MFWSP 70

Chapter 70

Squelch—

Demeira pushed the shovel deep into the horse dung.

It had already been three hours.

Her head was spinning from the overpowering stench, and her arms ached like crazy.

When she lifted her head, the vast stretch of the stable came into view. She shook her head furiously, trying to focus on the task in front of her.

“Hey, just give up already. You’re not going to die from mucking out a stable.”

Bartol flopped to the ground with a groan.

“Yeah, let’s give up. If we stop now, someone else might come and do it for us.”

Lucilla, who had been resting on a pile of straw for a while, chimed in. Julius was already lying flat on the floor.

“If we give up, they only feed us half a meal. Yesterday I had to skip dinner because three of you slacked off.”

Demeira snapped, eyes blazing.

“Whatever. I can’t clean up this crap anymore. What, is she going to starve us to death?” Bartol scoffed, shaking his head.

“He’s right. If she’s a duchess, then I’m her uncle. If people hear she’s abusing her uncle, it’ll come back to bite her.”

“Exactly. She’s afraid of her reputation too. That’s why she hasn’t kicked us out yet. Eventually, she’ll bring us back inside and feed us properly.”

Lucilla nodded while still lying next to Julius.

Demeira felt heat rise from the pit of her stomach.

Even in these miserable circumstances, she was doing her best to complete the tasks assigned to her. Yet these idiots were no help at all.

All they ever did was criticize her for trying so hard. On worse days, they even sabotaged her.

Of course, it wasn’t like Demeira wanted to clean stables. Like Bartol said, dying after doing this kind of work all her life was a horrible thought.

But dying as someone who couldn’t even manage this kind of work? That was even worse.

Especially since she had failed in every other aspect of her life.

So, Demeira kept working, silently and steadily.

Whenever she closed her eyes, the same regrets haunted her.

How pathetically she had clung to Anthony. How foolish she had been in front of Iris. How she spent so much time in society but never managed to make a single real friend…

But when she focused on her work, those thoughts would fade, and her head would feel a little lighter.

Clatter—splash.

While she was lost in thought, Bartol stretched out his leg and knocked over a water bucket.

“Do you want to die?”

“Ooh, scary. Not even calling your brother ‘oppa’ anymore?”

“I regret ever calling you that, honestly.”

“Tsk. Just stop already.”

Bartol sneered.

“Seriously, why are you even doing this? You think if you clean the horse dung well enough, Iris will make you a lady again? Do you even know how cold she was to you at the palace?”

“It’s not about that, so shut up.”

“Then what?”

“…I’m going to save money.”

Demeira hesitated before answering.

“I’m going to do my share of the work, save up, and get out of here.”

“Pfft—hahaha!”

Bartol, Julius, and Lucilla burst out laughing in unison.

“Money? Don’t tell me you’ve actually been saving those tiny wages we get once a month? Hahaha!”

“Shut up! At least I’m getting paid! You’re such a burden you don’t even get anything!”

Demeira glared at Bartol, fuming.

It was embarrassing, but she really was clinging to hope through her wages.

Even if it took decades, she wanted to save up enough to leave this place with something in her hands.

It wasn’t about the money itself. She wanted to achieve something.

Like Iris, who had revived a broken knight order after claiming the dukedom and was now known as the goddess of war or whatever.

Like the slum kids—Rician, Lin, and Kyle—who had grown so rapidly after arriving at the mansion that they were now called geniuses.

Like Marie, who returned to her hometown in triumph with the hefty pay she had earned.

Truthfully, Demeira was most envious of Marie.

Even Iris and the rest of the duke’s people had held a grand farewell party for her.

No one had ever said they’d miss Demeira.

She had never even been called by name without being introduced as the daughter of the duke’s proxy.

That was what Demeira regretted most.

Having discarded all her foolish desires, the only dream she had left was such a small, humble one.

“Hey, forget that. Let’s just steal the money, yeah?”

Bartol tapped her shin with his dung-covered boot.

“No thanks.”

“What, you don’t want to?”

His face twisted into a familiar expression.

It was the look he made whenever he was plotting to annoy Iris. But now, it was directed at Demeira.

“Then I’ll dump all this dung into the section you just cleaned.”

He pointed to a cart next to him. Demeira’s face turned pale.

Julius, who had been lounging around, chimed in too.

“Yeah, Demeira. I bet Iris’s study is full of cash. If we steal that, we could live like we used to.”

“I said no!”

“Come on, listen to your mother and brother. Even if not Iris’s study, I bet the new head butler’s office…”

“I said no! Leave me alone!”

Demeira screamed, pulling at her hair.

“This brat, yelling at her brother now…”

Bartol’s face twisted into a deeper scowl.

“You want me to really teach you a lesson?”

The sneer vanished from his lips. He grabbed a wooden bucket and filled it to the brim with dung from the cart. Then, he walked toward Demeira, carrying it with both hands.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Since your head is already full of crap, I figured I’d just dunk it in manure.”

Clearly looking for something to do, Bartol charged at her with a nasty grin.

“Stay away!” Demeira screamed, but it was no use.

Bartol was faster and stronger than her, and Julius and Lucilla weren’t going to help.

“Move—”

Whoosh—

Just as she was about to give up, a shadow darted toward Bartol.

“Huh?”

The shadow—no, Rician, Iris’s new bodyguard—moved his feet a few times, and Bartol lost his balance and fell flat into the pile of dung.

Whether it was an accident or deliberate, the bucket he had been holding landed perfectly on his head.

“Ugh! Gah!”

“Iris, all four of them are here.”

While Bartol flailed, Rician turned to report from the stable entrance.

“I know. Good work.”

And then came a voice Demeira knew all too well.

She quickly turned her head and saw the owner of that voice—Iris.

“Hello, Demeira.”

In just a couple of months, Iris had become unrecognizably beautiful.

Her red dress was neat yet luxurious. Her silky black hair had been carefully brushed and flowed gently. Her soft skin and graceful movements were obvious at a glance.

She truly looked like a high noble.

Demeira was hit with a wave of mixed emotions.

A bit of guilt for the past. A sliver of gratitude over the Anthony affair. Resentment for being cast out of House Penten. Jealousy over how much things had changed. And… just plain irritation.

Most of all, she felt irritated.

“Why are you here? To mock me?”

“Well, partly.”

Iris shrugged, glancing around at Demeira and the rest of the Penten family.

“But it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

Julius and Lucilla hurriedly pretended to be working. Bartol was still writhing with a bucket on his head.

“Come with me. I need to talk to you.”

Iris instructed.

Because of her time living as a servant of House Apellemeon, Demeira followed the command reflexively without thinking.

“Don’t you think you’re a coward?”

But her pride still remained, so even as she stepped outside, she shot back sharply.

“Coming here just to laugh at me now that I’m in this state…”

“Don’t fool yourself. I was always laughing at you—even before. You just never realized it.”

“What?”

“Shut up and listen. I’ve got a proposal for you.”

Again, Demeira shut her mouth instinctively. It had only been a short time, but the servant life had already been etched into her body.

“Return to society.”

Iris said bluntly.

“…What?”

“Just what I said. Come back to high society. I’ll get you the dresses you like, take you to the parties you used to enjoy. If you’re invited to tea parties, I’ll even send you a carriage.”

While Demeira stared blankly, Iris continued.

“If you follow my instructions, you won’t have to work. I’ll give you your room back too.”

Demeira looked at her, completely confused.

“Why… Why are you doing this?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Iris replied.

“Maybe it’s just a one-time use. Or maybe it’s a way to approach people far from me in a different manner than David did.”

Her voice was calm, even cold. Her gaze pierced through Demeira—an evaluation, not a conversation.

Just like Iris said, maybe she had always looked down on Demeira like that.

The fact that Demeira was only now realizing it… was proof that the positions of the two had completely reversed.