CHAPTER 02
Eatrice quietly watched them.
“She—she’s looking this way. Didn’t she hear everything?”
“So what if she did? If she’s ashamed, she should just walk away.”
One maid who met Eatrice’s eyes tried to hush her companion by tugging her arm, but the scoffing maid showed no restraint.
Eatrice looked at the mocking maid’s face and searched her memory.
A neat bob of brown hair, quite well-kept, and a prim impression. Somehow familiar.
“Her name was Vivian, wasn’t it? She’s Tanya’s daughter, Muriel’s nanny.”
That status gave Vivian the confidence to spread vile rumors about Eatrice throughout the duke’s household.
Muriel’s trust in her nanny Tanya was absolute. Thanks to that, Tanya and Vivian wielded power within the mansion almost equal to that of nobles.
“But that ends today.”
Eatrice stared at the carts loaded with filthy laundry coming toward her.
The maid pushing two carts—one of which should’ve been Vivian’s responsibility—looked overwhelmed. The mountain of laundry wobbled precariously with every step. Still, Eatrice didn’t move an inch.
The corridor was wide enough that two carts could easily pass by her side without issue.
But Vivian, spotting Eatrice standing to the side, leaned in to whisper to the maid pushing the cart.
“Just shove it.”
“Wh-why? She’s a lady…”
When the startled maid hesitated, Vivian shoved her aside and grabbed one of the carts herself.
“Too heavy? I’ll push it for you!”
Then she turned the cart straight toward Eatrice.
Even as the filthy linens, piled higher than her own head, came hurtling straight at her, Eatrice did not flinch or step aside.
She wasn’t the one who needed to move.
A strange look flickered across Vivian’s face.
“What’s this? She used to tremble all the time…”
Today, Eatrice was different.
Usually, she was a disgrace to the Bellenel name. If she saw servants from afar, she would flinch and take a detour. If she heard someone talking badly about her, she couldn’t even make eye contact.
Vivian used to feel satisfaction watching Eatrice’s small shoulders tremble in humiliation as she retreated.
Most of the rumors were baseless, deliberately spread under Muriel’s orders. Small slanders, but enough to crush a powerless 14-year-old illegitimate girl.
Vivian became increasingly brazen. No one dared to scold her even if she neglected her duties. Even when she was rude to Eatrice.
The other maids, afraid of offending Tanya and Vivian, avoided getting involved. They didn’t harass Eatrice openly, but the lies and rumors made them steer clear of her.
There was no one left to help Eatrice.
Feeling invincible, Vivian often crossed the line. Finding young Eatrice hiding behind a wall and dumping dirty water on her wasn’t even rare.
SPLASH!
— “Oh no! I didn’t know you were there. I just poured the water.”
— “Why were you hiding there anyway? Being all creepy in the corner—I couldn’t see you.”
— “It wasn’t that dirty, don’t be so sensitive. Or… was it mop water? Haha.”
— “Still, you wear that mess quite well.”
Soaked from head to toe, dripping with foul water, the small figure had left silently, without a word. Vivian still remembered that image vividly.
No matter how she mocked or humiliated her, Eatrice never fought back. That was what Vivian liked most.
The fact that a half-noble girl was slowly breaking down just from her words gave Vivian great satisfaction. The girl couldn’t even stand up to a mere maid.
Watching her hang her head like a timid little animal filled Vivian with a twisted sense of superiority.
But now…
“Why is she staring like that? It’s irritating.”
Until now, whenever Vivian pushed, Eatrice would fall. She would shrink at even the faintest laughter from the maids.
She had never stood her ground like this.
There was something unfamiliar—and even a little unnerving—about the way Eatrice was looking straight into her eyes now. It reminded Vivian of the pressure she felt when facing Duke Kaidel or the imperial knights.
But that kind of intimidation wouldn’t possibly come from a mere 14-year-old girl.
“Especially not from that disgrace of a duke’s household.”
“You.”
A calm voice echoed through the hallway.
Vivian ignored it and pushed harder. The laundry cart accelerated over the carpet.
“That brat will either run away in fear or get hit like an idiot. Either way, it’s a win.”
A crooked smile played on Vivian’s lips. She pushed harder, expecting a satisfying crash.
But then—
WHUMP!
What happened next was far from what she had imagined.
The cart’s wheel caught on something and flipped. Laundry spilled everywhere.
Unbeknownst to Vivian, Eatrice had quickly jabbed something near the wheel. The cart tipped helplessly.
Startled, Vivian tried to stop, but it was too late.
The mountain of filthy linens crashed down on her—tablecloths, bed sheets, and heavy curtains.
“KYAA!”
She tried to escape but tripped on the thick carpet and fell. Pain jolted up from her hip.
“You okay? Oh dear, I didn’t expect you to fall. I stepped aside too late.”
Vivian blinked, dazed, as the cart’s wheels spun lazily in front of her.
“You were in such a hurry. I didn’t think a laundry maid wouldn’t even know how to handle a cart.”
“You…!”
Flushed with embarrassment, she turned to see Eatrice standing calmly. Another maid stood beside her, fidgeting nervously.
Vivian clenched her jaw, about to scream in humiliation—until she saw what Eatrice was holding.
A long mop.
Since when was she holding that?
“You—you tripped me!”
“Hmm?”
Without a hint of intimidation, Eatrice raised an eyebrow.
Vivian froze again. Something about this girl was unsettling.
Red-faced, Vivian corrected her tone and shouted:
“You deliberately knocked me over with that mop!”
“This? It’s just a wooden cleaning tool. I was only holding it to protect myself since you came charging at me. Oh—did you want me to just stand there and get hurt?”
“Th-that’s not what I meant…”
She can’t say she ran at me on purpose, can she?
Eatrice looked down at the trembling Vivian with a faint smile.
It might have infuriated Vivian, but technically, Eatrice wasn’t wrong.
The mop had been lying nearby—it looked like a wooden sword. She picked it up and deftly wedged it under the wheel of the charging cart. A clean, sharp movement.
“A simple task for someone who trained only in swordsmanship their whole life, having neither holy power nor magic.”
The rest was thanks to Vivian’s recklessness. Because she came charging in, even a light jab redirected the cart’s momentum. The result exceeded expectations.
“But still!”
“Well… I must say, you wear that look quite well.”
Eatrice’s clear voice rang out. The musty smell of food scraps wafted from the tablecloth tangled around Vivian’s shoulders.
Vivian’s face burned even redder.
Eatrice glanced at her coolly and walked toward the stairs.
Vivian leapt up—but tripped again on a curtain. A maid tried to help her up, but she swatted the hand away and screamed:
“You filthy little bastard!!”
Dust-covered and trembling, Vivian’s eyes blazed with rage.
Thud! Thud!
“Ah, milady—watch out!”
Vivian shoved the other maid aside and sent the remaining cart crashing down the stairs. The terrified maid tried to stop it, but it was too late.
Eatrice turned just in time to see linens and solid wood barreling down toward her.
“Move!”
A boy’s voice rang out—and Eatrice dodged just in time.
Crash! Smash!
The cart tumbled down the stairs and smashed into a decorative vase, shattering it.
As Eatrice straightened up, the whispers of horrified maids reached her ears.
“What do we do now?”
“That was Lady Isobel’s favorite vase…”
“We’re doomed if the Duke finds out!”
Their voices cracked with panic.
“Are you okay?”
A pleasant, unfamiliar voice called to her.
Eatrice turned toward the sound.
Beneath the window, bathed in morning sunlight, stood a boy around her age. His soft pink hair fluttered like cherry blossoms.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
Who was he?
Eatrice furrowed her brow instinctively, and the boy’s eyes flickered with interest. His golden irises sparkled like a wild animal’s.
Suddenly, she remembered.
Louis Eurean.
“If I recall correctly, he’s the son of Marquis Eurean.”
The Marquis of Eurean was the master of the Magic Tower and head of a long line of powerful sorcerers.
Which meant the boy in front of her would one day be the future marquis—and a great mage.
But that was all.
The Eurean family was famously neutral.
“Though, that was mostly a façade.”
In truth, they aligned themselves with whoever held the reins of power and maintained subtle alliances.
Their longevity as a noble house wasn’t due to magic alone. It was thanks to their ability to read the political winds.
Hence the saying: “Never trust a mage.”
“Looks like they’ve chosen the Bellenel Dukedom this time.”
Or maybe he was a friend of Heddon, the rumored heir.
As a knight sworn by oath, Eatrice had little respect for mages. They lacked the honor that bound knights.
Even if she herself had died due to giving her oath to the wrong person…
“……”
Louis said nothing, just stared.
The silence stretched, and Eatrice turned to leave.
“Wait.”
“What is it?”
She pulled her arm away as the boy’s hand gently brushed her sleeve.
It might’ve seemed rude, but the boy smiled warmly and pointed downward.
“The floor.”
Shards of the broken vase sparkled on the red carpet in the sunlight.
“Come this way.”
He extended a hand and smiled again.
“It’s dangerous because of the glass.”
