The tea party progressed much as noble gatherings always did.
Painfully and with enough hidden politics to start a small war.
My back was aching so bad that I had the urge to slouch but luckily Elara's training kicked in and my pride was saved.
I sat beneath the shade of a flowering tree with a cup of tea balanced between my fingers while various young ladies drifted in and out of conversation.
Most of the topics were harmless.
Fashion, upcoming social events the newest jewelry trends, who was courting whom, which noble family was secretly feuding with another.
The usual.
I contributed where necessary and listened where appropriate and to my surprise, it was going rather well.
No one seemed afraid of me, no one was nervously watching their words and no one looked ready to burst into tears.
A remarkable improvement compared to the original Elara's social gatherings.
I was in the middle of discussing embroidery patterns with a viscount's daughter when Lady Callister approached our table.
The mistress of the estate carried herself with effortless grace.
And despite us being the same age, everything about her radiated experience.
"My ladies," she greeted warmly.
Everyone stood immediately.
I followed suit.
Lady Callister smiled.
"Please, sit."
We obeyed.
A servant quickly placed a fresh cup of tea before her.
She accepted it with a nod before turning her attention toward me.
"Lady Elara."
I returned her smile.
"Lady Callister."
"You look lovely today."
"Thank you."
"The navy suits you."
A harmless compliment.
At least that's what I thought.
Then she added,
"Though I admit I almost didn't recognize you."
The jab was so subtle a normal person wouldn't be able to recognise it as what it was and would instead take it as a compliment, but I knew better.
Several nearby ladies laughed softly.
I merely raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Lady Callister nodded.
"Your tastes have changed considerably."
I guess she was referring to my now short hair.
"I suppose they have."
"Not only your tastes."
There was something curious in her gaze.
"As have many other things."
Around us, the conversation gradually died down.
Just enough for everyone to continue pretending they weren't listening.
Nobles possessed a unique talent for overhearing things discreetly.
Lady Callister sipped her tea.
"You've become much calmer."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It is."
She laughed lightly.
"Though I confess I miss seeing everyone panic when you entered a room."
Several ladies struggled not to laugh.
I smiled into my teacup.
The original Elara would have considered that praise.
Personally, I considered it a warning sign.
"People seem less frightened these days."
"That's precisely what surprises everyone."
There it was.
The first mention of my change.
I had expected it eventually.
After all, noble society thrived on gossip, and nothing generated gossip faster than a notorious villainess suddenly becoming pleasant.
Lady Callister leaned back.
"I still remember the Spring Banquet."
Several people immediately groaned, others laughed and one girl covered her face.
"No."
"Please don't."
"Not that story again."
Lady Callister ignored them all.
"Oh, but it's such a memorable one."
I already hated where this was going.
She looked toward me.
"Do you remember it, Lady Elara?"
Unfortunately, I did.
The original Elara had publicly destroyed the reputation of three noble daughters because one of them accidentally spilled wine on her dress.
The incident had become legendary.
"I remember hearing about it."
Lady Callister nearly choked on her tea.
"Hearing about it?"
A few ladies laughed.
"You caused it."
"Single-handedly."
"People still talk about it."
Wonderful.
What an achievement.
The original owner of this body truly had been committed to the role.
Lady Callister shook her head fondly.
"You were terrifying."
"Terrifying is one word for it."
"What word would you use?"
"Unnecessarily dramatic."
The table erupted into laughter.
Even Lady Callister seemed surprised.
The laughter continued longer than expected.
Why were they laughing so hard?
Had noble humor really become this desperate?
Eventually the conversation resumed.
Yet something felt strange, subtle and difficult to describe.
No matter where the discussion began, it somehow found its way back to the same topic.
The old me.
The former Lady Elara.
The villainess.
At first I dismissed it but then it happened again.
And again.
And again.
A discussion about fashion became a comparison to my former wardrobe.
A conversation about social events became a story about one of my previous scandals.
A debate about etiquette somehow ended with everyone recalling an occasion where I had completely ignored etiquette.
It was becoming oddly specific and almost deliberate.
I excused myself after a while and wandered through the garden.
Fresh air seemed preferable to hearing another story about my former crimes.
The gardens were beautiful.
Roses bloomed alongside carefully maintained pathways.
Small fountains provided a gentle soundtrack.
Birds chirped from nearby trees.
It was peaceful.
For approximately thirty seconds.
Then someone approached.
"Lady Elara."
I turned.
A young noblewoman smiled politely.
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon."
She hesitated.
Then asked,
"Have you spoken with Lady Lyra today?"
I blinked.
"No."
"Oh."
She seemed... disappointed.
Why?
Before I could ask, she quickly excused herself.
Strange.
I continued walking.
Five minutes later, it happened again.
A different noble.
A different conversation.
But it always led to the same destination.
"Lady Elara, are you and Lady Lyra getting along?"
"...Yes."
"Really?"
Again, his face radiated disappointment.
I stared after him as he left.
What exactly had people been hoping for?
A duel?
An assassination attempt?
A public argument?
The answer came disturbingly quickly.
Yes, probably.
The original novel practically revolved around the rivalry between Elara and Lyra.
The nobles expected conflict.
No, they wanted conflict. It entertained them.
I continued walking and rounded a corner.
Then froze.
Lyra stood near one of the rose gardens alone.
The moment she noticed me, her face brightened.
Of course it did.
At this point I was beginning to suspect she possessed some supernatural ability to locate me.
"Lady Elara."
"Lady Lyra."
She smiled.
I nodded.
A perfectly normal interaction.
Then a nearby noblewoman nearly dropped her teacup.
I stared, she stared back then quickly looked away.
Interesting.
I was starting to notice a pattern here.
The moment Lyra and I occupied the same space, people started watching expectantly as though waiting for something, as though following a script.
A familiar script.
The realization settled heavily in my mind.
The plot wanted this.
Not friendship.
Not civility.
Conflict.
The original plot demanded conflict.
Every conversation today had pushed toward it.
Every person had unknowingly encouraged it.
Every expectation pointed in the same direction.
Hatred.
Jealousy.
Rivalry.
The role of villainess.
For the first time since arriving at the tea party, a genuine chill ran down my spine.
Because this no longer felt like coincidence.
It felt like correction.
The narrative attempting to repair itself.
As though reality had noticed a missing piece and was trying desperately to put it back where it belonged.
I glanced at Lyra.
She was currently examining a rose bush with complete fascination.
Completly olivious.
The heroine remained blissfully unaware that fate was trying to start a rivalry between us.
Lucky her.
Unfortunately, I was aware.
And the more I thought about it, the less I liked it.
As the afternoon drew to a close, guests gradually began preparing to leave.
Carriages were summoned, servants gathered belongings and final conversations were exchanged.
I had just finished saying goodbye to one of the guests when Lady Callister approached once more.
Her expression was thoughtful.
"Lady Elara."
"Lady Callister."
She studied me for a moment.
Then smiled.
"You know."
I waited.
"I preferred you when you were honest."
The statement caught me completely off guard.
My smile remained unchanged.
"What do you mean?"
Lady Callister looked toward the departing guests.
"People always knew where they stood with you."
The garden seemed unusually quiet.
"You never hid your feelings."
Her gaze shifted and her eyes looked past me towards Lyra for just for a moment.
Then back again.
"It was refreshing."
Something tightened in my chest.
Not because of her words but because of what they implied.
The original Elara had never hidden her hatred.
The original Elara had played her role perfectly.
The villainess.
The rival.
The obstacle standing in the heroine's path.
Everyone remembered that version of her.
Everyone expected that version of her.
And somewhere deep inside the machinery of the story itself.
The plot seemed to expect it too.
As I climbed into the carriage later that evening, a memory surfaced.
A charity banquet, public humiliation.
The moment Elara officially declared herself Lyra's enemy.
It was a turning point in the plot.
An event that wasn't supposed to happen for another four months.
I stared out the carriage window.
For the first time all day, my confidence wavered.
Not because I feared the event.
But because I had a terrible feeling.
The pieces were already moving into position.
And this time I wasn't the one moving them.