Beatrice had made peace with a lot of things in life.
Dying young? Yeah, she'd been there.
Reincarnating into a novel? Weird, but manageable.
Being the most hated woman in the entire kingdom?
…Not great.
As she strolled through the palace gardens, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone, she thought back to how truly despised Beatrice Da Ville had been in the novel.
People had whispered behind her back. Nobles had openly insulted her at social gatherings. Commoners had spread stories about her cruelty.
She was known as The Viper of High Society.
Which, to be fair, past-Beatrice had earned. She had been rude, arrogant, and completely obsessed with the prince. She had gone out of her way to humiliate Johanna, scheming to make her look bad in front of everyone.
And when she finally got caught?
Not a single person had defended her.
Her execution had been a national event.
Beatrice rubbed her temples. "God, I was awful."
She had no idea how to fix her reputation, but step one was definitely staying out of trouble.
She would keep a low profile, stay quiet, and—
"I heard Lady Beatrice has changed."
She froze.
A group of noble ladies stood nearby, clearly talking about her.
One of them fanned herself dramatically. "I still don't trust her. People like that don't change overnight."
Another hummed. "But she hasn't caused any trouble so far."
"She did spill wine on the prince."
"True. But she didn't blame anyone for it."
A third girl giggled. "And His Highness keeps looking at her."
Beatrice felt her soul leave her body.
Not this again.
She whirled around, ready to interrupt this nonsense, and immediately tripped over the edge of her gown.
She barely caught herself, but not before stumbling forward like a drunk flamingo.
The noble ladies stared.
Beatrice slowly straightened up and pretended that absolutely nothing had happened.
"…Lady Beatrice?" one of them asked hesitantly.
Beatrice smiled, adjusting her sleeve. "Oh, don't mind me. I just wanted to experience what falling in public felt like."
Silence.
Then someone snorted.
Beatrice turned her head and nearly screamed.
Francois was standing a few feet away, watching her again.
What. Why.
Beatrice nearly fell over a second time.
She immediately turned on her heel and power-walked in the opposite direction.
Maybe if she moved fast enough, the embarrassment wouldn't catch up to her.
She barely made it ten steps before someone grabbed her wrist.
"You're running away again," Francois said coolly.
Beatrice groaned. "I wouldn't call it running. I would call it… strategically exiting the situation."
Francois didn't look amused.
Beatrice tried to pull her hand away. He didn't let go.
She narrowed her eyes. "Your Highness, this is a little inappropriate, don't you think?"
Francois raised an eyebrow. "You're worried about propriety?"
"Of course." Beatrice gestured dramatically to the nobles around them. "What if people think you're interested in me?"
Francois's grip loosened slightly. "That would be unfortunate."
Beatrice nodded firmly. "Exactly."
"But," he continued, his sharp blue eyes locking onto hers, "I dislike mysteries. And you've become one."
Beatrice stopped breathing.
Crap.
She could feel the weight of his gaze. Intense, calculating.
She needed to say something. Quickly.
She put a hand over her chest. "Your Highness, are you accusing me of being interesting? I am deeply offended."
Francois's expression remained unreadable.
Beatrice patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. I assure you, I'm painfully boring."
Then she turned and walked away.
She didn't run. That would look suspicious.
She just walked as fast as humanly possible without looking like she was fleeing for her life.
Behind her, she could still feel Francois watching.
Beatrice exhaled. This wasn't good.
If Francois kept looking at her, the rumors would get worse. And if people started expecting something between them, Johanna's supporters would turn on her.
She needed to stop whatever this was immediately.
Starting tomorrow, she would double her efforts to stay out of his way.
There was no way he'd keep noticing her.
…Right?
Wrong.
The next morning, Beatrice was dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour.
Her maid, Lily, was practically vibrating with excitement as she brushed Beatrice's hair. "My lady! His Highness has invited all the noble ladies to a morning gathering."
Beatrice groaned. "Does it involve exercise?"
Lily giggled. "Not at all! A simple tea party in the royal gardens."
Beatrice sighed in relief. "Good. Because I'd rather be executed than go on a morning jog."
Lily gasped. "My lady, don't say such things!"
Beatrice mentally slapped herself. Right. Doom jokes were not appropriate in this era.
She cleared her throat. "I mean… I'd rather drink tea than exercise. That's all."
Lily relaxed immediately.
Beatrice mentally added 'no dark humor' to her survival plan.
By the time she arrived at the garden, half the noble ladies were already seated.
Johanna, of course, was glowing with grace and kindness, chatting sweetly with the queen.
Beatrice sighed in relief. Good, good! Keep the attention on her.
She quietly took a seat at the far end of the table, grabbed a teacup, and planned to sit silently until this event was over.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
Because the moment she picked up her teacup, she completely missed her mouth and spilled tea down the front of her dress.
Silence.
Beatrice stared at the stain.
The noble ladies stared at her.
Francois, who was seated directly across from her, tilted his head slightly.
Beatrice placed her teacup down gently, dabbing at her dress with a napkin.
Then she looked up, completely deadpan. "I swear I'm normally a functional person."
Someone stifled a giggle.
Beatrice cleared her throat and pretended the moment never happened.
Tea party. Conversation. Johanna charming the entire room.
Everything was back on track.
Until Francois spoke.
"Lady Beatrice."
She immediately tensed. Why. Why me.
She looked up and forced a polite smile. "Your Highness?"
Francois studied her for a long moment.
"Tell me," he said, voice cool and measured, "what has changed?"
Beatrice blinked. "Pardon?"
"You are not as you were before." His gaze did not waver. "What changed?"
Beatrice's soul left her body.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
This was dangerous. If Francois kept questioning her, he might notice too much.
She needed to shut this down. Fast.
She let out a soft, completely fake laugh. "Your Highness, you speak as if I have become a completely different person."
Francois didn't react. "Haven't you?"
Beatrice's smile faltered.
The table was dead silent now. The noble ladies were all watching the exchange with open curiosity.
Even the queen had stopped talking.
Beatrice took a slow sip of tea, stalling for time.
Then she set her cup down and casually tilted her head.
"Well," she said smoothly, "I suppose you could say near-death experiences are enlightening."
Some of the noble ladies nodded, murmuring in agreement.
Beatrice internally sighed in relief. Yes. That was a reasonable answer.
Then Francois, still watching her, spoke again.
"And what exactly did you learn from yours?"
Beatrice nearly snapped her teacup in half.
Why is he like this?!
She forced another laugh. "Ah, nothing too dramatic, Your Highness. Just the usual things." She counted on her fingers. "Appreciate life. Be a better person. Don't die."
A few nobles chuckled.
Francois did not.
He was still staring at her, unblinking.
Beatrice refused to break eye contact.
This was now a battle of wills.
Finally, Francois hummed. "I see."
Beatrice exhaled slowly.
Crisis averted.
For now.
But as the tea party continued, she felt his gaze linger on her once again.
She bit into a scone aggressively.
This man was going to give her an ulcer.