Chapter 187………………………………………………..
The Freihyden Viscount reached out his uninjured hand toward me.
“Hey, you.”
“I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”
“No, I—”
“I’ll do anything if you forgive me!”
Startled, I flattened myself against the floor and begged repeatedly.
From the moment memories of Lady Wallace and my life in that household resurfaced, my mind was consumed by a single thought: I had to be forgiven immediately.
Otherwise… I would be punished.
The Viscount stammered a few short, flustered words—“that’s,” “no,” “I”—but they barely registered in my ears.
Years of persecution at the Wallace estate had left me incapable of rational judgment.
As I continued pleading, he finally withdrew his hand and turned away.
“I’ll take care of treatment myself. Go on now.”
Perhaps it was just my imagination, but his voice sounded unusually weary.
Fortunately, no punishment or disadvantage came my way over time.
For someone like me, who could not afford to be kicked out, it was a relief—but somehow, I still felt strangely unsettled.
From that day onward, I couldn’t help but notice that the Viscount had secluded himself in his room.
According to the other servants, this was highly unusual.
Even if he limited his activity sometimes, he had never completely locked himself away before.
Was this headache that severe?
I worried and wondered if there was anything I could do, despite feeling powerless.
Then one day, by chance, I ran into him again.
“What are you doing here?”
I had been asking Jack, who always waited near the Viscount’s bedroom, for some assistance with a task.
Opening the door and seeing the two of us together, the Viscount frowned.
I panicked and showed him the tray I was carrying.
“I-I made some cinnamon tea that’s supposed to help with headaches and wanted to deliver it to you through your aide.”
“What?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interfere.”
“…Come in.”
“Eh?”
“I want the person who made it to bring it themselves.”
Feeling dazed, I followed the Viscount into his bedroom.
Perhaps because it was my first time in there, my hands felt clammy with tension.
He took the cinnamon tea from me but didn’t tell me to leave. Instead, he pointed with one hand to a chair by the bed.
Hesitating, I sat down, and he casually perched on the bed, sipping the warm tea.
“This is supposed to help with headaches?”
“Yes, yes! I read it in a book.”
“In one of the books in my library?”
“Yes. I found a book listing the effects of various herbs.”
“I’ve never even opened such boring books.”
The Viscount frowned slightly, displeased with the taste of the cinnamon tea.
“To be honest, it’s useless. My headaches are rather unusual. Since I was a child, I’ve tried every rare remedy that supposedly helped headaches, and none worked.”
“I-I see.”
“Unless it’s a rare herb that grows in some faraway place and I haven’t tried it, cinnamon and the like are completely ineffective, no matter how much you drink.”
I blushed, wishing I could disappear.
I had suspected as much but couldn’t leave it at that, so I had made cinnamon tea—my only offering of care.
Then, unexpectedly, another feeling arose within me besides embarrassment or sadness.
Watching the cup he set down on the tray, I spoke.
“You finished the tea even though it has no effect. You really are considerate, Viscount.”
For a moment, his expression was caught off guard.
Then, with a tone full of awkward disbelief, he mocked me lightly.
I had considered my comment a mistake, but the next day, Jack came to me with a request: apparently, the Viscount had been in an unusually good mood and wanted me to bring cinnamon tea again.
I had no idea why, but I gladly selected the best cinnamon I could find.
The Viscount had essentially been my benefactor, and if I could be of help, I was happy to do so.
I brought him cinnamon tea two or three times a week, waiting for him to finish before retrieving the empty cup and tray.
I wondered why I didn’t just have Jack or another servant do it after I left, but I never voiced the question.
…I didn’t know why. I just didn’t want to ask.
Regardless, I stayed by his side for those fifteen minutes or so while he drank the tea.
He was generally silent, and I dared not speak to him first, so we didn’t talk much.
Yet, after more than a year of this routine, we had become relatively comfortable with each other—even sharing some personal thoughts once or twice.
“I feel like I need to become Emperor.”
This was shortly after he had collapsed from a severe headache and gotten back up.
His eyes were hollow, and his voice dry.
“This damn headache will only stop if I become Emperor.”
“Oh? Really?”
“The intervals between these headaches are shortening. For now, I’ll manage, but how long will this go on? I’m scared. I’ll have to live like this forever.”
“Viscount…”
“If the path had been completely blocked, I’d have abandoned pointless hope long ago. Damn it… why did Father only act now?”
I only fully understood his words months later, when the Emperor recognized his eldest son at a royal banquet and registered him into the imperial family.
The whole world was abuzz, and the Freihyden household staff couldn’t stop talking about it.
“What? So the Viscount will stay at the mansion?”
“Yes. I heard the Emperor offered him a grand residence at the palace, but he refused.”
“Why?”
“Who knows? Maybe he finds it awkward with the Empress and the Crown Prince there.”
“Well, that’s a relief. If he left, the staff would have been cut, so at least I’m safe.”
“But why didn’t the Viscount dance with anyone at the last banquet?”
“Could it be he has a noble lady in mind?”
“Oh, that’s just political strategy. He’s encouraging competition among his supporters…”
I half-listened to my colleagues’ chatter, staring at the Viscount’s darkened room with complex thoughts.
Although he remained at the mansion, now as a Prince, his time at home naturally decreased.
Consequently, I brewed cinnamon tea less often, and seeing the Viscount—or Prince—became rarer for me.
Still, despite his relentless efforts to become Emperor, the Crown Prince Michael remained an incredibly formidable rival.
One day, passing by the Prince’s room, I heard a scream that sounded almost like a wail.
“Damn you, Michael! That woman can relieve your headaches! I only have the path to become Emperor, so why do you obstruct me at every turn? WHY!”
His voice was desperate and agonizing.
For some reason, tears welled up in my eyes.
Seeing him suffer made my heart ache.
It was then that I realized the true feelings I had for the Viscount.
I loved Terrence.
If it were possible, I wanted to grant every one of his wishes. I wanted to make him Emperor.
But for a girl like me—the persecuted daughter of a ruined count family, now just a maid—such a dream was impossible.
All I could do was pray to the goddess, asking her to help him become Emperor.
From the next day, I rose early and headed to the prayer room in the mansion.
Then, one dawn, I unexpectedly ran into the Prince.
“Where are you headed?”
“To the prayer room, for something.”
“So early? How devout of you.”
“……”
A tense silence hung between us.
He swallowed quietly before speaking.
“I will become Emperor.”
“…Yes.”
“Do you understand? I must become Emperor.”
It was a solemn declaration.
Why did he feel the need to tell this to a mere maid? I couldn’t understand.
I was curious, but had no chance to ask.
A few days later, Jack handed me a recommendation letter and introduced me to a new place of work.
“…Did I do something wrong?”
“Not at all. It’s just that His Highness will soon enter the imperial palace, so they needed to reduce staff.”
I wasn’t the only one being dismissed.
Reluctantly, I left the Freihyden Viscount household with a generous severance pay.
Until the very moment I left, I hoped to encounter him by chance—but luck was not on my side.
I went to work as a maid at a noblewoman’s mansion, introduced by Jack.
The lady was quiet and gentle, and the work was not demanding.
Another advantage was her strict neutrality in politics.
“Recently, the factions of Crown Prince and Second Prince have been fiercely competing. Working for a family that actively supports one side can be risky.”
“Right. When the victor is decided, the losing side’s supporters will be purged. We don’t want to get caught up in that.”
The other staff told me I was lucky to have such a stable job, as opportunities like this were rare.
Still, I didn’t feel good.
Especially after hearing rumors that Terrence spent time with noblewomen from factions that supported him, my unease grew.
But what could I do? He wanted to be Emperor, and even if not, I was not a suitable match for a Prince.
I threw myself into my work to push away these thoughts. Fortunately, the lady noticed my diligence and even made a suggestion herself:
“Idel, the neighboring Baron’s mansion is holding a grand banquet, and their usual staff can’t manage. They asked me to lend a hand—could you go?”
I had no reason to refuse, so I agreed—completely unaware of the events that awaited me there.
