“‘I didn’t even shove her that hard.’”

“Milady… why would you suddenly push me like that? I was only trying to comfort you…”

Beth collapsed onto the floor, covering her face with both hands as though she had suffered a grave injustice.

This was as surprising as Amy’s sudden appearance. The whispers the maids used to exchange about her returned to Sveta’s mind.

‘The duke’s troublesome mistress. The young lady the servants avoided. A shameless woman who stood in her master’s way…’

For a moment, Sveta stared down at Beth in stunned silence. But the absurd scene did not last long.

“Have you lost your mind, Beka? Why would you do that? Who are we to be offering comfort!”

Amy hauled Beth to her feet and smacked her lightly on the back several times.

Sveta’s dazed gaze shifted to Amy. Beth, too, looked up at Amy, her jaw hanging slightly open.

“Milady, I’m so sorry. Beka’s always been a little strange. Please forgive her. Please don’t mention this to the master.”

Bowing deeply, Amy jabbed Beth sharply in the side with her elbow.

“I really value this position, Milady. I value serving you as well.”

“……”

“To attend someone as noble as you is a great honor for me—no, for my entire family.”

‘She’s afraid of being dismissed.’

Several people had already lost their positions because of her. Perhaps such fear was only natural.

As if by habit, Sveta lifted her chin and spoke in a calm, steady voice.

“It’s all right. I won’t tell the Duke. But Beka should learn to exercise more restraint.”

“Yes, of course. Naturally. Isn’t that right, Beka?”

Keeping her gaze fixed on her toes, Amy jabbed Beth repeatedly with her elbow.

Beth, who had been glaring at Amy as though she might kill her, reluctantly lowered her head.

“…Yes, Milady. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll bathe alone today. You may leave.”

“Yes, of course.”

Eager to avoid causing any more offence, Amy hurried out of the room with brisk efficiency, her arm firmly linked with Beth.

Even as she was dragged away, she kept glancing back over her shoulder.

Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her lower jaw trembled slightly. Seeing that sorrowful expression made Sveta’s chest ache.

‘I love you, Beth. Enough that I would die in your place. But do you love me—even a little?’

Sveta moved unsteadily towards the window, lifting her gaze to the white sky. Snow fell endlessly.

She focused on the largest snowflake. It drifted down and settled on the head of the knight standing below her window, keeping watch over her.

Raising her head again, she stared blankly into the empty air. As she did so, she carefully retraced her memory of Beth from the past.

***

The leather doll had started to think.

Sveta, the usually stoic girl, had begun to act like a mistress. It drove Beth nearly mad.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Beth tapped her heel against the floor in restless agitation.

“I never expected that wretch to act like this.”

The Duke’s mistress already had a tarnished reputation. There was no need to further damage her reputation — she was already isolated enough.

She had once been a cold-hearted slave who obeyed only her. Because of that, they had managed to preserve something resembling their old relationship.

But lately, it seemed that she had found someone else to lean on. Beth could not shake the feeling that Sveta was slipping away from her.

When Sveta threw herself to the floor, Beth caught a flicker of guilt in her wide eyes.

“She’s still soft and weak, so why does this feel so unsettling…?”

Beth thought frantically, gnawing at her chapped fingertips.

Where had things started to go wrong?

When exactly had it happened?

Suddenly, she was struck by a memory from her childhood: the moment she had decided to tame the leather doll.

Unlike her handsome but slow-witted father, Beth’s mother, Hisendra, had been wise.

“In Muwieo, there are many mystical creatures. People tame them and train them to perform tricks. Do you know how they tame them?”

When Beth turned ten, her mother had abruptly begun speaking of animals.

Beth disliked animals—but she liked Muwieo. She pricked up her ears at once.

“With a whip and an orange.”

“So that makes me the whip, and our daughter the orange, is that it?”

Her father, seated beside them, suddenly inserted himself into the conversation.

“What does that mean, Father?”

“It means you must educate them properly from a young age. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

Eager for her mother’s praise, her father straightened his shoulders and beamed at her.

In response to his sweet smile, her mother let out a helpless sigh. Then she drew her daughter into her arms and said gently,

“Your slave—treat her well. There are countless ways to tease someone while appearing kind.”

“But Mother, she’s a filthy slave. How can I treat her well? She’s not even a person.”

“Think of it as something that will make you a better person.”

It was difficult to believe, but Beth nodded anyway.

Her father said that giving the slave an orange would suffice.

“Mother seemed to mean something deeper than that…”

Nevertheless, Beth tried to do as she had been told.

Mother was clever. Father was simple. But sometimes, Father was right. After all, it was his idea to let the slave child live.

In any case, Beth followed his advice and gave the slave an orange.

The slave became obedient.

At the slightest hint from Beth, the girl would leap to obey — she looked as though she would even give her life.

“One day, if your life is ever in danger, you must abandon your name and live.”

“Mother, why would you say something so frightening? And why would I die? There’s someone who would die in my place.”

“Even if you must cast aside your name and your pride, survive. Only then will there come a chance to do something.”

At the time, her mother must have sensed that Zloytan was on the verge of collapse. The memory of her brought a sheen of sorrow to Beth’s eyes.

However, the moment a single tear escaped, that sorrow turned to rage.

“I abandoned my pride—but I never thought discarding my name would be this hard.”

Sneaking into the duke’s estate was undoubtedly the wisest choice.

Both the royal families of Prisada and Teris had lost children on “Bloody Saturday.” So too had the noble houses that mourned their dead from that day. And the remnants of Zloytan—those who had cut ties with Father—were there as well.

The duke’s estate was the safest place of all, beyond the reach of all of them.

Not to mention the slave who would leap into boiling water at her command.

If she could lure the girl to her death, Beth Gould would vanish and she would finally be free.

But Sveta, that wretched slave, simply refused to die. Her life was revoltingly long.

‘Now that I think about it, she’s always been stubborn.’

Even when beaten, she rarely cried. She hid herself well, slipping into corners like a rat. And—

“I never imagined she would truly escape.”

The plan had been to let her run, and then capture her. It was such a pleasure to watch her beautiful eyes fill with despair.

However, her mother died suddenly that day, which delayed the pursuit. The girl fled in that brief window of opportunity.

“Yes… come to think of it, she’s always been lucky.”

She became the adopted daughter of a baron. She caught the duke’s attention and became his mistress. Every step of it had been sheer luck.

Even the fact that the duke had chosen to cherish her instead of killing her when he discovered her true identity felt like a gift from the heavens.

Had she known events would unfold this way, she might have tried to capture the duke’s interest from the outset.

Jewels. Sweet perfumes. Precious oils.

A life of comfort, surrounded by beautiful things, had been within her reach — yet none of it had belonged to her.

“Why? Why does everything go right for her?”

Beth swallowed her boiling fury and lowered her gaze to her mangled, bite-marked fingertips.

Her current situation was unbearably humiliating.

Yesterday afternoon, Amy had gone straight to the head maid.

“Milady said she wouldn’t tell the Duke, but I thought the head maid should know.”

Despite being nothing more than a maid, Beka was punished immediately for causing a noble lady discomfort.

Her wages were docked for a month. She was also given the task of washing clothes in cold water.

“Why not just t*rture me outright? Making me wash clothes in freezing water in the middle of winter—and docking my pay on top of it!”

Two months ago, she had spent every coin she had saved to help Sveta escape.

Back then, she had thought of it as the price of a life and had not begrudged it. But now—

“Hic… this is unbearable. I’ve become nothing but a beggar.”

Why did she have to endure this?

Where was her father, who had left her behind like this?

Feeling sorry for herself, Beth wept in broken sobs. Her miserable cries echoed through the cold bedroom.

***

The guard, dozing against the stone wall, jolted awake.

Heavy footsteps broke the corridor’s frozen stillness, carrying with them the chill of midwinter.

“Your Grace.”

The Duke tilted his chin in his characteristic gesture—a command to open the cell door.

“Yes, at once.”

The guard hurried to the key cabinet at the end of the corridor and took out a large key.

He used it to unlock the heavy padlock. Then he took a smaller key from his waistband and turned it in the secondary lock below.

The door creaked open, and the duke stepped inside without hesitation.

“Break it.”

“Pardon?”

“His ankle.”

The tone was calm and almost detached — a far cry from the command.

The guard blinked.

The duke’s dry, emotionless gaze rested on the prisoner. Jace Gould.

Yawning widely, Gould exhaled a cloud of mist and slowly pushed himself upright.

“Breaking my ankle won’t kill me, Your Grace.”

His voice was inexplicably cheerful, utterly out of place.

“But you will feel pain.”

“Pain, you say… Are you in pain now, Your Grace?”

“……”

Jace Gould let out a low, chittering laugh.

The long scar Aiden had carved into him last spring writhed across his cheek like a living insect.

“Do you know why I killed Your Grace’s sister?”