The Devil is the Villainess

Chapter XV: A Secret Affair

A week had passed since the devil found herself ensnared within the confines of this fictional world, grappling with circumstances she had no desire to be a part of. 

The presence of her relatives, who had descended upon the grandeur of Falaguerra Manor, only served to compound her frustrations. With her relatives' visit to Falaguerra Manor, the presence of her ambitious aunt's overzealous "butler" had become an incessant nuisance, clinging to her like an unwanted shadow.

"I could've sworn this man was her lover," Medea muttered disdainfully under her breath, her tone laced with contempt. She bristled as the sound of the office door creaked open, signaling the butler's intrusion into her sanctum. 

With an impatient click of her tongue, she lamented his persistent presence. "Why can't he simply leave me be? I am neither his master nor in need of his service. I have my own retinue of personal maids, thank you very much."

As the butler entered, bearing a tray adorned with a delicate cup of tea, he offered a gesture of kindness in an attempt to alleviate her stress. "My lady, I've brought you some tea to help ease your stress," the butler offered kindly, his voice carrying a hint of genuine concern.

Medea rolled her eyes in response, refusing to acknowledge his presence as she returned her focus to the mountain of paperwork that cluttered her desk. "I did not remember requesting your assistance," she retorted curtly.

Undeterred by her dismissive tone, the butler maintained his affable smile, placing a hand over his heart in a display of deference. "My apologies, my lady. I'll retrieve it at once. Please, don't hesitate to call upon me if you require anything—" he conceded gracefully, prepared to withdraw. However, Medea's abrupt interruption halted his retreat as she slammed her fountain pen down with a resounding thud, fixing him with a piercing gaze.

"I do not need your services," she asserted firmly, her voice commanding attention. With a pointed look, she conveyed her disdain for his unwanted attention. "Whether you act upon orders or of your own volition is of little consequence to me. You are not my butler, but my aunt's. Remember your place."

As the butler retreated from her office with yet another apology, Medea released a weary sigh, her hand coming to rest atop her temple in a gesture of exhaustion. 

Reflecting on the ongoing ordeal brought about by her relatives' extended visit, she couldn't help but rue the day they had descended upon Falaguerra Manor. What was initially anticipated as a brief sojourn had morphed into an unwelcome "vacation" filled with ceaseless displays of wealth and prestige, coupled with a relentless barrage of intrusive inquiries and judgmental commentary.

"They seem to have forgotten the concept of a short visit," Medea muttered to herself, her lips twisting into a grimace of irritation as she reclined in her chair, her gaze drifting pensively to the ornate ceiling of her office. 

Despite her best efforts to deflect their prying questions and deflect attention from her broken engagement with the crown prince, her relatives persisted in dredging up the topic, much to her chagrin.

"Even after countless attempts to change the subject, they refuse to let it go," she lamented, a sense of frustration tingeing her words. It was a delicate balancing act, maintaining the façade of composure and indifference in the face of their relentless scrutiny.

She cast a disinterested glance upwards, her gaze lingering on the ornate ceiling of her office, its grandeur a stark contrast to her inner turmoil. Lost in her thoughts, Medea found herself unwittingly drifting away from her troubles, her mind inexplicably drawn to another figure—the one she had not seen since "that" day.

The memory of their last encounter lingered like a ghostly echo in the recesses of her mind.

The sudden intrusion of such thoughts left Medea momentarily stunned, her usually composed demeanor faltering as a sense of longing inexplicably blossomed within her chest. Blinking in bewilderment, she quickly shook herself from her reverie, steeling her features into a mask of indifference as she forced herself to regain control.