Walking out without a thick cloak in the dead winters of the capital wasn’t enticing. I didn’t like the winters, but this year, nature had particularly conspired against this poor undead. This was the worst chilly midwinter I had ever lived in my undead life. Or was it un-life? But the point was, the season was terrible, and we had just crossed the first-month threshold of gossamer winter or milder weather of the capital. Living through this hell-bent natural disaster was almost as disastrous as bread drought.

Above all, I was undead. One that was so overpowered that even terrible winters wouldn’t stop me.

Laundry on such a cold morning was terrible, and my fingers froze multiple times. [Warmth] did help me, albeit not much. As you already know, the crawling sensation was worse than the chill of the winters. I had become a picky person for a long time now since there was no point in not being fussy when life was so long.

“Grr,” Yule cast a small ball of fire beside me that disappeared instantly. The sealing magic had closed off most of the pore on its enormous body that helped in mana assimilation, so it was no worse than an apprentice mage now.

“Too bad for you, Yule,” I nuzzled its throat with my shoe, and it cast me a furious glare.

“Gwar Grr!”

“I’m not belittling you,” I laughed, keeping my hands busy with washing my suit. “I know your strength. I watched you succumb to [Spark bats] multiple times and get back up. That was admirable.”

It raised its head proudly.

“Not running away after getting disgraced is indeed admirable,” I added with a thoughtful expression.

It barked and almost bit my leg, but I kicked it away.

“I won’t feed you if you bite me,” I shrugged and resumed my task. “And don’t trouble me when I am occupied with my chore. I am still interested in cooking soup out of you. I have never tasted a demon, after all. Call it reimbursement for using [Refluengence] on me.”

It whined and scurried back to the western courtyard, shivering in the cold. This mutt had better luck than me. I couldn’t even afford to stay under warm sheets on a cold winter morning. Even my tongue felt tasteless at times, thanks to winter damnation.

Nevertheless, I finished the laundry and ambled back to my lady’s room. She was sleeping, and the clock, if it did exist, wouldn’t have hit past seven. Maids were a good sign of the timekeeping since their biological clocks were tuned better than these nobles. But even they woke up late to avoid the chilly winters and returned to duty only when the sun, however faint, returned to rule behind the dark clouds of the midwinter. The upside was, I enjoyed a quiet laundry session without whispers and repugnant stares.

“Letitia,” I opened the drapes that did little help. “It’s morning.”

She pulled the sheets and covered her head. I walked to her bed and pulled the sheet out forcefully. She released it abruptly, and I almost fell on my butt, the inertia taking a good chunk of my effort to stop.

Her eyes opened after much hesitation, and she sat up without hurling anything at me. Her habits had changed, and somehow she was less impulsive than before. Then again, I didn’t let my guard down. A bad undead never did.

She yawned, her eyes scanning the room in lethargy until they landed on me. “A mowning kiss.”

I threw the crumpled sheets on her. “Get ready, my lady. We have to earn a commendation letter from the mage at today’s ball. You have been idling away most of your time for the past month. We have less than twenty days left.”

“I was twying!” she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands and glared at me. “Everwone rejected me!”

“Grr.” The hound appeared at the door, and Letitia glanced at it with a smile.

“Either way,” I walked to her and tied her sprawled hair to a bun. “If nothing else works out, then we’ll threaten a mage to write one.”

“No,” my lady immediately denied. “I want to pass with my own capabilities.”

Her slurred speech was no more, and there was steel resolve in her voice. Ruthlessness was also a strength, but I decided not to change her mind this time.

She pecked my cheek, patted Yule’s head, and ambled out of the room to freshen up. I prepared her purple gown and walked to the kitchen to bring her some breakfast. Initially, it was just us. Now, everyone preferred to have their meals separately. Arabell had been attuned to strange behavior these days. We didn’t read much into it since our hands were already occupied with too many problems of our own. Money, bread, and bread. And there was my lady’s graduation problem adding to these.

I fished a couple of loaves of bread and some soup before noting down the expenses. My thoughts about my lady’s step-sister materialized, and her presence eluded my scrutiny as she picked up her own breakfast.

We didn’t exchange pleasantries, nor did she snicker at me like always. She hadn’t been doing that for a while now, and I reasoned that life must have churned her gut, for she had become less arrogant. I walked around the table, ignoring the hearth, her stanch misery, and the bread on her plate before walking back to the western courtyard. Maybe I should have stolen it. She had spread some nasty rumors about my lady in the past.

I tramped the passage to the western courtyard, interrupted with some titters. Yule was seated on its butt on the floor beside my lady, who was staring at her scar in the mirror. She smiled at my reflection and raised the comb.

After placing her breakfast on the nightstand at her bedside, I busied myself with combing her hair. Her breathing was soft, unlike the hound’s, but it still sounded loud enough in the quiet ambiance of the room that didn’t warrant any additional noise. It was ironic that we enjoyed such peaceful days, despite my goals and machinations. Perhaps, it had to do with my lady’s demeanor. I had no clue, nor did I intend to hunt for answers that were never absolute. This short-lived peaceful life should come to an end. Else, she wouldn’t realize the need to gain absolute power.

I helped her get dressed into her gown and tied her hair to a pony because that was the best I could manage with her silky hair. Braids weren’t felicitous for a ball hosted by the Mage Congregation. Anything more complicated was beyond the understanding of common undead. I had decided to learn more ways of styling, but it was not high up on my list of necessities.

My lady was quite happy with the pony because it offered her comfort more than style and didn’t need any additional mending should we have a rough excursion to the city hall. Not that we expected some violent thugs to attack us, but there was no logic in the world’s attempt to overthrow villainess. Extra caution never decreased my bread stash, so there was no trouble in employing it.

After her breakfast, I locked the hound in my room, and we decided to get a carriage to the city hall. Platique Entalt, they called it. Most unmarried noblewomen were always on the lookout for such opportunities, except my lady and a few other unruly young ladies who didn’t prefer to become slaves of some other noble family. This time, when the planned sojourn of my lady and her friends in the mage offices had failed to extract any valuable results, they had resorted to reaching out for mages outside the Academy. Ones that weren’t aware of their reputation or perhaps were ready to look past it.

Lady Marlica, as always, sent the girls to every ball. For her, being a high-ranked woman was relishing in the recompenses that followed the status. So, the two sisters had started going to the balls when they were hardly eleven years old. And they had succeeded in pinning good men under their hooves. At least it looked like that on the surface.

My lady brushed past them without a second glance at the residence carriage, and we reached outside, taking our usual carriage through the central plaza of the city. The same one that was boisterous in the nights. The ostentatious building was located on the periphery, toward the eastern side, where the roads decked with the most expensive grey pavements led to the royal palace of the capital. The court also hosted festivities, albeit not many since the king had gotten skeptical. He even outright denied any stopovers to the castle, worried that everyone was trying to kill him.

Alas, a foolish mortal thought he was the most important person on land. There was no saving these mortals from ignorance.

Our entire journey was a silent one, and my lady took a nap on my shoulder despite the shuddering carriage. She had started training late into nights, often staying up all night on weekends, trying to master external casting. The loss at the tournament had shaken her confidence, and she thought she couldn’t have beaten Gladiata even if they fought fair and square. Feeling inferior was terrible given that she was destined to become a villainess, but becoming strong to overcome that worked in my favor. So I just riled up her mien, making her keener on improving.

The carriage stopped among many others, too pale when compared to the brazen twenty others of noble houses. My [Devil eye] was doing good business, and I saw my lady’s two friends waving at me. Beth was dressed in her usual black robe that appeared pale when compared to the flashy dresses, while Casey was happy with her almost frayed yellow gown. Both of their dresses were front-lace-up, unlike my lady’s gown. She didn’t prefer them either because it accentuated her bust size, her subsequent worry after the commendation letter.

Two maids followed closely behind them, each wearing kirtles, almost similar to the nobles. Well, they had come prepared.

“My lady,” I shook her slightly. “Beth and Casey are already here.”

She got up, and no clawing followed. “Don’t leave my side. I don’t like the predators inside.”

I laughed and adjusted her hair. “You need to look beautiful, my lady. Even if you don’t want men to look at you. You dress up for yourself and not for satiating anyone else. Just like how you kill because you want to, and not because someone else asked you to.”

She smiled. “But you always kill because I ask you to.”

“Do I?” I asked. “Did it never cross your mind that all the ones you have ordered to be slain are the ones I had put in your mind?”

She thought about the question. When she couldn’t find an answer, she just shrugged and hopped out of the carriage. We ambled toward Beth and Casey, who was standing beside the adorned pillar beside the portico that extended beyond the entrance stairs. Colorful, with varying shades of red to blue, ran to the top, the walls behind stretching with whitish-yellow throughout. The chatter of mortals surrounded us, the laughs concealed, intentions hidden, knives sheathed. Everyone here was crafty, probably more than my lady could ever hope to become. It wasn’t in her nature because it wasn’t in mine. I hadn’t honed her to become a strategist; instead, she would become the longest blade that slashed her enemies without a second thought.

A monumental goal for now. Not impossible, nevertheless, since one thing I had was time. And enough mortals to see the results.

You call it guinea pigs? Suit yourself.