Chapter 42: Fake Alice [3]

“Lady Amelia, you look beautiful as always.”

“Oh, you flatter me. You’re quite radiant yourself, my lady.”

The Winter Garden sparkled under the midday sun, but the light did little to melt the ice clinging to my nerves.

The soft crunch of gravel beneath heels, the clink of porcelain teacups, the whispery laughter of nobles—it all felt like a stage play I’d stumbled into without a script.

And unfortunately, I was wearing the lead actress’s face.

There were a number of children—no, heirs—milling about nearby. All dressed to impress, all pretending they weren’t sizing each other up like merchandise on auction.

Then I heard it.

“Alice—!”

A familiar voice rang out across the garden, bright and unmistakably happy.

Amelia Frost.

She bounded over like a snowflake on caffeine, her arms already outstretched before I had time to react.

She hugged me.

Yes. Hugged me.

Me, not Alice.

Because Alice wasn’t here. She was probably in her own room hiding away from watchful eyes, smirking at her own cleverness.

Meanwhile, I was wrapped in lace, heels, and the suffocating warmth of a golden artifact pressed against my face.

’Gods, I feel sick.’

Amelia grinned up at me, completely unaware of the fact that the girl she was clinging to so affectionately… was actually a man under a magical mask.

A dress, some borrowed perfume, and a whole lot of regret.

And the mask, of course.

—-

[Veil Mask]

Item Type: Accessory

A plain golden mask once favored by the Sovereign.

Distorts others’ senses, making it difficult to clearly identify the wearer.

[Hidden Trait]: Alters the appearance and voice of the wearer for two hour. Can be used once per day.

—-

The mask worked perfectly. Even my voice had changed—smoother, more delicate. Not that it made this feel any less bizarre.

Amelia was practically glowing as she rattled off pleasantries, her arms linked with mine like we were lifelong sisters.

I forced a smile. Stiff. Hopefully passable.

This was fine. This was all part of the plan.

Blend in.

Keep Alice’s reputation intact.

Survive the garden party.

And yet…

What if she finds out?

What if anyone finds out?

I could already hear the scolding in my head.

“Tsk. I trusted you, but you’re useless.”

“Ignoring my advice again, the young lady did as she pleased. I must report this to the Duke.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re fired.”

A chill crawled down my back.

“You’re acting so cold today,” Amelia pouted, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Back off, Alice,” she said playfully, tugging my arm. “What’s with the ice queen act?”

I tried to gently pull away. “It’s been a long morning.”

“But it’s been so long! Didn’t you miss me?”

She leaned in again, eyes gleaming with sincerity. That made it worse.

I wasn’t her Alice. I wasn’t anyone’s Alice.

I was just a guy in a mask, winging it minute by minute and hoping no one noticed the cracks.

“I heard about the Successor Trial!” she said excitedly. “You caught a Snow Lion? That’s incredible! I knew you had it in you.”

Right. That had been a big moment. Alice had caught a Snow Lion.

What would she say here?

Alice was prideful, but not vain. Composed, but never cold to people she cared about.

I let out a breath. Time to improvise.

“It was nothing,” I said softly, adjusting my posture. “I just did my job as nobel. That’s all.”

Amelia blinked, then smiled warmly. “Still humble as ever.”

I nodded, letting the silence sit a beat longer than it needed to. My fingers twitched by my side, already counting the seconds until the mask wore off.

“Anyway, let’s go and meet others.”

Amelia said as she pulled me along me with her where rest of the noble hairs has been gathered.

As Amelia pulled me along, chattering about everyone she’d missed and all the drama I’d apparently “missed” too, I scanned the gathered heirs with careful eyes. It was a sea of silk, gemstone brooches, and carefully practiced smiles.

My stomach twisted. Every step felt like I was walking toward the edge of a cliff.

That’s when I saw him.

Gareth Valstein.

He was lounging beneath one of the frosted garden arches, surrounded by a few sycophants who clearly thought proximity to him made them important. He spotted us the moment we stepped closer, and his sharp eyes—gray like sleet—narrowed slightly.

I didn’t miss the subtle tightening of his jaw.

’Ah. There it is.’

The contempt.

Gareth’s family, the Valsteins, held the rank of Earl—technically beneath the Draken Duchy in the hierarchy—but in the North, they were a power in their own right. The Valstein territory controlled key iron mines and supply routes, giving them the wealth and military presence to stand toe-to-toe with even ducal houses.

And unlike the Drakens, who had pledged their loyalty to the Imperial faction—partly due to the engagement with the Crown Prince—the Valsteins were proudly entrenched in the Noble faction.

That meant they saw central authority as a leash.

And people like me—well, Alice—were the ones holding it.

I remembered Hans’s voice, clear as day from our late-night lessons:

[“In every region, there are two lines drawn—Imperial and Noble. Understand where someone stands, and you’ll understand how they think.”]

Gareth Valstein thought he should be the one standing beside the Crown Prince. Not a woman he considered cold-blooded and calculating, just because she happened to be born a Draken.

He stepped forward with an easy confidence, brushing aside a few of the younger nobles with a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, if it isn’t Lady Alice,” he drawled. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us simple Northern folk.”

Amelia stiffened slightly beside me, her cheer faltering.

“Lord Gareth,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. “It’s been some time.”

“Too long,” he replied. “Though I suppose catching a Snow Lion and securing the Crown Prince’s affection must keep you busy.”

His tone was light, but the jab was sharp enough to draw blood if I let it.

I smiled thinly. “We all serve the Empire in our own ways, Lord Gareth. Some in court, some on the frontlines.”

Amelia let out a tiny breath, like she’d been holding it.

Gareth chuckled, though his eyes cooled even further. “Of course. Though some of us prefer not to dress wolves in silk and call them saints.”

There was a tense pause.

The nobles nearby pretended to sip tea, though they were clearly eavesdropping with rapt attention.

’Alice would never rise to such bait. She’d humiliate him with grace.’

So I tilted my head slightly, just like I’d seen her do when irritated.

“And some of us prefer not to lick boots and call it pride,” I said smoothly.

That earned a few surprised coughs and a muffled laugh from someone behind Gareth. His cheek twitched.

Amelia’s eyes widened, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in her expression that felt a lot like admiration.

Gareth’s lips curled in distaste, but he didn’t press further. Not in public. Not here.

“I suppose catching the snow lion has increased your arrogance. But some little bird told me that it was your soldiers who catches the snow lion and not you My Lady?”

This basterd is now going to far for my liking.

He now started tell lie here of all the places.

I need to put him in his place.

Gracefully, Of course.

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