My Side of Story

Bree jumped in place once, then spread her legs as wide as her thigh muscles allowed. She did it in her room, of course; there would be an uproar if she did that movement outside her room.

"Be careful, Duchess. You might hurt yourself later."

A great dilemma seemed to have caught Aima, who was behind her. She wanted to admonish but felt hesitant and afraid. Since the beginning, Aima had not approved of Bree ordering those pants, and now, seeing Bree wearing them, her disapproval grew stronger.

It's not that Bree looked bad or anything; the pants made her look more agile and nimble. But disregarding that and Bree's joy while wearing them, the pants were very uncommon for women. Even though the fabric covered her legs, Bree would still be considered impolite for revealing their shape. Aima worried about the reactions outside when they saw Bree wearing those pants.

Bree was aware of this, but she didn't care. As long as she wasn't naked, she thought it was fine. Besides, she wouldn't only wear those pants; Bree would wear a coat that covered up to her knees. In Bree's opinion, this would make her look more modest. The coat would still conceal her thighs.

Bree certainly enjoyed the freedom of unrestricted leg movement, unencumbered by the flowing fabric of a dress. The light feeling made her not want to stop moving. Bree still had a bit of decency. She wouldn't wear those pants outside the castle and the beach environment. She would still wear them when riding, of course.

"Are you sure you're going to wear them?" Aima finally dared to voice her concern.

"Of course, I'm sure. And I want you to order five more like these. Dark colors only, so they won't look dirty later." Bree said it with great joy, while Aima looked like she wanted to cry.

Now, Bree walked cheerfully around her room, savoring the comfort. If she could, she wouldn't wear a dress again after this, but that would be too audacious. However, she wanted to avoid outsiders labeling her as impolite.

Bree grabbed the long coat Aima had prepared, a plain dark blue color matching her pants. Its shape wrapped around Bree perfectly. Combined with her elegantly coiled hair and the regular boots she wore, Bree appeared masculine.

Two different feelings struck again. Bree felt very satisfied, and Aima wanted to weep again. She couldn't bear to imagine what Bree would face when leaving the room.

"Let's start the training."

Aima couldn't prevent it anymore and could only watch as Bree grabbed a sword and walked out of the room.

Bree walked down without caring about her surroundings; some servants saw her with their mouths open, while others gasped, covering their mouths. However, no reaction matched Irene's exclamation. She shrieked in surprise when Bree passed by the front hall.

"How horrid!" Irene exclaimed.

And, of course, Bree stopped, turning away from her destination. That word, once again, was an expletive. Not as bad as a harlot, but Bree wouldn't let her behave like that. Especially in front of other noblewives.

Irene was receiving a guest who happened to be the wife of Rad's subordinate. Originally, it was Bree's duty, but she refused since she wasn't interested in socializing with anyone. Back then, Bree didn't get this duty because Irene 'snatched' her authority and handled the reception.

Now, Irene didn't dare to snatch it, but Bree didn't consider it important, so she didn't do it either. When she expressed her objection—through Aima—to Rad, she didn't mind canceling the event.

Irene stepped forward to take over the light reception to prevent its cancellation. This time, Bree agreed; Irene could replace her. At least Irene would be useful that way, not just sleeping and eating. But it was a different story if Irene spoke ill of her. Bree threw the sweetest smile she could muster at Irene when she reached the dining table. Irene immediately became restless, as if sitting on a bed of coals.

She cursed unintentionally for judging Bree's appearance as too bold, but now, as Bree approached, she started feeling that something bad was going to happen.

All five people at the table stood when they saw Bree approaching, except Irene. They all stared at Bree's unusual attire first, then bowed to show respect. Perhaps they shared the same opinion as Irene, but they just didn't dare to say it directly like Irene did.

"Good afternoon. Please, have a seat." Bree intentionally greeted them warmly as a response to their respect. Bree sat in the chair next to Irene, which seemed to be Blanche's, but Bree didn't see her.

"Forgive me for not being able to join due to still being in the recovery period." Bree slightly bowed, and they all shook their heads.

"It's okay, Duchess. We understand. May you stay healthy," one of them replied.

"And you?" Bree asked for a name.

"I am Elaine, the wife of Marquis Basile," said the woman, who seemed to be around the same age as Bree. Irene was the oldest at the table.

"Thank you for your prayers, Lady Elaine. You're very considerate."

A compliment from Bree, and the other women at the table started competing to introduce themselves and wish Bree good health. They were all the same, wanting to earn a good reputation and praise from Bree, the wife of their husband's superior.

With that compliment, Bree already 'captivated' their attention, ignoring Irene, who seemed to want to disappear from there. Her presence now seemed strange and out of place.

"Sorry, Duchess. May I ask one thing? It might sound a bit impolite."

"It's fine, Lady Faye. I'm not a hothead."

Irene and Aima both looked up when Bree said that. They're witnesses to the 'not hothead' statement being a lie. But, of course, no one would dare to speak.

Faye, on the other hand, started asking with excited, sparkling eyes. "I'm sorry, but what are you wearing? Your clothes are so unique."

Everyone at the table suddenly fell silent. Faye was asking the question they had wanted to ask earlier but didn't dare to.

Bree's smile became even sweeter. She had hoped for a question like this. Bree then stood up and stretched out her hand in front of them.

"I want to hear an honest assessment from all of you. Do I look bad in this?" Bree turned her body, showing her entire coat and pants.

"Come on, give your opinion. This is an experiment; if the verdict is bad, I won't wear it again." Bree turned her body again.

"Not bad. You still look beautiful." Faye was the first to speak.

"Really? I hope you're honest."

"Lady Faye is right, Duchess. You still look attractive. You appear agile and beautiful." Elaine chimed in.

Bree smiled contentedly. She knew the clothes didn't make her look ugly.

"Oh, thank goodness. I'm so relieved." Bree made a dramatic, relieved expression.

"I'm wearing this out of necessity. I want to still look beautiful but not burden my body. After being sick recently, the doctor said I should avoid burdening my body with anything. And you surely know how dresses can be burdensome and corsets make you feel suffocated. I'm forced to wear this to recover faster, although I'm afraid it might make me look bad."

Bree managed to look sad, even showing teary eyes.

And just like before, the comforting rain came for Bree. They praised how Bree still looked beautiful and understood that Bree's situation was compelling. They also said that people shouldn't judge solely based on appearances without knowing the underlying issues. This was more or less a criticism aimed at Irene, who was becoming less and less important.

Not long after, Bree excused herself, claiming that she needed to rest. She is no longer worried about leaving them with Irene. If Irene still dared to say something bad about her, they probably wouldn't respond, as Bree's side of the story was more poignant.

The key to making them take her side was sympathy, and Bree easily seized it. Before Irene could put on the suffering mother-in-law face because her daughter-in-law was impolite, Bree had already thrown a drama of weakness and sickness.