Chapter 8

"Guess my life really is a novel now," she mused aloud, the laughter bubbling up from deep within her as she embraced the absurdity of her circumstances. "Thank goodness Asher was treating me kindly."

As she mulled over the peculiarities of her new existence, Gabriella's mind wandered to the inconsistencies in the narrative, the gaps in the story that left her questioning the very fabric of her reality. "Come to think of it, the novel wasn't very detailed about the early marital life of Asher and Gabriella," she mused aloud, her brow furrowing in contemplation. "In the early chapters, Asher even had his wife as his partner during the ball where they announced the existence of the Saintess. It was only mentioned that Gabriella didn't like that the spotlight was stolen by a commoner and that she was rude to Camilla."

The disparity between her memories and the events unfolding before her eyes left Gabriella feeling unsettled, a nagging sense of unease gnawing at her with each passing moment. "Where did it all go wrong?" she pondered aloud, her voice tinged with a blend of confusion.

"I mean, I can barely remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, but apparently, I'm supposed to recall every nuanced detail of this novel?" With a sigh, Gabriella decided to take matters into her own hands, grabbing a fancy pen from the desk nearby. "Time to do some thinking, and gotta have a plan too, in case I get divorced." she declared, flipping open a leather journal to jot down everything she could remember about the novel's plot. 

"Threads of fate woven in ink and leather." As she read the small letters engraved on the cover, Gabriella couldn't help but marvel at her newfound fluency in the Empire's language. "Well, would you look at that," she murmured, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "I guess having someone else's memories does have its perks."

However, because she knew that the language she used in her previous life didn't exist here, she decided to use it. "It's the safest way to hide information after all." 

"From what I can remember, I still have around three years before the story starts." Gabriella thought. "As it was mentioned in the book, Gabriella is being nagged by her father, the King of Rassec, that she still hasn't born a child after three years of marriage." she sighed, "Right, this is why I pitied you so," she murmured. She couldn't help but draw parallels between her own situation and that of the fictional Gabriella. "I mean, sure, my circumstances aren't exactly dire," she admitted, "But I sure can relate to her struggles on a spiritual level."

"Constantly under surveillance, surrounded by backstabbing maids who also act as her father's spies..." She paused, her gaze turning inward as she considered the protagonist's descent into madness. "I suppose it's no wonder she went off the deep end," she mused, her voice tinged with sympathy. "I mean, when you're subjected to that level of mental and physical abuse, it's only natural to lash out."

"Not that it excuses her behavior, of course," she added hastily as if to absolve herself of any association with the character's darker tendencies. "But hey, at least I understand why she was so hell-bent on making everyone else's lives miserable."

With a resigned sigh, she settled back against the cushions of her chair, resigned to her fate as a reluctant participant in this twisted tale. "Who knew being a fictional character could be so exhausting?" she muttered to herself, a hint of dark humor coloring her words. "Well played, universe. Well played."

"So, here's the thing," Gabriella mused, her brow furrowed in contemplation. "If I'm going to have any shot at a peaceful existence in this realm, I need to shake things up a bit. And that starts with those maids father sent over."

It wasn't just a matter of convenience or personal preference. Gabriella knew all too well that those maids weren't just here to fluff pillows and brew tea. No, they were here on a mission, one that involved keeping a close eye on her every move and nudging her toward wielding her duchess title like a weapon.

Gabriella's mind raced with the implications. The Rothchester Duchy wasn't just any large old plot of land; it was the kingdom's frontline defense against the neighboring territories of Rassec. If those pesky political influencers managed to worm their way into their domain, they'd have a prime position to undermine the delicate peace treaty that had been holding things together by a thread.

And to be honest, if there's one thing Gabriella wasn't keen on, it was being used as a pawn in someone else's power play. Nope, not her style.

"So, it's settled then," Gabriella declared, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Out with the old, in with the new."

With a sense of determination, Gabriella began to hatch her plan. First order of business? Giving those meddling maids their marching orders. After all, a little spring cleaning never hurt anyone, right?

Gabriella paced back and forth in her lavishly decorated chambers, her mind whirring with possibilities. She knew she needed a foolproof plan to oust the meddling maids without causing too much of a stir. After all, she couldn't afford to draw too much attention to herself—especially not with the kingdom's delicate political balance hanging in the balance.

As she pondered her options, a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of Gabriella's lips. Suddenly, inspiration struck like a lightning bolt, illuminating the path forward with perfect clarity.

First things first, Gabriella needed a cover story—a plausible excuse to justify the sudden dismissal of her maids. And what better excuse than a good old-fashioned case of incompetence?

"Hmmm, should I act as a green tea bitch?" Gabriella decided to adopt a more delicate and diplomatic facade. With a touch of finesse and a sprinkle of charm, she could subtly undermine her maids' credibility without arousing suspicion.

But she knew that she couldn't accomplish her goals alone. She needed allies—trusted confidants who could help her execute her plan with precision and finesse.

"It will be useless if no one believes my acts and just reports it as me having unreasonable tantrums." That's why, her operation Duchess In Distress was set into motion.

As she weighed the pros and cons of each potential approach, a knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. "Madam, a gift has been sent to you by His Highness, King Aleph," Rosalia, the head maid's voice rang out from the other side.

King Aleph Sloan de Rassec, Gabriella's father, seems to be keeping up his narrative of being a doting father. She couldn't help but scoff, and feel more pity towards the novel's Gabriella who always seeks her father's approval and is hungry for love and attention.

"Oh, from father?" Gabriella's voice softened with seemingly genuine warmth, a hint of longing in her eyes. "Thank you for bringing it to me promptly. I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness."

Rosalia, taken aback by Gabriella's unexpected display of gratitude, couldn't help but feel a twinge of confusion. After all, she had heard the rumors about Gabriella's fiery temperament, and yet here she was, exuding warmth and sincerity.

.

With a gracious smile, Gabriella accepted the gift from her father, carefully concealing her true intentions behind a mask of innocence and charm. Little did Rosalia know, beneath Gabriella's gentle facade lay a cunning mind plotting its next move to catch her pokem–err, prospect ally.

With a polite bow, Rosalia withdrew, leaving Gabriella to examine the contents of the chest on her own. As she opened it, her skepticism only grew when she laid eyes on the contents: a set of garish, ugly shade of bluish jewelry that clashed horrendously with her hair color and eyes.

"Seriously? Dark Teal?" Gabriella muttered to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. It was obvious that her father had put zero effort into choosing something that actually suited her tastes. But then again, she shouldn't expect anything when Gabriella, in reality, is a forsaken child.

Tossing aside the offending jewelry with a huff, she turned her attention to the letter that accompanied the gift, "I see… so this is the real reason."

She ripped open the letter with all the enthusiasm of a kid opening socks on Christmas morning. Upon seeing the greeting, her expression soured faster than milk left out in the sun. "My Dearest Gabriella?" she muttered with a roll of her eyes. "This king seriously needs to work on his pet names."

With a heavy sigh, she resigned herself to the fate of reading the whole thing. "Well, might as well get this over with before it induces a gag reflex," she mumbled under her breath.

"I trust this letter finds you in good health and spirits," she read aloud in a comically exaggerated voice, complete with an overly posh accent. "Blah, blah, blah, longing for my well-being, prayers, yada, yada, yada."

As she continued to read, she couldn't help but scoff at the king's excessive flattery. "Oh, please, spare me the compliments, Your Majesty. We both know you're just buttering me up for something."

But then, as her eyes scanned the page, a sense of dread began to gnaw at her insides. "Hold up, did he just ask me to spy on my own husband?" she exclaimed, and suddenly, it dawned on her—the dire implications of her father's request. "Ah! The War with Xerenon!"