A Villainess pulled out the Sword instead of the Hero.

 “What can I do?” 

Despite her wistful tone, Morgana’s gaze traveled to a corner of the room.

 

At the end of her gaze lay a sack of tea leaves.

 

Morgana tilted her head in disbelief.

 “That’s too many leaves to throw away.” 

The sack was filled with tea leaves on top and a bunch of similar herbs on the bottom.

 

There was neither the time nor the manpower to prepare enough tea leaves for the Duke’s servants right away.

 

It was a matter of appearances.

 

If they were going to be discarded, it wouldn’t matter what was in them, and the Duke of Fay wasn’t the kind of man to rummage through sacks.

 

‘If the tea is poisoned, why would anyone trust it to drink it?’

 

Fortunately, the plants near the Duke’s residence had dried up.

 

Barton raised an eyebrow, surprised at the number of tea leaves.

 “You had this much on hand? Where on earth did you get…”

(Barton)

 “Would you like a cup? Oh, you would not trust me because I have sinned against the Duke?” “I’ve already tasted it through another servant.”

(Barton)

 

He was far too calm for someone who had come for tea.

 

A strange disparity between his eagerness to get to Morgana’s chambers and the seemingly passive tone of his voice.

 

Barton was described by the servants as quick on his feet and shrewd in his calculations.

 

Now that the herbs they had been buying and selling privately were out in the open, they expected him to be the first to come to them.

 

I didn’t expect him to taste it himself.

 

His sensitivity to rumors and his ability to ride the surrounding currents made him sensitive to changes in business, social circles, and politics.

 

In the original, Morgana makes quick judgment calls to the Duke before she leaps in with a sword.

 

He was one of the few people the Duke of Fay trusted.

 

‘You’re faster with words, then.’

 

Morgana’s eyes widened in surprise.

 “I would have just given it to you if you’d told me. What did you think?” “Well, not that my opinion matters.”

(Barton)

 

He laughed, his slender eyes crinkling effortlessly.

 

It slipped out of him like a slippery slope.

 

His tone was cautious as if he was watching her every move.

 

A man who’d seen enough people to be frayed and battered would only lose credibility if he spoke out of turn.

 

Morgana got straight to the point,

“Don’t you think it’s too good to throw away?” “I don’t think so,”

said Barton.

 “Why don’t you collect it and sell it to another noble family?” 

At her question, Barton’s serpentine, slender eyes flashed.

 “Are you suggesting that I refuse the Duke’s command?”

(Barton)

 “Of course not. You’re having my tea leaves collected.” “They are usually called sold, not collected, and I am not the lady’s aide.”

(Barton)

 “I’m not asking you to sell them under my name.” 

Morgana lifted the teacup as it cooled, sniffing the aroma.

 “I don’t care if it goes out under the Fay family name, I’m not a member of the family anyway.” “It’s not a very impressive potency, and I can’t imagine how much it would sell for.” 

(Barton)

 “If it’s this popular with the servants, it must be commercially viable, right?” “Even if it were. One item isn’t exactly eye-catching.”

(Barton)

 “It’s a start. A foothold to build up expectations.” 

Barton’s response was a blank stare.

 

Though seemingly uninterested, he kept gauging her to see how much she could offer.

 

She was certainly not a pushover.

 

Finally, she set her glass down and spoke.

 “You haven’t forgotten that I’m the only one who inherited the healing powers of the Fay, have you?” “… Do you mean to say you’ll help as a shadow behind the scenes?”

(Barton)

 “If necessary.” 

Barton’s mouth drooped slightly as he spoke.

 

He looked troubled. Morgana’s offer hadn’t hurt the Fay family at all.

 

In Avalon, the House of Fay was a recognized name among royalty and nobility alike, especially since the Oracle favored Britain.

 

They had to prove their usefulness in some way.

 

That’s when a tea bearing Fay’s name appears to have healing qualities.

 

It would help dispel the rumors that had plagued the family recently.

 

‘A new King will be enthroned and crowned, followed by an imprint.’

 

Great. That’s the perfect setup!

 

Not that it mattered, since she was planning to leave before the coronation anyway.

 

After rubbing his chin thoughtfully for a moment, Barton smirked.

 “So, what is it that the young lady wants?”

(Barton)

 “Thirty percent of the proceeds from the sale of the tea leaves.” “That’s less than I thought.”

(Barton)

 “Well, it would be a shame to take more after everything you’ve been through, wouldn’t it?” “If you think about it, 30% is a lot of money.”

(Barton)

 “Well, I’m confident that the talented aide in front of me will take care of that.” 

Barton let out a laughing sigh at her brazen answer.

 

Even at thirty percent, he’d make twice as much selling to the nobility as he would to the servants.

 

A temporary boost to the Fa family was no great loss to Morgana.

 

‘When I leave, the supply will be lost, anyway.’

 

Many of the herbs have leaves that look so much like grass that it’s hard to tell them apart unless they’ve been frayed and battered, like Morgana’s.

 

Morgana waited calmly for Barton’s answer.

 

If the Duke of Fay’s personality was anything indicative, he would object to the mere mention of Morgana’s tea.

 

She had tried to poison him with tea leaves in the past, and it would be disastrous if the tea she was selling were to be poisoned with anything else.

 

Since he didn’t trust Morgana, he probably wouldn’t even try the tea.

 

Not that Barton didn’t know that.

 

He smiled wryly and asked,

“I appreciate your ability, but why are you doing this?” “Well, he’s my only father now, even if he doesn’t seem to like the title.” 

Morgana shook her head bitterly.

 

‘I would rather have the tea.’

 

But I’ll fake it this long so he won’t suspect me.

 

Barton watched her closely, observing her every move and expression.

 

His neck stiffened, and his eyes shifted to stare at Morgana.

 “I see. I suppose I’ll have to ask His Excellency’s permission first, then?”

(Barton)

 “I don’t think he’ll give you permission.” “I thought you dragged me here to ask permission.”

(Barton)

 

So he figured it out, surprisingly or not.

 

Morgana shrugged, not meaning to imply otherwise,

“I figured he’d turn me down a couple of times, I mean, it wouldn’t be easy to persuade him.” “I never used the word persuade.”

(Barton)

 

Barton’s thin lips tilted to one side meanly.

 

He had a snakelike expression that gave him the air of a man who hadn’t done anything but should have.

 

Still maintaining his upright posture, Barton fiddled with the white gloves he wore.

 “All I need is permission, I suppose.”

(Barton)

 

The look, the tone, the conversation. Everything about this seemed unusual.

 

I wasn’t going to stop him if I had to. In fact, I liked it.

 “Is it okay? After all, you’re the aide of the famous Duke of Fay.” “Well, isn’t it boring if everything goes smoothly? It’s so satisfying to handle.” 

I wondered why such a talented man would stay in the Fay family, but it must be his calling.

 

Not really expecting an answer, he walks over to where the sacks are.

 “First, I must report to the Duke that I have collected it, so I will take this sack with me.”

(Barton)

 “Oh, I can deliver them separately.” 

Oh, no. That’s practically weeds!

 

Her heart pounded in her chest in case she was caught, but she tried to remain nonchalant.

 “If I’m going into a nobleman’s house, I want the best of the best.” “Then just post a report, and I’ll send someone back.” 

He grinned, his eyes blinding with pleasure.

 “I look forward to it, my lady.”  [Duke Fay POV]

 

The Duke of Fay’s face was stiffer than usual as he sat in the Marquis’ invitation to the gorgeously illuminated ballroom.

 

Lately, he had been in a strange mood.

 

It had been a while since he’d gotten all the tea leaves back from Morgana.

 

I expected Morgana to get on my nerves once again, but she’s been surprisingly quiet.

 

Maybe she was doing something, but I couldn’t see her because she was holed up in her room.

 

‘I’m getting restless again, not being able to see her.’