Chapter 38
“It seems to me everyone’s being underpaid for the work they do. After all, you’re the staff of the prestigious House of Seydon. I’m planning to discuss a wage increase with the Duke soon.”
This time, the commotion was unmistakable. Cries of joy and awe echoed from all around, and a few even let out small cheers of celebration.
Selachia gave them ample time to revel in their small moment of happiness before continuing.
“The lack of manpower will be resolved soon. But the upcoming banquet is approaching fast, so I’ll have to rely solely on your efforts for now.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Understood, milady!”
The energetic responses made her previous worries about possible negative reactions seem laughable. The news of a wage raise was more impactful than expected. Had their hopes for the future blurred the hardships of the present?
Eyes that moments ago were shadowed with fatigue now sparkled brightly. It was a little overwhelming, but also rewarding. She hadn’t done anything extraordinary, yet somehow, she felt like a person of real use. A feeling she never once experienced as the family’s black sheep, who had once drifted through life like she was invisible.
Quietly pleased, Selachia swept her gaze across the gathered servants, taking each of them in. Then, suddenly, she spotted a face that felt oddly out of place.
“….”
Among all the smiling faces—big and small—one maid stood out, her expression twisted with what looked like fury, as if something had just been stolen from her.
Her aura was so out of sync with the atmosphere that Selachia couldn’t help but fix her gaze on her.
Even when their eyes met, Amy didn’t bother to change her expression. She boldly met Selachia’s stare head-on.
…Was it really Amy who planted the fake letter and the ruby brooch?
The old suspicion she had buried began to rise once more.
“This mansion becomes complete only through your care and efforts. I’m counting on you. That’ll be all.”
Selachia smoothly turned her gaze away, borrowing Tenus’s words freely.
She couldn’t dismiss Amy based on suspicions alone. More importantly, if she had decided to overlook Aldrich’s actions, then it made sense to cover up Amy’s wrongdoing as well.
“Head maid, come with me. Everyone else, you’re dismissed.”
Suppressing her unease, Selachia glanced at the head maid standing in the front row and left the banquet hall first.
The head maid and Roberta quickly followed. Just before Nancy exited the room last, she poked her head back in and called out,
“See? I told you our lady is such a good person!”
Nancy’s triumphant face beamed as she threw the remark at her close friends. A few maids, caught in the glare of her blazing enthusiasm, nodded as if under a spell.
The adjoining room to the banquet hall, furnished with soft sofas and a tall mirror, seemed to be a resting space for the ladies. Despite being a place for brief use, the furniture was of exceptional quality.
“I am Marguerite, the head maid, milady. Please, command me.”
As Selachia stood in the center of the room, glancing up to see if this one had a painted ceiling too, a calm voice came from behind.
Come to think of it, she didn’t even know the name of the head maid until now. Clicking her tongue at her own indifference, Selachia turned—only to find her eyes caught by a painting on the wall.
“Marguerite. I have something to ask.”
Hmm. Instead of a ceiling painting, they’ve hung an imperial treasure-class masterpiece here.
Focusing on the artwork helped her relax, a trick she’d discovered after being shocked by the previous ceiling mural.
Feigning interest in the painting, Selachia stepped closer and asked,
“Who’s been managing the staff so far?”
“Overall management is under Lord Logue. But I’m in charge of the maids, while the footmen are handled by the butler, Thomas.”
“You must be aware, more than anyone, how understaffed the mansion is. Did you not report this to Lord Logue?”
Marguerite lowered her head with a troubled look. Not that it was surprising.
“He didn’t allow it, did he?”
“…”
“What reason did he give?”
“How could I possibly fathom his intentions, milady?”
Though her response was polite, there was a faint trace of resentment. Being the one responsible for managing the limited staff, Marguerite had likely suffered a great deal.
“So all those who quit until now—was it because the workload was too heavy?”
Selachia tilted her head in uncertainty.
A position at a noble household like this wasn’t easy to come by. It wouldn’t be so easily abandoned. So she couldn’t quite understand why anyone would leave Seydon over hard work.
She had said earlier that the wages were low and needed raising—but in truth, that had only been a ploy to win them over. Seydon’s staff were already being paid nearly twice the average rate for household servants. The labor, though tough, was certainly worth it.
That’s why there were actually quite a few long-term employees in the duchy.
So those who left—was it because they didn’t need the money?
Or… was there another reason they had to leave?
“Well…”
Marguerite hesitated.
Selachia finally tore her gaze away from the painting she had been studying to calm herself.
“Marguerite?”
It wasn’t even a difficult question, yet the head maid of the Duchy was struggling to answer?
Selachia looked at her curiously—when suddenly, a strange story surfaced in her mind, utterly out of context.
The tale of the nine-tailed cat that supposedly haunted the mansion—something that had left even the diligent and fearless Nancy trembling with fear.
Nancy had only ever shown that kind of fear one other time—when she witnessed Aldrich yelling at the servants during a banquet, veins bulging in his neck.
“….”
The two memories clicked together to form a disturbingly plausible picture. Selachia almost scoffed at herself.
Could it be… that Aldrich?
Her reason told her no, but the chilling image refused to leave her mind.
“Sir Belfona. Nancy. Please step outside.”
Selachia decided to send Nancy and Roberta out of the room for now. No matter how close or loyal they were, she couldn’t involve them in matters that touched on the darker corners of the family.
“Quickly, please.”
They both insisted on staying, but when Selachia widened her eyes and gave a rare stern warning, they reluctantly obeyed and left the room. Now, only Selachia and Marguerite remained.
“Good. Just the two of us now. So I want you to answer me honestly.”
Marguerite’s face, still carefully composed, wavered slightly.
“Milady, I truly don’t—”
“Only answer what I ask you. Marguerite. How long have you worked for the Seydon family?”
“This is my thirty-fourth year.”
“So you served the late Duke and Duchess?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And Thomas, the butler—he did too?”
Marguerite, bristling with suspicion at the sudden line of questioning, met Selachia’s gaze cautiously. Selachia kept her tone indifferent as she asked,
“No?”
“…That’s correct.”
“I saw in the records that many of the staff have served here a long time. It must be due to the late Duke and Duchess’s character.”
“Yes. They were wonderful people. To have served them up close was the greatest honor of my life.”
Her hardened expression softened slightly, as if reminiscing. The gentle smile that formed told Selachia just how much the woman respected and admired the late couple.
Selachia gave her a moment to bask in those memories—then slipped in the real question.
“You’ve been here so long… I suppose you’ve seen the nine-tailed cat said to live in this mansion.”
“…Pardon?”
“At the very least, you’ve heard of it. Haven’t you?”
Marguerite’s eyes quivered. She seemed to have completely lost her composure now. Selachia faced her firmly, unwilling to back down.
After a long moment of trembling lips, Marguerite finally spoke—but what came out was not an answer, but an unexpected question.
“Milady… Have you regained your memories?”
“Memories? …Are you saying I asked about this before?”
She had no recollection. As far as she remembered, she had never had any deep conversations with Marguerite—only formal greetings.
But there was that one week. The week before her disappearance—wiped clean from her memory. In that gap, it was possible.
Selachia tried to imagine what that lost time had been like.
During that week, she had asked Marguerite about the nine-tailed cat. A metaphor, referring to a military punishment tool: the cat-o’-nine-tails. As a servant, it wasn’t something she should have known about or feared.
And sometime in that very same week, she had been harmed by Aldrich.
The timing was too coincidental. It couldn’t just be chance.
“…Ah.”
As the scattered puzzle pieces locked into place, a flash of realization pierced through her mind. Her memories were still shrouded in fog, but the outline felt almost within reach.
A breath slipped through her parted lips.
“The nine-tailed whip… It was Aldrich.”
There was no hint of doubt in her voice.
