She's going to be crying again tonight.
Estella von Granzheim thought to herself as she quietly sipped her drink in a corner of the ballroom.
The melody of string instruments filled the hall and young ladies in colourful dresses mingled in the ballroom. Candlelight softly illuminated the ceiling's ornaments, casting dancing shadows across the polished marble floor.
Estella's gaze was fixed on the pair who were at the center of the ballroom.
They were Crown Prince Alvin von Legnica and Millefeuille Elbach, a young petite girl who was snuggling close to him.
She was the adopted daughter of a baron. A commoner. She had the lowest status of anyone present. And yet she occupied the most prominent spot in the room, right beside the Crown Prince, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do.
Estella didn't look away from the rim of her glass.
Several young ladies had gathered around Mille. A marquis's daughter appeared to have said something to her. Mille flinched for a second and lowered her eyelashes. Her lips trembled slightly and tears began welling up along the edges of her large eyes.
There were no words, but her expression alone was enough.
Alvin immediately stepped forward to shield Mille and said something to the marquis's daughter. The sharpness of his tone seemed to reach those around them even though he kept his voice low. The marquis's daughter's face stiffened; she bowed deeply before leaving the area.
Mille gently wiped the corners of her eyes then looked up at Alvin with a smile.
-- There it is.
Estella murmured inwardly.
Memories of her past life vividly flashed through her mind. The customer service counter at the department store. A customer bursting into tears. A manager rushing over in a panic. A colleague reprimanding her, "How could you make a customer cry?" They only listened to the one who was crying and put off verifying the facts. She had seen this play out countless times.
This was the same.
Cry. Get protected. The one who made her cry is cast as the villain.
The process and pattern were exactly the same.
Estella gently placed her glass down on the table and made a conscious effort not to tense her fingers. If a duke's daughter showed emotions in public then that alone would become fodder for gossip.
The way Mille just cried. That was --
Out of habit which was ingrained in her in her past life, Estella began to analyse Mille's behaviour without even thinking.
She didn't raise her voice. Her tears didn't overflow; they only pooled around the edge of her eyes. She lowered her gaze once, then looked up at him. Her lips trembled slightly, enough for those around her to see.
[PItiful crying]
It was a way of crying designed to draw out people's protective nature.
Back in her department store days, a senior had said this during complaint-handling training: "There are three types of crying customers. Those who are genuinely sad, those whose anger has reached its limits, and those who know that crying will get them what they want. The third type is the most troublesome."
Mille's tears belonged to the third type. Estella was certain of it.
So she must use the other kinds too.
Estella thought back on Mille's behaviour.
A month ago when she passed Mille in the corridor, Mille flinched, hunched her shoulders and pressed herself against the wall. Her eyes widened, her breathing was shallow and rapid, just like a small frightened animal. A knight who happened to be passing by asked her, "Are you alright", and Mille shook her head, stammering, "I-I'm sorry. It's nothing."
That was [fear-induced crying].
She didn't actually cry, but she showed everyone that "Estella is scary" by acting frightened. This was the stage before crying. She was laying the groundwork.
There was another time. After class last week when a teacher pointed out how inadequate Mille's assignment was, she pressed her lips together tightly and her eyes turned red, but she didn't shed a tear. "I'm sorry," she apologised in a small voice, clenching her fists as though she was holding back her emotions. The teacher immediately softened their tone, "You don't have to worry about it that much."
That was -- a variation of [angry crying].
It was about portraying frustration, not anger. It creates a narrative inside the other person's mind: she's upset at her own incompetency. The result: the other person voluntarily softens their stance. An advanced technique that achieves the effects of tears without actually crying.
The three types.
The pitiful crying, fear-induced crying and angry crying.
She used all three types of crying.
Estella looked up at the ballroom ceiling. The candlelight appeared to blur because she had been so absorbed in her analysis that she'd forgotten to blink.
Her experience from her past life was telling her that a 'condemnation event' was waiting ahead.
The villainess of an otome game. Estella's assigned role was to be condemned by the Crown Prince for bullying the heroine, have her engagement annulled and exit the stage.
She remembered the gist of the story, but the details were hazy.
When. Where. On what charges?
She didn't know.
All she knew was that Mille will frame Estella for some kind of crime and Alvin will accept her story at face value and declare that Estella was guilty.
What would my past self have done?
The answer came immediately. She would have put up with it. She would have silently accepted the charges. She would bow her head to the unreasonable complaints and repeatedly apologise, "I'm terribly sorry." Then she would cry in private, only to stand at the counter with a smile on her face the next day. That was all she had ever done for ten years.
But.
Estella turned her gaze back to the front.
Across the hall, Mille lightly touched Alvin's arm and whispered something to him. Alvin nodded gently and placed his hand softly on Mille's head, right where his fiancée, Estella, could see.
Her tears are a weapon.
And this court believes in tears.
Tears shed during testimonies are taken as 'proof of the truth'. The more composed you are, the more 'heartless' you are perceived to be. That was simply how this kingdom's culture worked. Mille instinctively understood this and used it to her advantage.
In that case-
Another remark from her senior resurfaced in her mind.
"In this line of work, whoever cries first wins."
She'd said it half-jokingly, but it was the truth. During complaints, those who cry first draw sympathy from those around them. If you cry after them then they will just think you're copying. Making the first move was critical.
Estella looked at her right hand. Slender, pale fingers. The hand of a duke's daughter who was raised without a single hardship. Nothing like the hand that used to tremble while handling complaints in her past life.
But what she had learnt during those ten years still lay right there in her hand.
Emotional control. Acting. The skill of reading the other person's moves and responding in the best possible way. Crying when one should cry, showing anger when one should get angry, and remaining silent when silence was called for. The power to switch between them all at will.
All I have to do is step onto the same playing field.
If Mille cries, then I'll cry too, but I'll cry before her.
I endured it in my past life and kept bowing at those who were being unreasonable.
In this life, I'll return the favour.
Estella smiled faintly. A flawless, impeccable smile. Perfect for a duke's daughter.
Before the smile could fade, a lady-in-waiting hurried towards her.
"Lady Estella. A letter has arrived from His Highness Alvin's chamberlain."
A sealed letter rested on a silver tray and on it was a simple wax seal, stamped with the royal crest.
Estella opened the envelope.
Inside was a single line.
We need to talk. Tomorrow, in the rose garden. - Alvin
His tone was short and distant. Far too distant for a letter addressed to one's fiancée.
Estella read it once more, then quietly folded the letter.
It's here.
She didn't know if this was the condemnation event or not, but there was no doubt that this was the opening signal.
"How would you like to reply, my lady?" The lady-in-waiting asked.
Estella returned the letter to her and answered calmly, "Please convey that I have received it."
Her voice was perfectly composed.
Memories of her past life and present life overlapped and swirled quietly in her mind. Anxiety, resolve, and the will to fight back, something she never did in her past life.
Tomorrow
I will cry.