Chapter 5: I hope everything goes smoothly.

The meal in her room, arranged by Marin, was somehow deeply comforting and delicious.
It wasn’t a change in seasoning but rather a shift in Violette’s state of mind.
Her father and Maryjune came to check on her, but Marin handled them all, sparing Violette the need to face them.
She had no desire to obediently join the family dinner and be forced to sit through it, so she used the excuse of feeling unwell to stay in her bedroom.
They could have enjoyed their family time without bothering to invite her.

“Lady Violette, a gift of tea sweets from the chef.”

After dinner, as Violette lounged idly on the sofa, Marin returned from stepping out.
In her hand was a white tray, the sweet aroma wafting through the air tickling Violette’s nose.

“Oh? But I’ve already had dessert.”

“They thought you might be tired today… I’ll prepare some tea.”

Having just eaten dinner, her stomach was reasonably full, but the chef clearly knew this.
The sweets, tailored to Violette’s tastes, were crafted smaller than a single bite, with a modest total portion.

“Well… thank you. I’ll have to thank them myself later.”

The sweets on the table before her looked delectable, practically begging to be eaten.
At the same time, their adorable appearance made them almost too charming to touch.
The chefs, considerate of Violette’s fatigue, had put their skill into both flavor and presentation—a natural outcome.

“Heh, I’ll get fat if I’m not careful.”

It was late enough to be called night after dinner.
Most ladies would avoid food, especially sweets, to maintain their figures.
Violette was no exception.
Thinking of the closet full of fitted dresses, keeping her figure was non-negotiable.
But when weighed against the tempting treats before her, the choice was obvious—clearer than day.

“Lady Violette, if anything, you should gain some weight. Not in your bust, but your waist and thighs.”

“Don’t ask for the impossible… It’s not like I chose this figure.”

“Is that a jab at me? I’ll take it as one.”

“No, it’s not!”

In contrast to Violette’s pronounced femininity, Marin’s slender, toned frame lacked those curves.
She made light of it, unbothered and without complaint.
Violette, however, genuinely thought Marin’s physique was ideal.
A full bust and slim waist were indeed feminine and beautiful, but not something one could simply acquire by wishing.
Violette, who had these traits without asking, was undeniably a well-proportioned woman.
But did that always work in her favor?
She’d vehemently deny it.

“Honestly, I know how tough it is for you, so I’m not jealous.”

“…I’m glad you understand me so well.”

Recalling past experiences, she couldn’t help but press a hand to her forehead.
The piercing gazes at social events, the comments and reactions to her striking figure—even when she was too young to understand their meaning, those sticky stares filled her with revulsion.
She’d since learned to cope by blending into the background, avoiding excessive friendliness.
On the surface, she manages flawlessly, and as long as there’s no real harm, what happens behind her back doesn’t matter.
Imagination can’t become reality.

“…She’ll start appearing at those events too, won’t she?”

“…”

“She,” of course, referred to Maryjune.
Violette knew roughly when it would happen—or rather, she remembered.
In her first life, she fiercely opposed it, causing quite a stir, but this time she had no intention of interfering, so it would likely proceed smoothly.
And at that event, Violette would make her first grave mistake.

Pointing at Maryjune, who was chatting amicably with the man Violette admired, she called her the daughter of a lowly harlot.
Armed with nothing but the truth, she wielded her words recklessly, hurting Maryjune on a whim.

‘Just thinking about it gives me a headache…’

Love is blind, as they say, and she was the epitome of that phrase back then.
She directed all her frustrations at Maryjune, believing it her rightful prerogative.
Mistress’s child or not, Maryjune was now the legitimate daughter of the lawful wife, her blood undeniably Varhan.
Whether Violette accepted it or not, Maryjune was the unblemished second daughter of the Varhan Duchy.

‘A little thought would’ve made it obvious… I really did inherit Mother’s blood.’

Like her mother, who devoted her life to a love that went unreturned until the end, Violette carried the same genes.
The talent inherited from her capable father went not to her but to Maryjune.
All Violette had was her father’s captivating beauty and her mother’s obsessive nature.
Even knowing her past, she felt justified in lamenting the unfairness of fate.
Of course, she had no desire to repeat those past mistakes, so these thoughts remained locked in her heart.

“I’ll stay by your side, Lady Violette.”

“…Thank you, but don’t stress yourself too much. Father and the others will handle her affairs, so it’s none of our concern.”

She had no need to vie for her father’s attention or interfere with Maryjune.
But since the events in her memory were problems she herself caused, they weren’t much use now that she’s sworn to do nothing.
While telling Marin it’s irrelevant, Violette knew she’d still have to keep certain things in mind.

“I just hope it all passes without incident…”

Her wish, akin to a prayer to herself, sank quietly into her heart, unheard by anyone else.