Resetting Lady - Chapter 8

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Through the window, she could see the faint break of dawn. Quite some time had passed. Seeing the servants moving about. How bothersome. Karen swatted away Bowen’s hand as he tried to hold onto her. She just wanted to sleep.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I know.”

“…Your face will be injured.”

How annoyingly persistent!

Bowen grabbed Karen’s wrist with his flushed face. How presumptuous. Karen frowned. This one has feelings for me too. But ‘right now’ she didn’t want to deal with this man’s lust and affection.

“…Ha, sev…seven times unlucky.”

She heard the familiar stuttering voice.

See? I told you it would become bothersome. Karen pushed away the stiffened Bowen. Dulan was preparing to leave for dawn mass. Bowen hastily bowed his waist.

“Miss Isella won’t be able to come to breakfast, so have a meal brought to her room. And in the morning, I’ll play the harpsichord alone. If Miss Isella wakes up, bring her to the music room.”

Karen quickly gave instructions to Bowen and sent him away. If he stayed longer, it would only increase the time Dulan would hesitate. She was tired. Karen pressed her throbbing forehead with her hand.

“Quite, you pro, protect him, don’t you?”

“Do you want to?”

Tsk.

If you’re going to be jealous, do it properly. What a sigh-inducing man. In the end, he knows the servant grabbed her wrist out of concern. So he can’t even say something like ‘How dare you touch my fiancée!’ yet he still feels jealous. In the end, Dulan is directing his misplaced arrow at Karen. Instead of getting angry at the servant, he grumbles at his fiancée – such behavior shows no development.

“Go quickly. I’ll find some ointment in your room, apply it, and sleep. Did you lock the door?”

“No, no.”

“Alright.”

Dulan caught Karen as she walked toward the room.

I know where it is.”

“…You’ve never, learned.”

I’ve studied much more than you. Karen couldn’t prove it, so she kept her mouth shut. Dulan held Karen and headed toward the room. Looking at his face, she couldn’t say ‘Why don’t you go to dawn mass?’ He had decided to take care of his injured fiancée before leaving. Karen let out a small sigh. What to do. He seems to want to score points with me. This has become bothersome.

“…It’s not that I’m with you…”

“Shh, shh.”

He’s flustered. Karen patted the flustered Dulan. It was a regretful action meaning ‘I wasn’t supposed to have relations with you this time,’ but he wouldn’t know that.

“…It hurts.”

“…”

Shouldn’t you ask if it hurts here, if I’m okay? Tsk. Dulan was literally slathering ointment and medicine on Karen’s forehead. It was enough to make a face pack.

With emotions clumsily showing through, Karen thought things might unfold quite interestingly. Karen had already observed many people for a long time. Though unintended, accelerating her relationship with Dulan would be a spice to make things more interesting. A clumsy heart that wouldn’t reach her already worn heart but could at least excite her brain.

“It might, scar… I suppose.”

“Really?”

“…”

Then would it be a problem when seducing Raymond? Karen tilted her head and looked in the mirror. She didn’t want to waste her grand dream of ‘taking Raymond’s head!’ on mere venting. He was quite sensitive about faces, so if Karen gained weight or got burned, it wouldn’t work out. Men, really.

“But I’m still pretty, right?”

“…Wha, what?”

“Aren’t I?”

“…Ha.”

Words aren’t necessary.

Karen pulled Dulan’s clothes. She pressed her lips against his thin lips. Quite cold.

“Wh, why on earth…?”

“…”

Dulan still looked confused. She kissed him again. Licked lightly with her tongue. While kissing, she imagined him as a corpse. You do obsess. Then try to steal me. From the male protagonist, from Raymond.

…And die for me.

“Aren’t I?”

I want you to fall for me.

Desperately.

* * *

“Oh my goodness! Are you alright?”

“Yes, it’s not as serious as it looks.”

“You went in so late… oh my.”

Isella made a fuss.

But true to her nature, rather than showing interest in others, she soon moved on to bragging about herself. Karen changed the harpsichord piece she was playing to a simple tune that didn’t require great technique, using it as background music.

Isella sat beside Karen and talked enthusiastically. About the necklace she found again, and about the fiancé who gave it to her. The morning air was fresh, and Isella spoke happily in her relief at finding the necklace again.

Lord Raymond gave me this, he gave me that too. The chattering girl’s voice sounded like bird chirping today, making it bearable to listen to.

So. Since you’re so happy. I liked Raymond too, you know. About a hundred years ago, just like you. Karen closed her eyes. I once pitied you too, Isella. Though that was meaningless as well. Despite having completely different appearance, tone, and background from Dulan, she resembled him. The anxiety.

“How truly wonderful for you.”

“Of course. My father couldn’t help but admire how each item was of such fine quality.”

Praise befitting a merchant. He probably hoped his daughter wouldn’t notice, and Isella would try not to think about it specifically. She wouldn’t want to realize the meaning those gifts held. Necklaces, dresses, fabric – all expensive items, but there was no engagement ring promising marriage.

The relationship between Raymond and Isella was weak. Verdick, who was quite capable in the countryside, proposed an engagement to Raymond’s brother who was struggling financially, and the second son of the marquis family quietly followed that order.

More precisely, it would be correct to say he didn’t say anything at all. There were no vows made before people or rings given. When Isella and Verdick introduced him as the fiancé, Raymond simply didn’t correct them.

That level of relationship.

Of course, this wasn’t content Karen should know at this point in time. Now she just needed to look at Isella as if envious. Whether mocking or pitying, or perhaps both. Whatever her true feelings, she needed to make eye contact, look at Isella’s clothes and accessories, blink occasionally and open her mouth. A thoroughly calculated display of envy.

“The marquis family is indeed different. The new things Father gave me this time are nice too, but…”

Poor Isella. Her appearance of seeking affection in gifts would seem like a vain, foolish woman drunk on vanity, and her blindness to her father’s corruption and cruelty would appear young and ignorant.

“Karen, may I call you Karen?”

You’re already calling me that.

Karen smiled with her eyes while opening her fan.

“Of course, Isella.”

And she recalled the memory of Isella doing the same thing later to a count’s daughter and being humiliated. She looked forward to that time. Isella couldn’t read anything from Karen’s smile and happily began treating her without formality.

“Come to think of it, why are you still playing the harpsichord? Everyone plays piano these days.”

“Well, the tone is different. I’ve been playing this since childhood, so I keep using only this.”

In truth, playing the harpsichord wasn’t for the tone, but simply because they couldn’t afford to buy a piano. A family that lacked nothing but couldn’t afford to buy additional luxury items. To express it crudely and vulgarly, ‘Our family doesn’t have money to buy such things.’

But not saying it aloud was a matter of dignity and courtesy. Isella had enough perception to notice this, but not enough consideration to be tactful about it. No, she probably didn’t feel the need to be. She was trying to confirm somehow that she was better than Karen.

Isella touched the harpsichord keys, which were different from piano keys, and asked.

As time passed, harpsichords that still remained were usually expensive and antique ones with luxurious patterns and paintings, but this one was simply old.

“Hmm, shall I gift you one? It must be difficult for a harpsichord tuner to come to such countryside, right? The tone also sounds like the pitch is slightly off overall…”

“It’s fine. I’m comfortable with this.”

It’s quite remarkable how she can say rude things so casually. Karen looked at Isella’s face and smiled. To spend money while earning hatred – she accomplishes such a difficult task so effortlessly. A hundred-year-old hag doesn’t have her feelings change over a young girl’s minor mistakes. Especially when planning to do dangerous things ahead. Great liars have gentle expressions.

“Miss Evans, if you’re bored, shall we stroll around the estate together?”

Isella agreed without hesitation.

The servant Bowen followed at a distance, carrying luggage. Isella didn’t particularly like having him, a male, follow along. More precisely, it wasn’t Bowen but the maid she had hit that bothered her.

“Come to think of it, yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“I saw something frightening.”

“I see.”

“That… that maid. Where is she? That, the dark-haired maid.”

“Hmm… Isella, I think she’s reflected enough by now.”

“No no, that’s not it.”

Her shoe-clad feet tapped anxiously. Karen answered with a worried voice.

“She requested leave. Said she wanted to rest for a while.”

“Ah… that’s a relief.”

Karen pondered for a moment. Would it be better to pry here, or pretend not to know? Rationally thinking, burying it would be right.

Karen’s initial choice of Nancy was above all good timing, and because she was someone who spent much daily life with her without greatly affecting the future story. Even if she disappeared, the big framework of Karen going to Isella’s villa or meeting Raymond wouldn’t be shaken.

So if she didn’t pry, she could simply proceed smoothly to the next murder.

“What did you see?”

Karen chose curiosity.

“I saw a vision of that maid with her throat cut.”

“What?”

“Strange, isn’t it…? As you saw too, the bed was clean and the necklace was there.”

“Her throat…?”

“Yes, when you think about it, it’s really absurd.”

Like this. Iselin made a slicing motion with her hand.

“What could she have seen wrong?”

“Well, that’s…”

Strange, I’ve never cut anyone’s throat.

“Is that maid alright?”

How interesting.

* * *

“Eek.”

“I’m, I’m sorry.”

Donna, who had braided brown hair and was attending to Karen in place of Nancy who had taken leave, was still young. She was only a year older than Karen, so normally she would be in a position to learn the work while running errands. Karen was about to ask when Nancy would return, but soon sighed at her own forgetfulness and closed her mouth. Her mind was all jumbled.

“It’s fine. Wet the brush in water first.”

To think clumsy Donna would come here. The work must have increased quite a bit because of the extra mouths to feed. I already miss capable Nancy.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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