Lady Misfortune: Daddy, I’ll Be A Righteous Villainess! - Chapter 102

Sarah is stepping up the game, and suddenly, it dawns on Weiss.

The short gap between them, the way she’s sitting all pretty, the mood this situation is giving off, the meaningful look she’s sending him – everything’s starting to cause him a bit of unease. It feels as though his personal space is being invaded. The earlier he gets away, the better.

He glances in Lady’s direction, hoping she’s not looking. Weiss is relieved to find her too focused to pay attention – on the column, most probably. She also appears to be oblivious of Sarah’s presence, and so is Sarah of hers.

Turning to look back to her, he then finally spoke.

“What do you need my number for?” he blurted out, playing dumb.

“I want us to be friends, of course,” she cooed – and maybe, purred.

“Sorry. I don’t just give my number away to anyone.”

“Oh, come on. You already denied me a date. Plus, you’ve been spelling my name wrong on purpose. The least you can do to make up for it is this.”

“What makes you think I’m obligated to do such a thing? I barely even know you.”

“Playing hard to get as always, huh? How cute~ I like that in a guy.”

Sarah threw him a wink. Weiss kept a blank face, trying not to gulp.

Luckily for him, his coworker has come to serve her order. He isn’t sure if he interrupted to save him, but if the serious expression on his face is anything to go by, which is quite rare to see, he takes that he has finally accepted the truth.

‘Good. Now, I can leave in peace-‘

“Bye, Willie~! I’ll talk to ‘ya later~!”

Sarah blew him a flying kiss as she stepped away from the counter. Weiss had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at her.

‘Please, don’t call me that.’

—

With a contented smile, Sarah grabs the tray with a piping hot cinnamon roll.

She made her way over to her usual table to wait for her other order. But when she got there, someone’s already sitting in her spot – someone quite familiar. She can tell by the school uniform alone.

She walks closer to see who it is. Then, she halts.

‘Mireille?’

It’s her. Again. It’s like she’s really her day ruiner.

She takes a deep breath. In. Out. She is in control.

Sarah tapped her on the shoulder. Lady looked up.

“You’re in my spot,” she told her bluntly.

Lady was stunned.

She stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed – almost as if she couldn’t believe what she’s seeing. It’s a huge surprise, of course. Neither expected that the other would be there. She even seemed to be not sure how to react.

Then, she shrugged and just went back to whatever she was doing.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Sarah huffed, annoyed.

She held herself back from downright snapping at her. But she couldn’t keep the bite from her words.

“I said you’re at my table…” Sarah hissed.

“And I would like it if you find another one.”

“I’m sorry…” Lady drawled with a lazy tone.

“Do you have your name on this seat particularly?”

She peers at Sarah dead in the eye, a smug smirk framing her face, before she gestures at the chair in front of her. With that, Lady added, “There’s a perfectly good seat right there.”

“I would rather eat alone. So, please, move.”

“I won’t bother you if you won’t bother me.”

“That’s hardly believable. You’ve been bothering me ever since we’ve met.”

“And you’re the one who’s choosing to engage with the annoyance that bothers you oh so much.”

Sarah flares up. An angry flush crept onto the base of her neck. Lady snorts.

“Because you’re in my regular spot, Mireille!”

“You know, we’ve been arguing about a lot of things for a long time now. Don’t expect me to give up something like this just because you told me to, Gracelyn. Try buying this place or at least this table, and I might do it.”

That damned smirk.

It’s like she knew that she couldn’t say anything against it. Not that she’d ever admit it. She wanted to wipe that smirk off of her face – permanently.

“Ugh, fine!” Sarah relented.

She then slammed the tray down on the opposite side of the table – as far away as she could get from Lady. After she put her books down, she threw herself into the chair, crossing her legs over each other and glaring out the window – anything she could do to not interact with her. The less she saw of her, the better.

The two of them sat there in complete silence.

She didn’t try to bother her as she promised. The only sounds that permeated the air were the soft piano from the record player by the bar, the clicking-clacking noise of the keyboard, the steaming of the coffee machines, and the vehicle horns from the street outside. Soon, a sudden announcement from the pick-up station joined them.

“A large dark chocolate mocha frappe with two shots of hazelnut and extra whipped cream for Sarah!”

Lady let out a derisive snort, earning another glare from Sarah.

There’s nothing funny about her order. It’s the other barista who’d taken her name this time, so it’s surely not her name either.

‘This punk. The hell she’s on about?’

Her eyes widened when she saw Sarah paying attention to her again. She could see the dots connecting in her eyes. Then, without a word, Lady’s smirk morphed into an exasperating, shit-eating grin this time. That does it.

“A large dark chocolate mocha frappe with two shots of hazelnut and extra whipped cream for Sarah!”

Sarah gritted her teeth, shooting daggers at Lady as she stood up from her seat.

She could feel her laughter bouncing back on her back, and it made her want to see how many times she could put chili peppers in her mouth before she stopped. She had a nagging feeling that she would die laughing out of spite.

Sarah found that quite irritating. But what was more irritating was the grudging respect she would hypothetically feel if Lady did that.

She grabbed the frappe with a little more force than necessary and bee-lined back to her former position on the chair – this time, while sipping away at the sugary drink. The calming cold washed over her almost instantly. She could feel her anger ebbing away. Settling comfily into her seat, she takes a languid stab at the delectable treat in front of her before sighing in content.

“So, you’re the type to go for the shit with the most sugar on the menu?” Lady commented – and the anger was back again.

“What’s it to you? I thought you weren’t going to bother me?” Sarah snapped, fork clattering on the plate.

She held up her hands in surrender.

Lady had only meant to ask, though. She wasn’t expecting that Sarah had such a sweet tooth.

It may be her who made her, but at this point, she already accepted that she doesn’t know everything about her.

“Not judging you. Just wanted to confirm if you’re not a serial killer psycho. So far, you’re inching close to it,” Lady mused out loud, recalling Fallon’s mystery guidebook about serial killers.

“And how would you know that?” Sarah sassed, a brow arched.

“For one, serial killers have an obsession with everything being perfect – the same chair, the same table, the same order. If something’s out of place, they’d go nuts. Why do you think it’s the same MO all the time?”

She admits she’s slightly impressed. ‘This dimwit actually knows her thing,’ is what she thought.

“Two, they’re always getting the extremes in terms of drinks…” she continued, gesturing towards the frappe in her hands.

“It’s either as bitter as their souls or overly sweet to compensate.”

“Compensate for what exactly…?” she sneered at her and rolled her eyes, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Ego?”

“That’s not a bad idea. But I was going to say they’re replacing the high they get off of killing people they hate with the sugar monstrosity that is their drink.”

“That’s not scientifically proven, and you’re exaggerating.”

Sarah raises the straw of her drink to her lips. She then gives Lady a pointed stare as she takes a long slurp.

“See? Drinking that so-called sugar monstrosity and not killing annoyances.”

“The fact that you’re drinking it means you’re using it as a substitute. So, your current defense is full of holes at best. I hope you’re not killing anyone anytime soon.”

Sarah wanted to refuse the statement and profess her offense at the words. But it didn’t come out as she staggered at the sight before her. Lady was knocking herself out with a cup of strong, pure black coffee.

Quick, efficient, down the hatch like a veteran drunk.

“That’s… probably not healthy for you,” Sarah blurted out, stupefied.

She furrowed her brows at her and picked up the second cup – there’s actually a second cup. Her eyes pierce hers, a sly grin spreading on her lips. Then, she raised the cup in her direction as if having a toast.

“To my good health then, and the continuation of a beautiful hateship,” Lady quipped.