#III. The Pumpkin Cradle

 Her first menstruation brought severe abdominal pain. It was unbearable agony that made it difficult to even stand on two legs. Ella clutched her throbbing lower abdomen and looked up at Victoire. The woman had a large build and a consistently fierce expression. Whether she was naturally like this or just harsh to her alone, Ella couldn’t tell, but she didn’t complain about her treatment.

 Though Victoire would slap her whenever she felt like it, according to Sarah, serving high-ranking people was far better than working in a brothel. Still, at times like this, she couldn’t help wanting to go back. She missed Sarah. Sarah. Ella softly called out her foster mother’s name.

 Rose-red hair like roses peeking over a hillside. Soft brown eyes. She was a beautiful woman with lovely dimples, but she didn’t resemble Ella. Since they didn’t look alike, Sarah said she wasn’t Ella’s mother. Even when Ella called her mother, she always replied that she wasn’t her mother, so she shouldn’t call her that. Yet despite this, she always loved Ella like a daughter. That was her kindness.

 But even if she wasn’t her mother, she loved her like one. She brushed Ella’s hair, tied it in two braids, called her pretty, and kissed her cheeks. That’s what a mother is. What else could be a mother? Ella fiddled with the apron tied around her waist. She missed Sarah. She remembered the pretty aprons Sarah used to tie for her every day when she was little. Her lower abdomen throbbed. It felt like something inside was being torn and trampled.

 Her legs trembled as she climbed the stairs. The strength left her hands holding the bucket. The bucket tumbled down the stairs with a clanging sound. The servants in the kitchen turned to look at her. Ella went downstairs to retrieve the bucket, her face pale. All the water in the bucket had spilled onto the floor. She looked at Victoire with trembling eyes. The woman was glaring at her, grinding her teeth.

 “I’m s-sorry……”

 Ella clasped her hands desperately. But before her apology could finish, a pot lid-sized palm flew at her. She collapsed to the floor without even having time to scream.

 “You useless wh*re!”

 The blow was so fierce it made her ears ring. She couldn’t get up from where she had fallen and gasped for breath. Her head buzzed. When she was at the brothel, Ella would often get hit on her back or thighs. The one who slapped her wasn’t Sarah. Sarah was her foster mother, but she was like a birth mother to her.

 The person who slapped Ella and treated her harshly was the brothel manager. Sarah’s pimp. And the man who would become Ella’s pimp in the future. Sarah trembled whenever she saw him, so all she could do was cry when the pimp slapped her. Even when Sarah begged him with clasped hands not to hit Ella, he blamed Sarah’s mistakes on Ella. He couldn’t raise a hand against a woman who had to receive customers at night, so he vented his anger on the woman’s child instead. Ella rose from the floor, recalling the pimp’s jaundiced eyes.

 On days when she was beaten by the pimp, Sarah would brew medicine for her and bring it to her lips. She would cover her with a blanket and sing lullabies. But in the Duke’s mansion, which Sarah thought was better than the brothel, there was no one to brew medicine, sing lullabies, or touch her aching forehead.

 Ella didn’t cry. Victoire was a tough woman. She was harsher and more violent than the pimp. It had been two years since she came to San Parvale as a servant girl offered to the Duke. Everyone agreed that when she started her menstruation, she would become the Duke of Durac’s woman. After all, Cecil, who had been the late Duke Carlisle’s servant girl, had also been taken into his arms after her first menstruation.

 Ella would be no different. But……

 “Useless girl! You vermin who know nothing but to spread your legs! Can’t even carry a single bucket! Cecil was the same. That wh*re just whimpered in Carlisle’s bedroom all day. Is that all servant girls are good for? Do you only know how to entice men with that hole between your legs?”

 A maid standing nearby frowned. Words that would make the head maid scold her were pouring from Victoire’s mouth. It was understandable why Victoire personally held a grudge against servant girls. After all, she had lost her husband to Cecil, the former Grand Duke’s servant girl who passed away last year. Or to be more factually accurate, Victoire’s husband, the gardener Al, had one-sidedly fallen in love with Cecil. Victoire was already grumpy by nature. After learning that her husband Al loved the Duke’s woman, Victoire became even more difficult. She had never been easy-going, but from what people remembered, she hadn’t been this bad. Since the young servant girl arrived, she had become even more harsh, to an unbearable degree.

 “Hey, Vic……”

 One of the servants surrounding the fallen servant girl and Victoire cleared his throat. Victoire, seemingly not hearing, grabbed the young servant girl’s hair and began slapping her face. The way she struck with her pot lid-sized hands was terrifyingly violent, as if Cecil, who had died in the Grand Duke’s bedroom years ago, had returned to life.

 “Hey, Vic. Stop it. She’s just a child.”

 “This is a child? This? This fox-like wench?”

 Victoire raised her head, her eyes flashing. The servant girl in her grasp had already lost consciousness. The servant closed his mouth. The maid standing next to him approached Victoire. The girl Victoire was holding by the hair was a servant girl.

 She was different from ordinary servants. Though she hadn’t started menstruating and hadn’t slept with the Duke yet, she wasn’t a maid. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t of lowly status. To be precise, servant girls were in a different category from maids. Unlike maids who couldn’t bear their master’s seed, or had to miscarry if they did, it was natural for servant girls to bear their master’s seed. That’s what the law dictated.

 It was a strict distinction that set them apart from maids.

 “That child will become His Highness’s woman. Stop before you get scolded.”

 The maid frowned, wetting her dry lips. From the looks of things, she would be severely scolded even if reprimanded, but she didn’t want to die together with them. It had only been two years, but the Duke of Durac seemed quite fond of her.

 “So what? Is this girl about to climb into His Highness’s bed right now? Move aside! Managing the kitchen maids is my responsibility!”

 Victoire pushed the servant aside. Ella raised her head, breathing shallowly and with difficulty. She couldn’t tell what was dangling over her eyelids. Something red and sticky…… Blood? She felt dizzy. She swallowed several times to suppress the nausea, but couldn’t stop it. Something leaked from below.

 “Vic! Let her go! I said let her go!”

 Vic, who had been gripping her hair roughly, flinched in surprise. But she soon returned to normal and spewed out her anger. Victoire began slamming Ella’s head against the floor while holding her hair. The servants who had been surrounding them rushed to stop Victoire. Ella retched. Each time her head hit the floor, her insides churned. Before long, Ella began vomiting. A servant who had barely managed to remove Victoire’s hand approached her and patted her back.

 “Are you alright? Try to stand up.”

 The servant’s hand touched Ella’s back. She shrank away from the unfamiliar touch, startled. Her stomach kept turning. Though every part of her body that had been kicked ached, the worst was the acid rising from her solar plexus. Ella tried to stand up, trembling. A nearby maid rushed over and wiped her forehead with a dry towel. Ella saw her own blood on the white towel and vomited again.

 White vomit with nothing in it spilled onto the floor. Victoire glared at her with blazing eyes. Her voice was menacing as she threatened to beat her more.

 “Damn wench. She’ll get us all scolded at this rate.”

 The servant cursed, glaring back at Victoire. He approached Ella, who still couldn’t stand.

 “Oh my! What should we do with her? She’s started her menstruation.”

 “We need to inform His Highness.”

 At those words, Ella turned her head. She looked down. Indeed, bright red blood stained her skirt. Her eyes, which had remained dry even while being beaten, began to moisten. She had been told that once she had her menstruation, she would have to become a woman in her master’s arms. Ella didn’t know exactly what the process of becoming a woman in a man’s arms entailed.

 Why one had to have menstruation to become a woman, what was different before and after menstruation. Sarah hadn’t told her. She said that even if Ella didn’t want to know, the moment would come when she had to know, and she didn’t need to hear it from a prostitute. Ella stared blankly at her foster mother’s face. Every day and night. A woman dragged away with her arm in the grip of strange men. To Ella, knowing men meant that. It was intercourse with men that made her lowly and vile. Even at fourteen, Ella still didn’t know what intercourse was. She didn’t know how men discharged. She didn’t want to know. She had been a kitchen maid for the past two years, so if she continued as a kitchen maid, she might be able to escape her status as a servant girl. Then she might never have to entangle with him. Maybe that young man would forget about her.

 “Ah…… blood, blood.”

 Ella burst into tears. The maid stroked her back.

 “It’s okay. Everything will be fine. His Grace will cherish you. Then you won’t need to do kitchen work like this anymore.”