Chapter 6
“What kind of bath oils do you usually use, my lady? Hmm… the jasmine one we bought recently smells amazing!”
“…We haven’t even filled the tub yet, Janice. What temperature do you prefer for your bathwater, my lady?”
Elizabeth, who had just loosened the ribbon around Penelope’s waist with skillful fingers, sighed softly at her younger sister’s bubbly enthusiasm. But a moment later, she smiled again as if she’d never been irritated.
Even while the two maids debated intensely over something as trivial as bath salts, Elizabeth’s hands moved quickly to undo the buttons down Penelope’s back. She was faster than the seamstresses in the capital who helped noble girls change dresses every day.
‘Uncomfortable.’
It was a relief to finally breathe now that the corset was off, but the unease twisting in Penelope’s stomach wouldn’t fade. The sisters were too kind — unnervingly kind.
‘I can’t figure them out.’
Zebino had introduced Elizabeth and Janice as the maids who would personally attend to her from now on.
Both had orange hair and gray eyes — sisters by blood. When they first saw her, they smiled so brightly that it almost hurt to look at them.
“Please, feel free to speak comfortably with us.”
“Yes, my lady!”
Their friendliness felt… too deliberate, as if they were saying, ‘You can trust us.’
‘I’ve really gone rotten, haven’t I?’
In Leranswell, all she’d ever learned was suspicion. For eleven years, she’d been taught to doubt everyone first and think later.
She thought she’d gotten better about that. Apparently not.
“……”
“Then how about a sweet floral scent? I heard that’s very popular among noble ladies in the capital these days!”
‘Maybe I am too sensitive.’
Even so, this level of warmth toward the daughter of a traitor was… excessive.
In noble society, when a family fell, their name became a curse.
‘Do they want something from me?’
Was it because the duchy’s heroes themselves had brought her here?
Or maybe they were flattering her because she was the Leranswell — the house that had terrified half the empire.
‘No, that can’t be it. Our house is already ruined.’
‘If only there was some hidden motive, it would be easier to deal with them.’
At least then, she could make sense of it. Humans always wanted something, and she was still a convenient rope to grab for those seeking survival.
At the Leranswell estate, there had been plenty of people who flattered her for attention — some to earn favor, others to get close enough to kill her.
And she was no saint.
Those who tried to harm her never got a second chance.
‘Disgusting.’
‘I hope they’re not like that. But if they are… what then?’
‘There’s nothing I can do here anyway.’
It was such an obvious truth, but somehow, realizing it made her chest tighten.
“…My lady?”
“……”
“My lady?”
‘Huh?’
Janice’s worried voice dragged her out of her thoughts.
“What’s wrong, my lady? Are you feeling unwell?”
“…No.”
‘It’s you two making me uneasy.’
But she didn’t want to stab a knife into their kindness right away.
“Make the water warm. And use the jasmine scent you recommended.”
Whether they meant harm or not, she’d stay cautious.
Penelope fiddled absently with her hair, then pulled out a small butterfly-shaped pin that had been holding her braid.
The pin shimmered under the light — yellow gemstones set in delicate wings. She stared at it for a moment before handing it to Elizabeth.
“Put this on the vanity. Don’t move it.”
“Yes, my lady.”
‘Good. No unnecessary questions.’
That might’ve been the most satisfying answer she’d heard all day.
Unlike her former maids, who’d always pester her with “What is this?” or “Where did you get it?”, Elizabeth knew when to stay quiet.
“I almost forgot! After your bath, the Dukes asked that you visit their office for a short while.”
“Really?”
Penelope’s brow twitched, but she quickly smoothed it out.
She’d been hoping to rest today, but refusing wasn’t an option.
If she dared to claim she was too tired, she’d probably die of stress before the night was over.
‘I can’t cause trouble on the first day.’
‘If I make them hate me, I’m done for.’
“Tell them I’ll come right after my bath.”
“Yes, my lady. Tonight’s dinner is lamb — do you have any allergies or foods you can’t eat?”
Allergies.
Penelope cracked her knuckles instead of answering. Janice perked her ears up like a rabbit, ready to write down whatever she said.
Her enthusiasm made it even more awkward.
‘It’s not that big of a deal, but…’
Her allergy wasn’t to anything common like fruit or shellfish.
‘How do I even explain it?’
‘That damned thing caused me so much trouble before.’
“I’m fine. No allergies.”
“Oh! All right!”
“Yeah.”
‘Sorry for lying.’
“I’ll tell the kitchen to start dinner right away, then!”
“Go ahead.”
Janice hopped away like a bunny, light on her feet. It was almost cute.
‘It’s fine. I’ve got medicine. I’ll be okay for now.’
The only person who knew about her allergy was Duke Leranswell himself — who would soon be executed.
‘Still, I really hope I don’t die from this.’
When she was little, one servant had actually tried to poison her using that allergy. That became one of the infamous “dark fairy tales” of the Leranswell household.
Afterward, she’d been beaten by her father — for “letting a bug learn her weakness.”
“I eat everything,” she muttered.
Until she was sure this house was safe, she wasn’t going to reveal a thing.
There were too many hidden enemies here to relax.
Most of the Valentine servants were former criminals or mercenaries — people who’d once roamed the back alleys.
And who had destroyed those back alleys in the past?
The Leranswells.
Penelope glanced up at the ceiling behind Elizabeth, who was busy preparing the bath.
‘You never know.’
“Hm.”
‘There could be an assassin hiding up there.’
* * *
And that paranoid thought… turned out to be right.
“Well, what the hell is this?”
She stared down at the dark figure that had just fallen at her feet, nudging it cautiously with her toe.
She had considered the possibility of an assassin hiding in the ceiling — but she hadn’t actually expected one to fall out of it.
“……”
“!”
‘Wait. Did that seriously just drop from the ceiling?’
After her bath, when she’d finally been left alone for a moment, something had fallen with a heavy thud. It moved — so it was definitely human.
Penelope tilted her head back to look up.
‘Have assassins gotten clumsier lately?’
‘Falling off the ceiling like that?’
‘Hopefully, it’s just a new method of approach, not bad training.’
She wasn’t exactly calm, but she wasn’t panicking either.
After all, her childhood “education” had included lessons on assassination tactics — whether she wanted them or not.
‘Guess experience really is the best teacher.’
‘Though maybe not in my case…’
“Seriously… I told them to fix the ceiling,” she muttered, poking what looked like a human arm with a stick.
Then, a surprisingly soft, almost feminine voice groaned,
“Ow… what the—”
“Huh?”
The fallen figure grabbed their head, whining dramatically, and slowly sat up.
As the hooded cloak slipped off, Penelope saw that they weren’t even wearing a mask.
She got a perfect look at the intruder’s face.
It was… a woman.
Wide-eyed, clearly caught off guard, the stranger quickly turned away — far too late.
Penelope blinked, more confused than frightened.
‘What’s with this idiot?’
“Wh-who are you?!” the woman demanded.
‘I should be the one asking that!’
“And why were you crawling around in my ceiling?”
At her calm question, the woman froze mid-turn, clearly realizing how ridiculous her situation looked.
She fidgeted, torn between bolting and making an excuse, like a mouse who’d just realized she’d tried to bell a cat.
“That’s…!”
Before she could finish, the window burst open with a crash.
“Ah, sorry. Still can’t control my strength properly.”
‘…Oh my god.’
Penelope instinctively prayed for divine intervention.
Because of course — of course — Clarice was now climbing through her window.
By this point, she was beyond fear. She was in the acceptance stage of insanity.
She slowly turned her head. Clarice stepped gracefully over the window frame, the breeze catching his silver hair.
“Hm. I’ll have the window fixed later. It’s too weak — one bit of magic and it shatters.”
Using his long legs, he landed lightly inside the room. His hair was damp — he’d clearly just bathed — and he was rubbing it dry with a towel.
“Good evening, daughter. Lovely night, isn’t it?”
‘What now…’
Then his eyes landed on the intruder.
His lips curved into a cheerful smile.
“And hello to you too, Generalis.”
“Been a while, hasn’t it?”
