Chương 11: Questions Unanswered

Assuming that 'Ara' died with her, there's a likely chance that she's the villain. In all knowledge that she has from the manuscript she wrote in her past life, despite not knowing any details, she can recall not writing a strong villain—there was just no point in it when she never sought to hate anyone and wanted nothing more than a happy ending.

Myra folds her arms, a cunning smirk plastering itself on her face at the thought of not having much trouble. If revenge was what she sought in her past life, Myra has it in her death grip and nothing, absolutely nothing will stand in her way of reaping vengeance's sweetness.

"Are you having pleasant thoughts, my lady? You have a smile on your face," Jen interferes, briefly scattering Myra's thoughts. Myra looks in the mirror quickly to make sure that she isn't making her typical furrowed-eyebrow expression, which promptly shuts anyone up out of fear of being scolded, and instead one of gentleness as a response.

"I'm looking forward to today. There are some things…" Myra hides a sly smirk with her fingers as she steps into her tub filled with warm water. "That I intend to finish by the end of this week," she continues, a dangerous lilt of gentle slyness in her voice.

Her handmaidens exchange quizzical stares, their hands pausing mid-action, just short enough for Myra to not catch onto their doubtfulness.

Myra, especially calm this morning, lets out a sigh of satisfaction as she sinks lower into the tub, body enveloped by warm water. Jen did her bath this morning with fresh roses from the spring bloom, flowers scattering with the ripples with each of her movements.

Myra tilts her head slowly, reaching out her fingers for an escaping flower with the tides, only to have it slip further out of her grip. Myra's vision blurs momentarily and when she returns to her proper senses, the flower's nowhere close.

'Huh', she scoffs internally, angling her face away in a disinterested manner.

"Your bath is finished, my lady," a voice calls out, much softer and more muffled than normality.

Myra rubs the outer part of her ear and then it clears, with a 'pop', the sounds return to its normal loudness. She almost forgets that she's supposed to leave the tub, staying put for a couple of seconds until she realises that her maids would make a fuss over wrinkles if she didn't get up any earlier.

Nothing special happens afterwards, to which Myra finds herself lost in her thoughts most of the time. She's learnt to let Jen and Leia do most of the work for her, her contribution being nothing more than to stand there and move every now and then.

Myra still remembers her past dreams clearly, every detail of them like it's deeply ingrained in her consciousness, but decoding them has been one of her recent troubles. Reincarnation isn't easy, and feeling as if she's foreign to a body which should've been hers for two decades and longer, is even worse.

"Thank you for your hard work," Myra says briefly, snapping out of her daze. She admires herself in the mirror, a yellow dress passably as gorgeous as the one she saw before her bath.

The waist-tight waistband accentuates the slimness of her waist, a style which she isn't too fond of, but looks good with regardless. Her sleeves are particularly her favourite, designed with a translucent net, with only the ends stitched with lemon yellow fabric.

"Good choice," she makes sure to add, slipping on a small and unintentional smile.

"Of course, my lady! We're happy that the dress is to your liking!" they call out from behind and Myra nods in acknowledgement, making her way to the dining room.

Frederick meets her outside the door of her bedroom as per usual, carrying a checkbook and fountain pen in hand, ready to inform her of her schedule.

Myra steals a quick glimpse at it, trying to decipher the writing on the pages, ultimately turning away when she realises it's best not to come off as nosy. Frederick keeps up with her, though she's quick on her feet, and despite his age does not breathe heavily and loudly.

"What's my itinerary for today, Frederick?" Myra asks, quickly cutting herself off before she slips out an honorific for respect. At the realisation of her habit, she quickly presses her fingers against her lips, cheeks brushed lightly with pink out of embarrassment.

Frederick pushes his glasses higher onto his nose bridge, holding the notebook closer to his face.

"After breakfast, you are expected to complete the paperwork and submit them to your father for review. Following this, you are also required to send a letter to Lord Cole and the military chief to receive updates on the situation. All this must be done before 1pm, after which you have lunch with Viscountess Belrose and etiquette classes," Frederick rambles, Myra's attention piqued at the mention of an unplanned lunch.

Knowing her duty, she does her best not to sulk at the looming possibility of her spending such a lovely morning inside, trying to handle administrative work while she isn't in her best shape yet.

"On top of this, you have a sparring session with Marquess Ares in the evening," he adds and Myra frowns at this, hearing no mention of her arrangement to go to town. When Frederick falls silent, she takes it that he hasn't planned for it at all, furrowing her eyebrows in disapproval, turning her head to him.

"Were you not asked to plan a visit to town for me? Are my words to be taken lightly?" Myra scolds and Frederick hangs his head low, fidgeting with the notebook in his hands.

Not satisfied with this reaction, with not as little as a clarification or apology for his recklessness, she snaps, "I don't like silence. At least provide me with a proper reason. Is it not possible for me to move my meeting with Marquess Ares to another day? I'm not wearing proper attire for such an arrangement either. Make it happen."

Frederick's eyes widen in surprise. Stupefied, he manages in a wary voice, "My lady, you've never asked to postpone an arrangement with Marquess Ares. He rushed from his urgent responsibilities to spare the evening for you."

"He could've made time for me yesterday. Surely he didn't care enough to think about my own conveniences. Does he truly matter so much to me?" Myra asks, not understanding the weight of her words.

Frederick purses his lips, knowing that cancelling such an affair won't be easy knowing the Marquess' stubbornness and complete disregard for anyone who tries to interrupt his plans, but still cancels his name out on her agenda.

Myra pauses in front of the dining room, waving him off dismissively before entering it to greet her family. From afar, it looks partially empty, like there are gaps on the table.

"Good morning," Myra greets Roseann and Mariene who have been previously seated. Upon turning her head to the seat beside her, she notices that Jalen is missing from the table and of course, Cole's seat remains empty.

"What's your matter?" Roseann scoffs, fanning herself impatiently. I could ask the same, Myra gruffs internally, ticked off my Roseann's sudden attitude. She's supposed to be older and more mature, yet for some reason, it's always as if there's something more sinister to the 'friendly mockery' between them.

Mariene, typical to her closed off attitude, does not speak over the animosity in the atmosphere. In no time, the Duke conveniently enters, settling at the head of the table with a snobby smile on his face.