Angela chapter 10

Then, she suddenly noticed that the young maid had dark shadows under her eyes, as if they had been scorched.

“Were you too busy watching over my sleep to mind your own? That’s what happens when you waste your time on nonsense.”

Angela hadn’t intended to sound harsh, but the words slipped out bluntly, as they always did. When she spoke in this manner, most people would gulp nervously, dreading the scolding and reprimand that would surely follow.

However, the young maid simply waved her hands with a bright and innocent expression. It seemed that her naïve little mind had interpreted Angela’s words as a sign of concern for her well-being.

“That’s not it, my lady! I really just woke up for a moment and happened to see you. I was just curious if you were sleeping well.”

The girl grinned foolishly, giggling. Angela found herself momentarily dumbfounded.

Even Yvonne, who always bid her goodnight before withdrawing, had never truly cared whether Angela had a peaceful night or not. Once out of Angela’s room, Yvonne would rush off to attend to Beatrice’s night instead.

Until now, not a single person had ever wanted to know if her nights were peaceful.

This young maid was the first.

“The scent is nice, isn’t it?”

Sniffing the air, the maid asked the question that brought Angela back to her senses. Feeling strangely flustered, Angela fussed with her blanket, pulling it up for no particular reason.

“I’ll do it for you!”

Mistaking Angela’s actions as discomfort with her bedding, the maid hurried over and helped pull the blanket up to her chin. For such a small girl, her hands were surprisingly nimble and precise.

“…It’s not bad.”

Angela muttered without thinking. At that, the young maid’s eyes widened in delight.

“Really?”

Perhaps it was because the faint scent of the melting candle had spread through the room.

“Then I’ll tell the head maid to get more of them!”

Without any hesitation, the maid naturally assumed the subject of Angela’s statement was the scented candle.

She beamed brightly, thrilled to have elicited a positive response from the notoriously difficult young lady.

That night, Angela decided to observe the lively young maid a little longer, despite finding her excessive cheerfulness rather bothersome.

A mere scented candle wasn’t enough to chase away her insomnia.

But that night, at least, was fragrant.

—

“Did you sleep well, my lady? I’ll open the curtains! It drizzled all night yesterday, but today the sunlight is absolutely lovely!”

Had she misjudged?

Angela had barely woken up when she tugged the bedside call rope, summoning the young maid, who now came bounding into the room like an excited rabbit.

She stared at the girl, deep in thought.

How could something so small be so unbearably noisy?

If she asked whether Angela had slept well, she should at least wait for an answer.

Yet the maid simply continued chattering, oblivious to anything else.

If Angela had to pick the loudest moment of her life, this might be it.

Her eardrums were exhausted from the very start of the morning.

“Lady Angela. Lady Angela.”

“Say my name only once. I hate noise.”

Angela, stepping out of bed, curtly responded to the maid’s back as she tidied the curtains.

What she really wanted to say—what lingered on the tip of her tongue—was a threat to rip out the girl’s tongue if she kept up this racket.

But, for the sake of her cursed heart, she swallowed it down and settled for the milder remark.

“Yes, my lady! Oh, but my lady—”

The girl, of course, showed no sign of grasping the meaning behind Angela’s words.

“How about a walk after breakfast? The flowers in the garden all bloomed after the rain! Everyone’s been raving about how pretty they are. I sneaked a look at dawn, and they were absolutely gorgeous—just like you, my lady!”

For someone so clueless, she sure was skilled at flattery.

“Staying indoors too much isn’t good for your health, my lady. Flowers need a bit of rain, wind, and sunshine to grow well, you know?”

Angela scoffed in disbelief.

Did this girl think she was a plant?

Rain, wind, sunlight—what nonsense.

And yet, for a fleeting moment, a different thought crossed her mind.

“‘I’m just trying to plant a beautiful garden in your barren heart.’”

“‘I’ve sown the seeds, so let them bloom.’”

According to the words of light, she wasn’t so different from a plant, was she?

Lost in contemplation, Angela soon nodded toward the maid.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“I need to see for myself just how beautiful this garden is—if it dares to compare to me.”

“Wow! Then, what dress should I prepare?”

The girl, having just finished opening all the curtains, came scampering over, beaming from ear to ear.

She chattered excitedly about how Angela should wear something special since it had been a while since she last went for a walk.

“Do whatever you want.”

Angela’s response was halfhearted, spoken purely out of indifference.

Even so, the maid’s face flushed bright red with excitement.

Her entire face twitched with barely contained joy, as if she couldn’t believe her luck.

Only then did Angela recall—entrusting a maid with the choice of attire was a sign of deep trust.

It was a mistake.

But by the time she realized, it was too late to take it back.

The young maid was already gleaming with excitement, standing ready to assist Angela with her morning routine.

Her eyes sparkled so brightly that it was almost burdensome to meet her gaze.

Angela’s Dressing Room

It was unlikely that there would be a single shabby dress in Angela’s dressing room. But even with that in mind, the dress the young maid had chosen was quite decent.

It was neither excessive nor too plain for a light stroll in the garden. A well-balanced choice. She had a good eye.

Angela had thought the same thing when the maid had brought her the scented candle. She might be young, but she was more competent than most of the other maids.

Except for that incurable chatterbox nature of hers.

“I’ll lead the way, my lady!”

The young maid nearly shouted as she took the lead, walking down the hallway with a lively bounce in her step—far more eager than Angela, who had been cooped up in her bedroom all this time.

The corridor, despite being in a centuries-old mansion, was swept and polished daily, showing no trace of age. And yet, the girl kept glancing around as if she were worried a loose stone might suddenly trip Angela’s feet.

But the thought of what an annoyingly fussy child only lasted a brief moment.

Before long, the maid, who had been practically vibrating with excitement, suddenly came to an abrupt halt.

It was in front of the staircase leading to the central lobby of the mansion.

Wearing a troubled expression, she turned back to Angela.

Wondering what was wrong, Angela looked down the stairs—where she spotted several maids hard at work scrubbing the landing.

The floor gleamed wherever the damp rags passed.

Ah.

Understanding the situation, Angela let out a short laugh.

They were always making a fuss over my lady, my lady every day—so why was this foolish maid hesitating now, as if she had forgotten who she was serving?

All the mansion’s servants knew that the moment Angela said move aside, they were to step back immediately—whether they were cleaning or doing anything else.

That was the natural order of things.

Just as Angela was about to speak—

“Just how long does Lady Angela plan to pretend she’s sick and hole up in her room?”

The sound of her name left their mouths first.

Angela shut her lips and cast her gaze downward, silently watching them.

“Seriously, she’s so ill-tempered. What is she even dissatisfied about? Lady Yvonne took care of her so sincerely.”

Their tone was insolent, their words presumptuous.

For once, the young maid beside Angela lost all expression.

Just moments ago, she had been hesitating to tell them to step aside. But now, her shoulders twitched as if she was ready to roll up her sleeves and fight.

However, before she could move, Angela firmly grabbed the back of her collar—holding her in place.

She wanted to listen a little longer.

“Why, do you miss Lady Angela?”

“What? No way! Not seeing her face is a relief.”

“Then why bring her up? Just hearing her name gives me chills.”

One of the maids shuddered in mock horror.

At that, the first maid stopped scrubbing and turned to face her.

“I’d love it if I never had to see that temper again. But Lady Yvonne must feel uneasy about it. If she were actually sick with an incurable disease, that would be one thing. But making everyone uncomfortable for no reason—it’s just too much.”

“Heh, in that case, she’d deserve it.”

“What is God even doing? There’s a devil right here, and there’s no divine punishment?”

“Exactly. I pray so hard, but He never answers.”

Oblivious to Angela’s presence, they laughed amongst themselves.

The young maid beside Angela clenched her lips, as if holding back tears at the blatant insult her mistress had just suffered.

‘Why are you crying? Shouldn’t they be the ones crying? Stop acting foolish and go get a whip.’

Normally, Angela would have said something like that.

Had the young maid brought her the whip, Angela would have used it until those maids begged for death.

But right now, she had no desire to.

She had come to realize that in the end, the one who would suffer the most from it was herself.

If she spoke cruelly and acted ruthlessly, her heart would only tighten in agony afterward.

The maids wouldn’t know it, but divine punishment had already been delivered.

Had it not, she would have cut out their tongues by now.

Angela lowered her gaze, staring at them for a long moment—then turned away.

Her palm rested over the center of her chest.

—

That day, there was no walk.

As Angela changed back into her indoor dress, the young maid’s eyes turned red, and in the end, fat teardrops spilled down her cheeks.

She was deeply upset, perhaps even more so because she believed it was her insistence on going out that had caused the incident.

“I, I know that… right now… I, I’m still too s-small to be of any help… but… sniff, I-I’ll grow up fast… and once I’m big enough… hic, I’ll punish… a-all the people who talk bad about you…!”

Her sobbing made her words an incoherent mess.

Angela, understanding her perfectly despite that, responded with indifference.

“Why? They weren’t wrong. I’m not sick, yet I just lie in bed, making Yvonne worry.”

The young maid tilted her head in confusion, as if she had just heard something absurd.

“But… you are sick.”

Angela stared at her.

Without blinking, she watched her closely.

“Me? You think I’m sick?”

She scoffed, playing along.

The young maid formed a small fist and placed it against her own chest.

“You always do this…”

She mimicked the motion Angela made whenever her heart ached.

“Wasn’t it because you were in pain?”

The maid sniffled, her runny nose making her sound like a fool.

But her words were sharper than a knight’s blade.

Angela stiffened, more unsettled than when the girl had caught her insomnia.

Her observation skills… they were too good.

She felt like a spy sent by the light she had encountered in her dreams.

“Just what are you, little maid?”

Instead of answering, Angela posed her own question.

The young maid’s tear-streaked face lit up like a sky clearing after rain.

Her cheerful voice returned.

“I’m Mary!”

Angela had meant something entirely different, but seeing her ridiculous optimism, she decided not to correct her.

Instead, she simply played along.

“Yes, Mary. That’s right.”

For the first time, Angela called her by name.

Mary beamed so widely it was as if a flower had bloomed right in front of her.

…Had it?

“…!”

Angela frowned, startled by the uncharacteristically sentimental thought.

Beside her, Mary continued smiling as if the world itself had turned bright.

—

Meanwhile, on the Balcony Crash!

Hearing the unexpected sound of something shattering behind him, Kalian instinctively turned around.

“Ah.”

A sigh of regret escaped his lips. A vase had fallen from the bedside table, smashing into pieces with a sharp clang.

It must have been caught by the wind blowing through the open window.

It had been a gift of sorts, arranged by the estate’s steward, who had been excited about Kalian’s visit and had brought in flowers his seven-year-old grandson had picked from the field.

They had stayed fresh and beautiful for days… Kalian sighed and stepped into the room, closing the window firmly.

It was pointless now that the vase was already broken, but he still secured it before approaching the mess.

Kneeling, he carefully gathered the scattered flowers first.

Their stems had drooped from the fall. The steward’s grandson would likely cry, thinking they had not been properly cared for.

With a wry smile, Kalian moved to pick up the shards of glass—only for a sharp edge to slice his fingertip.

He watched a droplet of blood fall onto the floor. The wound wasn’t painful.

But for some reason, unease stirred in his chest.

Whenever that happened, he always thought of Angela.

And just like that, Kalian ordered a carriage to be prepared.

His return to the capital mansion would be a day earlier than planned.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───