townhouse.
Iris and I both froze.
Iris looked at me, her eyes wide with a new kind of nervousness. "Who... who could that be? The Baroness is still asleep..."
"I... I don't know," I lied. My first thought was 'The Marquis's guards are here to arrest me.' My new `[Deceive]` skill was already itching to be used.
"Stay here, my lady!" Iris whispered, and she scurried out of the room and down the small staircase.
I heard the front door creak open, followed by Iris's high-pitched, stammering squeak.
"L-L-Lady... Lady Amaryllis?! My apologies, we... we weren't expecting..."
"Is she here?" a cold, familiar voice cut through Iris's panic.
"Y-Yes! She's just upstairs, dressing, I..."
The sound of determined, expensive-leather-booted footsteps on the wooden stairs. Iris was following uselessly behind. "My lady, please, you can't just..."
My bedroom door was pushed open.
Amaryllis von Weissberg stood in the doorway, looking as pristine and perfect as a porcelain doll. She was dressed in a stunning, midnight-blue velvet riding habit, her snow-white hair tied back with a silk ribbon. She looked like she was worth more than my entire family's (non-existent) estate.
Behind her, her maid, Marta, hovered, looking like she wanted to be swallowed by the floor. Iris was right behind her, pale as a sheet.
This was a shocking breach of etiquette. A Duke's daughter, unannounced, in a "lesser" noble's private bedroom.
I had to play my part. I immediately sank into the "Useless Sidekick" curtsy, my head bowed.
`[Skill: [Deceive (E-Rank)] activated.]`
"Lady Amaryllis," I said, my voice full of the appropriate awe and confusion. "What an unexpected honor. Please, forgive my appearance..."
Amaryllis looked at me, her ruby eyes sharp. She looked at my simple, cheap traveling dress. She looked at my tiny, sparse room. Her gaze was unreadable.
"Marta. Iris," she said, her voice sharp. "Leave us."
"My lady!" both maids said in unison, shocked.
"Now."
Iris looked at me, I gave her the tiniest, most pathetic "it's okay" nod, and she and Marta reluctantly backed out of the room, pulling the door almost closed.
The room was silent. I remained in my deep, subservient curtsy.
"Stop that," Amaryllis finally snapped.
I rose slowly.
"It's nauseating," she said.
"My apologies, my lady," I said, keeping my eyes respectfully lowered.
"I heard you are leaving the capital today," she stated. It wasn't a question.
So, the Duke was furious. He must have had a "chat" with my pathetic father, and now the Briar family was being unceremoniously booted. Yesterday's "incident" was being swept under the rug.
"Yes, my lady. My mother wishes to return to our estate."
Amaryllis stared at me, her expression a mix of contempt and... something else. Something I couldn't place.
"You're an idiot, Silvie Briar," she said, her voice low.
I blinked. "My lady?"
"You assaulted the heir of a Marquis. With a rock." She took a step closer. "For me."
I didn't say anything. I just let her stare, my "Useless Sidekick" mask firmly in place.
With a frustrated huff, Amaryllis reached into a small, velvet pouch on her belt. She pulled out a small, ornate porcelain jar, carved with a silver rose.
She shoved it at me. I fumbled, catching it in my hands. It was cold to the touch.
"What is this, my lady?"
"For your hands," she said, clipping the words. "From the gravel. I saw the cuts yesterday."
I looked down at my hands. The `[LEVEL 4]`-up had healed the scrapes, but she wasn't to know that.
"I..."
"Don't mistake this," she interrupted, her cheeks tinged with the faintest pink. "It's not a gift. It's a payment. The House of Weissberg does not incur debts, especially not to... to you. Now we are even. Do not speak of this again. And do not... ever... call me your friend again. Is that clear?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She spun on her heel and marched out of the room, her maid and Iris scrambling to follow in her wake.
I was left alone, holding the small, cold jar.
A ping appeared in my vision.
`[ITEM ACQUIRED: 'High-Grade Healing Salve' (B-Rank)]`
> Effect: Instantly restores 100 HP. Cures all basic status effects (Poison, Bleed).
'This is useful.' I thought to myself.
`[TARGET: Amaryllis von Weissberg - TRUST: 15 (Intrigued)]`
`[TARGET: Amaryllis von Weissberg - AFFECTION: 10 (Clinical Tsundere)]`
I looked at the jar, then at the notification. My internal smirk was back, wider than ever.
"So," I said to the empty room. "She does care."
This was going to be even more fun than I thought.
The journey home was a miserable, two-day affair in a cramped, rattling carriage.
We had, of course, been politely kicked out of the capital. Baroness Clarisse Briar, with her face a mask of cold, noble pride, had informed Iris and me that my father had "concluded his business early" and "requested" our immediate return to the family estate.
I knew a lie when I heard one. This was the Duke of Weissberg's "mercy." By assaulting the Marquis's son, I had committed a grave social crime. Instead of having me (a seven-year-old) formally punished, he was simply... erasing us. Sweeping the entire, embarrassing incident under the rug by banishing the Briar family from Elusia.
When we finally rumbled up the overgrown, weed-choked path to the Briar estate, I understood just how "destitute" we were.
The "estate" was a joke. It was a crumbling, two-story stone house with a patched roof, several boarded-up windows, and a front door whose blue paint was almost entirely peeled away. It was, in every sense of the word, a dump.
`[Long-Term Campaign Quest Updated: 'THE IRON'S VOW']`
`[Objective: Rebuild House Briar (Current Status: GARBAGE FIRE)]`
'Thanks for the update, System. Super helpful.'
My mother, Clarisse, stepped out of the carriage first, her face ashen. She looked at her "home" with a familiar, bone-deep weariness. I hopped out after her, my Level 12 body feeling light and energetic, a stark contrast to the bleak surroundings.
Before we could even knock, the peeling front door creaked open.
A man stood there, silhouetted in the dim hallway. He was handsome, I supposed, in a weak-chinned, sleazy sort of way. His brown hair was artfully messy, and his hazel eyes held a look of practiced, breezy charm. This was Baron Theodore Briar.
"I have been waiting for you two," he said, smiling as if we were returning from a pleasant holiday. "Clarisse, meet Marie."
A woman stepped out from behind him, moving to his side with a proprietary air. She was pretty, buxom, with rich, honey-blonde hair and warm, simple brown eyes. Her dress of fine silk was entirely too flashy for this crumbling estate, and she looked at my mother with a mixture of pity and smug triumph.
`[TARGETS IDENTIFIED]`
> Name: Theodore Briar (Useless Father)
> Name: Marie (The Mistress)
My mother's hand, resting on my shoulder, gripped me so tightly her nails dug in.
"Theodore," Clarisse's voice was deathly quiet. "What is this?"
"Now, now, Clarisse, no need for that tone," Theodore said with an easy wave of his hand. "Marie has been... a great comfort to me. And there are some others I'd like you to meet."
He turned and gestured into the house. "Silvie, let me introduce your brothers to you."
Two small boys emerged from the shadows to stand by Marie.
The first, a stocky boy about a year older than me, held a scuffed wooden sword. He was the spitting image of his father, with the same messy brown hair and confident, challenging hazel eyes.
The second boy was a year younger, small and thin, with his mother's honey-blonde hair and wide, nervous brown eyes. He was hiding behind Marie's skirt, clutching a thick, leather-bound book to his chest.
`[TARGETS IDENTIFIED]`
> Name: Gideon Briar (The Brute Heir) - Lv. 3
> Name: Thomas Briar (The Brainy Spare) - Lv. 1
"This is Gideon, and this is Thomas," Marie said, her voice cloyingly sweet as she pushed the younger boy forward. "Thomas, stop hiding! You must be strong and brave, like your big brother! He's already a wonderful swordsman, you know."
Thomas flinched and just tried to hide himself more. The "brute" heir, Gideon, just puffed out his chest and tapped his wooden sword against his leg.
My mother's composure finally, visibly, broke. The color drained from her face, and her hand fell from my shoulder. She stared at Theodore, her eyes burning with a cold, betrayed fury.
"So this is why you left Elusia before us," she whispered. "You didn't just 'conclude your business.' You ran home to install your... *family*... in my house."
"Our house, my dear," Theodore corrected, his smile not wavering. "Our house. And I'm the Baron. I need an heir. Gideon, here, is a fine, strong lad. And Thomas... well, he has his mother's brains, at least."
I stood there, silent. My `[Loyalty of a Knight]` trait, which was supposed to be for Amaryllis, was practically vibrating with a new, protective rage aimed at my mother.
This was my "family." A cheating, bankrupt father. A smug mistress. A bratty half-brother with a sword complex, and a terrified younger half-brother who was clearly in his own personal hell.
This wasn't just a house. It was a snake pit.
I looked at my mother's trembling, white-knuckled fists.
Then I thought of the `[Warden's Spear Tip (C-Rank Material)]` sitting in my inventory. It was worth a fortune. Enough to buy this entire "estate" ten times over.
'Right,' I thought, my internal smirk back in full force. 'Forget rebuilding. It's time for a hostile takeover.'