Creak, click. The doors on either side of the bath closed, leaving only the two of them within the stone walls. Malyn sank into the tub until the water reached her chin, pulling her knees close as she sat, and then gave Layla an order.

“Please wash me.”

If Anessa had seen this scene, she would have worn a very strange expression. A princess showing respect to her own maid—how unusual. Yet whenever Malyn was alone with Layla, she always treated her with respect. The reason was simple: Malyn was well aware that Layla could hardly bear the situation of having to serve her.

If Malyn were to treat Layla harshly, perhaps even kick her, Layla would eventually resign herself to it and take care of her without complaint. But Malyn didn’t want that. Giving up and getting used to things was far too easy.

That respectful treatment, born purely out of spite toward the princess raised in luxury, might sometimes bring Layla moments of humiliation. In a situation where everyone turned away from her and treated her poorly, the only one who showed her respect was also the one who suggested they switch roles.

Perhaps, at times, that made it even harder for Layla to endure.

Thinking this, Malyn looked up at Layla. With a detached expression, Layla approached, knelt beside the tub, rolled up her sleeves and dipped her hands into the water. This was the third time Layla had bathed her.

By now Layla seemed to be quite used to it and with her warm hands she took a sponge, soaked it in water and then rubbed it with salt. She worked the coarse salt lightly into her palms so it wouldn’t scratch Malyn’s skin. The actions seemed routine, but Malyn knew that Layla’s true feelings weren’t as indifferent as they seemed.

Malyn could tell because Layla’s ears – and the ankles visible at the hem of her kneeling dress – were flushed bright red.

Malyn looked down at Layla, who was carefully scrubbing her upper arm, then lifted her arm. Her white, wet br*asts rose above the warm water. Layla caught a glimpse of Malyn’s br*asts, still bearing the bruised handprints from the Veldam King’s rough grip the night before, and quickly lowered her head to concentrate on soaking the sponge with salt oil. Keeping her head down, she slowly moved the sponge over Malyn’s br*asts.

The fact that Layla now had to wash another woman’s br*asts – something so intimate and humiliating – was evident in her reddened ears, which had turned dark, almost black. Seeing this, Malyn suddenly felt mischievous.

“It hurts.”

Malyn whispered softly. Layla jumped, startled by Malyn’s breath on her ear. When Layla turned her head slightly, Malyn smiled weakly. Their faces were very close and Layla was so startled that she tried to pull away. But Malyn ignored her reaction and reached out with her arm.

She reached for the container of salt oil on the floor, barely able to touch it. Despite her surprise, Layla dutifully picked it up and offered it to Malyn. She seemed to have regained some consciousness. Malyn took a small amount of salt oil and rubbed it between her hands before pulling Layla’s hand closer.

“This has to be rubbed in gently with your hands so it doesn’t hurt.”

Malyn said quietly.

“…”

“You wouldn’t know since you’ve always bathed alone, Princess.”

Malyn gently rubbed the salt oil onto the back of Layla’s hand, the faint sound of the salt grains dissolving into the oil creating a soft, scratchy noise. Amidst this sound, Malyn slipped her fingers between Layla’s, rubbing their hands together.

Princess Layla slightly furrowed her brow. Understandably so—her hands had become surprisingly rough over the past month and a half. Though Layla had once led a sheltered life in the kitchen pantry in Dion, she had never done a single hard chore. Now, however, she had been going to the stables to feed the horses and scrubbing the stone floors herself.

Malyn’s room had an exceptionally large and thick carpet. Rolling it up and scrubbing the stone floor with a cloth soaked in cold water was no easy task. Layla, unaccustomed to such labor, endured it in silence, determined to fulfill her role as Malyn’s maid.

Though the oil served as a smooth lubricant, rubbing the salt into the cracked skin on the back of Layla’s hand must have stung. Nevertheless, Malyn continued to move her fingers slowly until all the salt she had taken had dissolved into Layla’s skin. She pressed her fingertips into the creases between Layla’s fingers, massaging in slow circles across her palm, moving her hand round and round.

As Malyn brushed her thumb slowly over the back of Layla’s hand, she glanced at Layla’s face. Layla’s long eyelashes quivered as she stared at her own hand, almost entranced. Malyn wondered what Layla must feel—witnessing a gesture that, once upon a time, she might have received herself or had become so accustomed to that it felt dull and ordinary.

Naturally, Malyn’s playful intent didn’t end there. Once she felt the oil had thoroughly softened Layla’s roughened hand, Malyn guided it into the warm water, washing it with a gentle splash. And then—

“…!”

This time Layla actually gasped, pulling her hand back in panic. Malyn had brought her hand to rest on her bare br*ast. The sudden movement sent water splashing and Layla’s fingernails left a red scratch across Malyn’s right br*ast. Clutching her own hand in confusion, Layla stared at Malyn’s br*ast, her face flushed.

“I-I have committed an unforgivable sin…”

“It’s fine. Don’t bow.”

Enough, get up. Though she couldn’t say it exactly the way the princess had once spoken to her, Malyn came as close as she could. Even in that haughty tone, Layla didn’t react as she usually did. She seemed particularly upset that she had hurt Malyn.

This is hardly a wound.

Malyn rested her chin on the edge of the tub, thinking of the various scars on her knees, soles of her feet, br*asts and b*ttocks, and said:

“Rub gently with your hands and wash me. You should hurry.”

“…”

“The water is getting cold.”

“I will bring more hot water…”

“If you go and fetch more now and I catch a cold in the meantime, you’ll end up sleeping in a cold room with the other maids.”

Layla’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she gave up and reached for the container of salt oil.

“…I have never done this before, so I may be clumsy.”

“I’ve had enough of your clumsiness for a month.”

Malyn said with a smile, adjusting her posture to make it easier for Layla to wash her. She tapped the edge of the tub behind her.

“It will be more comfortable to sit here while you wash me. Squatting like that only gets your clothes wet and makes you dizzy.”

“Thank you.”

Layla hesitated, then picked up the container of salt and oil and sat on the edge of the tub. Malyn lifted her chin, looking up at Layla sitting behind her. Layla’s expression was uncomfortable, clearly nervous. Of course, she had only just realized that she would have to bathe Malyn as if she were practically embracing her from behind.

“Um…”

“Start behind the ears, then down the neck to the shoulders.”

Malyn interrupted Layla, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead. On the wall in front of her was a beautifully carved golden fish. Whoever had built Veldam’s castle seemed to have a fondness for gold decorations.

Layla seemed to gather her strength, carefully scooping up the salt oil and rubbing it between her palms to dissolve it before gently massaging behind Malyn’s ears. Layla’s long, slender hands easily cupped Malyn’s neck and she quickly found the right amount of pressure. Although it was the same neck she was holding, it felt very different to the King’s grip – gentle, cautious and unthreatening.