The Calm Before the new member
The whole courtyard echoed with the wails of maids nursing twisted arms and sore bones. I stood tall amidst the chaos, my eyes locked on Elena's pale face, a smirk curling at the corner of my lips.
"This," I said, gesturing at the scene, "is what happens when you lay a hand on my maid. Now imagine what will happen if you even think of going against me." I took a step forward, making her flinch. "From now on, keep your voice—and your eyes—down when you speak to me. Understood?"
Elena's lip quivered. "How dare you, Isla… I-I will tell Mother about this, and then—"
"And then what?" I asked, grabbing her arm hard enough to make her gasp.
"What will your precious mother do, Elena? This mansion—this entire estate—belongs to my father. Just because I've been quiet doesn't mean I'm powerless. I could throw you and your mother out of here like dust off a boot. So before you go crying to her, maybe think about what I'll do first."
I released her arm with a sharp flick, straightened my back with the grace of a poised noblewoman, and strode out of the courtyard. Sasha hurried behind me like a shadow.
Back in my room, I sank into a velvet-cushioned chair, crossing one leg over the other as Sasha stood nearby, gaping at me as though I'd sprouted horns.
Oh no. She's going to ask, isn't she?
And just as expected— "My lady, where did you learn to fight like that?!"
Crap.
I couldn't exactly say, Oh, you know, I was the top student in my high school's MMA program back in my world. I can disarm a man twice my size and pin him to the mat in thirty seconds. Also, I make great ramen.
So I did what any self-respecting transmigrated girl would do.
I lied.
"Sasha," I said grandly, brushing imaginary dust from my sleeve, "I'm Duke Schofield's daughter. Did you really expect anything less from me? I'm capable of things you can't even imagine."
She blinked at me like I'd told her I could fly.
"Now, stop looking like I just defeated a dragon. Go fetch me some pastries, will you?" I added, turning toward a book to avoid further interrogation.
Sasha curtsied and left with a muttered, "Yes, my lady…"
It's been a few days since the Elena Incident, and peace has finally descended upon my life like a warm blanket. Though I had a few run-ins with my stepmother, she's been too busy to even spare me a glance—and that's exactly how I want it.
Today, however, the entire mansion is buzzing like a kicked beehive. Why? Because the prodigal son is returning.
Yes, the long-lost darling of my stepmother—her pride and joy—is finally coming back from the academy after his graduation. The maids are polishing everything twice, flowers are being rearranged every five minutes, and the kitchen smells like a royal banquet is underway. You'd think the Crown Prince himself was visiting.
From what I recall through Isla's memories, this boy—Lord Edward—was sent away when he was just seven. Duke Schofield, apparently hoping to mold him into a "worthy" heir, packed him off to the best academy in the kingdom. Isla never saw him again after that.
Now, with his return, the tension in the household is so thick you could slice it with a butter knife.
Of course, my stepmother is practically glowing. If it were up to her, she'd have crowned her son the next Duke five years ago and danced around the estate in celebration. She sees him as her golden ticket to power, wealth, and influence.
Funny thing, though—Isla once had a little crush on her precious stepbrother. Apparently, he once stopped Elena from beating her up when she was six. Ah, the classic knight-in-shining-armor moment.
Do I care about any of this?
Absolutely not.
All I want is to live my beautiful, peaceful life. As long as they all stay out of my way, I'll stay out of theirs.
Right now, I'm more interested in these divine cake popsicles and the gorgeous flowers blooming in the courtyard. This… this is the life I wanted. No stress. No exams. Just pastries and petals.
Back in my world, when I was buried under a mountain of textbooks, I used to dream of having a steady income, a cozy cottage, a garden full of daisies, and the luxury to eat sweets and fruits every day.
And look at me now.
Transmigrated? Yes. Complaining? Not really.
I finished the last bite of my cake pop and stood to head toward the lake where my picnic basket and Sasha were waiting. But just as I was taking a step forward, my foot caught on a vine hidden in the grass.
I yelped, arms flailing, face first toward a very unfriendly meeting with the ground—
Except I didn't fall.
Instead, I collided nose-first into someone's chest.
"Ow!" I clutched my nose, blinking through the pain.
The stranger held me steady, his grip firm yet gentle. My eyes slowly rose to meet his, and oh dear sweet heavens—who is this man?
Tall, broad-shouldered, effortlessly handsome. His eyes were sharp, and his jawline looked like it was carved by gods with a vengeance. His tunic clung slightly to a body that definitely saw more sword training than pastry eating.
"Are you alright, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth, with a touch of concern.
I nodded stiffly, still rubbing my nose. "Yeah… I mean, yes. I'm fine."
Without another word, I turned and hurried away toward Sasha like my life depended on it. Only she could help me process whatever just happened.
Was that—could that have been…?
Nope.
Not thinking about it.
I need another cake pop.