KFBRV Ch 19

The butler, realizing the new maid had an unexpectedly sharp eye for art, immediately reported the news to the Countess.

Having long desired to grow her fortune through art but lacking the taste to do so, the Countess quickly took a liking to Malea.

[Malea] "My Lady, how could a place as grand as the Albrecht estate have fakes? Your words are so far-fetched, I can hardly believe—"

[Odette] "Go and see for yourself. You'll find cheap imitations everywhere. It's almost pitiful watching Rolf polish them every day."

Malea looked utterly bewildered. Everything about the Lady was different from the gossip—her sharp personality, the absurd claim about the forgeries, and her strange insistence on making her the Countess' favorite.

She was lost, but Odette didn't care about her confusion.

[Odette] "Once you're there, use your wits to secure the position. I'll give you until the first day of the Founding Festival."

[Malea] "What? My Lady, are you mad? That's only three days away! It's impossible!"

You managed to do it in a single day in my past life without any help.

As Malea continued to whine, Odette's teal eyes flashed with boredom.

[Odette] "Stop your whining. I know the lack of culture in this house better than you do. For the daughter of a fence, your eye for detail is more than enough."

It wasn't a lie. With her background, spotting those low-quality fakes would be child's play.

Odette only knew this because her own eye for art was far superior, inherited from her previous life as Han Suwan—the girl who had scavenged discarded textbooks while her stepsister received elite tutoring.

[Malea] "But My Lady, this makes no sense. Even so—"

[Odette] "Can't do it? Then don't. Forget the whole thing."

[Malea] "Wait, what?"

[Odette] "A maid who tries to power-trip me with her complaints isn't worth the effort to save. I'll tell my brother about that scar you gave me."

[Malea] "M-My Lady!"

[Odette] "If you can't follow orders, I suppose dying at his hands is the easier path for you."

Odette turned to leave without hesitation. Malea scrambled forward on her knees, desperately grabbing at Odette's hem.

[Malea] "My Lady! I'm sorry! I'll do it!"

[Odette] "Remember this: I despise whining. Don't test me again. I don't give second chances."

She grabbed Malea's chin, forcing the girl to look her in the eye. The murderous intent in her gaze silenced the maid instantly.

[Odette] "You may go. And congratulations—I look forward to you winning my mother's favor."

As Malea fled the room, Odette watched her go.

In her past life, Malea had mocked her and treated her like a fool.

Now, the girl would never truly be the Countess' person; she would only ever be a puppet.

Odette looked down at her hideous calf. The injury wasn't just for threatening Malea.

Johan will be coming to greet me soon.

Johan, the man obsessed with chivalry. He wouldn't be able to ignore the fact that she was injured while helping him. In the game, he felt guilty for the rest of his life just because Charlotte pricked her finger on a rose thorn while purifying him.

I need to ensure I have his absolute pity.

The Albrechts were clever; they made sure to leave scars where the world would never find them. But Odette had learned in the courts of her past life: only visible wounds earn sympathy.

By the time she finished her business with Malea, the low fever that had been pestering her turned into a raging fire. She barely made it back to her room before collapsing into a deep, heavy sleep.

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Odette opened her eyes in a dream. She was in a void filled with heart-shaped wasps.

I didn't even take the Mengele today. Why is this nightmare back?

She flinched, expecting an attack, but noticed something strange. The wasps, which usually swarmed her until she felt she was losing her mind, were sluggish. They were trembling, barely able to fly.

Wait... their numbers have dropped.

The swarm, once as vast as an ocean, now looked more like a deep lake. Still large, but manageable. When a wasp finally touched her, it didn't bite; it crumbled into white dust.

Every time one dies, my fever drops.

She sat up—the first time she had been able to move in this recurring nightmare.

In the distance, she saw a massive pillar piercing the sky. As she squinted, she realized it wasn't a pillar, but a gargantuan, blackened tree.

A voice echoed in her mind: "The Purifying Tree."

Memories of a sermon she had overheard in a monastery basement flooded back.

"A Purifier holds a Purifying Tree within their inner world. The larger the tree, the greater the power. The first Saintess' tree was said to be five meters tall."

Why am I remembering this?

That tree is massive. If I were a real Purifier, I wouldn't have been murdered in my last life. And there's no way I have a tree larger than the first Saintess.

As dizziness took over, she missed the sight of a single leaf on the dead tree turning a vibrant, living green.

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