Episode 71

"I like Sonnet.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

The atmosphere softened, growing more congenial as they exchanged secrets.

Ute replied, the smile still lingering on his lips.

“Because we’re close friends.”

“Oh, in that sense.”

Her tousled golden hair brushed the armrest of the sofa.

“You claim to be someone reincarnated.”

“So?”

“She will never truly understand you—not even in a lifetime.”

Her expression was genuinely inquisitive, free of judgment or suspicion.

'There are things I haven’t shared with you either.'

Would there ever be anyone capable of fully understanding ‘Ute Velvet’?

He doubted it. But the thought didn’t weigh heavily on him.

Because—

“She understands more than you think.”

The hand resting on her knee trembled slightly.

Sonnet was unexpectedly gentle. If you held her hand, she’d accept it quietly. If you embraced her, she’d belatedly return the gesture.

“She watches people—closely.”

“What do you mean, ‘closely’?”

“Isn’t that better than mistaking someone for an assassin or spy?”

“I was serious, you know?”

The only reason Ruby sent Sonnet in the first place was because she doubted her identity.

“She kept smiling even after being struck in the head—how could anyone not find that suspicious?”

“Isn’t that just the sad reality of being a working servant?”

“Well… in that sense, I suppose so.”

Ruby sighed and traced the rim of her teacup with her finger.

“How much I debated whether to bribe the newspapers or pay hush money just to cover up the mess caused by Ruby Zephyrite…”

Her rounded nails tapped irritably against the armrest.

The emotion in her golden eyes shifted dozens of times in mere seconds.

“She’s truly trustworthy, isn’t she?”

“She’s easier to trust than I am.”

“But you said it’s only been two years since you met.”

“I’m serious. It’s been over two years.”

Ute recalled the friend who could lie flawlessly before a crowd.

"I believe you."

A voice firm and without embellishment.

Sonnet believed in Ute.

So how could Ute not believe in Sonnet?

“She’s someone very precious to me.”

“…”

“If Sonnet says she’ll do something, she will. She’s discreet… though occasionally she fibs a little.”

“Is she really trustworthy?”

“We usually call that diplomacy. She doesn’t deceive others.”

“…”

“I mean it. And even if you keep doubting her… right now, we need all the help we can get. Even a cat’s paw.”

“You’re right.”

A scandalous heiress with money.

Worst reputation, worst timing, worst odds.

'There are barely any tools available to work with.'

In the original narrative, she staggered through failure after failure.

'It took her over a year to even establish her foundation.'

Ute had no intention of waiting that long.

None whatsoever.

“Are you going to keep speaking so formally? You know everything now, so relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re not distancing yourself, are you?”

“It would be risky to slip up. For both our sakes.”

“Fair enough.”

Ruby, who had been playing coy, accepted that without resistance.

His clear green eyes wandered briefly into empty space.

“Anyway, if you say Sonnet’s reliable, I won’t worry too much.”

"Confide in her with anything you'd like.”

“Should I tell her you’re possessed?”

“…”

“Hey! I won’t say a word! Do you think I have no sense of propriety?”

Ruby’s shoulders quivered as she scolded his poor taste in humor.

But Ute’s mind had already drifted.

'I suppose I’ll end up telling her eventually.'

Even if not of his own accord—if Sonnet asked, he wouldn’t be able to lie.

Unless he chose silence altogether.

“But why are you helping me?”

“Pardon?”

“No one grants a favor without a reason.”

“I like being kind for no reason. I’m a kind person.”

His rose-tinted lips curved into something both self-deprecating and helpless.

Then he continued.

“Though, I do have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh?”

“I want to see a happy ending.”

“Huh?”

“An easy, swift one—with no messy aftermath.”

---

“—So, we decided to divide the roles.”

Instead of a tea set, the large table was now cluttered with white paper.

Ute held a pen, sketching small diagrams and illustrations.

“The young lady will focus on her studies. Meanwhile, we’ll handle the business affairs.”

We’d already discussed entering commerce some time ago.

When our eyes met, Ute gave a wink and raised a brow slightly.

'He hasn’t told her everything.'

For instance, that Ruby Zephyrite wasn’t a third-rate villainess, but the true protagonist.

“I’ll handle the business side, don’t worry! I’ll make sure your commission is respectable.”

“Before that. Have you ever run a business before, young lady?”

“No.”

“Studied anything related?”

“Not at all! I always nodded off when numbers were mentioned. I couldn’t make sense of them.”

Ah, interesting??

That old, creeping anxiety made its return at her cheerful response.

"Don’t worry too much, my dear daughter. Do you really think we’d let our mouths grow cobwebs?"

We were on the brink of destitution.

…Business fever really ought to be classified as a public health hazard.

“One wrong step, and the family could collapse, young lady.”

“You don’t need to worry so much! I already know what the future holds!”

“…”

“There’s a dress that’ll be in vogue either next year or the year after. If we lock down the design now…”

Blue ink flowed easily over the paper.

A dress with striking lines and detailed patterns—

“That’s already on the market.”

“That can’t be right! I swear on all the romance fantasy novels I’ve read!”

I’d visited every boutique in the capital with the draft. There was no way I’d miss it.

'Countess Edwell came out with that design ages ago.'

It was so popular that half the dresses in high-end shops already followed that trend.

“Well, that one’s done. Next.”

“How did it already—ugh. Fine. If that won’t work, I’ve got another idea for the north—”

This plan, at least, sounded more practical than the fashion one.

“But first! We need a fake identity.”

“…Why?”

“If we launch a business under the name Ruby Zephyrite, no one will buy from us. We also need to establish a secret fund.”

“Precisely. I heard there’s an informant who forges identities.”

“Where?”

“Well, the details were vague in the original… But he has a deep voice and dark skin.”

“You never know. You might just stumble across him in the next six months.”

Ute added the comment lightly—almost as a joke.

'That's probably not a joke.'

The protagonist will coincidentally meet the informant six months later.

'That’s too much time.'

“Let’s reach out to some contacts I know.”

“You know informants?”

“Just the channels.”

“Are you sure you’re not an assassin or spy?”

She muttered under her breath and cast a sidelong glance at Ute.

'What nonsense.'

She really needs to stop reading so many novels.

---

“You—! You…!”

The moment I opened the bakery door, I came face to face with an unexpected figure.

That vibrant red hair was now entirely familiar.

“Where have you been? You didn’t come to the clock tower for New Year’s. They said you quit your job at the Count’s estate!”

“You visited the Count’s residence?”

“When I found you weren’t there, I—do you know how far I’d planned to go—?”

“Why?”

The man who called my mother ‘Lily.’

The merchant who traded three questions for cryptic petals.

I should have severed all business ties with him long ago…

“Is it because of my mother?”

“That’s not it.”

“I’m just out on an errand. So, goodbye.”

“Wait…!”

Why did his eyes look like that?

'Did he get sentimental about my mother again?'

Even if he did, it didn’t matter.

Because I’m not her.

The man—his lips cracked and dry—spoke hurriedly.

“Just answer me one thing. Are you doing alright?”

“I served in the military.”

“…The military?”

While he stood frozen, I walked to the counter.

The shop assistant, who had been discreetly observing us, smiled as if nothing had happened.

“Welcome. All our cakes are sold out. Would you like some cookies instead?”

“Not that. This.”

A red-haired woman.

Still the same.

I handed her the envelope the young lady had prepared.

“Please deliver this to the person most deserving of a blue ribbon.”

“There’s no such person in this bakery.”

“No such person?”

“No, there isn’t.”

Since when?

But questioning further seemed pointless.

'Should I ask Ute?'

As I stepped out of the bakery, a silky voice drifted into my ears.

“Can’t find them?”

“Why are you still here?”

“It’s smart to update ones passwords regularly.”

His sly eyes creased into a pleasant smile.

“Curious to know what it is?”

“What do you want?”

The man who once traded a pittance for five answers replied without a hint of irony.

“Become my daughter.”

---

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