Chapter 18
"Hey, wake up. Josée, wake up!"
Josée jolted awake with a start.
She had fallen asleep slumped over the desk in the brothel’s office. The one shaking her by the shoulder was Michelle, one of the courtesans.
Today, instead of her usual risqué work uniform, Michelle wore a simple but elegant long dress in shimmering gold.
"Huh...? Was I dreaming...?"
"This is real life! I got invited to a tea party by Baron Aubry’s wife. It’s my first time, so I splurged on a gift earlier—and now I’m broke! Lend me your accessories, Josée!"
Without hesitation, Josée opened a drawer and pulled out an extravagant necklace studded with malachite.
"This is all I can give you right now."
"Perfect! Thanks! I gotta hurry or I’ll be late!"
Josée watched her rush out the door.
"With a dress that plain, going bold with the accessories is the only choice..."
Josée’s job wasn’t just bookkeeping—she also managed the branding and image of the courtesans. She was always thinking about how to make sure they didn’t wear mismatched outfits or display eccentric tastes that might turn off clients or ruin the mood.
She turned back to the ledgers piled high on the desk and started sorting through them.
A few minutes later, Anaïs approached silently. The tall woman held a large cookie tin—the famous red one from Vallène & Co., currently all the rage at the department store and filled with buttery galettes.
"Oh, that’s the galette tin from Vallène & Co.," Josée said, eyeing it with interest.
Anaïs held it up slightly in response.
"Can I have some?" she asked.
Josée blinked. "Wait, I didn’t buy that."
"What?! I thought it was yours!"
A beat of silence passed between them—then realization struck.
"Wait... That’s the gift Michelle was supposed to take with her!"
"Now that you mention it, she did say something like that..."
Josée let out a long sigh and scratched her head in frustration.
"...She forgot the gift for the baron’s tea party."
"Why don’t you take it to her? You can still catch up if you go now."
It would be tragic if Michelle, already viewed as a clueless courtesan, became the laughingstock for showing up empty-handed.
"You’re right. It’s not far—I’ll be quick. Anaïs, can you watch the office while I’m gone?"
Josée quickly borrowed a horse from a nearby inn and set off for Baron Aubry’s estate.
—
Meanwhile—
Michelle had just arrived at the tea party and immediately turned pale at the sight before her.
The other guests were all high-class courtesans and noblewomen. She was the only one clearly out of place, an obvious low-end courtesan who didn't belong.
Baron Aubry’s recent business ventures had brought him considerable wealth, far beyond what his noble rank would suggest. His wife, Barbara, was a noblewoman by birth but known for her eccentricity. She kept a tight leash on her husband’s affairs to prevent scandal—and these tea parties were her favorite method of surveillance, a way to size up his mistresses.
This was Michelle’s first invitation. Five guests were already seated, hosted by Barbara herself in an immaculate white dress. Gifts were expected, of course. Barbara displayed them all on a table, each one a symbol of wealth and aesthetic sensibility. Her own arrangements were flawless—but the mistresses, too, tried to outshine one another with their extravagant offerings.
Michelle scanned the room nervously. The women were dressed in haute couture, draped in dazzling accessories. Their gifts were custom-made, each more opulent than the last.
Berenice, in a crimson dress, had brought an assortment of elaborately iced cookies, which a maid arranged artfully on a silver tray.
Cassandre, a noble’s daughter wrapped in pink frills, had brought imported tins of rare tea, lining them up like a curated exhibit.
Claude, a high-class courtesan in deep green, proudly unveiled a set of imported porcelain teacups, offering them directly to Barbara.
Debora, a merchant’s daughter in sky blue, had arrived with armfuls of flowers, instructing a butler to decorate the room with them.
And Michelle, in gold—
"Oh no, what do I do?!"
She panicked. All she had was a department store galette tin—utterly laughable compared to the others.
(But still... better than nothing.)
Then it hit her.
She’d left the tin back at the brothel.
(Wh-what do I do?!)
Panic overtook her. Her heart pounded. But it was too late.
"Oh? Did Michelle-sama not bring a gift?" Debora in blue approached, her voice laced with fake concern. Michelle clenched her teeth but had no reply.
"I can’t imagine how someone like you caught the baron’s eye. Honestly, it’s baffling," Debora continued.
Berenice in red gave her a slow once-over, pretending to be curious. "Should I have set one less teacup? You probably wouldn’t know porcelain from clay anyway."
Claude in green chuckled in mock sympathy. "Perhaps it’s that ‘pure heart’ of hers. Rough voice, rough face—but the baron must be a kind man."
Cassandre in pink smiled sweetly, her words sugar-coated with venom. "Maybe he fell for her songbird charm. That’s just so... noble of him."
Michelle clenched her fists, seething.
"Now, ladies, please take your seats," Barbara said calmly, cutting through the tension with practiced poise.
Michelle’s mind went blank.
This was a disaster.
Barbara began the tea party with a gracious smile. "Thank you all for these lovely gifts. Today, we’ll be using Claude-sama’s exquisite Eastern teacups. She’s grown tired of our ‘antique’ silverware."
Michelle sat stiffly, unable to even fake a smile. Claude, seated beside her, smirked smugly in her direction.
Barbara went on, her voice as smooth as the silverware she disdained.
"This tea is from Cassandre-sama. Her father acquired it during his travels abroad—only the finest leaves."
Cassandre tilted her head, posing like a fairy-tale princess. Her saccharine act made Michelle want to gag.
"These lovely flowers are from Debora-sama, who so generously suggested they might help conceal our ‘unsightly’ walls. Such thoughtful advice."
Debora snorted. Michelle could only think, *Who insults their lover’s house like that?!*
"These iced cookies are Berenice-sama’s own creation. Rumor has it the baron visits her nightly just to taste them."
Berenice laughed, a high-pitched cackle that made Michelle’s skin crawl.
They were all insane.
"And... Michelle-sama brought nothing."
The ladies giggled among themselves.
(*Seriously?! Did she have to say it like that?!*)
Michelle’s temper flared, but she forced herself to respond.
"I don’t need to compete with gifts. My song is my offering. Name any popular tune, and I’ll sing it."
Silence fell.
It wasn’t admiration. It was disdain.
Michelle finally understood: this wasn’t just a tea party. It was a battlefield—petty, vicious, and wrapped in lace.
"Let’s begin, ladies."
Barbara poured tea into each cup. The golden liquid shimmered in the light. Michelle added sugar and took a sip.
(*They’re awful... but the tea’s good.*)
She reached for a sweet. The other women did too. Their hands darted out like well-trained soldiers, snatching treats with almost comical speed.
(*So much for 'high-class'—they’re just greedy gluttons.*)
Too embarrassed to join the frenzy, Michelle held back.
Then, just as the last of the sweets were vanishing—
*Crash!*
A loud thud echoed through the room.
Debora collapsed face-first onto the table.
"...Debora...?"
Barbara rushed over and shook her. Her eyes widened in alarm.
"Someone, call a doctor! Now!"
Panic erupted. Servants burst in. The once-elegant tea party descended into chaos.
Michelle, caught mid-bite, froze.
"Huh? She fainted...? What...?"
Meanwhile, Josée arrived at the estate, the galette tin tucked securely under one arm.
She knocked at the door—but the commotion inside drowned it out.
"...Weird. Why isn’t anyone answering?"