Chapter 19

 The maid was blessing her becoming a prostitute. Ella looked at the woman’s dark face with tears brimming in her eyes. She had a skinny chin and prominent cheekbones, making her look as grumpy as Victoire, but her gently flowing voice was kind. Ella shook her head. No. No. I don’t want to become a prostitute…… Sarah said becoming a prostitute was a terrible thing. Being called a lowly woman who sells smiles to other women, being a one-night stand for men. Rather than living a life that wouldn’t remain in anyone’s memory, she said it was better to live as a kitchen worker.

 So leave Roland now, she had said. Leave Roland and don’t live as a prostitute anywhere. But, Sarah. Didn’t Sarah say that someday her father would come and take Ella away? Couldn’t she wait until then? Roland was her home. It was the town where she lived, her hometown. Ella didn’t want to leave her hometown. In truth, she wasn’t curious about her birth father at all. The same went for the birth mother Sarah talked about.

 Perhaps it was a lie made up by Sarah, who liked to fantasize. Whether it was a lie or not…… Sarah was someone who liked to exaggerate even small things. Saying Ella’s birth mother was a noble lady. That since she wore very fine clothes, her birth father might be a nobleman. It must be a white lie made up out of pity for a little one who had lost her birth mother.

 “Come on, child. Try to stand up…… You look terrible. His Highness might be pleased to know you’ve started your menstruation, but he won’t find you pretty looking like this.”

 The maid’s hands supported Ella. She glanced at the bloodstained skirt. The blood-stained spots looked ghastly. She untied her own apron and tied it around Ella’s waist.

 “Tsk. Tsk. That Victoire woman beat you severely.”

 The maid narrowed her eyes. The child the butler had proudly brought in claiming to have rescued a maid was the girl before her. When she first met her, she was simply amazed. Where in the world did such a doll-like girl come from? From her quietly drooping eyelashes to the tips of her fingernails, everything was beautiful, leaving her speechless. Even dressed in a rag-like dress in a pit-like hovel, she sparkled so brightly—how radiant would she be if properly fed and dressed? What a waste. What a waste. The maid clicked her tongue without realizing it.

 Servant girls were invariably beautiful. If they weren’t beautiful, they couldn’t become servant girls. That’s why knights tended to be generous toward servant girls. Why wouldn’t they be? Beautiful, lovely, existing solely for them, and destined to be their first bedmate. It would be strange not to fall in love.

 But in any case, the Duke of Durac’s servant girl was excessively beautiful. She was painfully pretty even as a short twelve-year-old, so how enchanting would she be when fully grown? It’s only natural that the Duke of Durac doesn’t know what to do with such a young child. The maid told a nearby servant to bend down and carry the staggering girl on his back. The girl’s normally peach-colored cheeks were flushed to a concerning degree.

 Just as they were tidying up and about to leave, the door to the kitchen opened with a click, revealing a man who shouldn’t be walking toward the east wing.

 “Your Highness!”

 Someone screamed as if in their death throes, and the lowborn servants knelt. Victoire, who had been grumbling as she left for the kitchen, bit her lip. The servant carrying Ella on his back also lowered himself, terrified. Ella, on his back, looked at the man.

 Larque, who had left early in the morning for the royal palace, was perfectly dressed. A navy blue cape draped over one shoulder, gold thread and marten fur decorating his collar. The black dragon emblem of his family embroidered on the fabric, and the ruby and sapphire pins securing the cape to his shoulder. Faced with his dazzlingly brilliant appearance, Ella’s cheek trembled. Seeing him caused unceasing convulsions.

The first time she saw him, he was a knight wearing armor. The man was accustomed to that attire. Since he was a knight…… When she was in Roland, Sarah sold Ella as a maid to a knight. The man who brought her to San Parvale was one of the butlers working under Hermel, a frequent customer of Sarah’s in Roland.

 Ella’s twelve years. And Roland’s winter. When the man mentioned in passing that he was looking for a maid, Sarah didn’t miss the opportunity. Believing there wouldn’t be a better chance if she delayed her decision, Sarah didn’t listen to her foster daughter’s words. Before the month passed, she packed Ella’s belongings and sent her off in the man’s hands. A prostitute becoming a maid. What an invaluable honor that was.

 Sarah probably still didn’t know that Ella had become a servant girl. Or that being a servant girl was no different from being a knight’s prostitute. She was a woman who believed that leaving the brothel meant one could avoid living as a prostitute. A woman who said she would refuse to eat or drink out of guilt if Ella ended up living such a life.

 She felt sorry for her foster mother. For only being able to live such a life……

 As Larque approached, the servants prostrated themselves even deeper. They looked as if they would bury their heads into the floor until they broke through it.

 “Give her to me.”

 Larque murmured to the servant who was carrying Ella on his back, unable to move one way or the other. There was no particular change in the man’s expression. The servant hastily handed Ella over to him. The way he trembled resembled a mouse in front of a cat.

 Ella breathed heavily. She felt her fingertips growing colder as time passed. She stared blankly at her master. The servants feared the man. They said that besides having a nature that showed no mercy to his subordinates, perhaps because he was a knight, he didn’t view death as distant. In other words, he didn’t show even a hint of compassion when taking the life of a subordinate. Ella clung to her fading consciousness as she was held in his arms. The soft marten fur brushed against her cheek. He held Ella with both arms and left the east wing without looking back. Ella opened her eyes, which she had closed for the last time, and looked at the man’s firm jawline. They said he was like a war god born to wield a sword on the battlefield. Now he was dressed gallantly and splendidly, like a phantom thief escaping with a princess from the king’s ball. Red blood stained the marten fur attached to his shoulder.

 “Master. There’s blood on it.”

 He didn’t answer. He merely passed through the corridor with his wide stride. When she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t in a hovel. Suddenly, she remembered that she had bled. Not blood on her forehead, but blood below. She recalled the maid’s voice whispering “menstruation.” Ella hurriedly got up from her seat and lifted the blanket.

 As soon as she thought about her menstruation, blood flowed from below again, staining the sheet. She looked foolish. Judging by the soft cloth between her thighs, it seemed like a maid had cleaned her up…… Ella stared blankly at the bloodstained sheet for a while. She mustn’t be caught. No. She might have already been caught, but perhaps they didn’t know yet.

 She hated being held by a man. It wasn’t that she hated her master, but she was afraid of sleeping with him. She didn’t want to do it. The rigid embrace, the lukewarm breath. It would be nice if she could live without ever knowing them. If only she could have just been a maid. Why, why…… The late master’s father had made Ella his son’s servant girl as soon as he saw her. He had stroked her head, saying she resembled his servant girl, Cecil.

 She thought she had been sold as a maid, but to end up living as a servant girl. It was terrible. It was so terrible that she wished she would never have her menstruation. But. Becoming a woman is unavoidable, isn’t it……

 “Sob, sob……”

 She gathered the sheet and rolled it up into a ball. Tears burst forth again. She thought she should clean it up secretly before someone came in. But……

 “Ah……”

 The wind blew. The curtains fluttered at the arched window. The wind tickled her sore eyes. Ella looked at Larque. The man’s eyes, half-hidden by the bundle of blankets, were emotionless. It would have been better if she could have felt a piercing light in them. Nothing could be read in his gray eyes. Black night. It felt like encountering a ghost in an unlit corridor.

 Frozen and unable to move her lips, Ella glanced down at the bundle of blankets. Although she had rolled it up tightly, the bloodstains were still visible. It felt as if the ground beneath her feet was covered in thin ice, and if she moved even one step on her own, it would crack.

 Her lips trembled violently. A breeze flipped her hair. Long, thin strands of hair fluttered around her eyes. Something leaked from below again. Was she sick? Or was this what menstruation was normally like? How could it not stop…… It was shameful and miserable. She looked down. The wave of slight convulsions grew stronger. She closed her eyes tightly and then opened them. Sticky blood was running between her thighs. Her legs trembled. Ella swallowed dryly. Soon, her knees were covered in blood.

 She stood as if nailed to the spot, tears falling drop by drop. The man approached with heavy steps and knelt on one knee before her. A master kneeling before a servant girl. How could he be so casual? Was she seeing things due to a fever? Ella breathed heavily. His height was now lower than her line of sight. He removed his white gloves and picked up a dry towel. A servant who had been lingering around the bedroom saw her and approached. She felt like dying from shame.