Chapter 3 : Undercurrent
The air in the room seemed to freeze, and Ailiya stood rooted to the spot, her mind blank.
Liliane’s command of “all of them” hit like a chilling curse, sending shivers through her body.
What kind of joke is this?! Is this some noble lady’s twisted hobby?
Sure, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, but that doesn’t mean she can do whatever she wants with me! I only owe money, not my dignity!
As Ailiya’s inner drama escalated to a “die rather than yield” scene, Liliane seemed to see through her wild thoughts, her dangerous smirk turning into an impatient huff.
She snapped her fingers elegantly.
An inner door opened silently, and another maid stepped in.
She looked a few years older than Liliane, with neat brown short hair and a professional, gentle smile, holding a soft measuring tape and an elegant notebook.
Her presence instantly diffused the room’s ambiguous, dangerous atmosphere.
“This is Clara,” Liliane said, nodding toward the maid with her usual lofty tone. “The best tailor in the Winter family. She’s here to measure you.”
Her critical gaze swept over Ailiya, not hiding her disdain:
“That outfit of yours is practically polluting St. Freya’s environment. As my personal maid, your appearance reflects the Winter family’s reputation. I won’t tolerate a servant in a sackcloth wandering around me.”
Ailiya froze.
Measure… measure me? So that “take it all off” was…
Her cheeks burned instantly, redness spreading from her neck to her ears.
All this just to make clothes?! Then say it clearly! You scared me half to death!
Wait… even if it’s for measurements, stripping in front of someone is way too embarrassing!
Under Liliane’s unyielding gaze and Clara’s professional yet kind stare, Ailiya finally gave in.
Reluctantly, at a snail’s pace, she peeled off her old clothes, arms instinctively shielding her chest, wishing she could curl into a ball.
Clara’s movements were precise, the cool tape gliding over Ailiya’s skin as she called out a string of exact measurements.
Meanwhile, Liliane, arms crossed like a supervisor, began her “pre-job training.”
“Listen up, Ailiya. This is St. Freya, not your backwater town. Here, every word and action must follow noble etiquette.”
Her voice carried no warmth.
“Walk silently, speak with respect, and bow to every noble you meet—especially don’t embarrass me. Got it?”
Ailiya, bare and mortified, toes curling in shame, squeezed out two words through gritted teeth:
“…Got it.”
Yeah, yeah, I get it—just a bunch of noble rules. As if I’m some savage who’d pee on the floor.
Speaking of, getting stared at while naked and lectured like this—is this some new kind of shame play?
“How to use cutlery in order, the proper angle for curtsies in different settings, and the thirteen ways to iron lace trim… Clara will teach you. If you can’t learn…”
Liliane paused, her violet eyes narrowing slightly.
“I don’t mind sending you to the mines to discuss study tips with the crystal worms.”
Finally, Clara finished measuring and gave Liliane a polite bow.
Liliane signed an expensive-looking order form, and Ailiya’s sharp eyes caught the numbers—nearly choking her.
A maid outfit costs that much?! Is it made of dragon hide?
Wait, this bill’s definitely going on my tab! Am I working for the rest of my life?!
Liliane tossed a slip of paper at Ailiya:
“Your dorm address, in the servant quarters. Don’t get lost—I don’t have time to hunt down a directionless idiot. I’ll have your supplies sent over.”
She waved her hand like she was shooing a fly:
“Now, put your clothes on and get out.”
Ailiya, as if pardoned, dressed at record speed, grabbed her suitcase, and fled the torturous luxury room.
The door closed behind Ailiya.
Clara packed her tools, her professional smile fading into a trace of concern.
She approached Liliane and asked softly:
“Miss, forgive my bluntness, but are you really keeping her by your side? She’s just a… commoner.”
Liliane walked to the window, gazing at the academy’s grand scenery, her innate arrogance tinged with a hint of exhaustion.
Clara continued:
“You’re the Winter family’s greatest genius in a century, with a limitless future. Keeping a commoner with no magical background by your side… it’s beneath your dignity.”
Liliane was silent for a moment before speaking, her voice carrying a hidden weight:
“Clara, for years, I’ve had the same dream.”
She turned, her violet eyes no longer cold or teasing but heavy with depth.
“I dream that within a few years, the great Winter family will crumble rapidly, falling to dust. In that vision of fire and ruins, one face always shines clearly—Ailiya’s face.”
A prophetic dream—a rare miracle seen only by supreme mages with immense magical power.
“You mean,” Clara’s voice trembled, “the Winter family’s fall is caused by that girl?”
Liliane raised a hand, pressing her forehead as if under immense pressure.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The dream shows a connection, not causation. But she’s undoubtedly at the center of this future storm. It took me three years to find her among countless girls named Ailiya in the kingdom.”
She lowered her hand, her gaze sharpening with resolve.
“Keeping her close is the only way I can think of to observe and control this variable.”
Liliane’s eyes turned back to the window, as if piercing through time to that fated dream.
“Is she the calamity that befalls the Winter family… or its only salvation? No one knows. But until I find out, she’s not going anywhere.”
Meanwhile, another girl stood before St. Freya’s grand gates, dragging a suitcase.
Unlike Ailiya’s nervous unease, her face radiated near-fanatical confidence.
Her name was Aurora, her golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, her emerald eyes brimming with ambition and certainty.
She gazed at the opulent academy, a knowing smile curling her lips.
Finally here.
St. Freya Women’s Academy, the stage where it all begins.
She took a deep breath, as if savoring the air of victory.
That naive, kind maid who’s good for nothing but baking bread; that arrogant, powerful “villainess” destined for ruin; and the men around them who’ll lead the world to its end…
I know all your fates.
Aurora gripped her suitcase handle, her emerald eyes glinting with ambition.
But don’t worry. This time, I’m here.
Saving the world, winning over every key figure, becoming the celebrated savior—this script is mine to take.
Her gaze cut through the gates, locking onto a fleeting, proud silver-haired figure behind a window in the main building.
Found you.
Aurora’s smile grew brighter.
Liliane von Winter. My first… and most important target.