Chapter 16: Is she a succubus?

Her heart skipped. Celis’s steps grew more erratic.

She truly wasn’t noble-born. Etiquette and dance—she’d barely begun. No match for true aristocrats.

What shocked her: such a small flaw, spotted by Belin.

“Marquess Vanessa, born to the Greiro family. Mastered court etiquette and dance from childhood. These steps shouldn’t be so clumsy.”

“And your personality… completely unlike the rumored Marquess Vanessa.”

Belin’s eyes narrowed, as if seeing through everything.

Celis played dumb.

“Huh? What do you mean? I am Marquess Vanessa.”

Belin scanned her up and down. Long silence. Then a sigh.

“No wonder you rejected Duke Nora so easily. If I weren’t Belin, I might choose the same.”

Music ended. Belin released her hand without giving Celis a chance to speak. Turned and left the floor.

A few steps, she paused. Glanced back.

“If you don’t want your identity exposed, stay away from Nora. She’s… rude, but sharp at reading people.”

Saying “rude,” Belin recalled earlier events. Smiled.

“Your smile… is really beautiful.”

The sudden praise stopped Belin’s breath. Cheeks flushed. Under Celis’s puzzled gaze, she shot a shy glare and fled the floor.

…Shy?

Celis didn’t understand these noble ladies.

After Belin left, she exited the floor too. Instinctively glanced at Nora’s spot.

By chance, Nora looked over. Their eyes met.

Raising her wine glass, Nora smiled faintly. Eyes brighter.

To Celis, that smile held a hint of inevitability.

Sometimes, too much charm was trouble.

If she were truly Vanessa, she might chat with Nora. But now—she just wanted to endure the soirée quietly.

Quickly averting gaze, she returned to the hall’s corner.

Perhaps the goddess heard her wish. No one approached after. She stayed in the shadowed corner until the end.

As the crowd thinned, she exhaled. Followed them out.

Unseen by her, at the hall entrance, Nora watched her back. Wine glass reflecting moonlight.

“Miss, stop staring. She’s gone.”

Jenny found her, snapping her from reverie.

Nora swirled her wine. Then, as if struck by thought, smiled.

“Marquess Vanessa… didn’t you notice? She’s different from other noble ladies. Stunning, yet hates showing off.”

“Different or not, she doesn’t like you, miss.”

Wine stopped swirling. Nora clutched her chest.

It hurt—like a knife through the heart.

“…Who says?”

“She rejected your invitation.”

“Because she hates being the center of attention.”

Nora laughed. Confidence returned.

“You lack observation, Jenny. From the moment she entered, she sat alone in the corner. No desire for disturbance. Not even networking.”

“The rumored Vanessa wouldn’t act so. Two possibilities: one, rumors are false. Two—she isn’t Vanessa. And I…”

Draining her wine, eyes blazing.

“Lean toward the second. Impersonating Vanessa—she has a reason. After rejecting me, I didn’t pursue. She’ll understand my intent.”

“…I think you’re overthinking, miss.”

Jenny facepalmed. Her lady was obsessed.

Just a pretty noble girl. Her usually rational miss—why so enchanted?

They barely interacted!

“Overthinking? Ask Belin.”

Nora smirked confidently.

She had watched Belin and the girl dance. Tension clear.

At parting, Belin glared at her. Their relationship likely worsened post-dance.

If the girl had secrets, Belin would spill.

…

“I don’t know what you mean. She is Marquess Vanessa.”

Belin’s answer. Nora raised a brow.

“Anything else? If not, I’m leaving.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh. Then we go. Butler.”

Unlike her warm dance-floor self, Belin wouldn’t even look at Nora. Turned, took the butler’s arm, boarded her carriage.

It sped off. Nora fell silent. Jenny huffed at the departing carriage, indignant for her miss.

But she couldn’t fathom: Belin once liked her miss. Why so cold now?

Even… faint hostility?

Could she have fallen for the girl too—rival?

…Haha, joke. What magic did that girl have to enchant them both? A succubus?

“See, miss? She is Vanessa. You overthought.”

Walking into the night, Nora pondered. Then decided.

“I’ll find Marquess Vanessa.”

“Huh?!”

…

Vanessa’s mansion.

“I’m back.”

“How was it? Identity safe?”

On the sofa, Celis recalled Belin. Shook her head firmly.

“No one noticed.”

“Good. Skipping that damn soirée—bliss. Peace for a while.”

Stretching hugely, Vanessa yawned. Pulled a contract from her pocket. Set it on the table.

“Here. Golden Dungeon loan. Sign. Twenty days—it’s yours.”

Taking it, Celis felt a twinge of guilt.

Peace?

She thought of Nora.

Would Marquess Vanessa truly have peace?

…Whatever. Sign first.

She wasn’t Vanessa anyway.