The more Mary thought about it, the more that harlot seemed beneath her.

“At this rate, she’ll never learn her place. All I’ve done is let her grow bolder… I should have been far more decisive.”

Seething with anger, she barely noticed the pale light filling her darkened room. She pulled on her black maid’s dress and tied a spotless white apron over the top. She tied her hair up neatly and set off for the laundry an hour earlier than usual.

There, freshly pressed gowns and dresses hung in rows, mocking her with their pristine folds.

“…How hateful.”

Mary’s hand lashed out, sharp and furious.

◯◯◯

Sveta stood in front of the full-length mirror n*ked, turning this way and that. She studied the long lines of her arms, the hollow of her waist, and the flat expanse of her stomach.

Initially, the edges of her scars had begun to blur, and now the scars themselves were gradually fading. Even her hands, which had once been rough, seemed a little softer. This sudden change was startling enough to make her feel slightly suspicious.

“It’s… incredible. But… is it even safe to keep using this?”

She had avoided looking in the mirror for so long. She hadn’t wanted to face her ruined body. The scars evoked terrible memories, not least of Beth’s tears.

‘Beth would be glad to see this.’

The thought of her sister always left Sveta with a dull ache in her chest. It was the same sharp, tingling sensation she felt whenever she thought of Aiden.

She knew exactly what this feeling was.

Sweet pain. Bitter joy.

It was love.

Feeling slightly sentimental, she slipped into a beige cotton dress. She planned to gather the laundry before the servants started work for the day.

“Haa…”

Sveta lost her words at the sight before her.

“I know I fastened them properly.”

White gowns, towels and dresses were scattered across the ground, drenched in black liquid. They hung limp and lifeless, like strands of seaweed, mirroring her own pitiful state.

‘Someone must have poured dye water over them.’

Her suspicions were confirmed by the overturned wooden tub nearby, with black drops pattering onto the floor.

She had not faced such blatant malice in a long time. The fact that someone had hauled that heavy tub just to harm her left her wondering. Was she truly despised to such an extent?

“…It can’t be helped.”

Fixing her gaze on the spiteful footprints stamped nearby, Sveta rolled up her sleeves again.

Just then—

“My word, miss, what on earth have you done?”

That familiar voice lashed out, barbed and cutting.

Mary’s exaggerated cry instantly drew the maids, who gathered like a noisy flock, as though waiting for their cue in a well-rehearsed play.

A hollow sigh escaped Sveta. She could only stare at Mary, dumbfounded, as Mary continued her attack.

“Why did you pour the dye here?”

“…”

Mary’s lips twitched upward, betraying the pleasure she took in the moment.

As she stepped closer, faint black footprints stained the floor.

“Miss, this is Bayton dye. It’s precious. What kind of foolish prank were you trying to pull?”

Chiding voices and condemning eyes closed in on Sveta.

If she shrank away now, the outcome would be obvious.

“…”

After a brief silence, Sveta deliberately straightened her back and lifted her chin.

“Why? Am I not allowed?”

“…Pardon?”

“I asked if it’s forbidden to play such pranks.”

“Of course it is…”

Mary faltered, taken aback by the unexpected response.

“If this is such a serious matter, you can report it directly to the head maid.”

“That would mean the master would hear about it, too.”

Mary’s eyes flashed, her gaze becoming as sharp as blades. Yet Sveta remained calm under her piercing gaze.

“Good. Let him hear.”

“…What?”

“Do you think His Grace will just sit by and do nothing when he finds out about this?”

“You… you’ve lost the master’s favor…”

Sveta guessed the words Mary couldn’t bring herself to finish.

‘Lost his favor, haven’t you?’

But Mary couldn’t say it aloud. To openly invoke the master’s judgment would be dangerous—and she knew it.

Sveta replied softly, in a tone one might use to soothe an angry child.

“You won’t report this to the head maid. My ‘prank’ will simply disappear.”

“But how could it vanish when there are so many witnesses here?”

The maids around them nodded in agreement, each at a different speed.

“Then you’ll also need to explain the state of your shoes. Will that be all right with you?”

“……”

Mary glanced down at her shoes, her face flushing red as she turned as red as an overripe tomato.

With a single jerk of her chin, the assembled maids dispersed instantly.

Her eyes narrowed with indignation, and her shoulders shook as though she might explode with fury.

‘To make such a mess of things and still consider it unfair?’

Sveta regarded her with a flat, unreadable expression. Finally, Mary’s tightly sealed lips parted.

“…You could try bleach. Second shelf, over there. Use the long wooden tub beside it.”

With only those curt words, she turned and walked away—never giving Sveta the chance to answer.

◯◯◯

In the Duke’s office:

Aiden was reviewing the trade schedule and goods list for the second half of the year.

Just because acquiring Bayton tapestries was proving difficult did not mean that he had abandoned all the other items.

“We have included dyes from the Monaras family, as well as pheasant and eagle feathers for making arrows. We’ve also included the currently fashionable Bayton black tea and sugar.”

“Add some goose feathers as well. We must increase our production of arrows for the hunting festival.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

After carefully checking the list once more, Aiden lifted his head.

“Have they found him?”

His aide, Denis, paled as though his skin had been bleached, despite the flat tone of the question.

“That is… Jace Gould’s whereabouts remain unknown.”

“……”

“Since the body hasn’t been found, we’re working under the assumption he’s alive and are widening the search area.”

Noticing the discontent flickering across his master’s refined features, Denis hesitated before making a suggestion.

“Would it not be wise to set another trap?”

He meant to use Sveta Luce as bait again.

Again.

‘And if he escapes once more?’

The thought of Jace Gould stealing her away evoked an inexplicable sense of loss.

It was absurd, wasn’t it?

Whether she was in sight or out of it, that woman was an irritation either way.

Suppressing every trace of emotion in his voice, Aiden replied.

“Later. Not yet.”

“…Yes, Your Grace. Then I’ll dispatch more men to expand the search.”

“Do it.”

Denis gathered the order forms for Bayton and left.

The moment he did, Failin, who had stood like a pillar in the corner of the office, strode forward.

“Before the hunting festival, troops will be sent to Levaižan. Any surviving Zloytan remnants must be dealt with in advance.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You’re exempt.”

Until Jace Gould was captured or killed, Failin would remain at her side.

Seeming to understand, Failin lowered his gaze and dropped into a full bow.

“Leave me.”

“……”

After finishing his morning tasks, Aiden moved towards the tall windows of his office.

Languid shafts of light poured through them, weaving their way into the strands of his golden hair.

He smoothed his immaculate hair back once more, glancing briefly at Failin.

The knight was still kneeling.

“Do you have something to say?”

“Today as well, my lady is in the laundry room.”

“…And?”

“She is doing the laundry herself.”

“Today as well?”

“Yes, my lord.”

A deep crease formed between Aiden’s straight brows.

‘Why?’

She lacked nothing. He had given her more dresses and jewelry than she could ever wear. Yet she cast them all aside to wash clothes by hand in the dirty laundry room.

He could not begin to fathom why she had so demeaned herself.

If her intention was to draw his attention, it was an admittedly novel attempt.

But was he supposed to indulge such a petty trick? Hardly.

“And what does that have to do with my mistress’s life?”

“……”

“Do you recall the order I gave you?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He stepped closer. Failin stared at his master’s polished shoes and could not stop the faint tremor shaking his thick lashes.

“Repeat it.”

Hands thr*st into both pockets of his coat, leather gloves still on, the duke’s voice cut sharp.

“To protect your lady.”

“So, doing the laundry now poses a threat to her life?”

“…Forgive me. I overstepped.”

“Do not forget your duty, Failin.”

“Yes, my lord. I will remember.”

When Aiden left, Failin bowed once more before leaving the office.

Once alone again, the duke returned his gaze to the window.

“…Haa.”

He squinted against the sting of sunlight for a long moment before finally turning toward the door himself.

◯◯◯

Naturally, no help came.

As Sveta struggled with the dye-soaked laundry, not a single soul in the manor stepped into the yard.
Yet through the open windows and doors, laughter spilled out—mocking eyes following her every move.

She longed to walk away, to leave it all behind. But in the end, the burden fell squarely on her shoulders.

‘Because no one else will look after me…’

At first, she only felt sorrow.

But as she repeatedly scrubbed and hauled the waterlogged fabric, her beige dress became stained. The clammy weight of the fabric transformed her sorrow into irritation, which then turned into a simmering anger.

“Honestly…!”

She filled a tub the size of a small bathtub with water.

Despite what Mary had claimed, the bleach was nowhere to be found.

“The bleach is all gone. If you rinse the stains quickly before they dry, they’ll come out. Use cold water.”

A short maid stood beside Mary, pretending to offer advice while her eyes glimmered with mockery.

It sounded like another lie, but it was the only option.

‘Then I’ll just have to rinse it thoroughly.’

Sveta threw the bundle of clothes into the water and scrubbed them until her fingers ached.

The back courtyard, designed to catch the wind and speed up drying, was now buffeted by strong winds. Cold water splashed against her, soaking her thin clothes, and she shivered violently, her fingertips almost numb.

She carefully sat on the edge of the wooden tub and breathed shallowly.

The long basin stretched out in front of her like a coffin. The dark water churned within, thrashing as if eager to swallow her whole.

“…Haa.”

She drew in a deep breath.

“…Let’s just finish this quickly.”

She was rinsing the laundry with frantic strokes when, suddenly, her wrist was seized and pulled upwards.

“What are you doing here.”

The voice was low, quiet, and edged with steel.

“I asked you what you were doing.”

The heavy scent of musk. The suffocating air around him.

It was the duke.