Elise Strilland was no stranger to cold fury. Years of nursing such bitter hatred had moulded her into the woman she was today.

With flawless composure and without raising her voice, she therefore summoned Dalia.

“I hear rumors that your foster daughter is a bandit.”

“That could never be, Madam. The girl was a beggar I found on the streets. Had I known she was a bandit, I would never have taken her in…”

Dalia pressed her smooth hand against her brow, brimming with indignation. The plaintive tone never lost its nasal lilt — proof that she was sincere.

Scooting closer, she whispered in a pitiful voice.

“Besides, it was the Bloody Saturday incident that ruined my life. If I had known she was a bandit, I would have killed her myself. You know my circumstances better than anyone.”

Elise placed her hand atop Dalia’s, her gaze full of sympathy.

“Yes. It must be nothing more than a baseless rumor.”

“Of course, Madam.”

Yes, how could it be otherwise?

Wasn’t it that incident which resulted in Dalia being exiled from her hometown? The child in her care had been kidnapped and she was blamed for failing to protect her. She suffered greatly, condemned to spend more than twenty years in the service of that loathsome baron.

‘If that barbarian wretch has deceived everyone all this time…’

Elise could only despise herself for having shown kindness to the girl, even going so far as to give her contraceptives. She had once found the girl’s shy acceptance of the vial endearing.

She had fooled them all with her meekness. To wear such an innocent face…

With a heavy sigh, Elise turned her head towards the sudden breeze that swept past.

“Calm yourself, Madam.”

Dalia murmured sweetly as she fanned her, the delicate peacock feathers on the fan swaying in the air like fluttering silk.

“You’ve been saying your body feels weak and your hands and feet go numb, haven’t you? Shall I massage them for you?”

Setting the fan aside, Dalia took Elise’s hand and began to knead it firmly.

“Our baron often fell ill, you see. I’m used to caring for others.”

Elise did not resist the affectionate touch. In fact, she welcomed it. Although Dalia was not much older than her, Elise felt like she was her daughter.

“If only Nadia had lived…”

“Yes, Madam. Such a terrible tragedy.”

“Come to think of it, wasn’t your daughter born the same year as Nadia?”

“If she hasn’t lied about her age, yes. She’s twenty-four this year.”

Twenty-four.

That was how many years Elise had spent counting the days since she lost her own daughter.

Ice-sharp fury glimmered in her eyes. She gently closed her hand over the wrist that had been massaging her arm.

“I would like your daughter to care for me. Bring her to me at once.”

◯◯◯

Her son’s mistress appeared visibly tense.

“I was told you summoned me, Madam.”

“…”

Elise Strilland reclined on the sofa with languid grace, her legs stretched out in front of her. At the flick of her fan, Sveta hurried over to her. She was quick to understand.

“My health is failing. I want you to tend to me.”

“Yes, of course.”

“…”

“What would you have me do?”

“…”

Elise did not answer. Instead, she raked her sharp gaze over the bold barbarian girl repeatedly.

She was beautiful. Young. Vibrant.

Like an orange blossom heavy with summer dew, radiant with life.

Elise had once been the same, bright and blooming at that age. Around that time, she had also given birth to a daughter.

But what about now?

Elise raised her heavy, leaden arm.

“My arm tingles. Massage it for me.”

“Yes.”

Sveta stepped closer and awkwardly lifted Elise’s arm.

Suddenly, Elise pulled her arm down. Startled, Sveta almost lost her grip; her pale blue eyes trembled.

“When you lift the shoulder, it hurts.”

“Oh—I’m sorry.”

“Do it properly.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Sveta lowered herself to her knees, casting her eyes down, and carefully took hold of Elise’s arm again. Her long lashes cast delicate shadows across her cheeks, creating fine lines.

She looked like a painting — too beautiful to be real. Elise watched her with resentment in her eyes.

‘My daughter is dead, and yet you live—born in the same year. My daughter was murdered, and yet your parents, who took her life, still cherished you. And so, that is how you bloomed so beautifully.’

Elise pressed her fury deep down and spoke with feigned elegance.

“What were your parents like?”

“…I have none. I’m an orphan, Madam.”

‘Such a shameless lie…’

Elise’s slender eyebrows knitted together in a merciless frown. The barbarian girl failed to notice the murderous expression bearing down on her; her eyes were lowered.

‘What shall I do with you? Should I kill you, or tear you away from Aiden? Perhaps both. Yes… both would be best.’

With that hazy resolve, Elise smoothed her face back into gentleness.

“Now, massage my shoulders.”

“Yes.”

Elise lowered her legs from the couch and sat upright.

“Not from behind—stay right where you are.”

“Yes, Madam.”

The instant Sveta obediently sat beside her, Elise snapped her fan down against the girl’s thigh.

“Ah…!”

A startled cry slipped out, low and sweetly sensual.

‘Did she make such sounds at night, tangling her legs with Aiden? Is that how that stone-hearted man forgot the past—by lying with the daughter of his enemy, by defiling my child’s death? Ah… my poor Nadia, my pitiful girl.’

Hatred surged through her like a storm, etching her face once more into a blade of white fury.

“You should do it standing.”

“Yes.”

Sveta’s cheeks flushed with effort and beads of sweat appeared along her delicate jawline. She gently and tenderly touched Elise’s shoulders, kneading them. This softness was unbearable. Elise cracked her fan across Sveta’s hand.

“That does nothing for me.”

“I’m sorry. I was afraid of hurting you. I’ll press harder this time.”

“….”

“How is it now? Does it feel better?”

Elise’s wrinkled lips curved into a bitter smile. Her voice struck like shattered glass.

“Is this what the Duke enjoys?”

“P—pardon? What do you mean by that?”

Sveta’s face flushed with shock and the tips of her ears turned crimson. Elise stared at her, overwhelmed by despair. She was disappointed in herself for asking such a vulgar question. But her disappointment soon turned to anger again.

‘Dragging me into the mud is another one of your talents.’

“Never mind. Continue.”

Sweat poured down Sveta’s face as she continued kneading the dough, her hands trembling with the effort. Her breath grew ragged. To Elise, the sound and rhythm were obscene, reminding her of the debauched acts she had witnessed with Aiden.

Unable to bear it, Elise lashed out with the sharp heel of her shoe, striking Sveta’s ankle.

“Aah! That hurts!”

The girl stumbled back, then quickly rose to bow.

“I—I’m sorry, Madam.”

“Again.”

“Yes…”

Even when Elise repeatedly kicked her, the Duke’s mistress never shed a tear.

‘Hardy, aren’t you?’

Elise kept striking out with her fan until there was nothing left to knead — neither her legs nor the soles of her feet. Finally, as dusk fell, she wore a lofty smile.

“Come again tomorrow, won’t you?”

“…Yes, Madam. Of course.”

Sveta bowed politely and left. Despite her aching body, Elise felt oddly lighter, as though the massage had helped after all. But her heart was in tatters.

Tap, tap — she repeatedly snapped her fan against her palm before suddenly pulling out a sheet of stationery.

The quill, tipped with a swan’s feather, swept elegantly across the page.

[It has been some time. I heard that you recently visited the Duke’s manor, and I regret that I was unable to see you then.

I am writing to you now because I have heard a rumor so foul that it has filled me with dread, leaving me unable to sleep.

The Matwoods have an unparalleled grasp of information. I am therefore entrusting you with this matter to confirm whether such whispers hold any truth.

The maid delivering this letter will share the details in person. I have also enclosed a portrait.

I beg you to handle this matter with the utmost care.]

She pressed her hand down more firmly for the final line, making each curve of ink heavy with intent.

Having finished the letter, she summoned her maid.

“At first light tomorrow, you will deliver this to Lady Alyona Matwood.”

A meaningful smile curled across Elise’s weathered face. She knew that a spirited young woman like Alyona lacked both the patience and discretion to handle anything carefully.

◯◯◯

The next morning, Sveta awoke to the sight of the head maid standing at her bedside.

“You are awake, my lady?”

“…Ah, it’s morning already.”

Her limbs felt drained, strength sapped from the strain of the previous day. Meriette carefully helped her sit upright.

“Forgive me, but the Madam requests your presence. I had no choice but to wake you.”

“The Madam?”

“Yes. She said it was urgent.”

As Sveta washed her face with the basin of water brought to her, she asked.

“Urgent? Do you know what it is about?”

“I do not, my lady.”

A faint unease gnawed at her. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest.

Meriette took out a new dress — a pale lemon-yellow gown trimmed with white lace. Even as she dressed, her pulse refused to calm. Guided by the maid’s steady hand, Sveta soon arrived at the madam’s chambers.

“Good morning, Madam.”

To her surprise, Elise greeted her with a dignified calm.

“With age, one finds that sleep becomes lighter. I woke up early.”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Thanks to you, I rested well last night.”

Elise beckoned her closer with a flick of her fan. The woman’s brown hair and eyes were framed by features as weathered as old wood, and she exuded an air of refinement that suggested her high social rank.

‘So this is what she calls urgent…’

For Elise, urgency was of another order entirely.

“I’m glad I could be of help.”

Sveta answered gently, lowering herself with grace.

“That being so…”

At Elise’s signal, a servant set down a porcelain basin in front of her. Steam rose in pale wisps. The lady of the house dipped her feet into the water.

“I would like you to wash them for me.”