Living Like a Mouse? How About a Lion?

The Mad Dog Unleashed

If Callisto wanted a show, then a show is exactly what he's getting.

I smoothed my dress, chin held high, as I walked back into the banquet hall. The quiet hum of aristocratic chatter washed over me, but I barely heard it. I was no longer interested in their petty gossip or false smiles. Not anymore.

The moment I stepped through the doors, heads turned. Conversations faltered. Eyes followed me like I was some kind of wild animal strutting through their precious palace. And, well... maybe I was.

Perfect.

I let the silence hang for a moment, enjoying the discomfort as I made my way to the center of the room. Oh, how they all stared. As if I were some untamed beast in their midst—dangerous, unpredictable, and not fit for their perfectly polished world. If only they knew how right they were.

"Penelope," a voice called out—Derrick, of course. His tone was clipped, annoyed, like I was embarrassing him by just existing.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

I didn't even bother looking at him. Instead, I picked up a glass of wine from a passing servant and took a long, slow sip, savoring the tension that was building in the room. Then, with the glass still in hand, I raised my voice just enough for everyone to hear.

"You know," I began, my tone light and casual, "for a banquet meant to celebrate the royal family, it's all quite dull, isn't it?"

That earned me a few gasps. Good. Let them gasp.

I smirked and turned to face the room, meeting the eyes of a few of the so-called nobility—the same people who whispered about me behind my back. I could practically see them squirming in their seats, unsure of what I would do next.

"Honestly, I expected better," I continued, my voice dripping with mock disappointment. "After all, you're the best of the best, aren't you? Or at least, that's what you like to tell yourselves."

More whispers. More shifting eyes.

Keep squirming, you pompous fools.

"But here's the thing," I said, taking another sip of wine and savoring the taste, "I'm not here to play your little noble games anymore. I never wanted to be part of this ridiculous farce. So if you're all waiting for me to act like some demure, obedient little noblewoman—don't hold your breath."

The room fell dead silent, and I felt a surge of satisfaction rush through me. This was it. This was what Callisto wanted to see—the real me, the one who had no time for the hypocrisy of the aristocracy. I wasn't playing their game, and they didn't know how to handle it.

Time to turn it up a notch.

I set the glass down a little too hard on the table, the sharp sound of it echoing through the hall. I glanced at Derrick, who was glaring at me with that familiar disapproving scowl. It only made me grin wider.

"Dear brother," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm, "you seem upset. I thought you'd be proud of me finally acting like the savage you all accuse me of being."

His jaw clenched, but before he could retort, someone else spoke up—one of the Duchess Dowagers, her voice trembling with thinly veiled outrage. "You should watch your tongue, Penelope Eckhart. You forget your place."

Forget my place? Oh, sweetie...

I turned to face her, my smile never faltering. "Oh, I haven't forgotten my place," I said, tilting my head as if I was considering her words carefully. "In fact, I think I've finally found it."

I took a step toward her, watching as she stiffened, and the rest of the room seemed to collectively hold its breath.

"My place," I continued, voice low but firm, "isn't as your little puppet. It's not as some nobleman's pretty little accessory. And it's certainly not as someone you can all sneer at while pretending I don't see the knives you're holding behind my back."

I could feel the tension in the air shift, heavier now, like the whole room was teetering on the edge of something. But I wasn't done yet.

"And if you still think I'm going to play your game, well..." I gave a shrug, letting the silence drag for a moment. "You clearly don't know who you're dealing with."

Just as I finished, a commotion broke out near the entrance. The large doors swung open with a loud bang, and in stepped Callisto, looking like the devil himself had just walked into the room. His eyes swept over the scene, catching the stares of everyone present.

Right on cue.

The room was tense—so tense, I could practically hear the collective heartbeat of the nobles as Callisto made his way inside, his eyes narrowing at the scene unfolding before him. There were no grand gestures this time, no bags of heads, but the mere sight of him was enough to make a few people gasp.

I stayed exactly where I was, standing tall, meeting his gaze head-on as he took it all in. A scream echoed from somewhere in the back of the hall—someone had clearly been unnerved by my little performance.

Callisto, are you watching? This is what you wanted to see, isn't it?

His lips twitched slightly, as if he was amused by the spectacle, and I could tell he was enjoying every second of it.

Good. Let him. Because this wasn't for him, not entirely. This was for me—for the Penelope Eckhart who had been pushed around, belittled, and treated like dirt for far too long.

I was done playing their games.

And judging by the looks on their faces, they were starting to realize that I wasn't just some bastard child flying too high. I was the lion among lambs.

Me: Let's see them try to tame me now.

I glanced at Callisto once more, letting a wicked smile spread across my lips.

Me: Two mad dogs in a room full of sheep. Should be fun.