Chapter 23
Even without realizing it, Anne ended up demanding an answer.
As if to say, You’re her brother—how could you let this happen and do nothing?
Hannibal was a lord, and just as much as he was responsible for his people, he also bore responsibility for his family.
Even if he was an illegitimate child, the Duchess of Benton had still sent Gray to the academy and provided him with an education.
No matter how much one hated the sight of someone, raising them to uphold the family name was a basic expectation of nobility—if not that, then at least a minimal human decency.
“Anne Perot.”
Despite Hannibal’s cold tone, Anne raised her head defiantly.
Their gazes locked again.
Though caught off guard, Hannibal furrowed his brow even more sternly to hide his discomfort. Anne did not flinch from his icy stare.
“You speak so confidently—I’m curious to see just how much of Victoria’s tarnished honor you think you can restore.”
It wasn’t just Anne’s position as head maid that was on the line for Victoria’s birthday party—it was as if her very life was at stake, with the weight of his presence looming oppressively.
But Anne, instead of backing down, met his violet eyes head-on, silently vowing once again to put everything on the line.
“That’s why Matilda needs to be kicked out as soon as possible.”
“Pardon?”
Anne, who had been burning with motivation internally, blinked wide-eyed in surprise.
“Why? Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, sir.”
There was no point in expressing any opinion—he wasn’t the kind of person who’d listen. Though her answer was polite, internally she bristled with frustration and lowered her gaze carefully.
“There should be no unwanted guests at Victoria’s birthday party.”
As soon as the defiant look in her brown eyes disappeared, Hannibal suddenly felt an odd sense of regret.
“Understood.”
She kept her gaze fixed to the ground, refusing to meet his eyes again.
Since Anne showed no further signs of engaging, Hannibal turned away without hesitation.
Once his footsteps faded, Anne slowly straightened her back.
So, in this life, Matilda wouldn’t run away—she would be driven out.
Maybe things changed because she had been the one to teach Victoria.
If that were the case, maybe the war wouldn’t happen.
Trying to detach emotionally from Matilda, Anne made an effort to view herself and her situation objectively.
Focusing on her duties, she hurried down the hallway. In the lobby, attendants bustled back and forth.
“My lord, the carriage is ready.”
“Today’s the seed distribution day for the citizens. Is everything prepared?”
“Yes, we’ve already loaded the new crop seeds onto the carriage. We also notified all the villages you’ll be visiting today. Here’s the report compiled by the administrator up until yesterday—it’s in the carriage for your review. Also, this—”
Jack, the attendant, kept reporting by Hannibal’s side as the front door opened and the lord disappeared through it.
He was already busy with work from early morning.
In the capital, the name “Clayde” evoked images of a drunken, party-loving libertine. But looking at Hannibal Clayde’s upright back, one could hardly sense any shadow of such a father.
Clatter-clatter.
As the carriage pulled away, Anne quickened her previously halted steps.
* * *
Even though she was free of menial chores, Anne was still busy.
While Matilda was knocked out on drugs, Anne had to seize the opportunity to teach Victoria proper table manners.
Upon arrival, she carefully prepared Victoria’s breakfast.
Perhaps thanks to the accumulated lessons, Victoria dined with elegance and restraint—almost as though she belonged in a textbook.
However, distracted by Matilda, Anne was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice. She recited etiquette and rules mechanically, failing to acknowledge Victoria’s progress.
When the usual praise and attention didn’t come, Victoria paused with her spoon and spoke.
“Are babies really that precious?”
“…Pardon?”
Anne, dazed, snapped out of it and turned to Victoria in surprise.
“Even if you have one, it’s obvious it’ll just become a burden. She should just take some money and leave while she can—find a younger man, get married, have a baby. The child won’t escape the same fate I did anyway, once the count becomes its ‘brother.’”
And what exactly is someone like you? A defective noble-born bastard?
The resentment that surged up was purely emotional.
“Lady Matilda wanted to have the child. Whether it was born out of wedlock, a boy or a girl—she wanted to love it and raise it.”
Worried that her own bitterness might spill over unfairly onto Victoria, Anne managed to compose herself and answer with effort.
“…What did that baby ever do to deserve that? She just wanted to have it so she could get crumbs from the count’s table. And all that stuff about love—do you really think Matilda loved Father? My mother ran away the moment she arrived at the manor. She thought the count would help her—but he didn’t. Where’s the love in any of that?”
“Even so… for ten months, your mother probably endured nausea and took care of herself for you. She must have held back on cravings, controlled her moods, endured pregnancy for your sake. I don’t believe there wasn’t any affection at all.”
Maybe it’s even more painful because she never got to give birth. Maybe that’s why only the love remains in memory.
A life that would never be reborn.
Thinking about a future that would never come, and a life that was lost, Anne gave a sorrowful smile.
“You’re too kind, Anne. You’ll get hurt badly if you stay like that.”
Victoria’s expression softened slightly, as if acknowledging Anne’s effort to see things in a better light.
“You have to believe first. That’s how relationships begin.”
“And what if you get betrayed?”
Anne hesitated for a moment at the question.
She had gained a new life—but far from revenge, all she’d done was try to avoid the mistakes of her past.
After all, what else could a mere maid do?
But in high society, acting too naive was a sure way to get stabbed in the back.
And if you didn’t react to it? People would definitely start looking down on you.
“Then I’ll do everything I can to get revenge.”
Quickly brushing off the shame that welled up, Anne smiled sweetly at Victoria.
“Right?”
“But no violence, my lady.”
While it was common for nobles to beat their servants, an unmarried noble lady behaving that way could easily ruin her chances of marriage.
Victoria hesitated, then muttered,
“…Sorry. I hit you earlier.”
“You must never throw punches when you’re angry. That’s something we must absolutely fix.”
“But she grabbed my hair first! What, should I just sit there and take it if someone hits me?”
No one wanted to be a pushover.
Even nobles, if they acted like fools, would be looked down upon by their servants.
Still, that didn’t make Victoria’s reaction right. And taming that temper in just a month or two would be impossible.
Anne leaned on her hand thoughtfully before replying.
“Collapse, my lady.”
“…What?”
“If you feel like you’ve been hit, just fall down on the spot. If you really can’t help yourself, even a body slam is fine—just fall first.”
It was a trick used in street brawls, but it was better than starting a fistfight.
“Lose? That’s weak! If you lose, you die! You have to win, no matter what!”
Anne knew this was a region plagued by wars and uprisings, but that didn’t mean a noble lady needed to act like a hardened soldier.
She rubbed her forehead, then reminded Victoria of their true goal.
“Final victory is what matters most. Lady Victoria, what’s your goal?”
To marry into a family worthy of the Clayde name—that was the answer Anne expected.
“To escape.”
Instead, a completely unexpected answer came out, and Anne stared blankly at her.
Victoria, realizing no one had ever treated her like a human being the way Anne had, decided to confide in her.
“If I want to stay here, I have to live like a demon—hurting, bullying, and even killing people.”
“…What?”
“The Countess said so before she died. That I should be watched closely, so no more like me are born. The only reason I’ve survived this long at the manor is because of that.”
So Victoria’s notoriety wasn’t just due to a violent temperament.
Anne, listening quietly, realized the Count and Countess, along with the young count, had broken Victoria’s spirit.
“The Countess is gone, my lady. You don’t have to be bound by her words anymore.”
“No, she was right. I’m just a mistake here. In the West, including Tegeness, people are only loyal to the lord of Clayde. Do you think the servants here are loyal to me? They only shrink away when I shout. Otherwise, they avoid me or look down on me. Not that I blame them. I’m just a guest passing through—Hannibal Clayde is the real master they’ll serve for life.”
Anne remembered the first day she met Victoria.
When she visited the manor for the first time and saw Victoria yanking Matilda’s hair, not a single maid was in sight.
She had assumed they were all afraid of her temper—but that wasn’t it.
They had been avoiding her.
“My father’s women at least get to leave with money. I don’t even have that. I only get the necessities—no allowance. And the maids assigned to me are all Hannibal Clayde’s eyes and ears. Where would I even run to?”
No friends, no parties—Victoria was, in essence, a valuable animal trapped in the manor.
“Have you ever tried asking the young count for what you want?”
“No.”
The instant answer gave Anne a full picture.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t—she couldn’t.
