conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  Claire's Point of View
conversations.prefix: Narrator:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "Are you worried about Rae, Miss Claire?" Misha asks, approaching Claire on the day of the Amour Festival. The ceremony hall was packed with people, and the Scales dealt out happiness and sorrow in turn. Fathers and sons vied for their wives and mothers’ love, and established couples joked around with friends. Almost no one here was actually competing for a bride. As for Claire—she was restless. As people took turns presenting their offerings to the Scales, Claire paced back and forth.
conversations.prefix: Misha:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  "No, not really." Claire says with all the indifference she could muster. An obvious lie, given her state.
conversations.prefix: Claire:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "Rae has been especially busy lately. She said she’s going to find the best offering she can make for you."
conversations.prefix: Misha:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  Claire said nothing. Sister had told her how she and Rae intended to use the Scales of Love to once more fight for Claire's affections. Claire’d pleaded with her not to do something so—so silly, but she wouldn’t be dissuaded. Instead, she asked, “Don’t you trust Rae?”
conversations.prefix: Claire:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  Why would she ask her that about Rae? Why not about herself?
conversations.prefix: Claire:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  "Who do you want to win, Miss Claire?"
conversations.prefix: Misha:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "I don’t care." Claire was furious. How dare they fight over her—like she was a prize to be won—while paying no heed to her feelings on the matter?
conversations.prefix: Claire:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  "It’s true, you’ve never had anything good to say about Rae. But this is the joy of being born a woman, isn’t it?" Misha says, a rare act of baiting from her.
conversations.prefix: Misha:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "Who do you think you’re talking to? I am Claire François, daughter of Dole François, Minister of Finance. People love me; it’s what I was bred for." Claire snapped back.
conversations.prefix: Claire:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  And yet…I couldn’t help but wonder if these two people were different from the rabble who’d sought my affections in the past. Sister had been my first love. Yes, I’d mistaken her for a boy when we first met, but she was wonderful. As we grew into young women together, I found myself lastingly happy that she cared for me too. And Rae? From the very first day we met, I’d found her absurd. She brazenly flirted with me even though we were both girls, teased me all the time, and when I bullied her back in return—she seemed to enjoy it. Before I knew what was happening, she’d won over my father and become my maid.
conversations.prefix: Claire:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "Does something amuse you?"
conversations.prefix: Misha:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  "Huh?"
conversations.prefix: Claire:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value:  "You’re smiling."
conversations.prefix: Misha:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value:  To think that it had taken Misha pointing it out for me to realize I was smiling… How embarrassing. I couldn’t believe just thinking about her made me smile. It was for the best that she was gone. Yes, I was relieved she was no longer my maid.
conversations.prefix: Claire: