Chapter 7 - Vodka and Vices

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One by one, the Harbingers presented me with their gifts and congratulations, yet it was difficult for me to believe their kindness was indeed genuine.

Despite this, I cheerfully accepted their hollow words, ensuring that I was not of a status that was meant to be coveted. I didn't want the Harbingers to mock my social standing, but it would be sure to cause interferences if I became a challenge to theirs.

The mannerisms of a lady are looked down by all those below her. That was one of the rudimentary teachings of my mother, a rule I kept in mind as a tribute to her life. After my mother passed away, I resolved to mastering all the lessons she had taught me: cooking, cleaning, using keigo, curtsying, controlling my emotions; I learned them simply to honor her memory. But over time, I began to excel in those fields, and then it became my armor, my strength.

"You keep spacing out, girlie, what's the matter?"

I looked up, slightly annoyed, at Childe, who, though leaning across the table rather discourteously, was a full head taller than me.

I replied calmly, "It's indeed overwhelming to receive such wonderful gifts. I feel very fortunate. I am very grateful."

Scaramouche rolled his eyes.

"If there's anything you want to say, just say it," Childe sneered, glaring at Scaramouche, but glancing back to me with a flirtacious wink.

"Oh?" Scaramouche snapped back. "And if I don't want to say it? Know your place, malcontent."

Childe looked to me. "Look at this scumbag, Rin. Don't you think it's--"

The Tsaritsa sliced through a piece of aspic, her silver knife hitting her porcelain plate with a clang.

"This everlasting conflict is the zenith of folly," she declared firmly, rising to her feet. "I shall take my leave. Enjoy this banquet to the best of your ability, my children."

One by one, the Harbingers rose to their feet, and I hurriedly followed suit.

"All hail the Tsaritsa's almighty judgement! All hail the Tsaritsa's eternal reign! All hail the Tsaritsa's selfless generosity! Glory to Her Imperial Majesty, and glory to her rule!"

With those words, the Tsaritsa disappeared, leaving a silhouette of mist in her place.

As soon as the Archon left, Scaramouche suddenly grabbed me by a clump of my hair, leaning so close to my ear I could feel his warm, wine-stained breaths tickling the skin on my jawbone.

"An idiot like Childe may not be able to see it," he snarled, the aftertaste of alcohol seething through his teeth. "But I'm not going to fall for that stupid fake smile."

Il Dottore, who had remained silent for most of the meal, reached underneath the table and retrieved a large bottle of vodka, placing it on the table and directing his attention towards me.

"Miss Rin," he announced, eager to entertain. "as you're our newest member, I'll tell you this: us Harbingers are just a motley crew of little people who drown their pasts in alcohol, in battle, and in service to Her Majesty. Here."

Dottore tossed the bottle across the room, my vision following its trajectory, and I strained to catch it, inspecting the label.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't drink, I'm underage anyhow . . ." I stammered, pulling a few loose strands of hair behind my ear.

The Harbingers burst into a cacophony of laughter, and even Scaramouche looked mildly amused.

"It's never too early or too late to have a sip of liquor now and then," Il Dottore mused, on the verge of chuckling himself. "So, will you oversee the distribution of this lovely aged wine, young miss?"

𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜'𝙨 𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙬 // scaramouche x ocWhere stories live. Discover now