Chapter 37
Meanwhile, outside—
“Stop!”
“No!”
“I said stop!”
“I said no!”
Arden and I were locked in a struggle.
“Why won’t you stop?!”
“Because if I stop, I’ll get caught!”
It sounded childish, but we were completely serious.
The reason our sentences were so short was because we were exhausted.
Not because we were immature.
‘I’m going insane!’
Arden was clinging to my ankle, so I couldn’t run.
But if I shook him off too roughly, he’d fall straight off the roof!
From this height, it’d be a fracture at minimum—wasn’t he scared?!
‘No, more importantly—!’
Isn’t Arden a germaphobe?!
And yet he’s grabbing my bare foot with his hands!
How desperate do you have to be?!
But I don’t want to get caught!
“Why won’t you listen when I tell you to stop?!”
“Take the pigeon feather out of your hair first!”
“You must’ve saved skirt fabric to make earplugs!”
Is that sarcasm?!
“Let go, let go!”
“I can’t!”
“Sir Arden!”
In the middle of our scuffle, a city guard leaned his upper body out of the reception room window.
He looked between me—still stuck in place with The Dancing Boy tucked under my arm—and Arden hanging onto my foot, then gauged the distance between the window and the roof.
“I’ll help! Heeeeyah!”
Thinking he could manage it, he launched himself without hesitation.
“I, too, shall seize her! Holy Maiden of Magic!”
Of course, a pot-bellied man in his forties couldn’t land on the roof as nimbly as Arden and I—
Thud.
His fingertips barely caught the edge of the roof, then slid off.
“Aaaaaaah!”
He screamed as he fell.
“No!”
What is wrong with that guy?!
Sir, please don’t show off!
“Save meeeee!”
“Hah.”
Arden, looking down at the man flailing while clinging to an exterior ornament, released my ankle and leapt.
With skill bordering on acrobatics, he twisted midair—
Grabbed the man by the collar and hurled him through the open window.
“Aaah—!”
The servants who had been watching through the window caught the flying man.
What a complete disaster!
Time to run!
“This way, woof!”
Tofu was already far ahead, kicking his paws at me.
“Hurry, hurry!”
I ran in the direction Tofu pointed—
“Holy Maiden!”
Arden, having saved the guard and collapsed onto the rooftop, shouted after me.
“My name is Arden! I am a knight appointed by His Majesty the Emperor to capture you!”
Without slowing down, I glanced back.
“Remember my name! You’ll be seeing it often!”
“That facial-recognition-disorder spell really works wonders, woof. He was right in front of you and still couldn’t recognize you.”
“Seriously.”
I replied to Tofu and briefly stopped.
Before jumping to the next roof, I looked at Arden.
“Are you listening?!”
Seeing him still shouting at the top of his lungs with a pigeon feather stuck in his hair—why was it so funny?
‘Earlier he acted like a proper adult man. But now…’
He’s kind of cute?
Blowing him a kiss was completely unconscious.
Arden flinched.
Then jumped to his feet and drew his sword.
“Pervert!”
“No—!”
Yeah, let’s just run!
“Why can’t I?! Everyone else has one, but I’m the only one who doesn’t! I can’t enter the competition without a border collieee!”
“Miss… the household isn’t doing well right now. If you insist on buying a dog at a time like this, your parents won’t be happy. Please endure just a little longer.”
Smack!
“Shut up! Who are you to talk about my family’s situation?! You’re just a maid living off my parents!”
“I’m sorry, miss.”
“Ugh, so annoying.”
“……”
“Life’s been awful lately. Dad’s always angry, Mom keeps crying, and Grandma just whines whenever she sees me.”
‘That’s because your family’s ruined, you spoiled brat.’
“Just a few days ago, when we took the family portrait, everything was perfect.”
“Yes, it was.”
“That was the best day of my nine-year life… how did things end up like this— huh?”
The Holy Maiden!
The sulking child, swinging her feet while sitting on the bed, shouted.
She tossed aside her Holy Maiden squeaky hammer—which she’d been flailing around, hitting the maid with—and ran to the balcony.
The maid, who had been kneeling to trim the child’s toenails, hurriedly raised the nail scissors, terrified the young mistress might get hurt.
Before she could stop her, the child threw open the balcony door and leaned over the railing.
Toward the painting falling through the air—
“It’s the Holy Maiden’s gift! It’s for me!”
“Miss! It’s dangerous!”
“Let go!”
Thud!
“Why are you so annoying today?! I’ll tell Mom to fire you!”
I couldn’t watch this.
I turned back instead of pretending not to see and simply handing over the painting.
“This proves it! The Holy Maiden gave it to us because our family is good people!”
Grabbing the hair of a maid who looked at least twenty years older than her, the girl—only daughter of the Goli family and a teacher’s child—felt a hand grip her shoulder.
“Holy Maiden!”
Her face lit up as she turned to me.
“Holy Maiden! You came to save our family, right?!”
She was overflowing with joy.
She had no idea I was the same employee from the dress shop.
I knelt to her eye level and asked,
“Do you like me?”
“Yes! I love you!”
“You’re so pretty! Even prettier than Rosena!”
“I’m your fan!”
“Hm.”
“You’re here to save our family because we’re good people, right?”
I pushed away her hand as she tried to touch my hair.
“You’re mistaken. I’m not the one who saved you.”
“What?”
“You almost fell off the balcony.”
I pointed at the railing with the squeaky hammer.
At the gap—wider than her small body.
“If the maid had been even a little slower, you would’ve fallen.”
“The one who saved you wasn’t me.”
“It was the maid you were kicking and pulling the hair of.”
“……”
“Don’t brush it off thinking, ‘She’s a maid, so it’s her job.’ Thank her properly.”
“If you don’t—then you’ll grow up just like your parents.”
“And someday, you’ll suffer for it.”
“When that happens, whether there’ll be another Holy Maiden to save you…”
“Well?”
I winked at both the stunned child and the wide-eyed maid, then finally turned away.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Your family isn’t good at all!”
“You’re awful!”
“Have some shame!”
[Whereabouts of the stolen The Dancing Boy… unknown]
[The Goli Family: “We actually possess the authentic The Dancing Boy”]
“Baron Tram is in quite a predicament.”
“Indeed. If he now claims the painting he received as a gift is genuine, and that the one stolen by the Holy Maiden belonged to Mr. Goli, he’d have to admit to accepting a painting as payment for favors.”
“And if he insists it’s a fake?”
“Then he loses the painting outright.”
“Since the stolen one was a forgery, and the Goli family’s is genuine.”
“He loses either way.”
“Meanwhile, Mr. Goli can sell The Dancing Boy and repay his bank loans.”
“The Holy Maiden thought this through.”
“To be able to plan this far ahead… she truly must be of noble blood—”
At the edge of District Two, in the garden of the Goli estate.
A press conference venue hastily assembled overnight—dozens of chairs moved, an oiled tent erected after maids were pushed to exhaustion.
The Goli couple, their faces bright after just one day, stood before reporters.
Especially Mrs. Isabelle Goli, formerly a certified schoolteacher and still passionate about education, looked radiant.
“Well, we don’t know where the forgery taken by the Holy Maiden went… what we possess is the genuine article.”
“It’s a family heirloom we kept hidden from the world, but circumstances have forced us to reveal it.”
“Perhaps Baron Tram would like to purchase this genuine piece in place of the stolen forgery.”
“Sniff!”
Isabelle Goli dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
“There’s one thing I want people to understand.”
“In our relationship with Baron Tram, we were always the weaker party…”
“In a situation where the other side held all the power…”
“The sorrow of enduring injustice without being able to speak out—”
The reporters faithfully wrote down every word.
Some nodded in sympathy.
“That’s true.”
“That affects livelihoods directly…”
“Knowing how much power they have and using it anyway—that’s worse…”
Then—
“A lawsuit!”
“A lawsuit?!”
A messenger burst into the venue, drawing all attention.
“From Baron Tram?!”
“He couldn’t!”
“Then who?!”
Sensing a scoop, a reporter snatched the document and climbed onto a chair.
“Alright, I’ll read it! Sender is— huh?”
“What is it?!”
“Hurry up!”
“It’s from one of Mrs. Isabelle Goli’s former students.”
“What?!”
As everyone stared in confusion, the reporter read rapidly.
“Charges: abuse of authority.”
“Who?! Mrs. Goli?!”
“Quiet!”
“More specifically—”
Gulp.
“Threatening with academy recommendations to coerce unjust punishment, physical assault during the process, and…”
“And?!”
“And compensation for emotional distress caused by verbal abuse and humiliation at Oberon Dress Shop several days ago.”
“……”
“……”
Silence fell.
Then the venue exploded.
“Mrs. Goli! Are these allegations true?!”
“Did you verbally abuse a dress shop employee?!”
“You claimed to be the weaker party—what is this?!”
“You say you’re powerless, yet you wield power over those weaker than you?!”
“Please explain!”
Amid the chaos, the reporter continued reading the attached letter.
“To the respected teacher Isabelle,
When I was fourteen, you taught me two things: that no one stood on my side, and that even so, I could survive on my own.
If that counts as teaching, I will consider myself educated.
This lawsuit is repayment from a student who received such ‘kindness.’
Thank you, teacher.”
