When Callista stepped through the doors of the Astride manor, she was greeted by banners, servants, and enough champagne to celebrate a military victory.
Apparently, passing the entrance exam was a cause for celebration.
Callista wasn’t entirely sure why.
She stood beneath a grand chandelier, surrounded by polished marble, extravagant decorations, and servants carrying trays of sparkling wine while nobles offered congratulations from every corner of the room.
And she couldn’t quite bring herself to celebrate.
The truth was, she hadn’t exactly passed the exam.
She had been carried through most of it by Corvina.
Callista still remembered being dragged along behind that woman, half-conscious and barely able to keep up with her new body’s pathetic stamina.
Every time she thought she could finally catch her breath, Corvina had already moved on to the next problem.
If anything, Callista’s greatest accomplishment had been not dying.
Whatever dignity she had left from her previous life as a grown man had taken a serious beating.
And now she had to stand here and pretend this was her victory.
Wonderful.
"Look at our dear little sister," Beatrix’s voice cut through the room.
The eldest of her three stepsisters approached with a smile that was far too sweet to be genuine. Her sisters followed close behind, forming a neat little wall around Callista.
Beatrix looked her up and down.
"Surviving on luck and someone else’s coattails," she said, tilting her head. "Tell me, Callista. Did you actually cast a spell during the trial, or did you spend the entire time hiding behind better mages?"
A quiet laugh came from the sister beside her.
"I heard she spent half the trial unconscious."
"How embarrassing."
"Astrides really are becoming more impressive by the day."
The sisters giggled among themselves.
Callista stared at them.
Ah.
So this was how it worked. There was no screaming, throwing punches, no grabbing someone by the collar and demanding they say it to your face.
Just smiles, insults wrapped in silk, and enough plausible deniability to survive a formal dinner.
From the head of the dining table, her stepmother dropped her silver fork with a disappointed sigh.
"Honestly, dear. Ranking first on paper is fine, but dragging the Astride name into the gossip rags alongside that terrifying Corvina girl?" Her stepmother dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "You’re acting like a trained pet, not a proper noble."
A trained pet?
She had been unconscious!
Before she could think of a response, a thunderous voice shook the entire parlor.
"ENOUGH!"
Baron Astride’s voice immediately snuffed out the stepmother’s sharp retort.
Cutting straight through the cluster of sneering women, he stepped forward and gently gathered Callista’s trembling hands into his own.
His palms were rough and warm. Unlike everyone else in the room, there wasn’t a trace of mockery in his expression.
"Congratulations, my child," His stern face softened into a tender smile. "You are my eldest daughter. A true Astride. And my absolute pride." He gave her hands a reassuring pat.
"Your triumph today has elevated this household far beyond what any of us could have dreamed."
What a genuinely kind father, but se found herself entirely at a loss for how to react.
There was still a persistent and disorienting disconnect between her soul and this unfamiliar body.
Even after spending days inside it, she sometimes forgot that the reflection in the mirror was supposed to be her.
Afterall, the hands in her father’s grasp were delicate.
Small.
Feminine.
Not the calloused hands she had always felt.
And yet, the emotion in his eyes was unmistakably directed at her.
Seeing his honest pride made her wonder: Why had the original Callista felt so desperately isolated if she had a father who actually cared?
Was there something she didn’t understand?
Or had the girl simply been unable to see how much her father loved her?
"Thank you, Father..." She returned his smile.
And somehow, that made her feel even worse.
So this was the world of high-society women.
Instead of throwing fists, they used weaponized subtext and emotional sabotage to tear each other apart.
At least, that seemed to be the preferred lethal art of this era.
Honestly, she almost preferred getting punched.
Once the domestic theater finally concluded, a small fleet of servants escorted Callista to her chambers.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Callista lunged toward the bed.
"Finally..."
She had been holding herself together all evening through sheer stubbornness.
Now she could finally....
Knock.
Her forehead nearly collided with the mattress. "...You have got to be kidding me."
Sighing, she hauled herself upright and dragged herself toward the door.
When she opened it, she found a maid standing outside.
"My lady."
The maid executed a crisp, immaculate bow.
"The Baron requested that I bring your late dinner."
She stepped aside. Behind her, another servant pushed a silver cart into the room.
Callista’s eyes widened. A decadent, steaming meal covered the top with roasted meat, fresh bread, and vegetables glazed in butter.
With an additional amount of absolutely unreasonable assortment of vibrant desserts.
Her mouth instantly watered.
"Please, come in."
As she stepped aside to let the tray pass, however, her brain suddenly sounded an alarm.
Wait.
Something was wrong.
If there was one golden rule she remembered from her sister’s otome game visual novels, it was this: Background extras did not look like main-cast concept art.
Extras had brown hair, generic faces, and forgettable names.
They existed to deliver exposition, stand in the background, and disappear forever.
This maid, however, was strikingly drop-dead gorgeous.
Lush lavender hair spilled neatly down her back. Her violet eyes were sharp and strangely captivating. And her delicate, stoic features looked as though they belonged on a limited-edition character banner, not beneath an anonymous maid’s cap.
"Have we... met before?"
"I am your assigned personal maid, my lady."
"And your name is?"
"Livia."
╔════════════════════════════════════════════╗
║ [CHARACTER PROFILE: Livia Vane] ║
║ Role: Assigned Personal Maid ║
║ Background: Disgraced Fallen Nobility ║
║ Relation: Personal Attendant to Callista ║
║ Traits: Stoic, Observant, Hidden Prodigy ║
╚════════════════════════════════════════════╝
Livia...
Livia?!
IT WAS LIVIA!
The iconic support character from her sister’s screen!
The loyal confidante who guided the heroine through every bloody plot line.
In the game, there were always those agonizingly subtle romantic undertones between them... or maybe Callista had just been deluded while aggressively back-seat gaming her sister’s playthrough.
"Is something amiss, my lady?" Livia asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Ah - nothing! I just didn’t realize my personal maid was so breathtakingly pretty..." Callista blurted out, her brain filter completely failing.
"My lady, flirting with the domestic staff is terribly unbecoming."
A sharp tongue too?!
Wasn’t the noble lady supposed to be the one delivering the scolding here?
Actually, no, Callista had zero knowledge of aristocratic etiquette anyway. She was entirely at this maid’s mercy.