Chapter 5
If heavy footsteps like that are approaching… could it be the Grand Duke? Can I kill him on my very first day inside Stark Castle?
Thrilled with anticipation, Leona bent down to retrieve the dagger hidden beneath her skirt. But just then, the door to the Dowager Grand Duchess’s room opened, and Grace and Mary stepped out into the hallway.
“Quick, lower your head!”
Having bent her waist halfway, Leona froze in that awkward posture, unable to even pull out the dagger under her skirt.
Three men walked past. Because her head was bowed, she couldn’t even discern which pair of feet belonged to that enemy bastard. To make matters worse, Grace kept whispering endlessly, even with her own head lowered.
“Do not look up. Never raise your head until they have completely left the hallway.”
By the time Leona—whose face was flushed from keeping her head down for so long—finally raised her head, the hallway was already completely deserted.
“Is His Grace the Grand Duke in the castle?”
“Yes. Consider yourselves lucky. More than ninety percent of the maids working in this castle haven’t heard so much as His Grace’s footsteps even after a full year.”
Since revenge didn’t seem like it would be easy, Leona’s shoulders slumped. She needed to learn the layout of this impregnable castle first, and then map out Tristan’s movement path, but to hear that he barely even stayed in the castle…
However, she soon realized that such worries were nothing at all. Stepping into the massive laundry room, Leona stood with her mouth wide open. Mary, noticing this, patted her on the shoulder.
“Leona. Stay strong.”
Firewood blazed in the left furnace. Steam rose from the steaming pots resting atop it as clothes were boiled. There were five steaming pots, each large enough to fit a person inside. At the center was a huge tub shaped like a Roman public bathhouse, and crouched beside it were maids scrubbing laundry furiously.
The adjacent room was where washed laundry was dried, and the room next to that was for ironing dry clothes.
At least ten maids were working, but looking at the mountain of laundry piled high, Leona thought that even if these ten worked together, it would take them a hundred years to finish.
“Go change into your uniforms and come back to work. I will guide you to your quarters.”
Leona’s assigned room was the end room on the first floor—a room every maid avoided. They said it was detested because rats and bugs would crawl out.
Curiously, the room had a fairly large window. Word had it that the previous maid who lived here hit it off with a stablehand through that window and ended up getting married.
The reason was that this was the only room where someone could enter through the window—meaning it was a room suited for having a lover.
Of course, this story was something she heard later from her informant, Mary.
It seemed there was a hierarchy among maids as well. Thanks to Mary speaking smartly and politely in front of the Dowager Grand Duchess, the Dowager had even gifted her a box of sweets.
Holding the box of sweets, Mary was assigned the best room on the third floor, looking as proud as if she had received a medal of honor.
Particularly, the Dowager Grand Duchess had personally requested that Mary be given this room, which surprisingly featured a large fireplace despite being a servant’s room.
Dressed in her assigned maid uniform, Leona nevertheless swelled with dreams of killing the Grand Duke whenever the chance arose.
With her dagger securely hidden against her thigh, Leona smoothed out her maid uniform to make it crisp. The black dress reached down to her ankles so it wouldn’t get in the way.
The shoulders were designed with puffed sleeves, and the collar was buttoned tightly halfway up her neck. For Leona, who naturally ran hot, just buttoning it up made her feel suffocated.
“Damn it. How am I supposed to work wearing this?”
After throwing a snow-white apron over her shoulders and tying a kerchief around her head, Leona caught sight of her reflection in a hand-sized wall mirror and let out a stunned laugh.
They said dying hair with henna leaves would turn it brown, so why on earth was her hair bright red?
She looked like a medieval witch. On top of that, a pitch-black dress paired with a white kerchief…
A few freckles dotted across Leona’s fair skin twitched.
When she stepped out into the hallway, Mary came rushing over and threw her arms around Leona’s waist, whispering into her ear:
“Miss. You must be the first person ever to be assigned to the laundry room because you’re too pretty. So, keep your chin up.”
“That’s a compliment, right?”
“Instead, I’ll coax the Dowager Grand Duchess and gather information on when and where His Grace will be.”
“Right. I’m counting on you, Mary.”
Reinvigorated thanks to Mary, Leona headed back toward the laundry room.
Just how massive was this damned castle? She ended up losing her way on the walk back, wandering through an unfamiliar hallway built of black granite walls until a male servant with curly black hair snickered and guided her back to the laundry room.
Turning back as he walked away, he ran back over and whispered into Leona’s ear:
“My name is Thompson.”
The male servant wore black trousers, a white blouse, and a black vest. Thompson had freckles on his face just like Leona, and he kept looking back and waving at her.
When she stepped into the laundry room, every maid inside stopped what they were doing.
“Gather round!”
At someone’s shout, all the maids assembled.
Leona stood upright with a dutiful posture, puffing out her chest slightly. Is it time for introductions?
Just then, a chubby-faced young girl walked out. The moment Leona laid eyes on her, she was reminded of a wild boar charging through a field.
Arrogantly crossing her arms, the maid gave a small nod and scanned Leona up and down.
“I’m Lucy. Head of the laundry room.”
“Hello. I’m Leona.”
Here and there, maids snickered while murmuring the name “Leona.”
Lucy took a step closer.
“Judging by the looks of it, you got banished here because you’re pretty.”
Does it look that way? As Leona blinked in confusion, Lucy pointed at her own face.
“I was banished here because I was pretty, too. I know how you feel. Unfair, isn’t it? What crime is it to be pretty? Hmph.”
At that, complaints erupted from all around. There was a maid who looked like a cucumber, a maid who looked like an eggplant, and even a maid whose head was shaped like an ostrich egg.
Leona couldn’t fathom how any of them had been banished for being “pretty,” yet each of them voiced their own agreement.
Still, as a complete newcomer, Leona gave a firm nod, prompting Lucy to continue.
“Well, it’s true that you’re the ugliest among us, but we’ll accept you out of sheer generosity. Go ahead and introduce yourself.”
Leona cleared her throat.
“Hello. I’m Leona. I’m twenty years old. I hope we can get along.”
Kerin, who looked like a cucumber, asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No? I don’t.”
Julia chimed in condescendingly, “Well, looking like that, it’d be hard to find a lover anyway.”
To think that I, who according to Mary was once praised as the most beautiful woman in the Empire… How on earth had beauty become a handicap in this place?
Are the standards of beauty in Amast different?
“What kind of look is popular in Amast?”
At that, the crowd parted, pointing toward a woman standing at the very back.
“She’s the most popular girl in our castle. Maria.”
She was a woman with thick, curly black hair, a pale face, prominent cheekbones, and plump lips. She possessed an uncomfortably large chest, a thick roll of belly fat underneath, and wide, flared hips.
As Maria walked forward with a boastful stride, her chest bounced as if it might burst out at any moment.
“Hi. I’m Maria. Well, pretty much every guy in this castle goes crazy whenever they see me.”
Cheering and clapping burst out among the maids.
“Even His Grace the Grand Duke?” Leona asked, her eyes wide.
Maria bit down on a strand of her hair with her lips, putting on a sultry expression.
“His Grace… is a man, after all.”
“Eek!” squeals erupted from all around.
Leona stepped closer and asked, “I heard it’s hard to meet His Grace. Where did you meet him?”
The maids exchanged glances before huddling together quietly.
“You can meet His Grace if you go there.”
“Where?”
Maria gestured for her to come closer.
As Leona leaned in, Maria whispered into her ear:
“If you go to the roof of the East Spire at midnight, he’ll be there.”
“The roof?”
“Yup. He only stays there. He’s not in the castle during the day, and he only comes back late at night.”
“Why the roof, of all places?”
“Because His Grace looks down over Amast from the roof.”
“Ah!”
Having finally discovered where that enemy bastard frequented, Leona’s eyes sparkled with joy. Maria leaned her upper body forward, her chest heaving.
“Tonight is a full moon, so His Grace will definitely be there.”
