(“This damn Hero is deliberately trying to piss me off, isn’t he?”)

Truth be told, Aelia never expected much from Luke’s gift anyway. What truly irked her was his careless attitude, lack of sincerity, and zero homework done. Even if he’d somehow picked the right thing, she wouldn’t have used it—she’d have handed it straight to Elise. But now… glancing at the deep violet lipstick, near-black nail polish, and pungent perfume inside the box, she thought, *(Might as well gift this to some noblewoman in her forties or fifties.)*

Beside her, Elise—who’d been praising Luke nonstop while unwrapping her own gift—now looked thoroughly shaken.

“A-Aelia-sama… I-I think Lord Luke must’ve been tricked by the merchant into buying these cosmetics.”

Pathetically, Elise was still scrambling to defend him.

*(What the hell? She’s taking an outsider’s side again?)*

This time, Aelia was genuinely furious. She knew Elise was playing matchmaker, but setting aside her own feelings—Luke’s effort didn’t deserve Elise betraying her loyalty. Sometimes she wanted to ask: *Do you even remember our pact from forty-something chapters ago—to test Luke?* Now it felt like the test had twisted into measuring *her* patience.

“I’m fine. Gifts are about the thought. Lord Luke surely spent good coin—we should prepare a proper thank-you gift.”

No sarcasm. No passive-aggression. This was Aelia’s secret move against conscientious souls: *repay malice with kindness*.

Hard-won wisdom from her early transmigration days: when townsfolk scorned her for the original owner’s sins, the harsher they were, the harder she’d strive to repay them—stirring guilt until they bowed in admiration.

Don’t call it bootlicking. It took sharp judgment. She’d never waste it on the guiltless. She’d stage it *only* before empathetic hearts—goodwill mistaken for malice—to harvest sympathy. Soon, the crowd would rally to her side, condemning her critics.

Now? First, make Elise feel ashamed. Let that shame ripple to Luke. No real damage—but plant a thorn in his heart. Showcase her grace, unilaterally boost his goodwill, lull him into lowering his guard… so she could later kick him into an abyss of no return.

“I’m sorry, Aelia-sama…”

Whether it worked on Luke didn’t matter—Elise instantly drowned in guilt. When a girl says “it’s the thought that counts,” the gift brought zero joy. Worse: frugal, gentle Aelia was surely stressing over disposal. Throwing it out felt wasteful; keeping it risked her reputation. Gifting it onward? Rumors she looked down on “cheap” things…

After agonizing, Elise blamed herself entirely. “Aelia-sama, leave this to me.” She snatched the box and fled the Saintess’s Palace.

Returning it would trouble the merchant. Giving it back to Luke? No. She sold the cosmetics at 90% value to a trusted reseller. Pocketing the coins, she stormed back to the palace and found Luke waiting anxiously.

“Lord Luke—why didn’t you buy what I suggested?”

“Aelia-sama didn’t like them?” Luke flinched, head bowed. “My fault. I heard she doesn’t wear makeup… so I assumed she’d enjoy trying something bold. That’s why I chose these…”

His tone was perfect. The excuse? Flimsy. Any clear-eyed observer would suspect deliberate sabotage.

But Elise wasn’t clear-eyed. Having survived Charles—the epitome of clueless men—her reaction was:

“I knew you’d think that… No matter. Let’s regroup.” She pulled out the resale cash plus her own savings. “The shopkeeper was reasonable. I told Aelia-sama I gifted them to someone in need. No more flashy tricks—just a meaningful souvenir this time.”

*(You win this round, trash Saintess.)*

Luke felt a flicker of guilt—but it only hardened his resolve to mess with *a certain someone*.

This time, Elise kept the coin purse clutched tight, veto power secured.

They soon reached a souvenir shop stocked with genuine imports from across the Southern Realm (only 30% Messiah Kingdom filler).

“Lord Luke—which nations have you visited? Where’s your homeland?”

Elise aimed to pick souvenirs from places he’d actually been—future conversation starters.

Luke’s gaze locked on a music box.

Not for its craft or melody—but an evil spirit clung to it. His mind-reading skill tapped non-humans, robots, ghosts… absurdly overpowered.

Silently shielding Elise from its eerie aura, he pointed. “Elise—what do you think?”

“Quite nice.”

Her eyes lit up. Not perfect—but for a man she’d written off as hopelessly oblivious? Remarkably decent. Love needed sincerity. Since his choice was sound, she had no reason to veto.

She paid, had it wrapped, then discreetly layered a tracking charm and seal-breaking alert onto the box before returning to the palace with Luke.

That evening, Aelia “happened” to step out again.

Watching Luke safely hand over the gift, Elise finally exhaled.

*(Not bad. Actually apologized. This young lady shall graciously permit you to be my bootlicker #10086.)*

Even knowing Elise nudged him, Aelia savored a tiny moral victory.

*Future?* Still kicking him out. Bootlickers don’t get the throne—and the gates of the Messiah Kingdom? You’re not worthy.

But the satisfaction vanished fast.

Back in her chamber, unwrapping the box, opening the music box—a shadow shot out.

“Hahahaha! Bet you didn’t see *this* coming—your lord is baa—”

Aelia swatted the spirit dead with Holy Light magic—*smack*, like a mosquito.

Elise’s soul shattered.

*(Lord Luke… are you cursed?!)*