A Villainess pulled out the Sword instead of the Hero.

 

Well, Duke Fay was absolutely right. 

 

Manners don’t exist in Morgana’s memories.

 

Perhaps learning some aristocratic manners would come in handy later in Britain?

 

Morgana curtsied appropriately, remembering to look up some relevant books as soon as she was out, and then left the office.

 

When she returned to her room. For some reason, the servants were huddled and fidgeting in front of her room.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“Lady!”

 

Morgana asked, and Olia stepped out of the crowd of maids.

 

Olia shuffled her feet and said, “They’re moving your room all of a sudden, and the servants from the Duke’s orders are removing the furniture!”

 Are they trying to lock me in a room worse than before? 

Morgana asked as she saw a familiar-looking servant taking a dresser away from a group of maids who cast worried glances at her.

 

“Where are they taking these things?”

 

“Ah, Miss Morgana, congratulations!”

 

I recognized the servant because she often brought tea leaves.

 

The servant looked gaunt with exertion as she offered her congratulations.

 

“The Duke wants you to move to the south wing!”

 

“The south wing? The south building?”

 

Olia reacted before Morgana did.

 

She even clapped her hands in glee.

 

“Congratulations, young lady, it looks like the Duke is finally going to give you a proper room!”

 

It was definitely better, but I wasn’t very pleased with it.

 

Farther back in the annex was the south wing.

 

If I wanted to find herbs, I’d have to go through behind the annex, which meant more hassle.

 

But Olia was too excited for me to refute.

 

Before the group had finished carrying the luggage, Olia’s face lit up once again.

 

The Duke of Fay followed suit and spoke, “To roam the grounds of the Fay family looking less than a servant is to devalue one’s power. I’ll make it more appropriate for you, but you should forget about the succession ceremony.”

 

After the letter was delivered, an attendant emerged from the boutique and salon as if she had been waiting for them, and handed Olia a catalog.

 

Morgana couldn’t actually read the staff’s faces.

 

Olia quietly approached and whispered,  “I’ll take your measurements when I’m done organizing!”

 

Apparently, she was going to take my measurements, something the seamstress would normally do herself.

 

‘They’re being so careful, in case word gets out that I’m an illegitimate child.’

 

Morgana’s room was in the corner of the annex, and the relocated south wing was no different.

Morgana flipped through a catalog of dresses and jewelry with disinterest.

 

‘Doesn’t it mean I will owe the Duke of Fay a debt for this, or that I will have to listen to him afterward since he has given me this much?’

 

Or perhaps family honor matters to him greatly.

 

It was puzzling to see him suddenly being so nice.

 

What honor would fall for handling servants in shabby clothes?

 

Morgana couldn’t comprehend this, even if she thought about it a hundred times.

 

As if she didn’t have plenty of stuff already, her new room was quickly organized.

 

But before she could rest, an unexpected visitor arrived.

 “Why is she here?” 

A slightly high-pitched, irritated voice crackled.

 

Morgause swiveled in the direction of the sound and found herself looking around the organized room in disbelief.

 

As if she hadn’t seen it coming, she glanced at a rather clunky bookcase.

 

“Where the hell did you get this trash?”

 

“That, that’s…”

 

“It’s poorly finished, and it’s obviously cheap, just like you.”

 

It was a blatant jab at Morgana.

 

Sitting on the bed, Morgana smirked,  “Damy’s dad made it.”

 

“Who’s she?”  (Morgause)

 

“The maid. The one next to sister right now.”

 

Morgause turned her head with a startled gasp.

 

Beside her, a plain, unremarkable, featureless maid clutched her apron tightly and hunched her head.

 

Morgana answered in a soft voice as if she were telling a story of her own.

 

“Her father is a carpenter.”

 

Even though she was telling the truth, Damy’s head was bowed even lower, unable to lift it.

Morgana sat down on the bed and leisurely straightened her dress.

 

“She wanted to buy her dad something, but didn’t have any money, so I got this from her instead.”

 

There’s no need to say its tea leaves.

 

Morgause would be even more outraged if she realized Morgana was selling tea leaves.

 

Morgause furrowed her brow and replied, “What kind of furniture store is this? You don’t think they’re bringing in something out of nowhere, do you?”

 

“A small shop on the outskirts of the royal capital.”

 

A furniture store with no name would be the last place you’d expect to find someone so broke that they’d give you furniture instead.

 

Morgause, who had been raised among the aristocracy, would never see that.

 

It was just a shoddy piece of furniture for a person who used the finest of everything.

 

“Somehow…. I always knew you were unsophisticated, but I didn’t expect you to bring in furniture that even resembles yourself.”

 

So far, Morgause’s criticism hasn’t really hurt Morgana.

 

The idea of Morgana atoning for what she did in the original story was greater.

 

But this time, it was different.

 

‘I knew the Duke of Faye had gotten screwed over, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.’

 

This family has no luck.

 

Morgana didn’t grow up rich, either. The only thing she had in possession was her life itself.

 

She also wanted to hear things such as,

‘My daughter, you did well,’

so she worked various part-time jobs to save money.

 

I held out hope and believed that we would see each other more often once we were financially stable.

 

Sometimes I wasn’t sure if it was the right path, but I was bound by the word family, and I worked hard to give back.

 

Without a foundation to build on.

 

But Damy’s father was different. He didn’t just accept favors for free, he paid for them.

It wasn’t about the money.

 

He wanted to protect his family because it was beautiful.

 

That’s why he gave furniture in exchange instead of the money Morgana was saving for her exile in Britain.

 

Morgause’s normally mocking remark made Damy’s head drop lower and lower.

 

Something dripped, and a clear drop pooled on the floor.

 

She quickly wiped her eyes with her hand, and it was clear she was crying.

 

Morgana turned to Morgause and spoke sternly, “Sister, will you please apologize?”

 

“Who? Me to you?” (Morgause)

 

“Not to me, to Damy, who is beside you sister.”

 

Morgause’s brow furrowed as she was told to apologize to the maid.

 

She glanced around, and Damy immediately shook her head in disbelief.

 

“Oh, no, it’s all right.”

 

There was no such thing as a noble apologizing to a maid.

 

It was a violation of aristocratic dignity.

 

That’s what the Fay family had been taught, and that’s what they believed, having been raised as nobles among the aristocracy for so long.

 

That may have been the meaning of Duke Fay’s attempt to maintain a minimum of dignity while not accepting Morgan.

 

Morgause snorted, “Don’t you think you have more to apologize to me for?”

 

“This is between the two of us. What did Damy ever do to you? She just gave me some furniture when I told her to.”

 

“That…!”

 

Morgause shut her mouth, speechless.

 

But Morgana’s voice was stern, with a grim expression.

 

“I suppose it’s a Fay’s trait to disrespect the efforts of others like this. Growing up on the streets, I never knew.”

Morgause spun around to look at the servants standing around them.

 

Damy was fighting back tears, and the servants were carefully avoiding her gaze.

 

Although she could not speak, the coldness in the air was unwelcoming Morgause.

 

Biting her lip, Morgause whirled on them, and shouted, “I’ll tell my father that you’re trying to change the residence on your own terms.”

 

“Whatever. The Duke gave me this room anyway.”

 

Morgana smiled and waved at Morgause as she turned to leave.

 

Yeah, get out of here!

 Bang—! 

A slamming door echoed through the room. 

 

A very short silence followed.

 

Everyone’s eyes were subtly turning to Damy. The anguish of Morgana trying to comfort Damy and letting her go was palpable.

 

Feeling more comfortable, Damy blurted out, “Tha–, thank you. Miss…”

 

Tears trickled from her eyes, too afraid to speak.

 

Given Morgause’s behavior, it was painfully obvious how she would have treated someone even if it wasn’t Morgana.