Chapter 12: The Forgiven and the Unforgiven.

Even after returning home, her parents said nothing about the incident.
Just like in her first life, it seems Maryjune didn’t report anything.
Back then, that silence was just another source of irritation, but this time, Violette is grateful.
After all, this commotion was entirely outside her control, completely unrelated to her.
She shouldn’t have been involved in anything worth reporting, but what Maryjune thinks about it is unclear.
At the very least, she probably doesn’t see Violette as uninvolved.
Thanks to Yuran, she escaped the scene, but how Maryjune—and, incidentally, the prince—perceives her now is a mystery.
Honestly, she doesn’t want to know; it’s unlikely to be anything good.

But something has changed since that day.

“…Big sister!”

“…Maryjune.”

For some reason, her half-sister has started talking to her frequently.
No… in her first life, Maryjune did try to connect with her to some extent.
But Violette ignored her every attempt, sometimes even lashing out, so their distance only grew.
As the only two sisters, Violette can understand Maryjune’s wish to build a good relationship.

“Good morning!”

“…Good morning.”

“It’s nice weather today, too. Perfect for basking in the sun!”

“I see.”

Maryjune stands beside her, her cheerful smile radiating the warmth of the sunlight she describes.
She seems unfazed by Violette’s curt responses, perhaps not even noticing them.
Unaware that her persistence is wearing Violette down.

‘…This is exhausting.’

Violette knows Maryjune’s kindness all too well, but that smile only brings an undeniable sense of fatigue.
She keeps her responses minimal, hoping to end the conversation quickly, yet Maryjune continues undeterred.
Violette recalls how cautious Maryjune was in her first life, but back then, the failure to connect was entirely Violette’s fault.
It’s only natural that a change in Violette’s attitude would alter Maryjune’s behavior.
What a miscalculation.
She thought staying uninvolved would keep things simple, but it’s not that easy.
Ignoring Maryjune like before could lead to trouble.
Hurting her isn’t Violette’s intention, and if word reached their father, who knows what he’d say?
Just imagining it amplifies the exhaustion she’s already feeling.

“Lady Violette, Lady Maryjune, pardon the interruption.”

“Marin, good morning!”

“Good morning.”

Marin’s impeccable bow is the epitome of a proper servant, but it seems less warm toward Maryjune than toward Violette.
Marin’s face rarely shows emotion—joy is absent, but so are sorrow or anger.
Perhaps it’s the stark contrast with Maryjune’s radiant smile that makes it stand out.

“Breakfast is ready, so I came to fetch you…”

Marin always checks on Violette’s morning routine, helps her dress, then prepares breakfast.
Violette has suggested splitting the workload multiple times, but Marin has never agreed.
She insists on handling everything related to Violette, convincing her to relent long ago.
Normally, Marin’s arrival would mean being led to the dining room.
That was the pattern until recently.
It changed after Maryjune’s social debut.
Despite Violette’s efforts to avoid her—leaving her room early to dodge Marin’s summons, for instance—none worked.
Today’s attempt is clearly futile, as the current situation shows.

“Sorry, I was a bit early.”

“No, I apologize for being late.”

Marin likely understands Violette’s plan and its failure.
Her tone softens, her expression warms—unlike the indifference she showed Maryjune—and it eases Violette’s fatigue, though not entirely, since the source of it stands right there.

“What’s for breakfast today?”

“I only handle Lady Violette’s breakfast, so I wouldn’t know. My apologies.”

“Oh, right! Big sister’s meals are always a little different from ours!”

To Violette, the shift in Marin’s demeanor is obvious, but Maryjune, with little interaction with her, doesn’t notice.
Marin’s response sounds fine on the surface, but its cold detachment makes Violette nervous.
To Marin, Maryjune is an enemy who harms her beloved mistress, but to Violette, she’s the duke’s second daughter.
If Maryjune took issue with Marin’s attitude, Violette, powerless in this household, couldn’t protect her.

“…It’d be nice if we could all eat the same thing, don’t you think, big sister?”

A small prick, like a needle’s sting, leaves no visible wound.
Maryjune’s downcast eyes and hands covering her mouth only highlight her natural charm.

“But I guess it can’t be helped! Everyone has their own tastes, after all.”

A kind, honest girl, raised to be pure and straightforward.
Her words—wishing for a shared meal, accepting it won’t happen—are genuine.
She doesn’t actually want to change Violette’s meals; she just truly believes it would make their family time even better.

But that honesty feels unrelentingly cruel.

“…”

“…Lady Violette, shall we go?”

“…Yes, thank you.”

Violette tightly grips Marin’s offered hand.
She tries to smile, but Marin doesn’t return it.
Reassuring herself silently that she’s fine doesn’t reach anyone.
Unable to say it aloud, she can only nod along as Maryjune changes the topic.

It’s fine. She’s not hurt. There’s no need to be.

Maryjune’s pure belief in family harmony is almost laughable, but Violette isn’t naive enough to overreact to words that aren’t meant to harm.
In her first life, she’d have slapped her by now, so she understands Marin’s concern.
But those fragile, sensitive, troublesome emotions were left behind in that cell.

‘…I knew this already.’

She’s known it forever, even before her first life’s failures.
What she once raged against, unable to accept, she now takes in stride.

‘She’s allowed.’

Maryjune is permitted to voice her thoughts, her wishes.
She probably believes, unconsciously, that speaking them will make them come true.
If growing up with every wish granted made her this pure, it explains why Violette became so warped.

She knows wishes don’t come true.
Words don’t reach anyone.
Even wanting is futile.
It’s always been that way, so there’s no point in being disappointed by what won’t happen.

It’s surprising it took a life’s reset to accept that futility.
She suspected it all along, but her youthful recklessness caused too much damage.
If this recurring regret is her punishment, it’s brutally effective.
It feels like a meticulous lecture on how meaningless and worthless her past actions were.

“…Lady Violette, if you’d like, I can bring breakfast to your room.”

“Thank you, Marin… but I’m fine.”

Her soft whisper carries a sad tone.
The offer is tempting—almost irresistible—but the aftermath would be too troublesome.
Maryjune’s persistence is one thing, but dealing with her father would be worse.

“You prepared a delicious breakfast today, didn’t you? I’m looking forward to it.”

Violette’s menu is distinct, subtly tailored by Marin’s care.
Smaller portions, swapped-out dislikes for favorites, charming presentations.
Until recently, Violette ate all three meals alone, so Marin ensured her beloved mistress felt less lonely.

“…Yes, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“Heh, I’ll have to thank the chef too.”

The food itself is blameless.
No matter how stifling that dining room feels, everything moves forward without her.
All Violette can do is play her part as a prop in her father’s cherished family harmony—for Maryjune’s sake.
Eat quietly, watch the smiling trio, and that’s enough.

“Big sister, let’s hurry!”

“Yes, I’m coming.”

Responding to Maryjune’s beckoning from a slight distance, Violette’s steps remain steady.
With each step, her heart empties, and to distract herself, she imagines today’s breakfast.