‘It feels quite warm.’
Anasta did not find the hallway floor uncomfortable in the least.
She had already spent countless nights in the cramped, decrepit corridors of the count’s manor whenever rats overran her room.
A bitter wind had always seeped through the halls of the Winterlit estate, and she had shivered incessantly, wrapped in filthy, threadbare blankets that did nothing to keep out the chill.
Once, the cold had even brought on facial spasms, leaving her trembling all day in the isolation of her wretched room.
By comparison, the corridors of Duke Soltaire’s manor were spotless and impeccably neat. The only thing missing was her sister.
She shifted slightly, remembering the elder sister who was three years her senior and had been wed before her.
Her sister had been their parents’ first victim, sold off to a nobleman three times her age.
Anasta could never forget the day of that wedding—the lifeless, hollow look in her sister's eyes, and that monstrous old groom.
She had wept bitterly all that day for her radiant sister, who was being delivered into the clutches of that old man.
After the wedding, her sister Natasha sent letters to soothe Anasta's aching heart, filled with warm reassurances like: ‘I’m fine,’ ‘Don’t worry,’ and ‘I’ll bring you to stay with me as soon as I’m settled.’ But three months into the marriage, the letters ceased entirely.
Anasta was certain that something terrible had happened to Natasha.
“She will manage on her own and live well enough.”
Yet her parents remained utterly indifferent to the daughter they had married off.
They acted as though they couldn’t care less how she was being treated.
Worried sick, Anasta had once tried to go to her in secret, but failed; the address written on the letters belonged to someone else, and Natasha and her husband had vanished without a trace.
‘Sister…’
Ever since, Anasta had harbored only one goal: to escape that accursed manor, gather money, and set out to find her sister—to rescue her from that monstrous noble and live peacefully together.
Her sister had always loved theology, so she could become a nun.
Anasta, too, wished to study.
To achieve that, she had to endure her time with the Soltaire family and deftly evade whatever Ryan might try to do to her.
However determined Ryan was, Anasta’s resolve matched his in equal measure.
She awoke at sunrise, carried the quilt back into the bedroom, and tidied it up.
She finished putting the room in order well before the maid’s arrival, then checked the locked door connecting their rooms.
There was no sign of movement from Ryan; he had evidently not yet awakened.
Anasta considered opening the door to offer a morning greeting, but thought better of it.
“Are you awake?”
At that moment, the Head Maid knocked on her bedroom door.
“Yes.”
“As I told you yesterday, your schedule today is very simple: deliver breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You are to bring the young master his medicine. The young master often makes excuses to avoid taking his medicine, so be sure to check inside his mouth after he swallows it.”
“Will he easily allow me to look inside his mouth?”
“Then you will have no choice but to force it open.”
She spoke coldly, as if none of it concerned her, before explaining the rest of the routine.
“Is there no maid to assist me?”
“There is, but do not expect much help. This is your duty, and it is a test of your fitness to be the young master’s wife. Here is the medicine.”
The Head Maid handed her a large quantity of tablets meant for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
The sheer number of pills was staggering, even if taken regularly with each meal.
“I trust you will not mix up the dosage times. Do you have any further questions?”
There was nothing to ask; the matter was exceedingly simple. She only had to feed him and administer his medicine.
Anasta shook her head. Only then did the Head Maid’s brow relax slightly as she said impassively, “I will bring the young master’s breakfast now. You are to deliver it to him.”
Through the door connecting their rooms.
Ryan’s breakfast was exceedingly sparse.
A single bowl of soup, a loaf of bread, and a plate of salad.
In other words, it was a meager meal that made one question whether it provided adequate nutrition.
‘Isn't this too little food?’ Anasta wondered, but soon knocked on the adjoining door.
“It is Anasta.”
No answer came from within. She knocked several more times before finally using the key.
“I am coming in.”
The moment she stepped inside, a pillow flew straight toward her.
It was a sudden, savage outburst, but Anasta did not so much as flinch. She approached the bed where he sat in silence.
“I have brought your meal.”
“Get out of my sight.”
“I will set the table.”
Placing the bed tray over his lap, she smoothed the cloth and arranged the dishes.
Ryan watched her every move. The moment Anasta neatly and precisely laid down the spoon and knife, he flipped the table over, heedless of her efforts.
The food she had painstakingly carried scattered everywhere, completely soiling the quilt.
“I told you to get lost.”
Ryan glared at her with menacing eyes.
“You were sold here because you lacked money, plain and simple.”
· · ·
“I heard you're an aristocrat. Have you no dignity? Sold off for money… Don't you think you're no different from a whore?”
He did not stop there, continuing to heap blatant insults upon Anasta.
“You seem remarkably kind, Young Master.”
“What?”
“Pitying someone like me, who was sold here. Your concern for my dignity leaves me at a loss for how to thank you.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No. I must ask the Head Maid to change the duvet cover and prepare another meal.”
“I’ll just flip it over again.”
“Then I shall simply keep bringing more food.”
Anasta headed for the door and gave instructions to the maid waiting in the corridor.
“Bring a fresh duvet cover and another meal,” she said, adding, “It would be best to prepare ten extra servings of soup.”
The moment the maid stepped away, Anasta returned and took a seat before Ryan’s bed.
He could not help letting out a contemptuous scoff. He had thought her tough ever since she slept in the hallway, but it was clear now that her temper was not to be trifled with.
She was precisely the kind of person he despised and loathed.
Still, he had dealt with plenty of maids before. Most had trembled in his presence, but there had been cold, unyielding ones like Anasta as well.
And how had they ended up?
In the end, they could not endure it and fled the estate in tears. Surely this woman, too, would soon be weeping and wailing.
Before long, the fresh duvet cover and another bowl of soup arrived. Anasta set the meal before Ryan once more, but true to his word, he tipped the food onto the quilt.
“Bring another. I’ll keep dumping it.”
Ryan warned her. She let out a quiet sigh, then asked the maid for another cover and more food.
“Do you lack the capacity to learn?”
Ryan sneered as he watched her.
· · ·
Without a word, Anasta took the fresh soup and duvet cover and approached him once again.
Ryan waited for her to carefully set the meal before him. The instant she laid down the spoon, he would ruin her efforts all over again.
This time, however, was different. Anasta placed the tray on his bed and began eating the soup herself.
“…What do you think you’re doing?”
Ignoring his flabbergasted voice, Anasta swallowed the soup in one go. Not stopping there, she took a bite of the salad, broke off half the loaf of bread, and stuffed it into her mouth.
She then roughly wiped her mouth as if erasing any trace of having eaten. All of it unfolded in under three minutes.
Clack.
Ryan could only stare slack-jawed at the empty dishes on the tray.
“Since you refuse to eat, I had no choice but to eat it myself.”
She spoke with absolute composure.
“What?”
“The Head Maid said she would check the dishes, not your stomach.”
“…Did it never cross your mind that I might tell the Head Maid the truth?”
“Go ahead and tell her.”
Anasta did not falter.
“I will simply deny it. And I wonder whose word the Head Maid will believe—yours or mine?”
“Ha!”
“I hope you will eat your lunch. If you intend to flip it over again, I shall eat that as well.”
“Do you mean to starve me to death? Ah, or does it not matter to you, since I’m as good as dead soon anyway?”
“No, it would simply be a waste of good food.”
“This worthless slop?”
“It is in the past now, but I once went without food for three days for the sake of slop like this, until my skin nearly stuck to my backbone. I was so starved that I was ready to gnaw on the legs of chairs.”
Though she looked like someone raised in refined comfort…
Ryan frowned as he looked her over, then turned his head away.
“Splendid. My fiancée is a woman stripped of dignity, bent on getting me killed.”
· · ·
“I know women like you all too well. You're praying I die quickly so you can flee this wretched house and become a rich woman, aren’t you?”
· · ·
“Since you devoured all my food, you might as well choke down this damn medicine too. Ah, but while lying about the soup might work, don't think you can pull it off with the medicine. My cursed body throws fits if I miss so much as a single dose.”
END
