Chapter 9: It’s too late to regret.

Golden hair tied back, vibrant golden eyes—his mere presence exudes a divine aura that makes one forget how to breathe.
The noble girls, visibly shaken by the unexpected appearance of a prince, look as though they’d flee if they could—a sight that reminds Violette of her former self.
Everyone admires him; some, perhaps even these girls, might secretly love him.
What could they possibly say, standing before such a figure while painfully aware of their current predicament?
Violette understands their feelings all too well.
As someone who once attacked Maryjune in the same way.
As someone who once harbored feelings for Prince Claudia.
Though, in truth, the love her former self held for Claudia was far from pure.

“What does that raised hand mean? I’m waiting for an answer.”

“W-Well… we, we were…”

Claudia must already know what the raised hand implies—it’s unmistakably the prelude to a slap—yet he asks anyway.
It could be seen as a strong sense of justice or sheer pettiness, but for Claudia, it’s likely a desire to hear the truth directly from the culprit.
For the aggressors, though, it’s akin to a public execution.
Explaining their actions aloud forces a clarity that’s excruciating.
When Violette repented her sins in prison, it was the same—self-reflection can be a terrifying form of self-harm.

“Ah…!”

The noble girls let out strange, choked sounds, struggling to breathe properly, their gasps growing shorter.
Their pitiful state, a far cry from the boldness with which they berated Maryjune, stirs an emotion in Violette—likely just pity.

“Please, that’s enough.”

“Big sister…!”
“Lady Violette…?”

Maryjune and the noble girls widen their eyes in shock, but Claudia’s expression remains unchanged, as if he’d anticipated this.
Only his gaze sharpens further—not quite disgust, but something close to disappointment, tinged with suspicion.

“Violette… what are you playing at?”

“I know I’m overstepping, but they already understand what they’ve done. Further pursuit seems unnecessary.”

Of course, their actions were wrong.
Whether they truly grasp that is… questionable.
Their values, which justify harming someone over their status as a mistress’s child, may not have changed.
But that’s for them to reconcile individually—it’s not Violette’s concern.
Their regret is evident, and pressing further could spark new issues.
At worst, it might deepen their resentment toward Maryjune, leading to even nastier attacks.
And the justification would still be Violette’s name.
Being dragged into such an infuriating mess is the last thing she wants.
What if they assume she’s pulling strings behind the scenes for some grand cause?

“…So, you’re taking their side after all?”

“What…”

“After all”? What does that mean?
Before her unvoiced question reaches Claudia, his piercing gaze, previously fixed on the noble girls, now skewers Violette.

“Manipulating those who admire you to persecute your own family without dirtying your hands… Don’t you think that’s shameful as a person?”

His face twists in displeasure, yet even that expression is beautiful—a testament to his inherent charisma.
His words make Violette realize her worst fears have materialized.
She doesn’t know how Claudia reached this conclusion, but he’s decided she’s the mastermind behind this commotion.
The delay caused by her dress slowing her steps likely contributed.
Indeed, the situation stacks heavily against her: the girls acted “for Violette,” Claudia defended Maryjune, and now Violette is speaking up for the aggressors.

‘I’ve dug my own grave…’

She inwardly curses her thoughtless actions.
With a bit more finesse, this could have been resolved smoothly, but she’s recklessly marched into trouble.
It’s not courage—it’s foolhardiness, a trait she doesn’t possess.
She wants to clutch her head, not at anyone else but at her own actions.
She should’ve at least pretended to side with Maryjune.

“N-No, that’s not true! My sister isn’t someone who’d do such awful things…!”

Her mind races with how to navigate this mess, too preoccupied to notice Maryjune’s expression.
She never expected Maryjune to defend her, let alone challenge the prince of their kingdom.
It’s unexpected but within the realm of possibility.
Even in her first life, when Violette directly harmed her, Maryjune showed mercy.
True to form, she defends Violette now, unchanged in this second life.

“I understand you want to protect your sister, but she—”

Claudia’s eyes soften with concern as he looks at Maryjune.
Despite meeting for the first time, and facing a prince no less, her courageous defense of her sister paints her as a pure, valiant angel.
Yet, strangely, such nobility only works against Violette in this scenario.
Maryjune’s tearful, desperate words highlight her own beauty, while Violette, the one being defended, is increasingly smeared with imagined guilt.
To Claudia, every word Maryjune speaks elevates her, while deepening his contempt for Violette, whom he believes harmed such a noble sister.
Caught between two people complicating matters, Violette finds no opening to intervene.
If this escalates further, and word reaches her father… she doesn’t want to imagine it.
She’d likely endure endless lectures about Maryjune’s pain.
In her first life, she fought back or ignored it, but now she wants to avoid conflict with her family and others.
Obstacles on her peaceful path to the convent are unwelcome.

“My sister is kind…! There must be some reason…”

There’s no reason.
Violette has no motive, nor was she even involved.
If it was going to come to this, she should’ve stayed a bystander, free of misunderstandings.
Digging her own grave—maybe not the exact phrase, but close enough.
She just wants this farce to end.
As if her wish were heard, a warm touch brushes her back.

“Vio-chan, you okay?”