For a moment, she wrestled with herself. It’s none of my business. I’m just a commoner. But if anything happens here, the shop’s reputation—and my job—will be ruined.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter as she pondered what to do.

Just then, a familiar voice called from the back room. “Is there something wrong? Why is it so quiet in here?”

Lady Baltimore, the boutique’s owner, appeared—dark blue hair swept into a perfect twist, eyes sharp as pins. She blinked in surprise upon seeing the Duke’s daughter.

“Lady de Guzman! I wasn’t informed you were visiting.”

Vivian turned, holding up a small lapel pin shaped like a coiled viper. “Do you still have one more of this?”

“We can make more, my lady,” Lady Baltimore replied, wary but professional. “How many would you like?”

“Just two of these pins,” Vivian said with a faint smile.

The light glinted off the tiny silver serpents—sleek, poised, and ready to strike.

“Of course we can, my lady,” Melissa replied brightly. “If you don’t mind me asking—why this particular pin?”

She kept her tone polite, though a thought flickered privately in her mind. Funny… I only placed that pin to tease Vivianne about Lady de Guzman being a viper in silk. Does the lady herself even realize it?

Vivian tilted the small silver pin in her fingers, watching how the light gleamed along the coiled viper’s body.
“I want my maids to wear this,” she said at last. So everyone knows they work under me.

A brand mark, she thought privately. A symbol of loyalty—or ownership, depending on who was looking.
“This pin suits me perfectly, don’t you think?” she added with a wry smile. Since everyone already calls me the Viper in Silk.

Her tone was light, almost amused, but the next words slipped out before she could stop herself.
“I want everyone to know that they are mine.”

The statement hung in the air, heavier than she intended.
Vivian blinked once, then simply moved on, choosing to ignore whatever madness had just come out of her mouth.

The purchase was soon wrapped up, and Vivian instructed them to have everything delivered directly to the mansion. Lady Melissa personally left to oversee the delivery, ensuring not a single mistake would occur for such a high-profile client.

That left only Vivianne to accompany the Duke’s daughter while she finished her tea.

When the last sip was gone, Vivian folded her fan with a soft click. “I believe my business here is done, Ms. Frostman. Thank you for your accommodation.”

As she rose, the hem of her gown brushed the edge of the table—sending the porcelain cup toppling. It shattered against the floor in a bright, ringing crack.

“My lady, allow me—” Vivianne quickly knelt, gathering the scattered shards before they could cut anyone.

“Goodness, how careless of me—urk…” Vivian’s words broke off, a sharp pain striking behind her eyes. Her right hand flew to her temple as images burst, unbidden, across her mind—

Vivianne kneeling on this same floor, but the memory twisted.
A different Vivian towered above her, fury etched across her face.

“Just because we share the same name, you think you’re better than me?”
“You are nothing! A commoner—know your place!”
“How dare you mock me before those nobles!”
“You vermin! Pretending to stand equal—you’re a parasite feeding on light that isn’t yours!”

The words slammed through her skull like knives. Vivian staggered, nausea flooding her chest.

Vivianne froze mid-motion, eyes widening at the sight of the noblewoman swaying unsteadily. She reached out on instinct. “My lady—are you all right?”

“Make it stop…” Vivian gasped, voice cracking. “Please—make it stop.”

The memories. The voice. The cruelty.
How can I ever look at her after seeing that?

Vivianne caught her just as she began to lose balance. A faint pulse of energy sparked at her fingertips—cool and soothing. She hesitated only a moment before pressing her hand gently against Vivian’s temple.

A soft wave of chill spread through the noblewoman’s head, the pain ebbing like receding tide.

Just a little. No one would notice. She’ll never know I can use magic, Vivianne thought, steadying her breath.

Vivian’s trembling slowed. Her expression softened, her eyes unfocused but calm.

“…thank you,” she whispered weakly.

Vivianne smiled faintly, still supporting her. “Rest a bit, my lady. The world can wait.”

“It seems the young lady is unwell; we must return her to the de Guzman estate,” one of the men said.

Vivian, still unsteady, nodded faintly and started to follow—until the silver-haired girl stepped between them.

 Vivianne’s eyes narrowed. She recognized them.

They were the same two hooded figures she had seen earlier, lingering across the street and watching the Duke’s daughter enter the boutique. Now, their hoods were gone, but their faces were unfamiliar. Worse, she distinctly remembered that Lady de Guzman had arrived with two knights and two maids—none of whom these men resembled.

“Wait,” Vivianne said sharply, stepping forward. “If you truly serve the de Guzman family, show me your identification—your house insignia or pendant bearing the Duke’s crest.”

Each household’s servants and knights carried one: a small metal insignia engraved with the family’s symbol, infused with their master’s mana signature to prove authenticity.

The two men exchanged glances but made no move to comply.

“How dare you!” one near the door barked. “A commoner has no right to question us!”

Vivian blinked, her thoughts snapping into focus. Who on earth are they?

“Who are you?” she demanded, stepping back.

 The man gripping her arm suddenly tensed—his palm glowing a faint green.

Vivianne noticed it a split second before she acted. She shoved his hand aside just as a dart shot out from his sleeve, striking the nearby curtain. It vanished in a wisp of smoke the instant it landed.

Both women stared.

“It’s a magical dart, my lady!” Vivianne warned. “Be careful—we don’t know what’s inside!”

The air hissed where the dart struck, leaving behind a faint shimmer of green vapor that smelled oddly of metal and rain. The residue sizzled for a heartbeat before vanishing entirely—like a living thing retreating into the air.

“Tch—!” The man cursed, shoving Vivianne to the ground as he bolted for the door.

“Vivianne!” Lady de Guzman shouted, rushing to help her up.

Vivianne squeezed her eyes shut as she hit the floor, the air knocked from her lungs.

“Vivianne!”

The shout rang out—sharp, trembling with genuine fear. Lady de Guzman’s voice.

She felt strong hands grip her shoulders, helping her sit up. But as Vivianne opened her eyes, her breath caught in her throat.

 A faint green dart—almost translucent—had struck the left side of Lady de Guzman’s neck. Its glow pulsed once before fading, the object vanishing into nothingness.

“No… My lady, are you all right? You were hit—on the neck!” Vivianne’s voice quivered. If word spreads that the Duke’s daughter was attacked inside Lady Baltimore’s shop, we’ll all be ruined.

“Am I?” Vivian murmured, touching her neck. “I think I’m fi—”

Her words broke off.

Vivianne froze as the young noble’s pupils suddenly dilated, her eyes flashing with an eerie green light that bled and vanished as quickly as it came.

“My lady?” Vivianne whispered, alarm creeping up her spine.

Before she could move, a hand clamped around her throat.

“—urk!” Vivianne gasped, struggling for air as she clawed at the grip tightening around her neck.

Her mind reeled—the strength behind those hands wasn’t human. It wasn’t fury or madness; it felt borrowed, as though something else was moving the young lady’s body like a puppet.

“My—my lady, please… come back to your senses!” she pleaded, voice rasping.

But Vivian de Guzman’s face had gone pale and expressionless, her eyes empty. Her body moved with mechanical precision, her strength far greater than expected from her delicate frame.

“…kill… must… kill…” she murmured in a flat, broken tone.

The sound was low, chilling, and utterly devoid of reason.

Melissa heard the commotion and rushed from the back room, her heels striking sharply against the marble floor.

I knew it! she thought bitterly. It was impossible for her to come here without stirring trouble. I should’ve left Viv to deal with that villainess herself!

But when she burst into the boutique’s front hall, her breath caught.

Lady de Guzman—the Duke’s daughter herself—had Vivianne by the throat.

“Lady de Guzman! What are you doing!?” Melissa cried, trying to pry them apart.

Her effort earned her a sharp slap across the face, the sound echoing through the boutique. The noblewoman’s expression didn’t change; her empty eyes glowed faintly green.

Now the Duke’s daughter turned on her, fingers twitching like a predator’s claws.

“Milady, please stop!” Melissa gasped, stumbling back as Vivian’s hands reached for her neck.

Vivianne, still coughing and wheezing, forced herself upright and grabbed both of the young lady’s wrists. “Lady Baltimore—help me restrain her!”

Melissa blinked, momentarily stunned. “Viv, get away from her!”

“Just help me! I’ll explain later!” Vivianne shouted, locking her trembling fingers around Vivian’s arms. “She’s stronger than she looks—I can’t hold her alone!”

Melissa hesitated for only a second before moving to assist, gripping one of Vivian’s wrists tightly. The noblewoman struggled, her movements jerky and violent, but the two managed to keep her from striking again.

“I need someone to call the de Guzman knights!” Vivianne ordered through clenched teeth. “They’re stationed near the café!”

One of the boutique workers nodded frantically and bolted for the door.

Outside, by sheer luck, the two maids and the knights who had been finishing their errands were already approaching.

 “…Help! The young lady is—”

Before the shop worker could finish, the door burst open. The Duke’s knights and maids rushed into the boutique, alarm flooding their faces.

But the moment they saw what was happening, their instincts betrayed them.

Two women—Melissa and Vivianne—were grappling with Lady de Guzman. From the outside, it looked like they were attacking her.

“Unhand the Lady!” one of the knights shouted, lunging forward to pull them away.

“No—wait!” Vivianne tried to explain, but her voice was drowned out by the chaos.

The knights dragged the two women back while Helen—breathless and pale—ran straight toward her mistress.

“My lady, are you al—”

Her words never finished. Vivian’s hand lashed out, the slap landing hard across her face. The sound cracked through the boutique like a whip.

Helen froze in disbelief, pain failing to register before she fell backward. The noblewoman followed—kneeling on her stomach and striking again, wild and unrestrained.

“What are you knights doing?!” Melissa shouted, struggling against their grip. “You have to stop your mistress, not us!”

The two knights turned—and their faces blanched.

Helen lay on the marble floor, her cheek swollen and crimson, a thin line of blood trailing from her lip. The Duke’s daughter, eyes vacant and glowing faintly green, raised her hand again to strike.

The faint scent of ozone thickened in the air, and every magic lamp in the shop flickered—once, twice—before dimming to a trembling glow.