“Beth Gould.”

After reading the name written beneath it, Aiden slowly raised his gaze to Sveta’s portrait.

Her youthful face and hair, the color of a fading sunset, seemed almost too precious to bear.

With careful fingers, he traced the painted curve of her cheek.

The dry texture of the paper against his skin felt cruel.

He could no longer endure her absence.

His fist clenched and the wineglass shattered in his hand.

Shards tore into his palm. Within moments, the broken glass was slick with blood. The sharp, metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils.

He was sick of it all.

All of it.

The wounds. The healing. The endless cycle of injury and scarring.

It was all unbearably exhausting.

***

“Beth Gould is finally dead.”

Beth flicked the dagger she had been rolling across her palm and threw it without hesitation.

With perfect precision, it struck the wooden board hanging beside the door.

She regarded it with satisfaction.

The slave had finally died in her place.

Now she could cast off the name ‘Beth Gould’.

“Sveta, that stone-faced creature.”

Beth had always found her irritating.

Although they had similar features, Sveta’s nose was sharper.

Their lips were equally full, but Sveta’s curved with a more sensual grace.

Her eyebrows were more finely shaped and delicately arched, too.

Everything about them was similar, yet Sveta always seemed to be just that little bit better.

After all, they had both been princesses. But Sveta had belonged to a greater kingdom.

Forcing her into slavery had done nothing to erase her sense of inferiority.

Perhaps it had never truly been inferiority at all.

Perhaps it had been fear.

The fear that Sveta would one day reclaim her rightful place and rise above them.

This thought had always tormented Beth.

“Still, she served her purpose and died. So it all worked out.”

Beth considered her next steps.

She would gather more money, then find her father—

“But… if I find Father, won’t the men chasing him start chasing me again? What a wretched life. I’m sick of it.”

She had thought that she would finally be free once Sveta had died in her place. Yet it did not feel that way at all.

Beth scowled as she strode towards the door. As she pulled the dagger from the wooden board, there was a knock at the door.

She swiftly hid the blade.

The moment she opened it, the head maid stared at her in mild surprise.

“Beka, from today onward you will accompany Amy to burn sleeping incense in the master’s bedchamber.”

“Yes, Head Maid.”

“Do not look at the bed. Act as though you see nothing. You are to move like a shadow.”

Beth smiled meekly.

“Of course.”

***

On a morning when fine snow fell like drifting rain, Henrik arrived.

A deep blue cloak hung over one shoulder.

Perhaps embarrassed by how much he had grown, Henrik spoke a little too quickly.

“I’m on my way from Fern. I visited my father-in-law. He’s a man of strict principles, so one must dress properly.”

“It suits you, Mr. Henrik.”

“Still, I apologize for interrupting your breakfast.”

“Not at all. Would you like to join me?”

Henrik settled naturally at the table and nodded.

With a gentle smile, Sveta poured tea into his cup.

After sharing a simple meal of fragrant tea and grain bread, the two stepped out into the yard together.

“Come to think of it, you’re walking without your cane now?”

“I’ve been trying not to use it for the past two days. I still can’t walk quickly, though.”

“Is something troubling you?”

His brown eyes searched her face, revealing a quiet concern.

Sveta hesitated.

She couldn’t decide whether to tell him about the person who had been leaving a deep-purple flower on her doorstep every day.

She already owed him more than she could ever repay for saving her life and looking after her. Besides, he was due to leave for Baiton within the hour. She didn’t want to detain him.

‘It’s only a flower…’

The flower had been sitting in the same spot ever since she had invited Alphy in.

On the small chair by the door.

It no longer appeared inside the house as it once had.

This was not a cause for concern, nor was it something that warranted troubling the benefactor, who was about to leave.

Sveta shook her head.

“No. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m glad.”

Henrik mounted the horse tethered in one corner of the yard.

“Mr. Henrik, I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

She pulled a slightly crumpled envelope from her pocket and handed it to him.

“Could you deliver this letter to someone important to me?”

Having promised he would, Henrik urged his horse forward.

Sveta watched him ride away into the distance for a moment. Then, spotting an approaching hired carriage, she stepped onto the road.

The carriage took her swiftly to Yvetsa’s shop.

The doorbell chimed brightly as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Immediately, every man in the shop turned to look at her.

At some point, the dress shop had started to attract male customers, and its sales had risen dramatically as a result.

Yvetsa liked to sarcastically remark that all the devoted husbands, dutiful brothers and filial sons in the neighborhood must have decided to gather there all at once.

“Darling, you’ve come at just the right time.”

Yvetsa approached, dragging along a short man by the arm.

“Good morning, Yvetsa. Who is this?”

Shooting the man a sharp glare, Yvetsa led both him and Sveta into the storeroom.

“He owns the flower shop.”

The timid-looking man darted his eyes nervously, clearly wary of Yvetsa.

“The flower shop… owner?”

Still blinking in confusion, Sveta watched as Yvetsa nudged the man impatiently.

He mumbled,

“No one has bought anemones, Yvetsa… There are plenty in the greenhouse, but they’re expensive, and they’re not popular… not popular at all…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Are you sure no one’s stealing them?”

At her fierce tone, the man’s voice shrank further, his ears turning red.

“None have gone missing… either.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Yvetsa shoved the gaunt man out of the room. Muttering under her breath, she scowled.

“How would he even notice if some were missing? That dim-witted fool! As if I could trust him!”

“Thank you for worrying so much, Yvetsa.”

“That spineless man! He must’ve been dragged here again by a friend. He doesn’t help my sales at all and just gets on my nerves—that’s why I confronted him. It’s not like I did it for you.”

“Still, thank you.”

Unsure how else to express her gratitude, Sveta offered a small smile.

“Don’t worry too much. In this town, there’s no lunatic bold enough to lay a hand on you openly.”

“…Why?”

“That nobleman.”

“Mr. Henrik?”

“Yes. Him. There’s a rumor that you’re his hidden woman.”

Sveta’s cheeks burned instantly, like stones left under the blazing sun.

“I don’t know who started it, but they say they saw that man going in and out of your house.”

“We only had tea together… It’s not that kind of relationship.”

“I know.”

The reply came lightly.

“But that rumor will protect you.”

“……”

What did she mean by that?

Sveta met Yvetsa’s eyes. Her expression remained brusque, yet warmth glimmered in her dark gaze.

“Men, no matter how often you refuse them, they don’t listen. But if they think you belong to another man, they tuck their tails and back off. They only heed a man’s word.”

“……”

“It’s a filthy reality. But I don’t want you getting hurt. Life is hard enough for a low-born woman with a pretty face.”

“Yvetsa…”

“……”

The heat that had flushed her cheeks now stung the corners of her eyes.

Yvetsa turned away abruptly and started dusting vigorously. She thr*st a feather duster into Sveta’s hands.

“Go dust something.”

“…Yes.”

Yvetsa grumbled,

“You finish up in here. The storeroom’s a mess again. Honestly, why does dust pile up so quickly?”

“All right.”

Just as she was about to leave, Yvetsa stopped short.

“By the way, have you ever thought about learning archery?”

***

Amy’s hands trembled as she lifted the lid of the censer.

She had heard that the maid who previously handled this duty had been flogged and dismissed just yesterday.

‘Something must have happened…’

Not knowing what it was made it all the more frightening.

Only maids who had undergone a thorough investigation were permitted to enter the duke’s bedroom. This was a sign of trust and a source of pride.

‘But one wrong move and I’ll be thrown out. I have to be careful.’

After carefully lighting the incense, Amy turned to leave with her head bowed.

Behind her, Beka stood with her eyes wide as fists, staring straight at the bed.

‘Beka!’

Amy tried to warn her with nothing but the shape of her lips.

Beka did not move.

‘What is she doing?’

Unable to help herself, Amy also glanced towards the bed. Her brow furrowed deeply as she did so.

Beyond the translucent canopy, the master lay asleep, drugged.

He was clutching something white tightly in his arms.

On closer inspection, she realized it was a woman’s white chemise.

‘That garment…’

In an instant, Amy’s eyes reddened.

They reminded her of Baron Luce’s daughter, who had once been so kind to her.

Fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, Amy quickly bent down.

With trembling hands, she picked up the broken glass and empty medicine vial scattered across the floor.

Then she dragged Beka, who was still staring openly at the duke, out of the room.

The moment they entered the servants’ hall, Amy confronted her.

“Beka, why were you just standing there! When I light the incense, you’re supposed to clean up afterward!”

“…Has the duke—no, the master—gone mad?”

The response sounded even more unhinged.

“Watch your tongue! As long as you’re paired with me for this duty, you need to be careful!”

“……”

Beka ignored her.

After casting Amy a long, simmering glare, she stomped off.

“Why did I have to be assigned to work with her?”

Amy found Beka deeply disagreeable.

The girl was reckless. Not only that, but she was also insolent, and there was something eerily unsettling about her, too.

Yet whenever she had the chance, she tried to carry herself like a noble lady, giving orders.

“She’s really strange.”

Amy knew that Beka had carefully filled in her eyebrows to make them look thicker. She had even darkened the freckles scattered across her cheeks.

Amy discovered this one day when she went to rouse the ever-sluggish Beka.

At the time, she simply assumed it was a strange personal preference. After all, Beka looked far prettier without makeup.

But, as Amy recalled Beka’s natural appearance, she was suddenly reminded of another woman’s gentle smile.

“…Come to think of it, she looks a little like the young lady.”