Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant

"It’s political," I lied with confidence I didn’t feel. "You know how nobles are. Everything’s political."

He stared again.

And then, slowly—too slowly—he walked forward. His footsteps echoed like hammer strikes across the polished floor.

When he stopped a few feet from me, I instinctively backed up half a step.

"You want me to put my name on that," he said, voice quieter now, almost curious, still with hinto fenimen voice. "Knowing nothing about what you’re actually doing."

I hesitated.

Then nodded.

"...Yes."

Another pause.

Another stare.

And then—to my complete surprise—he let out a faint chuckle.