Free Web Novel--【System restart complete.】--
A cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in Pavela's mind.
--【Hibernation mode deactivated. Current status scanning...】--
--host physiological status: Recovering】--
--【Mental contamination index: 52% (down 7%)】--
--main personality stability: 71% (up 8%)】--
--【Environmental threat assessment: Extremely low】--
--【Suggestion: Maintain current recovery state, avoid strenuous activity.】--
Pavela rolled her eyes internally.
Oh, awake again.
She already knew this strange thing was living inside her head.
During that hellish night, she vaguely remembered hearing a voice besides the wailing souls.
Then, on the second night after waking up on the train, when she startled awake from a nightmare, this voice had clearly appeared in her consciousness once more.
What it said at the time was:
--host detected entering stress state. Initiate sedation protocol?】--
Pavela's first reaction was: I'm insane.
Her second reaction was: Wait, I was already insane, this isn't surprising.
Her third reaction was: Damn it, this is probably that damn gem's doing again.
She had tried communicating with this "system" before.
For instance, asking it in her mind, "Who are you?", "Where are you from?", "What do you want?", and had even tried "teasing" it in ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) various ways.
—asking it about the weather, what to have for dinner, what Eleanor's thigh circumference was in centimeters.
The system's response was always silence.
Like a stone that only transmitted information one way.
Pavela had finally concluded: this thing was either an emotionless monitoring program, or it was deliberately playing hard to get.
Either way, she couldn't be bothered to expend any more mental energy on it.
After all, aside from occasionally popping up with inexplicable data reports, it didn't seem to harbor any ill intent for now.
Even during the battle on the Night of Calderburg, it had forcibly taken over her body and pulled her back from the brink of death.
Though Pavela wasn't sure if she should thank it, or resent it for not letting her die cleanly.
But now—
"Miss Pavela, please lift your arm."
A soft voice interrupted her train of thought.
Pavela snapped back to reality, realizing she was standing before a massive full-length mirror.
The person in the mirror...
Uh.
Who was that?
A young girl in a pale blue gown was staring back at her blankly.
The gown's design was fiendishly complex—layers upon layers of tulle skirt, delicate lace trim, a corset studded with pearls and crystals at the chest, silk ribbons cascading from the shoulders.
And that girl's expression—
Looked like a fish pinned to a chopping block. ƒгeewёbnovel.com
"Miss Pavela?"
The maid called again.
Pavela then realized that unfortunate soul was herself.
She mechanically raised her arm, letting the three maids busy themselves around her.
One was adjusting her skirt, another was tidying her cuffs, and a third was inserting various glittering hair ornaments into her hair.
Pavela's gaze drifted over the maids' heads to settle on someone sitting on the sofa.
Eleanor von Schwartz, wearing a sharply tailored dark blue military uniform, sat with her legs crossed, a cup of tea in hand, a faint, elusive smile playing on her lips.
Those ice-blue eyes were filled with two words:
Amusement.
Pavela used every ounce of her lifelong self-control to stop herself from rushing over and smashing the teacup in her face.
"Eleanor."
Her voice squeezed out from between clenched teeth. "Why don't you have to wear this?"
"Because I'm a soldier."
Eleanor took an elegant sip of tea. "Soldiers may wear uniforms at formal occasions. It's a privilege granted by Imperial law."
"..."
"And,"
Eleanor's smile deepened, "watching you wear it is much more entertaining than wearing it myself."
Pavela took a deep breath.
Calm.
Calm.
She saved your life.
You can't hit her.
At least not in front of these maids.
"You know,"
Eleanor seemed completely oblivious to Pavela's murderous intent, "one of the main reasons I joined the military was to avoid ever having to wear these cumbersome, restrictive gowns again."
"..."
"Did you know? Noble girls start learning how to wear these things from the age of twelve. How to maintain an elegant posture, how to walk gracefully in three layers of skirt, how to breathe normally in a corset—"
"I'm not breathing very normally right now."
Pavela pointed at her own chest. "This thing is so tight even I'm finding it a bit hard to breathe."
"You'll get used to it."
"I don't want to get used to it."
"Unfortunately, you don't have a choice." Eleanor set down her teacup. "Today's banquet is the opening event of the Victorian social season. All noble families will be in attendance. As the newly acknowledged adopted daughter of the Schwartz Family, you must make an appearance."
Pavela's eyes turned resentful.
"Can I pretend to be sick?"
"No."
"Pretend to be dead?"
"Even more no."
"Then can I—"
"No."
Eleanor cut her off decisively. "Whatever you're about to say, the answer is no."
Pavela shut her mouth.
She fixed Eleanor with an accusatory stare, eyes brimming with layered messages: "You're inhuman," "I'll remember this," "Just wait until I'm healed, you'll get yours."
Eleanor received these messages.
Then she smiled and took another sip of tea.
"There, Miss Pavela."
The head maid took a step back, examining her handiwork with satisfaction.
"You may look in the mirror now."
Pavela turned to face the large full-length mirror.
And then she froze.
A young girl stood in the mirror.
The pale blue gown seemed tailor-made for her, making her skin appear as white as porcelain.
After these days of recuperation, her complexion was no longer as deathly pale as when she first came off the battlefield, but had gained a touch of healthy, light pink.
Her short silver hair had been meticulously styled, slicked down neatly with pomade, a few stray strands falling across her forehead, accentuating her delicate features.
And her features—
Pavela was seriously examining her own face for the first time.
In the Punishment Camp, she never had a chance to look in a mirror.
Even if she occasionally glimpsed her reflection in a puddle, it was just a blurry, grimy, genderless face.
But now—
She had large eyes, their color a pale gray with a hint of blue, like the surface of a frozen lake on a winter morning.
The outer corners tilted up slightly, but because her eyes were so large, it gave her an innocent yet sharp look.
Her nose was small and straight, her lips neither too thick nor too thin, their color a pale shade like diluted rose petals.
Her chin was rounded, her cheeks slightly sunken from long-term malnutrition, making her cheekbones and jawline appear more defined, yet also adding a touch of fragile vulnerability.
Her whole face looked...
Pavela searched for an adjective.
Docile.
Yes, that was it. Docile.
It was the kind of face that looked like it wouldn't cause trouble, that made people want to pat her head.
Combined with her particularly slender frame from being underweight, her somewhat narrow shoulders, her wrists so thin they looked like they'd snap with a twist—
If she didn't open her mouth to speak, she really did look like a fragile, harmless, cute little girl.
Pavela stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment.
Then she turned to Eleanor.
"You're saying this is me?"
"This is you."
"This is not me."
Pavela pointed at the mirror. "This person looks like the type who needs protection."
"You are the type who needs protection."
"But I'm the type who can send a Royal Knight mech to the scrap heap."
The words were out before she could stop them.
She saw Eleanor's expression shift slightly.
"...I mean, if I had a mech."
She tried to salvage the situation. "Of course, I don't. I'm just an ordinary, fragile, harmless—"
"Little Pa."
Eleanor cut her off.
"Hmm?"
"You know what?"
Eleanor stood up and walked over to her. "You look much better in a gown than I imagined."
Pavela blinked.
"...Thanks?"
"You have a good figure." Eleanor's gaze slid from her shoulders to her waist. "A bit thin, but the proportions are harmonious. Once you've recovered your health, you'll probably be even prettier."
Pavela didn't know what to say.
No one had ever evaluated her like this before.
In the Punishment Camp, the most common evaluations she heard were "treacherous," "despicable," "ruthless"—and those were compliments.
The word "pretty" had never been in her vocabulary.
"And," Eleanor's lips curved into that smile that made Pavela want to hit her again, "that pitiful, aggrieved little expression you have on right now really makes people want to bully you."
"..."
Pavela's fists clenched.
"Say that again?"
"I said," Eleanor leaned in a little closer, "you look like a stray cat dressed up as a noble miss. Clearly resisting with every fiber of your being, but not daring to fight back, just glaring at your owner with those resentful eyes."
"I'm not a cat!"
"Your eyes are like a cat's."
"I can scratch people!"
"Cats can scratch people too."
Pavela took a deep breath.
Fine.
Very well.
She'd remember this.
Once her ribs were fully healed, she'd definitely make Eleanor understand what "a cornered cat will bite" meant.
"Young ladies," Hans's voice came timely from outside the door, "the carriage is ready."
Eleanor took a step back, resuming her dignified, elegant noble miss demeanor.
"Let's go." She headed for the door. "Time for all of Victorian's social circle to meet the newest member of the Schwartz Family."
Pavela stood in place, looking down at the layered skirts of her gown.
She tried to take a step.
The skirts rustled, as if some small creature was crawling inside them.
She took another step.
Nearly tripped over her own hem.
"Need help?" Eleanor turned back at the doorway.
"No." Pavela gritted her teeth. "I can adapt."
She had once fought continuously in a mech for three days and three nights.
She had once fought a main battle mech with fourteen bullets.
She had once crawled two kilometers across a battlefield filled with poison gas.
It was just a dress.
It couldn't defeat her.
Pavela lifted her skirts and carefully made her way toward the door.
Three steps in.
She almost fell again.
Eleanor sighed, walked back, and took her arm.
"Can't you just let someone help you walk?"
"I'm used to walking on my own." Pavela muttered. "No one helps you on the battlefield."
"This isn't a battlefield."
"I know."
"Then let me help you." Eleanor's voice softened. "You're my sister. Helping my sister walk is what an older sister should do."
Pavela looked up at her.
Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on Eleanor's face, gilding her profile with a faint golden light.
Her expression was serious.
Not joking, not teasing her.
Simply wanting to help.
Pavela was stunned for a moment.
"Fine." She finally relented. "But just for today."
"Just for today." Eleanor nodded.
The two walked side by side out of the room, down the corridor toward the stairs.
Pavela's steps were still a bit unsteady, but with Eleanor supporting her, at least she didn't have to worry about falling.
"By the way," she suddenly remembered something, "who will be at today's banquet?"
"All the prominent nobles of Victorian." Eleanor said. "Dukes, marquesses, counts, viscounts, barons, and their wives and children."
"Sounds boring."
"It is boring."
"Then why are you attending?"
"Because not attending would cause more trouble."
A note of resignation crept into Eleanor's tone. "That's how noble society is. If you don't show up, people talk. They say you're arrogant, rude, that there's something wrong behind the scenes. Better to shut their mouths in person than let them gossip behind your back."
Pavela looked thoughtful.
"So you're taking me to let them see what the Schwartz Family's new adopted daughter looks like?"
"Also to let them know," Eleanor's gaze sharpened slightly, "that you are a member of the Schwartz Family. Anyone who dares lay a hand on you is making an enemy of the entire Schwartz Family."
Pavela fell silent for a moment.
"Thank you." She said softly.
"No need for thanks." Eleanor squeezed her hand. "Family doesn't say thank you."
The two descended the stairs, crossed the spacious foyer, and arrived at the portico.
A black carriage was already waiting there, the von Schwartz Family crest engraved on its side.
The coachman respectfully opened the door and lowered the step.
Pavela took a deep breath and, with Eleanor's support, climbed into the carriage.
The interior was lined with deep red velvet, the seats soft and comfortable.
Pavela sat down carefully, afraid of wrinkling her gown.
Eleanor sat opposite her and tapped on the carriage wall.
The carriage began to move slowly.
Pavela leaned back in her seat, watching the scenery pass by outside the window.
Victorian's streets were as bustling as ever, the pedestrians as leisurely, the sunlight as warm.
But in her heart, there was an indescribable, faint tension.
This was the first time she would appear in public as "Pavela von Schwartz."
Could she play this role well?
--host heart rate slightly elevated detected.】--
The system's voice sounded in her mind.
--【Suggest deep breathing to stabilize mood.】--
Pavela rolled her eyes internally.
Thanks, but I don't need your advice.
--host feedback recorded.】--
...Since when did this thing become so chatty?
The carriage continued on its way, heading toward Victorian's central district.
Pavela didn't know what awaited her.
But whatever it was, she would handle it.
After all, compared to the swords and guns of the battlefield, how frightening could a bunch of nobles in fancy gowns really be?
She was confident.
...Right?
