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𝑆𝑀𝑖𝑓𝑑, π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘π‘’π‘π‘‘π‘–π‘£π‘’, π‘ π‘šπ‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘, π‘›π‘’π‘Žπ‘‘.
𝐴 π‘šπ‘Žπ‘–π‘‘ π‘ β„Žπ‘œπ‘’π‘™π‘‘ β„Žπ‘Žπ‘£π‘’ π‘Žπ‘‘ π‘™π‘’π‘Žπ‘ π‘‘ β„Žπ‘Žπ‘£π‘’ π‘œπ‘›π‘’ π‘œπ‘“ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘ π‘’ π‘žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘π‘–π‘‘π‘–π‘’π‘ .
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In a forest blanketed by mist, not far from the capital, stood a grand mansion encased in towering stone walls. This was the home of the Black Agriche's family, one of the kingdom's five ruling houses, inafamous for their power and ruthless ways.

Inside, the day began like clockwork, with every servant knowing their place and every task performed with precision.

A soft knock echoed in the quiet chambers of the family head before the heavy door creaked open. A main stepped inside, carefully pushhing a silver trolley laden with breakfast. Her movements were quiet and deliberate, as though afraid of disturbing the air itself.

She walked to the large windows and drew back the thick red curtains. Light from the rising sun spilled into the room, chasing away the shadows. As she worked, her eyes flicked toward the figure on the bed. Lant Agriche, the head of the family, lay motionless, his presence as intimidating in rest as it was when he was awake.

"Master, it's time to wake up," the maid said in a calm, even tone. She moved to the trolley and began arranging the meal with practiced care. "Today's breakfast includes poached salmon with mint salad, toast, scones, and champagne. What would you like to have?"

Lant stirred, his movement slow but deliberate. Sitting up, he looked toward the maid with an expression that was both calm and commanding. "The scones," he simply said.

As the maid prepared his plate, his sharp gaze shifted to the trolley. "That scent... is it Ceylon tea?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

"Yes, Master. It is served with the Wedgwood Blue-White set, as you requested," she replied, stepping forward to adjust the tie that had been neatly laid out for him.

Lant nodded slightly, a faint smirk crossing his lips, though it never reached his cold eyes. "And my schedule for the day?"

"After breakfast, you will meet with Professor Hugh about the Monarch Study," she replied, her tone neutral yet a polite smile was etched on her lips. "You will discuss the latest findings on the monarch's lineage and implications of their recent discoveries."

Lant hummed in acknowledgment, rising from the bed with the grace of a predator. His tall figure cast a long shadow across the room as he moved to the window, gazing out at the mist-covered forest.

"And after lunch?"

A smirk curled at the corner of the maid's lips.γ…€

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"Take this! Secret teachnique!! Flower Bird Moon All Kinds of Flowers Profusion Fist!!!"

The name sounded ridiculous, and it certainly looked childish. The woman, standing off to the side, couldn't help but roll her eyes. What kind of technique even is that? How absurd. She casually adjusted her white gloves, which had become slightly wrinkled during her brief obsercation.

It was exactly 7:30 in the morning. Lant sat comfortably in the backyard, tea in hand, watching a peculiar scene unfold before him. A specific worker of his was now standing and preparing to face off against Professor Hugh---cladded in a Karategi.

Should I end this now? Lant's red eyes glinted with barely contained amusement as he took in the scene. The professor noticing this, started to sweat visibly---seeming like a man already defeated before the fight had even started.

"Take this!" Hugh---the professor---shouted as he lunged forward, throwing a punch aimed directly at his opponents face.

But before the strike could eve connect, a swift figure manage to stop him, her movements so fast it was as if she had appeared out of nowhere. In a blink of an eye, she grabbed the professor by his collar and flung him to the grounf, landing a punch to the chest as she did.

The professor collapsed, gasping for air, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth as he tried to recover. How? How could this happen in mere seconds? He thought in shock, unable to comprehend how a woman could take him down so efforlessly.

"Th,this is our school's final hidden technique...!! The Super Tiger Dragon Gun Ten Thousand Blossom Scattering FIssure Fist..." the professor muttered weakly, his eyes fized on the blood dripping from his mouth.

He looked up at the woman, confusion and anger mixing in his gaze. "Who... what are you?!"

At this, the woman---who had until now been an enigma---finally revealed gerself. She dusted of her gloves, her expression calm, and slowly turned toward the professor, her gaze cold and unimpressed.

"I am Serena Mikaelis, the head maid of House Agriche," she said, her voice quiet but laced with authority. "Now, what kind of childish discovery is this you were showcasing?"

She glanced at Lant, who was watching with a mild grimace, with a sly smile. "Master," she began, her tone light, "I won. I believe you should now visit Lady Sierra today. It's about time to name your newborn child."

Lant scoffed, leaning in his chair. "And to think I expected more from the so-called master of the first technique," he said sarcastically, his eyes glinting as he looked at the professor, who was still trying to regain his composure.

The professor trembled, realizing too late that he had underestimated his opponent---and the Agriche's head cold gaze. Oh no... it looks like I'll be six feet under soon.... he thought, panic rising in his chest.

Serena, seeing Lant's mild displeasure, smirked. "Though, I thought I'd get to see you on your knees today." she heared him muttered as he gave her a glare.

The maid's smirk deepened. "Too bad," she exclaimed.

Lant simply clicked his tongue, "Well done, Serena," he said, holding out a glass of juice to her. "Here, drink."

Serena eyed the glass carefully but accepted it without hesitation. She could taste the poison in it, but her expression didn't change. She took a sip, her eyes glinting with the same cool detachment that she always carried.

Behind Lant, Tanaka, the head butler, watched with an amused smile. "I kept it cool," he uttered, clearly proud of his handiwork.

Serena placed the empty glass on the table before glancing over at the three servants standing awkwardly behind Lant. They were watching the scene unfold with nervous eyes, clearly unsure whether they were supposed to leave or stay.

She fixed them a glance, her voice turning sharp. "What are you all doing here?"

The three servcants froze, instantly aware they were in trouble.

Serena's eyes landed on Finny, a young man with turquoise eyes and strawberry-blond hair, his straw hat tied loosely around his neck.

"Finny, have you finished weeding the courtyard?"

"Ah!" he stammered, quickly looking away trying to act busy.

Next, she turned her attention to Mey-rin, the maid with large, round glasses and maroon-red pigtails. Her posture was rigid with anxiety.

"Mey-rin, how are the shirts in the laundry?"

"U-uhmm..." the said girl began, but the words faltered on her tongue.

Finally, Serena's gaze fell upon Bard, the chef, whose dirty-blond hair and turquoise eyes reflected his nervousness. His large frame tensed under her stare.

"Bard, are the dinner preparations going as they should?"

The trio stiffened under her gaze, their hearts racing as they silently prayed not to anger the head maid any further.

With a click of her tongue, Serena snapped, "If you have time to loaf around, then please, get back to work!"

"EEEEEEKKKKKK!!" The three servants screamed in unison before rushing off to their respective duties, eager to escape Serena's wrath.

Lant watched, amused, as the three servants hurried off to their tasks. "Speaking of work, Serena," he said after a moment, his voice casual but carrying a weight of curiousity. "Have you tracked down those pests?"

Serena straightened, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. "You mean the spies of Count Klein? Yes, I've found their base."

The Agriche's head simply hummed in approval, his lips slowly curling into a dark smile. "Good. Let's discuss this further. Come." He stood, motioning for Serena to follow.

Serena bowed slightly, her movements graceful and precise as she followed behind him. Tanaka fell in step beside her.

"As you wish."


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"To think this time, it's a daughter. However, since Asil is there, it's alright."

A soft, molodic voice filled the quiet, empty, room, carrying a warmth that seemed out of place in such ominous household. Sierra cradled a tiny bundle in her arms, her hums singing a gentle lullaby as she rocked her newborn to sleep.

Sierra Agriche, the fourth wife of Lant Agriche, was a vision of ethereal beauty. Her honey-gold hair shimmered like molten sunlight, cascading down her back in waves, and her deep sapphire eyes held a sweetness that belied the cruelty of the world she lived in. It was this unparalleled beauty that had captivated the head of the Black Agriche.

To think such a lovelt woman ended up as his wife. My father sure has luck on his side, the baby muse silently.

Yes, Sierra's child wasn't an ordinary infant. Born into the notorious Agriche family was already a red flag itself, but this baby's situation was far more peculiar.

She was a reincarnatted soul, retaining memories of her past life. What's more, this child had a penchant for appreciating beauty---and her mother, with her angelic visage, was a dream come true.

As the baby basked in this brief comfort, reveling in her mother's presence, a knock at the doo shattered the tranquility.

"Lady Sierra, Master Lant is here to see you."

Sierra's heart skipped a beat. While she was elated to hear the voice of her favorite maid, the mention of her husband's presence sent an uneasy tremor through her chest.

"Please come in," she called softly, placing her daughter in the crib with the utmost care.

The double doors swung open, revealing a man whose aura seemed to darken the room. His sharp red eyes were like pools of blood, cold and unfeeling. This was Lant Agriche, the ruthless head of the family.

Behind him stood two figures---Tanaka, an elderly man with an air of forebonding, and Serna, a woman so stunningly beautiful that she could rival Sierra herself.

The baby, now lying in her crib, could only see the ceiling. But her sharp ears caught every words exchanged between the adults.

"So, it's a female this time," Lant remarked, his voice deep and devoid of emotion.

"Yes, Master. As I mentioned before, the child is a 'she'," Another voice was heard, it was Serena. Her tone was calm and soothing to the ears.

The sound of heavy footsteps approached the crib. The baby stiffened as a shadow loomed over her. When she finally managed to tilt her tiny head to look up, she was struck by the man's imposing figure and striking features.

Red eyes locked onto hers, and for a fleeting moment, she was awestruck.

Oh my God. This man is ridiculously handsome. Her mind reeled. Who is this guy---

"She looks ugly," Lant declared, his words cutting through her thoughts like a knife.










Motherfreaking DIE, you bastard.

Her earlier admiration evaporated in an instant. Handsome? More like a colossal jerk!

A soft chuckle broke the tense silence. "I believe you meant 'cute', Master," Serena interjected, her voice smooth and teasing.

I call dibs! Forget my father; I'm marrying her!

"Ho ho ho," a deep, jovial laugh echoed, drawing her gaze toward the figure of an old man standing nearby-Tanaka.

Who's this? Santa Claus? Roxanne blinked, her tiny face frozen in confusion as she took in the man's weathered features and hearty demeanor. And why does he look like that?

Though her mind scrambled for an explanation as to who they were, the baby couldn't help her wide eyes to dart back to Serena.

And, as if sensing the baby's gaze, Serena's enchanting eyes met hers. "Oh my, such a lively little one," she said with a grin, bending slightly to observe the baby more closely. "A good day to you, young lady."

Kyahhh! She noticed me! Marry me, my lady!

Meanwhile, Lant clicked his tongue in sudden annoyance. "Let's get this over with. I have other matters to attend to." He turned back to the crib, his expression as indifferent as ever.

"Roxanne," he stated abruptly.

Sierra blinked in surprise. "Pardon?"

"Name the child Roxanne," Lant repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

The baby---now christened Roxanne---fumed silently in her crib. This jerk gets to name me?! Great, just great. So this rotten piece of trash is my father. Looks like I'm in for a hellish life.

Her thought were interrupted as Lant's footsteps retreated, his imposing presence leaving the room/

"Serena!" Seirra's voice broke the tension, her tone suddenly bright with affection. She hurried to embrace the maid, who returned the gesture with a serene smile.

"It's always a pleasure to see you, my lady," Serena said soflty, her tone tinged with genuine warmth.

As Sierra craddled Roxanne once more, the baby couldn't help but steal another glance at Serena. Despite her admiration, an unsettling feeling gnawed at the back of her mind. Something about the maid seemed rather... off.

"Roxanne... my precious little baby," Sierra murmured, her voice tender as she cradled the tiny hand in her delicate fingers.

Her warm, radiant smile was the embodiment of mother's pure love, a rare bloom on gentleness in the cold, cruel lands of the Agriche. With a soft kiss to her baby's hand, Sierra's eyes glistened with a look full of fondness.

"You must grow strong and healthy, my darling," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, as though willing her words to shield her child from the darkness that loomed beyond the doors. "And one day, become a fine Agriche."

From the corner of the room, her notorious smile curling her lips like a serpent's coil. Her sharp, calculating eyes observed the tender scene before her, intrigued yet untached by the warmth emanating from mother to child. In a house marred by greed and bloodshed, Sierra's love stood as an anomaly.

Among the four wives of Lant Agriche, Sierra was undeniably the mose peculiar. Her gentle nature clashed starkly with the ruthless reputation of her husband and his twisted household. Yet, perhaps that was why Lant had been frawn to her---an exquisite contradiction, a delicate flower he could claim amidst his garden of thorns.


(Heh. I'm actually having fun writing this way)


"Indeed, she will be a fine Agriche," Serena's voice slipped into the air the velvet, her tone steeped in a ixture of sincerity and something less descernible. "Just as her name suggests---a star destined to shine brightly. One day, she will grow into a captivating maiden, admired by many, not just within these walls but far beyond them."

Seirra's soft laughter filled the room, her cheeks faintly flushing as she looked down at her daugher, whho squirmed in her arms. "Thank you, Serena," she said, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude.

"I hope you'll be there to guide her, to help her become taht shining star."

Serena inclined her head gracefully, her enigmatic smile never faltering. "It would be an honor to aid lady Roxanne's growth into the fine lady she should be." Her eyes flicked briefly to the baby, who met her gaze with wide, unblinking eyes that seemed to hold far more awareness than they should.

The maid's smiled curled even further, eyes glinting with vague knowledge.

Roxanne's tiny body stiffened, her mind racing as spark of recognition struck her. That face. That voice. That name. Serena Michaelis.

That realization hit her like a thunderclap. This wasn't just any maid. This was Serena Michaelis---the trusted right hand of Lant Agriche, a pivotal character in the novel she had read in her past life. And more importantly,

a demon cloaked in human guise.

"Then, Lady Sierra, Lady Roxanne," breaking the baby's spiral of thoughts, Serena smoothly announced. "if you would excuse me, I shall take my leave for now."

"You're always welcome here, Serena," Sierra replied warmly, her smile unwavering as she held her child close.

Roxanne's gaze followed Serena as she exited the room, her mind still reeling. A demon, she thought, dread and awe mingling in her tiny chest.

This household just keep getting worse.


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