"Miss, Duke Austen requests your presence."

Liang Lin had her legs propped on the rustic wooden desk, a book cradled in her hands. Gold-rimmed glasses sat on her nose; thick raven-black hair spilled carelessly over her shoulders. Utterly still, she didn’t lift her head—as if she hadn’t heard the maid at all.

"Miss."

"Miss, Duke Austen is summoning you."

"Miss?"

Slowly, Liang Lin closed the book. Her pupils darkened as she lifted her gaze to the servant.

"How impertinent. Who *are* you?"

The maid bowed deeply, trembling.

"Miss, I am Lady Miranda’s maid."

Liang Lin arched a brow.

"*Lady?* Don’t let Miranda’s lowly, filthy maid sully such a noble title. And hasn’t she taught you? After knocking, you wait for permission to enter."

*Slam!*

She hurled the book onto the desk and rose.

The maid shuddered, stealing a glance. Liang Lin stared back, face blank. Her deep crimson eyes held no light—like stagnant blood.

*Thud.*

The maid dropped to her knees, tears streaming.

"Miss! I was wrong! Miss! I was wrong!"

Liang Lin blinked, momentarily stunned. *Huh. Didn’t expect that.*

*Forget it.*

"Get out. Tell Miranda to discipline her servants properly."

The maid scrambled up and fled.

In the hallway, other servants watched Miranda’s tearful maid burst from Liang Lin’s room. They shook their heads, sighing at the young mistress’s ruthlessness. Some felt quiet relief—they were glad *they* didn’t serve Miss Liang Lin.

"*Weird. Why do these women cry the second they see me?*" Liang Lin muttered, smoothing her hair as she stepped out.

She’d grown used to barking orders at soldiers and roughnecks on the battlefield. Discipline was law. War wasn’t a game—if she wasn’t sharp, the enemy would end her.

She pushed open the carved parlor doors. Among familiar faces, one stood out: a girl in a wheelchair.

At that moment, the girl lifted her head. Their eyes met.

Silver-white hair flowed down her back. Sapphire eyes sparkled against pale skin, making her crimson lips glow. A sky-blue gown with puffed sleeves hugged her figure; hands folded neatly on her lap. Gentle as a pet cat.

*Stunning.*

Liang Lin shifted her gaze to Duke Austen, brows furrowed.

"I’m here, Father."

"You haven’t greeted your mother."

"The difference between a maid and a prostitute," Liang Lin mused, chin in hand, "is just location—one serves in a noble courtyard, the other in a filthy brothel. Be pretty, spread your legs, get what you want. *Hmm~* And men adore it." She tilted her head. "Am I right… Miranda… *Lady*?"

"You…!" Miranda’s face paled. She gripped her husband’s arm.

Duke Austen’s jaw tightened, lips twitching.

*Pfft~*

A light laugh cut the tension. Liang Lin turned. The wheelchair girl covered her mouth with a lace-gloved hand, eyes crinkled with mirth.

"Miss Liang Lin truly lives up to her reputation." She clapped softly. "I quite like it."

"Thank you." Liang Lin nodded politely. "I only speak truth."

The girl smiled. "I am Liang Di Langwendi. The sole heir of the Langwendi Family."

Liang Lin froze.

Liang Di’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Duke Austen—no, *Father*—please tell dear Elder Sister Liang Lin the truth."

Duke Austen sighed wearily. "Liang Lin… you are not of our blood. You were raised as a decoy—to protect Liang Di Langwendi."

Shock surged inward, but Liang Lin’s face stayed placid, calm as still water.

"So… I should leave House Langwendi now?"

Duke Austen glanced at Liang Di. *Sixteen years… obedient… useful.* *That fake daughter of mine—stopped a famed swordsman in the street last month. Won. Youngest female swordmaster in the Sotran Empire.* *If she grows stronger… maybe she can keep Liang Di in check? She’s still obedient…*

"If Elder Sister wishes to stay," Liang Di wheeled closer, smile gentle, "you remain Langwendi. Will you stay, Sister?"

Liang Lin fell silent, staring at the smiling girl.

*Walk away proud? Then what? Serve drinks in a grimy tavern? Sew gowns for noble ladies? I only know war and steel—and the Empire bars women from battle. Rely on a man?* A shiver raced down her spine. *No. I’ve always preferred women. That won’t change.*

"I will stay."

Humiliating. But optimal.

Liang Di nodded, satisfied. Turned her chair to leave.

"I have a question." Liang Lin gripped the wheelchair handles, leaning close. Raven hair brushed the backrest. "Will you step outside with me?"

"I never took you for such a gentleman, Elder Sister," Liang Di murmured, tilting her head toward Liang Lin’s cheek. "Of course I will, Sister."

Ignoring everyone else, Liang Lin pushed the wheelchair out.

From the corner of her eye, Liang Lin caught Duke Austen’s grave stare—not at her, but fixed on Liang Di.

*So this old bastard sees *her* as the real threat? How infuriating.*

At the staircase, Liang Lin halted.

"Miss Liang Di… aren’t you afraid I’ll push you—and this wheelchair—straight down the stairs?" Eyes wide, a chilling smirk curled her lips as she stared down. "After all… I’m the infamous villainess, aren’t I?"

"Villainess?" Liang Di’s voice stayed light, airy, as she slowly turned her head back.