Episode 32
Will he return by tomorrow?
Or will it really take an entire week?
I stepped lightly to the rhythm of the music. The hem of my dress, which had felt so cumbersome at first, now billowed in graceful arcs—a rather pleasing sight.
The movements had become second nature, allowing me to dance while lost in thought. Today marked the third day since Kirhin’s departure, yet not a word had arrived from him.
…Nothing went wrong, did it?
Brushing aside the worry creeping in like mist, I came to a natural stop as the music wound down, lifting the hem of my gown in a curtsy. Madame Ricora, my etiquette instructor who had been observing me, clapped with a warm smile.
Using ankles and legs that had once done nothing more than keep me upright to perform such delicate steps was tiring, but I had no intention of complaining over so little. When I offered her a soft smile and bow, Madame Ricora gave an approving nod.
After seeing her out, I caught my breath and walked over to the window. Outside, the scenery had grown unseasonably dim. Heavy clouds filled the sky.
I opened the window and took a deep breath, taking in the damp air. Resting my arms on the sill, I propped my chin in my hand and looked down.
Whenever the weather turned like this, Mrs. Vino grew unusually agitated and writhed in discomfort, making me quite sensitive to humidity. It was likely about to pour. Not a gentle drizzle, but thick, heavy sheets of rain that would sting against the skin.
Once Kirhin returned, I wanted to ask him if I could learn to ride horses. Only then could I ride out to meet him or follow wherever he went. I was slowly realizing that I was far more impatient than I had thought.
Back when my entire day revolved around tending to others, I had no room to consider what I liked or disliked. None of that had mattered. The only thing that counted was what I could do and how well I could do it.
Now, however, the list of things I liked and disliked was steadily growing. And that frightened me a little. I feared I might never be able to return to the way things were.
In the Hairund, which chronicles the heroic deeds of King Yuzerk, there is a tale of a man born blind who is granted sight for three days by divine grace. After beholding all the beauty the world had to offer, he took his own life moments before blindness was to claim him once more.
Once someone learns something, they cannot return to ignorance. To know is to enjoy, and to be cast back into ignorance means being stripped of all that was once enjoyed.
I could lose everything I possessed at any moment. The taste of butter pudding, baked with honey and egg yolks to taste like pure sunshine; the thrill and suspense of heroic epics that made me feel as though I were right there; the heady rush of gazing upon my own noble silhouette… If all of that were taken from me,
…would I, too, make the same choice as that blind man?
My wandering gaze caught on a figure below. A young maid was straining to haul a laundry basket across the courtyard. She looked intent on hanging the wash.
Hanging laundry now was sheer folly. It was bound to pour before long. Seeing how she failed to read the sky, she was either careless by nature or very new to her duties.
From the twin braids of hazel-brown hair tumbling down her back, I knew who she was. Maya.
Younger than me, she was still clumsy at her work and had received a harsh reprimand from Nina just yesterday. Her eyes had still been swollen when I saw her this morning, proof of how much she had cried.
Watching her shake out each garment and pin it to the line, I pushed away from the sill. As I made a leisurely descent down the stairs, a maid cleaning the kitchen called out to me.
Whenever giving orders or speaking down to others felt awkward, I always recalled Damian’s words. He had told me to lift not a finger and treat the people around me as my own hands and feet.
By the time he returned, I wanted to show him that I had changed. That is to say, I wanted to carry myself with true, proper dignity.
Accepting a parasol from the maid, I stepped outside. I did not head straight for Maya. While I strolled casually nearby, rain soon began to pelt down, and Maya, who had only managed to hang half the laundry, began tearing it down in sheer despair. Only then did I walk over to her.
Hearing the tears thick in her voice, I set the parasol aside and began gathering the laundry in the pouring rain. Water soaked through my hair, my face, my clothes. Sensing someone nearby, Maya glanced over with a scowl, only to gasp in horror.
I laughed, wiping away the raindrops trickling down my forehead with the back of my hand,
Something resembling deep gratitude flickered across Maya’s young face. Seeing me work without a moment's pause, she hastily resumed hauling down the laundry. Thanks to our combined efforts, though we were both drenched, we managed to gather the clothes far faster than expected.
Taking the towel she offered to wipe my face, I spoke offhandedly, and Maya’s eyes went round.
At her innocent response, a chuckle slipped past my lips, and Maya shyly ducked her head.
Brushing the droplets from my neck and shoulders, I handed the towel back to her. Looking flustered, Maya cast a quick glance around before gingerly dabbing her wet face with it.
A buoyant excitement lit up her freckled face. Keeping a gentle smile, I blinked innocently at her.
When I asked casually, Maya looked taken aback.
Adopting a slightly aggrieved tone, I watched Maya nod vigorously, clearly feeling an instant bond.
Maya stared at my dejected expression, cleared her throat, and lowered her voice to a whisper.
Feigning surprise, I took her hand.
Gazing down at her grasped hand, Maya beamed. I curved the corners of my mouth in return.
Her eyes sparkling, Maya sniffled and rose to her feet.
I watched silently as Maya hurried off with brisk steps. She was even more naive than I had anticipated.
Nina had served as head maid for many years and kept most of the maids at House Beekman under her thumb. To them, a single word from Nina carried far more weight than anything I said.
As the days stretched on in Kirhin’s absence, Nina’s attitude toward me had begun to shift. And that dismissive air was slowly bleeding into the rest of the staff.
Just yesterday, when I mixed up the order of the forks at dinner, I caught one of the maids sneering at me. An older maid who was exceptionally close to Nina.
That mockery would soon spread like a plague to everyone. Once Kirhin returned, they would treat me with outward deference again, but the derision already taking root deep within them would slip past their lips at the first opportunity.
The kitchen pantry was close to Nina’s room. While the other servants resided in an outbuilding separate from the manor, Nina and Brook stayed within the main estate. Brook’s quarters were in the west wing near Kirhin’s, while Nina’s room was situated right above the basement storage where the pantries congregated.
My real objective was Nina’s room. I planned to uncover what she liked and disliked, what brought her joy and sorrow, and, above all, what she desperately wished to hide.
Everyone had secrets they wished to conceal, and more often than not, those secrets were their weaknesses.
In his youth, the hero King Yuzerk had been ridiculed and looked down upon as an orphan by the local landlord. For twenty-one consecutive days, he crept into the man's home until he discovered that the landlord’s greatest fear was dead rats.
One morning, the landlord woke up to find himself surrounded by dozens of dead rats, and he lost his mind completely on the spot.
“…I wonder what it takes to drive you mad, Nina.”
Resting my chin on my palm, I murmured into the empty air as the heavy rain roared outside.
