Chapter 1 – The decrepit aristocrat’s uncouth daughter
“You worthless thing!”
With the impact of the slap, I – Agnes Evantail – hit my back hard against the stone wall of the living room.
I staggered and fell to the floor, and looked up at my father, the man who had hit me.
“I can't believe you couldn't win over the prince, or even a count of the lowest rank! How much money do you think I've spent on you over the past seventeen years?! You are a parasite on our Marquise family!”
I got up lazily, rubbed my swollen cheek, and found blood on my wrist.
It looked like the edge of my mouth had been cut.
Calmly taking out a handkerchief and wiping my mouth, I observed my father yelling at me to avoid being scolded any further.
My poor father seemed to have no doubt that I could win the hearts of the young lords.
Anyone who thinks about it for a moment can see that such a thing is impossible.
―― “Potato Lady.”1
That's how the aristocrats of my age call me when they gossip in their social circles.
The venerable Marquises of Evantail.
Our family was so called in the days of my great-grandfather, who was once the right-hand man of the Prime Minister.
Currently, we are only proud of our bloodline and respect the good old days when we were most prosperous.
Our family, which had abandoned its way of life and business to keep up with the times, was now perceived by others as a decrepit aristocratic family with moldy values and zero appeal.
My family members are frozen in time, living today with the values they had then.
Naturally, this feeling of antiquity also applies to me, the daughter of this family.
From the time I was a child, I was forced to dress up as a noble daughter of the good old days, and I was taught the education of a child of that time, and if I showed even the slightest interest in trendy things, I was denied at all costs.
Therefore, I am unable to keep up with the topics of conversation among the daughters of my generation.
And the girls were not interested in the old-fashioned topics that I knew, so the distance between us naturally widened.
The result was a relationship in which they would giggle and make fun of me whenever we met.
It is not only among daughters, but also among aristocratic men of their age.
In fact, I would say they are worse.
They blatantly look at me with a foolish smile, create a punishment game about confessing to me, and finally give me an unflattering nickname such as “Potato Lady”.
By the way, “Potato Lady” means provincial, boorish, and lacking in taste.
It is true that our estate is in the countryside…
I staggered to my feet and left the room to get away from my father.
It is not safe for me to stay here.
“Hey, we're not done talking yet!”
My father's yell echoes from the other side of the door, but soon he'll calm down.
Although his anger at my inadequacies remains, I am sure that my father will recover his bearings enough to weigh the impulse to lash against his daughter due to the fact she will be left with a scar that will make her unusable for political purposes.
―― Well, I don't think you can have a political marriage if you don't have the right partner.
Anyway, tired from the Count's home party, I dusted off my hand-me-down dress, ran into my
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