The trouble with Lady Celeste was that she wasn't just any noblewoman.



She was dangerous.



The kind of woman who could destroy someone without ever lifting a finger.



I knew this. I had lived among women like her before.



And yet, despite my best efforts, I had still managed to make an enemy out of her.



So, really, I should have seen it coming.



I should have known that she wouldn't give up so easily.



But I had been distracted.



Because, unfortunately for me, the King had entered a new phase of madness.



My entire life for the past few weeks had boiled down to one simple routine:

1. Wake up.

2. Make tea.

3. Deliver tea.

4. Get dragged into nonsense.



But today?



Today, I was barely awake when a royal attendant knocked on my door.



"Thalia," he called.



I groaned. "No."



"The King requests tea."



I buried my face into my pillow.



"What time is it?"



"...Four in the morning."



I sat up so fast I almost fell off the bed. "WHAT?!"



I stumbled into the King's study, barely holding the tray upright.



He was already seated at his desk, completely composed, looking like he hadn't just woken up at an ungodly hour.



I, meanwhile, looked like I had been dragged through several layers of hell.



"...Your Majesty," I wheezed, setting down the tray. "Please tell me this is an emergency."



He took the teacup calmly. "It is."



I stared. "...It is?"



"Yes." He took a sip. Paused. Then, in a very serious tone—



"I wanted tea."



I gawked.



"...Your Majesty, that is NOT AN EMERGENCY."

... is what I want to say but I still want to live though, I considered throwing the entire tray at his head.



Unfortunately, it got worse.



7 AM: "I require a different blend. Something with a more refined aroma."

9 AM: "Actually, prepare a selection of ten different teas."

12 PM: "Steep it for exactly three minutes and forty-five seconds. Not a second longer."

3 PM: "You must brew it in a porcelain pot today. I am in a porcelain mood."



I was one more tea request away from committing treason.



And just when I thought my sanity was hanging by a thread—



The palace announced the upcoming festival.



And, somehow, I got dragged straight into it.



~~~



"Absolutely not," I said.



The steward ignored me. "You'll be assisting the festival committee."



I gawked. "I am not on the festival committee."



"You are now."



I turned to Mara for backup.



She just patted my shoulder. "Have fun."



I glared at her betrayal.



"But what about the King?" I tried desperately. "Won't he—"



"He personally approved this."



I froze.



"...He did what?"



The steward smirked. "He said you needed a break."



I squinted. "That sounds fake."



The steward shrugged. "It was a direct order."



Which meant I was doomed.



If there was one thing I knew about festivals, it was that they involved:

✔ Loud music.

✔ Dancing.

✔ A LOT of rich nobles spending money.



Which was fine. Except, of course, I had been assigned to work the tea stall.



Yes. Tea.



Even on my one chance to escape, I was still being forced to make tea.



I had half a mind to run.



But before I could execute my brilliant escape plan—



Cassian appeared out of nowhere.



"You?" he said, looking me up and down. "They put you in charge of a tea stall?"



I crossed my arms. "Yes. Problem?"



He smirked. "Oh, this is going to be entertaining."



I instantly regretted everything.



~~~



While I was busy suffering, Lady Celeste was busy scheming.



And by the time I realized what she had done—



It was too late.



Because as I stepped back into the palace after the festival, the head steward was waiting.



His expression grim.



"Lady Celeste has filed a complaint," he said.



I blinked. "About what?"



"She claims you mishandled the tea stall and disgraced the palace's reputation."



I stared.



Then laughed hysterically.



"OF COURSE SHE DID."



As I mentally prepared to fight for my job, my system suddenly pinged.



[New Skill Acquired: Diplomatic Evasion (Lv.1)]

You have gained a natural talent for talking your way out of trouble. High-ranking nobles are now 15% more likely to believe your excuses.



I blinked. Then grinned.



"Oh, Lady Celeste," I muttered, cracking my knuckles. "You have no idea what you're in for."