“Waaaaaaaah!”
That day, upon returning to my room, I burst into tears. I dove straight into bed, without any regard for my rapidly wrinkling dress, and pressed my face into the pillow as I pounded the white sheets with all my strength.
I’d been welcomed into the distinguished House Manilas as the fiancée to Count Theodore, yet here I was, bawling and wailing like a child. Surely this was inappropriate!
But I couldn’t help myself. I was suffering! Frustrated! What else was I to do but cry?
“Urk... Hic...”
As I wept, I heard someone behind me.
“Evelyn...” Kira said, his brows furrowed with sympathy.
“Kira...”
I sat up on the bed, smiling at him. Still, tears continued to stream down my face, and Kira looked on with a pained expression.
“Kira, why is this happening?”
For twenty-three years, I’d lived in the Grand Basilica as the saint, doing all I could for the Holy Kingdom of Snasile, offering prayers and purifying the miasma plaguing the land. But...that was all I could do. I had no other skills. I’d never been trained in proper aristocratic etiquette, couldn’t do lovely embroidery like refined young ladies could, and knew nothing about the fashion and theater that were so popular in the royal capital.
I was a future countess, yet I lacked the social skills to support my husband. In fact, even a simple dance was beyond what my feet could pull off. I was hopelessly, completely inadequate.
The tutors House Manilas had hired for me were not shy about pointing out as much. They whispered behind my back, saying I wasn’t suited for the family. I was relentlessly bullied and scolded. Tragic, right? Horrible.
Except that wasn’t true.
Not even a little bit.
So why was I in such despair, you ask?
“Why won’t anyone criticize me?!”