Page 127 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

Dancing resumed. Carol danced with Caspian twice more, and then graciously accepted requests from several of the northern lords, all of whom seemed genuinely pleased to dance with her.

As the evening wound down and guests began departing, Carol received countless compliments on the beautiful event, the excellent food, and—most frequently—her remarkable composure.

Finally, as the last guests were leaving, Carol stood beside Caspian near the entrance, accepting final farewells.

Earl Magnus Ironwood approached, his expression grim.

"Your Grace," he said to Caspian, then turned to Carol. "Your Grace. I offer my deepest apologies for my daughter's behavior. It was inexcusable."

"She was intoxicated and emotional," Carol said calmly. "I hold no grudge."

"You are more gracious than we deserve," the Earl said. He hesitated, then added, "Millicent will be returning to our estate tomorrow. She will not be troubling you again."

"I hope she finds happiness," Carol said, and meant it. "Truly."

The Earl looked stunned. Then he bowed deeply and departed.

When the last guest had finally left, Carol sagged slightly against Caspian.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Exhausted," Carol admitted. "That was... a lot."

"You were perfect," Caspian said quietly. "Absolutely perfect."

"I had wine thrown at my face," Carol pointed out.

"And you handled it with more grace than most people could manage in far easier circumstances," Caspian said. "I'm proud of you."

Carol felt tears prick her eyes—the good kind, this time.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Come on," Caspian said, offering his arm. "Let's go check on our pets and then get some sleep. You've earned it."

As they walked back through the transformed halls of Frostholme, Carol thought about the evening.

The accusations. The wine. The terrible game options. The diplomatic sarcasm that had somehow won over an entire hall of skeptical nobles.

She'd survived.

More than survived—she'd succeeded.

The northern nobility had accepted her. Respected her, even.

Not bad for a transmigrated corporate worker who just wanted to avoid death flags and eat good food.

But as the adrenaline faded, something else settled in her chest.

Guilt.

Chapter 27

The Memory

Carol returned to her chambers with her heart still racing from the evening's events.

The banquet. The wine. The applause. The acceptance.