Chapter Text
On the screen, Hestia held a small collection of treasures in her hands—a green ruby, a few gold coins, a red pendant, and a handful of small jewels that sparkled under the light.
The nobles in the room couldn’t hide their envy, some of them muttering under their breath.
To them, it was absurd, almost offensive, that a mere commoner could amass such wealth while they, with their high titles and “hard-earned” riches, had to struggle—never mind the underhanded tricks many used to fill their own coffers.
As the nobles exchanged whispers,
Hestia’s thoughts echoed on the screen. “What could I possibly do… with all this wealth… as an extra?”
Before anyone else could react, Diana, the crown princess, rose gracefully to her feet, her expression the picture of poised empathy.
“As someone who was once a commoner myself,” she began, her voice clear and carrying through the hall, “I believe that the money you obtained, Lady Hestia, could be used for the betterment of the people, rather than for selfish gain.”
She finished with a polished smile, as if she had just bestowed a profound truth.
Those around Diana—eager to align themselves with the princess’s favor—quickly chimed in, nodding and praising her “noble” stance.
Yet, in truth, their covetous glances betrayed their true desires; they could all imagine putting that wealth to use… for themselves.
Hestia responded with a polite, ladylike smile, her voice as sweet as honey but with an edge of steel underneath.
“I think that’s a lovely idea, Your Highness.” She forced the words out, all while hiding her true disdain.
‘How can Diana pretend to care for the people, she thought bitterly, when she had no problem discarding Cael, who loved her so purely?’
On the screen, however, Hestia’s future self clearly had different ideas. The image shifted to show her with a wide, delighted grin, throwing handfuls of coins into the air.
The scene sparkled with exaggerated flair, as future Hestia seemed to be reveling in her newfound wealth. “Fangirl over my favorite character, of course!” she thought with sheer enthusiasm.
Cael’s loyal servant, Uros, turned to Hestia with a curious, almost amused smile. “Lady Hestia,” he asked gently, “is it true that the master is your… favorite character?”
Hestia’s reaction was immediate and entirely unguarded. Her eyes grew wide, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she clasped her hands as though physically restraining herself from swooning.
Her lovesick smile made no attempt at hiding her answer, and she gave a fervent nod.
“Of course!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of devotion and awe.
She looked so utterly smitten that when Cael turned in her direction and their eyes met, her heart nearly stopped.
Her cheeks grew warmer, and she felt faint from the mere look he sent her way.
The room went silent, every noble present staring at her with varying degrees of astonishment.
Some looked shocked, others horrified, and a few simply exchanged looks of exasperation, as if all of them shared the same thought.
“Is she mentally sane?” they wondered, struggling to reconcile this love-struck, dramatic young lady with the dignified commoner they’d expected.
Meanwhile, Hestia’s heart beat wildly. Even if she could sense the nobles’ skepticism, she didn’t care.
All that mattered was Cael—and nothing, not even the whispers of the entire court, could lessen her devotion to him.
On the screen, the scene shifted to what looked like a bar, a dimly lit, rowdy place where Hestia stood, a hefty bag of money in her hand as she addressed the scruffy-looking bartender.
“Hey! I don’t care if it’s from a fallen noble family—I want to buy a title!” she declared with fierce determination, slamming the bag of money onto the counter.
The room filled with quiet gasps. Diana, ever the picture of pious sadness, sighed delicately.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured, loud enough for all to hear, “imagine, all that money that could have helped the sick and supported the temple… instead, wasted on a title.”
Her supporters, eager to mirror her disapproval, quickly voiced their agreements, nodding and casting judgmental glances Hestia’s way.
Hestia didn’t hesitate to respond. She fixed Diana with a mournful look of her own, mirroring the princess’s theatrical sadness.
“Your Highness, is it so wrong to want to be a noble as well?” she asked, voice carefully modulated with a trace of melancholy.
“Surely, my future self has more wealth to give to the temple and the sick. But… is it so wrong to wish to indulge, even just once, in something that makes me happy?”
A murmur went through the court, though the crown prince quickly rose to Diana’s defense.
“Lady Hestia, you take this too far,” he chided, looking down at her with barely hidden disdain.
Hestia offered a poised apology, bowing her head. ‘I take it too far? she thought darkly, her smile polite as ever. How far do you take it, forsaking Cael while you play prince and princess with your perfect little Diana?’
On the screen, her future self’s thoughts appeared, revealing her true excitement: I NEED TO GO TO THE BANQUET! THE BANQUET!!!
The bartender gaped at her in confusion. “What are you talking about? Are you out of—”
Before he could finish, a second bag of coins flew at his head, knocking his hat askew.
He straightened it, eyes bulging as he took in the wealth spilling across his counter, and beamed.
“Thank you so much, Lady Hestia!” he exclaimed, nearly bowing in gratitude.
The nobles in the room watched in shocked silence, stunned that Hestia would toss around wealth so casually.
Then, on the screen, a chibi version of Hestia appeared, holding a freshly printed title deed, a proud grin on her face as she thought, I’m a noble now! The bartender appeared beside her in chibi form, thinking with glee, I’m rich!
A noblewoman, her fan snapping shut with an air of disdain, looked down at Hestia.
“Just because you bought a title doesn’t make you a true noble,” she sneered, her tone laced with condescension.
Hestia merely laughed, the sound low and amused, not bothering to dignify the remark with a real response.
The noblewoman’s cheeks flushed, her posture stiffening in irritation.
She couldn’t lash out without risking her reputation—or, worse, God’s wrath—so she was forced to let the slight go.
The scene cut to words scrolling across the screen: With my new title as a noble, I attended countless aristocratic banquets.
A still image showed the back of Helios and Diana as they attended one of these gatherings, standing close, completely absorbed in each other.
Helios pointed at the screen, turning to Diana with a gentle smile. “Look, Diana, it’s us,” he said softly, his eyes filled with affection.
Diana returned his smile, the two sharing a moment that seemed only to strengthen their bond.
Hestia looked on, her expression carefully controlled, though her thoughts were sharp.
So they play at being in love, she thought, masking her distaste, while ignoring my beloved Cael.
On the screen, future Hestia’s thoughts showed up again: Only then could I get a glimpse of them.
A brave nobleman seized the chance to speak up, his voice filled with false courage.
“Are you… stalking His Royal Highness and Her Royal Highness, Lady Hestia? Like some… common creep?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone.
Hestia’s gaze drifted to him, her smile smooth and unaffected.
“Why would I do something so… unladylike?” she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of mocking sweetness.
Her words hung in the air, and the nobleman found himself suddenly silent, his false bravado crumbling under her composed gaze.
Hestia’s poise remained unbroken, but inside, she felt a surge of satisfaction.
Let them wonder what she was truly thinking—she’d let her actions speak louder than any words.