He couldn’t help but laugh.
“Deliver a message to that?”
“…?”
The maid blinked in confusion, unsure of what Felix meant by “that.” Her face betrayed her bewilderment. Once started, his laughter continued for a while longer.
“Indeed, you live in a completely different world.”
“Pardon me, but what do you mean…?”
“Arnold, clean it up.”
Diana flinched, thinking the command was directed at her. She felt as if she had made a mistake but couldn’t fathom the context.
The knights of the secluded palace entered silently and lifted the corpse from the carpet. Felix, with traces of laughter still lingering on his lips, studied the maid.
Even as the corpse of the Butler was carried out right before her eyes, the maid showed no particular reaction. She glanced briefly in the direction of the rustling sound but her focus was misaligned.
Felix tapped the armrest of the sofa at regular intervals. Tok, tok.
Emel Philabar. The old man who had served as the Butler of the secluded palace for exactly three years to this day was caught this morning attempting to assassinate Felix.
This time, the spy had hidden his true colors for quite a while. Typically, the staff assigned to the secluded palace lasted no more than a month or three at best. But to remain for three years—was it patience or sheer audacity?
Having served that long, he must have seen how spies like him inevitably ended up being carried out in the end. Ah, was that why they had brought in someone so crippled that they couldn’t even see properly this time?
Despite Felix’s prolonged gaze, the maid didn’t budge an inch. Her gaze bore no sound, smell, or weight. Unless he made a move, she wouldn’t even notice his presence.
For some reason, that fact irritated him.
Felix grabbed a brush carelessly placed on the sofa and flung it. The brush, splattering paint, landed just beyond the carpet. The moment it hit the ground with a clattering sound, the maid turned her head precisely in that direction.
“Pick it up.”
The maid hesitated briefly before moving.
Without any further hesitation, she walked to where the brush had fallen, knelt, and swept the floor with her fingertips. Soon, she found the brush and returned to the sofa.
“I’ve brought it, master.”
“…”
Felix slowly took the brush from her hand—and threw it again.
This time, the brush flew much farther. The maid seemed slightly startled but quickly regained her composure and headed toward the spot where the brush had landed.
After repeating this a few times, Diana’s cheeks began to flush subtly.
What is he doing?
Surely, throwing objects wasn’t a hobby of his. It seemed the master was trying to verify something about Diana. Although her legs were swollen from standing for nearly twelve hours straight, Diana made no complaint and wandered around the living room retrieving the brush.
However, the fifth time the brush rolled away, she couldn’t find it no matter how much she fumbled around the area.
“Excuse me, master. It seems the brush has rolled under the table….”
“Fetch it.”
Left with no choice, Diana lay flat on the floor and stretched her hand under the side table.
She bumped her forehead against the table’s edge, the unexpected pain leaving her head throbbing. Instinctively, she tried to raise her upper body, only to bang her shoulder against another protrusion.
It wasn’t just about looking clumsy; nothing seemed to work. For someone like Diana, whose sensory perception was partially impaired, losing focus meant everything spiraling out of control.
“I apologize, master. Please wait a moment.”
Imagining the man keenly observing her made her skin crawl. Diana pressed her body close to the gap between the table and the floor, stretching her arm out as far as she could.
Please, please….
Despite groping around several times, the brush remained stubbornly out of reach. It made her want to cry.
“Enough, stop.”
The command, dripping with disdain, fell.
Diana hastily straightened her apron and rose to her feet, only to stub her toe against the table leg. This time, the pain was sharp and intense.
“Ugh….”
She barely held back a scream and tried to walk away, but her foot hit something. A light, elongated object rolled a few times across the floor and came to a stop.
The brush. The one she had been looking for.
“…”
As if entranced, Diana walked over, swept her hand across the floor, and picked it up.
It hadn’t gone under the table after all.
Then… was master watching the entire time?
Had he seen everything but chosen to say nothing?
“My brother is naturally very kind hearted.”
The credibility of the words spoken by Prince Aizen himself was gradually diminishing.
As if it wasn’t enough to summon someone and leave them waiting for twelve hours… Diana swallowed her weak sense of defiance along with the pain in her throbbing feet, forehead, and shoulders. She remained unaware of the sharp gazes directed at her, like blades.
Felix looked at the maid, who had frozen after making a fuss on her own, with dissatisfaction.
Despite the pain from slamming her foot against the table, she didn’t utter even a small groan. The maid, having recomposed herself, erased all expression from her face and approached him again.
“Master, I have retrieved the brush.”
From her foolish actions, it was clear she couldn’t see, but for a blind person, her senses were unusually sharp. The fact that she hadn’t been spotted even once over the past ten days was proof of that.
Even so, the annex was as clean as usual—no, even cleaner than usual. Nothing was missing, and no objects had been moved out of place. Even the folds in the curtains were the same as before. Only now did Felix begin to question it.
“Place the brush back where it belongs and finish cleaning.”
“Yes, Master.”
The woman hesitated briefly, as if uncertain, before heading toward the shelf and placing the brush back in its holder. Then, after gauging her direction once more, she left the living room. When she returned a moment later, her hands were full with cleaning supplies and a bucket of water.
Felix watched as she located and wiped the areas where blood had pooled, scrubbing them clean. The blind maid’s movements were astonishingly quick and precise.
What exactly is she?
“Master, may I open the windows?”
The smell of blood and pigments, which had gradually permeated the room, belatedly triggered a headache. He nodded in approval, but the maid remained still, standing in place.
Felix felt an inexplicable irritation.
“Open them.”
The moment his voice reached her, the woman turned and quickly walked to the window. Her slender, elongated fingers carefully felt along the window frame. She located the latch, turned it, and pushed the window open with some effort.
The refreshing dawn air stirred the loose strands of her hair by her ears. The unusually pale moonlight poured over the maid’s cheeks.
Her neatly rolled-up sleeves were completely soaked in red paint. Her bare forearms were also stained with dirty red smudges. Her delicate fingertips rested lightly on the window frame, like a butterfly.
The woman, Diana, took a deep breath. Her chest, which had risen tautly, sank with a long exhale.
Felix detected a faint defiance in her profile. Her tightly pressed lips and fingers gripping the window frame suggested she was stewing over something unpleasant. This was followed by a resentful sigh.
She had made a similar expression when he had thrown the brush.
Ordinary commoners wouldn’t dare to be so bold. Most wouldn’t even straighten their backs in the presence of someone who could take their heads with a single word.
Yet, this woman—Diana—seemed uncharacteristically composed, even as her hands groped around. It was as if she had no fear, or perhaps she did, but only selectively.
While letting out a faint chuckle, Felix felt an inexplicable thirst. Her face, at least, was aesthetically flawless.
Felix tapped the seat beside him with his fingertips. Picking up on the soft sound, Diana quickly turned her body toward him. Judging from her lack of response to visual cues, it was clear she was blind, but her hearing was overly sensitive.
“Sit.”
Diana hesitated. The crown prince had tapped on what was clearly coarse fabric—likely the sofa.
Could this be an opportunity? A rare chance to win his favor.
Without such a moment, when else would she ever sit beside him? Diana had something she had to accomplish.
Antidote. And home. Focus only on those two things. Don’t think about anything else.
Steeling herself against her trembling fear, Diana forced herself to take a step forward.
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