Unfortunately, not long after Aelia returned to her room, Elise delivered devastating news.

“Wait—you mean Lord Luke actually *likes* me?”

Don’t misunderstand. For Aelia, being admired was as ordinary as breathing.

Even if the admirer was that detestable Hero, liking her was only natural. The right to feel disdain had always belonged solely to her.

She’d never expected Elise’s intel mission to yield useful results—and indeed, that jerk Hero had no past romantic scandals to exploit… (Though if it were about herself? She’d never disclose a thing.)

What troubled Aelia wasn’t the news itself—it was that Elise had somehow sided with that damn Hero.

Sure, Elise had once promised to support *her* relationship with him—but that was from *Aelia’s* perspective.

Now? Elise had sung Luke’s praises endlessly.

“Yes! Lord Luke undoubtedly adores you, Lady Aelia!”

Just as Aelia suspected: Elise had cast Luke as the real-life embodiment of her favorite romance novel’s male lead.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Naturally, she began extolling him—most of it pure fantasy borrowed from fiction.

To play matchmaker, she’d even exaggerated Luke’s affections, planning to “convey” Aelia’s supposed feelings the same way later.

This would make them overanalyze every tiny, meaningless gesture as love… drawing them closer.

She’d even invented an excuse for Luke’s ballroom slight: *He fell for her at first sight but, inexperienced and flustered, unconsciously avoided her.*

By now, he was probably agonizing over how to apologize…

*(How adorably naive!)*

After this mental spiral, Elise’s heart raced like a fan witnessing her shipped couple’s sweet moment.

Aelia, though no mind-reader, recognized that dreamy haze instantly. *Ugh. Romance delusions again.*

“I see…”

But Aelia was a master of disguise. Surface-level? A shy, flustered blush.

To Elise, it looked like genuine shyness.

“Don’t worry, Lady Aelia! Everything will work out!”

Deciding a lady should be reserved yet not silent, Elise vowed to become their love messenger—urging Luke to act while “relaying” Aelia’s feelings.

*(Perfect. Exactly what I wanted.)*

This misunderstanding was crucial. Only if everyone believed in mutual affection could there be “betrayal” or “catching him red-handed.”

If Elise later tearfully exposed everything before a crowd? Sympathy votes for Aelia. Public outrage against that bastard Hero. Ideal.

Yet Aelia remained professional. After Elise’s promise, she smiled warmly—then froze mid-smile, her expression dimming with quiet sorrow.

The golden-haired elven maid missed nothing. “Lady Aelia… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… just thinking about this morning.”

“This morning? What happened at the tea party?”

(Elise had skipped it to investigate Luke.)

Aelia offered a hesitant smile. “Nothing serious… just Lady Mary, Lady Carol, and Miss Catherine were… *very* eager to ask about Lord Luke…”

Elise paled.

Those women were infamous noble socialites—rumored to have double-digit lovers. Lady Carol? Her husband, Viscount Green, allegedly played piano *outside* during her… *affairs*.

“I’ll warn Lord Luke immediately—”

“Elise, wait.” Aelia gently stopped her. “I… believe we must respect Lord Luke’s choice.”

Her voice carried fleeting melancholy, then resolved into gentle selflessness—*sacrificing her happiness for his*.

Anyone else would’ve cried, “Truly the Saintess!” But Elise couldn’t. To her, Aelia was family. And family shouldn’t suffer for others.

Still, Aelia’s words snapped her back. *Right. I jumped to conclusions. This isn’t responsible.*

But Luke was a romance novice facing battle-hardened seductresses… staying unscathed? Nearly impossible.

After weighing it, she’d give him a subtle warning—and watch closely.

“Mm. I trust you,” Aelia murmured.

No disappointment crossed her face. Only a flicker of guilt, then unwavering trust, encouragement, hope.

*This* was why Elise revered her.

*This* was why she’d follow her through fire and water.

…

“Yes!”

The moment the elven maid vanished, Aelia rolled gleefully across her bed.

Slightly annoyed Elise had “turned traitor”? Sure. But clever Aelia saw opportunity.

*Want to help that damn Hero? Go ahead.*

After your “help,” he’ll still drown in seduction.

And when *you* realize your efforts were wasted? Humiliated fury. You’ll expose his disgrace to the world—ruining him completely. *Perfection.*

Think it’s no different from before?

Dead wrong.

Originally, Elise would’ve observed coldly, rationally—*too* slowly. If the king intervened to smooth things over? All wasted.

But now? Elise *is* the chain reaction. Waiting to ignite the blaze.

“Whether intentional or not,” Aelia whispered with a sinister smile, “dare to recruit *my* people? Prepare to have the stone you lift crush your own foot.”