Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant-Chapter 317: Rumours [4]

The carriage rocked gently as it rolled over the cobbled streets, the sound muted beneath thick velvet curtains.

Inside, the girl sat upright on the sofa, one hand resting lightly on her subordinate’s arm for balance. The other adjusted the silver clasp at her collar before drawing the dark veil back over her face.

Across from her, her subordinate—still pale from earlier anxiety—finally gathered the courage to speak.

"...My lady," he began carefully, "about the Hanhyul disease. If those physicians turned out to be frauds, we can still arrange... follow-up measures."

He chose his words with precision. In their line of work, "follow-up measures" could mean anything from discreet compensation to a quiet disappearance.

The girl didn’t even look at him.

"It’s unnecessary," she replied, voice cool but steady. "That part has been completely cured."

The subordinate blinked.

"Completely...?"

"Yes."

For the first time in years, warmth lingered naturally in her fingertips. Not the artificial heat from alchemical tonics. Not the temporary relief from enchanted stones.

Real warmth.

Her breathing no longer caught in her chest. Her pulse no longer slowed at random intervals like a dying candle.

It was subtle. But undeniable.

The subordinate lowered his gaze, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face.

"That’s... wonderful news, my lady."

She didn’t respond to the emotion in his voice, but her fingers flexed slightly against the fabric of her sleeve, as if confirming it again for herself.

"We accepted the down payment," she said after a moment. "That means we don’t get to be careless. Deliver the scroll to Lady Roberk personally. No intermediaries."

"Yes. I’ll see to it immediately."

He hesitated again.

"And... the rumor?"

Her eyes shifted behind the veil.

"The saintess."

The word hung between them.

Slandering a saintess was reckless on its own. Slandering one closely tied to the crown prince? That bordered on suicidal.

"If this backfires," the subordinate said quietly, "the palace won’t just investigate. They’ll purge."

"I’m aware."

Her tone didn’t waver.

He swallowed. "Then perhaps we should delegate it to one of the lower cells? Keep our distance?"

She tilted her head slightly, tapping her cheek in thought.

"No."

"...My lady?"

"I’ll handle it myself."

The subordinate’s eyes widened. "Are you certain?"

She turned toward him slowly.

"Oh? Do you doubt the capabilities of the district chief now?"

His back straightened instantly. "N-no, not at all! I only meant—"

"I took this position for a reason," she said calmly. "Information control is not a blunt instrument. It’s embroidery. You don’t tear reputations apart—you unravel them."

Her gloved fingers traced an invisible thread in the air.

"First, the underworld. A whisper among debt collectors. A careless comment in a gambling den."

She shifted slightly.

"Then the servants of the noble houses. Kitchens are more powerful than council chambers. Gossip ferments there."

A faint smile curved beneath her veil.

"And finally, the media. The bold ones who crave scandal disguised as moral concern."

The subordinate exhaled slowly.

"When you put it like that... it sounds almost easy."

"It isn’t," she replied. "But it is possible."

He studied her for a moment before asking softly, "And if the crown prince intervenes directly?"

Her fingers stilled.

"If he intervenes," she said, voice lowering, "then we retreat. A rumor can be smothered just as easily as it can be spread."

She leaned back against the sofa.

"But by then, the damage will already be done."

Silence settled between them.

After a while, the subordinate spoke again, more carefully this time.

"...My lady. This man you’re helping. Is he truly worth the risk?"

For the first time, she didn’t answer immediately.

Her gaze shifted toward the faint outline of the palace visible through a gap in the curtains.

’I hope his words about coming back weren’t just empty promises.’

She remembered the way he had spoken—calm, almost detached, yet certain.

As if he intended to survive no matter what the world threw at him.

"He cured me," she said at last.

"That alone is reason enough?"

"For others? Perhaps not."

Her fingers brushed against her wrist, where her pulse beat steadily now.

"For me," she continued softly, "it is." 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

The subordinate lowered his head.

"Then we will move as you command."

----

"Whether it’s Midias or the North... people really aren’t that different."

Alice folded the newspaper with a sharp flick of her wrist, her brows drawn together.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Look at this." She shoved the paper into my hands.

The front page was impossible to miss. A large illustration of the saintess—soft features, halo-like glow, the whole divine aesthetic—was splashed across the top.

And right beneath it, in bold, shameless lettering:

[The Saintess Chosen by God — Do Humans Look Like Insects to Her?]

"...Wow," I muttered. "They didn’t even try to be subtle."

Below the headline were paragraphs of poison.

Claims that she had publicly humiliated the crown prince by rejecting his invitation to dance.

Accusations that she treated palace staff like dirt.

Speculation about her "mysterious origins," implying deception, hidden agendas, even heresy.

It was a masterpiece of manipulation.

Every sentence carefully phrased to sound like concern while dripping with contempt.

’They really know how to twist a knife.’

The thieves’ guild had done exactly what they were paid to do.

When they were your enemy, they were a nightmare.

When they were on your side... they were terrifyingly efficient.

I leaned back in my chair, pretending to study the article more closely while my thoughts raced.

With the saintess’s reputation taking a hit—and the crown prince’s pride dragged into it—

’That shallow peacock won’t dare approach her for a while.’

Public humiliation was one thing.

Being painted as a rejected suitor on the front page?

That would sting.

A faint shimmer flickered in the corner of my vision.

—

[Alice Downfall Progress Updated.]

[40% → 30%]

—

I resisted the urge to smile.

’Back to where we started.’

Not perfect.

But better than watching it climb.

Across from me, Alice clicked her tongue again.

"Tch. I don’t even like her," she admitted, crossing her arms. "But this is excessive. Refusing a dance isn’t a crime."

"No," I agreed. "But it’s good material."

Alice shot me a look.

"You sound like you admire it."

"I admire the craftsmanship," I corrected. "Not the intention."

She didn’t look convinced.

I shrugged. "Look at the wording. They never directly accuse her of anything. They just ’raise questions.’ That’s the clever part. Once doubt takes root, people fill in the rest themselves."

Alice went quiet for a moment, eyes drifting back to the paper.

"...Do you think she really insulted the servants?"

"No."

"You’re certain?"

I nodded. "If she truly looked down on people, she wouldn’t have bothered refusing the prince politely. She’d have ignored him outright."

Alice huffed. "That’s oddly specific."

"I’ve met worse nobles," I said dryly.

That earned a faint smirk from her.

Still, she didn’t look pleased.

"This kind of rumor spreads fast," she said. "Even if it’s false, some people will believe it simply because it’s entertaining."

"That’s how it works," I replied. "Outrage sells."

Alice studied me carefully.

"You’re awfully calm about this."

I held her gaze evenly. "Should I be panicking?"

"No. But... you’re analyzing it like you expected it."

For half a second, I wondered if I’d overplayed my hand.

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice.

"I just don’t like watching political theater blind. If someone’s throwing stones, I’d rather know from which direction."

Alice tapped the folded newspaper against her palm.

"If this keeps escalating," she murmured, "it could create factions. Some supporting her, some opposing her."

"And that instability benefits someone," I added.

"Who?"

"Anyone who doesn’t want the saintess close to the crown prince."

Alice’s expression shifted—just slightly.

’I hope the guild knows where the line is.’

Because if they overplayed this—

It wouldn’t just hurt the saintess.

It could strengthen her.

And that would undo everything.

Another faint shimmer flickered in my peripheral vision, as if the world itself was watching the board shift piece by piece.

For now, the percentage had dropped.

For now, the path forward was clearer.

But politics, like war, never stayed simple for long.