Chapter 59

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 59

Chapter Title: The Lone Maid (3)

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"I can't do it! I can't take this anymore!"

Alicia, who'd been venting complaints nonstop, finally yanked off the kerchief covering her head and flung it to the ground. I shot her a quick glance before turning back to my work.

I'd survived the past few days on the five most expensive loaves I'd gotten in exchange for selling rope to the baker. And luckily, I'd found a new job in the meantime. Cleaning manure from the stables. It wasn't much, but beggars couldn't be choosers, so I took it. Desperate to earn every penny I could, I'd dragged even reluctant Alicia along, and this was the attitude I got in return.

"I quit!"

"Fine, then starve from now on."

"......"

The conclusion was simple. Alicia glared at me with bulging eyes like a bird's. I didn't even spare her a look, just kept shoveling the piles of animal dung in front of me into the cart. The vast stable housed all sorts of beasts—and a whole lot of their waste. No matter how much I scooped, it seemed endless. And the stench was foul. By the end of the day, the smell clung to my body like a second skin.

A foal wandered up to me and started defecating right there. Alicia gasped in horror, but I calmly slid the shovel underneath. Every time I transferred the growing pile to the cart, she pretended to gag.

"Why is it always crap jobs whenever you drag me out here?!"

"Because it's the only kind available."

"Liar! I know there are good ones out there!"

"You're not qualified for anything better."

"Are you looking down on me? With my looks and this figure, what can't I do?!"

"Your head's empty."

I ignored Alicia as she shrieked, demanding what I meant by that. I was exhausted enough without her constant nagging. Making no effort to hide my irritation, I scooped more dung—only for her to grab the back of my head.

Again. The sharp pain was starting to feel familiar.

"Say that again! Say it!"

"Let go."

"How dare you ignore me? You, of all people?!"

"I said let go."

But Alicia didn't loosen her grip. With a sigh, I calmly swung the shovel I'd been holding toward her. The dung on it splattered, raining down on her. She yelped and released my hair.

"Aaack!"

Flailing, Alicia toppled backward, landing butt-first in a heap of manure on the floor. She screamed and tried to scramble away, but it was too late—the dung had already covered her. Hands, clothes, everything smeared, she checked herself over and made a miserable face.

"You bitch! You rotten bitch!"

"Then why pick a fight with a rotten bitch?"

"I'm not letting you get away with this! You hear me?!"

"Sure. Channel that determination into clearing this pile quick."

I scooped more with the now-empty shovel, deliberately shoving it toward her as I loaded the cart. Alicia screamed and fled. It was almost funny how she bolted like that. Shrugging, I went back to shoveling.

I'd been at it a while when something caught my eye. A scrap of newspaper buried in the dung, fluttering in the breeze with a big photo. I glanced absently at the headline, and my eyes widened.

I quickly fished out the paper and read the text inside. By the last line, my hand drooped. My gaze drifted blankly into space.

[......Princess's Engagement Announcement. Fiancé is Count Bellunita?]

That was the headline I'd just seen. Below it, a large photo showed a man and woman standing side by side, arms linked. Blurry from the distance, but the face was familiar. Of course it was—I'd spent an entire day staring at it five years ago.

"Vincent Bellunita."

A name I hadn't uttered in ages.

The man who'd lingered only as longing.

This was the first news of him in five years.

I'd known about the broken engagement with Violet. Back at the bakery, the women gossiped endlessly about high society, picking up rumors from who-knows-where. Vincent's name came up rarely amid the Bellunita family chatter, but one tidbit was his annulment.

I'd wondered if it was just a rumor, but now I'd confirmed it with my own eyes.

I stared hard at Vincent in the photo. His face was too fuzzy for a clear expression, but he looked like he was smiling. The first thing that came to mind was his eyes.

I wonder how his eyes turned out. He mentioned there might be a way to fix them—did he? Or are they the same? At least he's not holed up in his room anymore. Whatever else, he's clearly doing well.

'I'll bring you to my side. I promise.'

"All talk, no action."

You bastard. That happy about it?

Grinning ear to ear over your engagement to the princess. Bet you're smiling. I crumpled his face viciously. The smile wrinkled up. I glared at it, then smoothed it out.

"As long as you're doing well, that's what matters."

Honestly, I had no right to be mad. No reason to yell that it was wrong. What was I to him, anyway? Just the one maid who attended him, so I kept him company. Not enough bond for him to track me down when she vanished. He said he'd send me somewhere for my sake, but no obligation to search if that maid disappeared midway. He might even know why I left so suddenly.

"Still, a man should keep his word. 'Stay by my side,' 'I'll protect you,' 'I won't abandon you.' Easy promises to make. That's nobles for you."

I'd finally uttered the line those bakery ladies always spat: "That's nobles for you." I sighed deeply—right as Emily entered, eyes wide.

"What happened?"

"Oh, nothing. It's nothing."

"That......"

Her gaze landed on the crumpled newspaper in my hand. I winced and quickly smoothed it out. Seeing the same article as the stable scrap here made it real. That's why I'd unconsciously crushed it in anger.

"S-sorry. What do I do?"

"It's old news, so it's fine. Still, be careful. You finish the copy?"

"Yes, here."

I handed her the letter, and Emily checked it with a satisfied smile. She didn't skimp on praise for my handwriting. I smiled shyly, hunching my neck.

In this ordinary-looking house, I got paid to make copies. Books, love letters, newspapers—whatever. Being able to read and write was so useful. It let me work comfortably indoors, safe from the elements.

"Girls these days are adorable. They commission copies because their handwriting's not pretty enough for replies."

"Yeah."

"Ever gotten one like that?"

Emily grinned mischievously. I avoided her eyes, fiddling with my pen quill and forcing a smile.

"Once. Not a love letter, though."

"Ooh, from a guy?"

"Yeah. A guy."

"Must've been nice."

She patted my shoulder. I couldn't say. It wasn't big enough to feel good or bad. Only later, reflecting, did I grasp the feelings in that trivial note—and grieved.

Thinking back soured my mood again. Because of that newspaper.

I shook my head, banishing idle thoughts.

"Oh, right. Work's picking up, so one person's not enough. I hired someone new. You'll work together from now on."

"Okay."

"Should be here soon."

As Emily said, knocking soon sounded. She beamed and went downstairs. Door opened, followed by noisy voices. I listened, peering out the window.

Two sets of footsteps approached, and the door swung open. My eyes went straight there.

"Here she is. Say hi—this is your new coworker."

"......"

"......"

Emily introduced the newcomer brightly. But no greetings followed. The moment we spotted each other, we both froze.

"Hey, hey."

"......"

"Hey! You listening?"

"......"

I kept my eyes down, steadily scratching away with my pen. The scribbling was my reply.

After a few more tries, the man snatched my paper. I sighed and looked up.

"What. Why're you like this."

"Why do you keep ignoring me?"

"You deserve it."

"Hey!"

"Stop with the 'hey, hey.' Want another hit?"

I twirled my pen threateningly. He'd learned once—he flinched, one eye bruised purple.

"What kind of girl hits every time......"

"What kind of guy clings like this? Learn to take no for an answer. It's not just your feelings—consider hers too."

"......Who's saying that? You're lying, I know it!"

"She hates you. For real this time."

"So last time was a lie?"

"......"

I shot to my feet, and he covered his face, curling up defensively. Come at me, his face dared—but his body was ready.

I snorted, leaned in, and snatched the paper from his hand. Sitting back down, he blinked, uncurling.

"For real? She really hates me?"

"Yeah."

"Why...... 'Cause I'm poor?"

"Yeah. And short and ugly."

"Th-this is fine anywhere else—no one calls me ugly!"

"She does."

"......"

Shocked, he stared blankly. I eyed him.

Never thought I'd see him here. The guy who'd hounded me to introduce him to Alicia. After getting hit with a shovel last time, now this. In love at first sight from one distant glimpse? Unbelievable.

About my age, but perpetually filthy with ash or grime. His face was smudged black with god-knows-what, clothes the same. Nails caked dark.

No way he'd win Alicia over like that—or anyone, really. They'd all run.

"If you like her that much, clean up first."

"Wh-why should I?"

"You're filthy. Face, clothes, hands—all of it."

"This...... it won't come off......"

He inspected his nails gloomily. What kind of work left marks like that? I pitied him, but Alicia valued appearances—he had no shot.

I shook my head and focused on copying. As I stopped talking, he picked up his pen, glum-faced.

Scribble-scratch filled the room. I copied a book; he, a newspaper. Glancing over, his handwriting was impressive. Ink-stained, dirty hands gripped the pen, but the strokes were elegant. His copying face was surprisingly serious.

"You write well."

The words slipped out in admiration.