Chapter Text
Katarina Claes had a one-track mind. Despite frequent detours and distractions, the highs and lows of her second life in magical high society and the adventures she'd often get into along with her dearest friends, she still had one goal and one goal alone: to survive. She was, after all, doomed by the narrative, as the villainess of a game that condemned her to death or exile no matter how it ended. But she had the knowledge of her fate and the determination to see to it that it would never get her.
After Raphael's secret route incident, in which all of her friends were at risk of dying in the Academy, as well as Keith's kidnapping and rescue, anyone would be on constant lookout for possible doom flags. Even with the memories of her previous life and the game she'd coincidentally ended up reincarnating in, she'd had neither the knowledge nor the time to prepare before she rushed in, both times, to prevent the worst from happening, and it was a miracle that it all had worked out in the end.
But if the books she and Sophia had read together had taught her anything, it was that miracles are reserved for heroes — and Katarina Claes was no hero. The world was against her, and she was certain that if her friends, the actual good guys in the story, knew about her true nature, they could well and rightfully turn on her. (She hoped with all her heart that that would never happen. But she'd gone through two too many unforeseeable disasters she'd escaped from by the skin of her teeth, therefore she could never discard the possibility.)
So forgive her for being just a tad hypervigilant about it.
It happened more often lately; she'd be invited to an upcoming event and mentally revisit the checklist of basic precautions she already had taken in case she angered the wrong noble and ended up exiled, or she'd hear rumors of some dangerous goings on and keep her guard up for days until it was all resolved. She tried to be subtle about it — she had to, because she was constantly surrounded by the most lovely people in Sorcier and would hate for them to be worried for her — but it would be, as it was, only a matter of time before someone noticed.
It was early evening, and they were once again in the main hall of the Royal Palace for a social event. A huge magic crystal chandelier hung over the middle of the room, scattering rosy gold light across walls decked in gilded thread drapes and exceptionally intricate sculptures of the family's crest. It was such an obvious show of riches and such a beautiful scene that it had given her pause when she first stepped inside. The place felt like the background art for a very important scene in a story, and the thought alone was enough to send a small shiver down her spine.
She'd very quickly gotten distracted by the sweets table, though, promptly dismissing her instinctive worry. After all, despite the pompous and slightly foreboding atmosphere, this was only the 18th birthday celebration of a Marquis' daughter whose name she swore was buried somewhere under all her contingency plans in case of doom; and the current problem was that she had to dig it up before the girl came down the stairs to formally start the party or else she was risking a scandal, which could mean social death, which could mean exile. That was one of the reasons for her to be stuffing herself with desserts instead of enjoying her friends' company.
"A drink for your thoughts, my Lady?"
Geordo snapped her out of her inner world, arm extended toward her, waiting for her to accept the glass with a special cocktail they were serving at the party. "Ah, thank you, Prince Geordo!" Katarina took it with a smile; she'd heard someone say it was made of a mix of exotic fruits from far lands. She took a big gulp and swayed back slightly, feeling slightly more at ease. It was thankfully non-alcoholic and had a tangy aftertaste, which balanced out the sweetness from all the tarts she'd been shoving in her mouth for the past few minutes.
"You seem very pensive today," he said. "May I hear what is on your mind?"
"Mm?" She blinked, taking a sip this time. "Oh! Uh, it's nothing, I'm just… distracted, I guess."
"Yes, that much I can tell. What I wish to know is what it is that distracts you."
"Well, uh…" Katarina bashfully looked at the sea of nobles gathered in groups in the well decorated hall. Almost all of her friends were present and scattered about to socialize: Keith had apparently been corralled by a posse of very interested potential suitors and looked entirely uncomfortable about it; Alan and Mary had their arms linked and were conversing with an older couple, Alan looking thoroughly bored while Mary tried her very best to show enough enthusiasm for the both of them; and Nicol and Sophia had also attracted a small congregation of admirers of their own in a corner. And Geordo had certainly left whatever important yet dull conversation he'd been having with some other noble just to engage with her, so it was only fair that she obliged. "I kinda, sorta… forgot the name of the birthday girl…"
Geordo chuckled, shaking his head. "Is that why you're so nervous? You could've just asked me."
"Yeah, well. I also forgot that was an option." Katarina cleared her throat to get rid of an itch. She hadn't wanted to ask him, actually, because then he might've made fun of how she'd spend the whole week thoroughly preparing for the birthday party of a lady whose name she didn't even know. But now he was conveniently here, dutifully telling her that the girl was Lady Bianca Gentili, daughter of Marquis Igor Gentili, with whom the House of Stuart had a long-standing mutually beneficial relation dating from before even the tumultuous time of Geordo's grandfather's rule, and by then she had all the information she needed and tuned him out in favor of eating another tart and paying attention to the people in the hall.
At some point the string quartet started playing and a very tall, very tanned man in intricate red clothes (announced as the Marquis Igor Gentili) emerged at the top of the central stairs accompanying his daughter, a lovely brunette girl in a flowing silk dress in the white and scarlet of her family's standard and wow, did it look astounding in the lighting. Everything about this party was so well coordinated it felt a little like a dream.
"They really did go all out, huh," she muttered.
"This will look paltry compared to what I have planned for our wedding."
Katarina tensed up at the comment. She found the recent revelation that he, um… actually liked her, she remembered with a blush, a little disconcerting. She still didn't know what to make of that; so for the moment the thought was filed in the mental list of things that might possibly blow up in her face one day.
Once the lady and her father descended the stairs, Geordo linked his arm with Katarina's and she hastily put her drink down as he practically dragged her across the room to be the first to greet them. Katarina idly noted the chandelier above them. "Marquis Igor Gentili; Lady Bianca," Geordo said with his perfect business voice once the four of them met. "It is a great honor to be your host here at the palace."
"Your highness is too kind, Prince Geordo Stuart," the Marquis responded in kind; "I should be the one thanking the Crown for so gracefully ceding this wing of the palace to be used for the occasion. For all the months I spent overseas I did so miss seeing my little light smile like she is today. Look— he's positively glowing!"
"Prince Geordo," she bowed with an almost ethereal grace. Lady Bianca might not be so obviously gorgeous like Mary was, but between her melodious low voice, her flawless poise and the way the dress quite literally glowed under the light of the chandelier, Katarina wasn't sure she wasn't, like, a fairy or something.
"Lady Bianca Gentili," Geordo repeated his greeting. "Allow me to introduce you to my fiancée: Lady Katarina Claes, daughter of Duke Luigi Claes." He gestured at Katarina. "You've heard of her."
The fairy-lady turned to her and bowed with a smile. "Lady Claes. It is a great honor to finally make your acquaintance."
"Ah—" Katarina started, before suddenly remembering she had to act formally—"Lady Gentili," she bowed as well, "the honor is mine. I wish you a happy... a wonderful 18th birthday," she recovered after hesitating. "Tonight is yours to enjoy to your heart's content."
"Yeesh, don't snap your spine with all that tension," she heard Alan's voice behind her and instantly felt her shoulders drop an inch or two. Fortunately for her, the birthday girl herself seemed to also relax, so she turned to him and Mary. "Also don't hog the belle of the ball all for yourself; there's still a lot of people to talk to her, okay?"
"Prince Alan!" Lady Bianca beat her to the greeting with a wide grin. "It has been a while, but you're still as irreverent as I remember."
"I try to stay true to myself."
"That's wonderful." She turned to Mary with a more formally acceptable greeting. Then the conversation flowed like water as Lady Bianca continued to receive many congratulations on her eighteenth birthday from the various nobles queued up to talk to her, and Katarina took the chance to pull herself and Geordo away from the space under the chandelier and back to the sweets table, where her drink and more delicious sweets were waiting for her.
After a while absentmindedly observing the scene before her while chewing on some cake, she quietly realized the Marquis' daughter's hair was as dark as hers had been in her previous life, and something painful pooled in her chest.
Did Lady Bianca know how lucky she was? Did any of the people surrounding her?
"So it wasn't just the name, then."
"Huh?" She turned to Geordo, who was smiling pensively.
"You've got that expression again. The one you have when you're deep in thought," Geordo said without losing his smile. "That can only mean Lady Bianca's name wasn't the real issue you were trying to solve before."
Katarina laughed in surprise. For all the times he'd said he didn't understand her, he's been growing surprisingly insightful of her lately.
Forgetting Lady Gentili's name was one of the reasons she'd been kind of standoffish at the party, yes. The second reason is that between her two lives she technically had a cumulative 34 years of life under her belt, and yet…
"I've never turned eighteen before."
Geordo raised an eyebrow. She swallowed a lump in her throat.
"Never mind," she smiled, shaking her head. "Tell me more about Lady Bianca. She seems very sweet and back there it sounded like you guys are close!"
Geordo smiled and started telling her about how they were first introduced as children and how different she'd been at age ten when, mid-chewing, Katarina suddenly felt her lungs protest something deeply unwanted and started coughing. She tried to keep it down as much as she could, but when it wouldn't stop she excused herself to the restrooms.
She hurried down a hallway, rushed into the closest restroom and practically clambered onto the sink, heaving and gasping until she feared she couldn't anymore— at which point whatever it was dislodged itself from her chest and allowed her to project it out with a disgusting wretch. Gasping for air and answers, Katarina forced herself to look at whatever mess she'd made.
And almost stopped breathing again.
In the sink, were pooling droplets
of something
viscous,
sizzling,
and pitch black.