“Are you insane?”

Despite the scathing outburst from Bainti, Meiana didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Standing with her arms crossed, she looked down her nose at her.

“Didn’t catch that? Care to repeat?”

The color drained and then flushed back into Bainti’s face at Meiana’s words.

“Hey, why do I have to work in the east wing?”

“Because the Count said so.”

“You manipulated this behind the scenes, didn’t you? How can this be the Count’s will?”

Though complaining and pointing fingers, Bainti deftly lowered her voice at just the right moment. She glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before whispering the title “the Count.”

‘She’s crafty, but I need someone like her who’s quick-witted and observant. Especially among the maids, it’s better if she has some influence. While also being moderately….’

Meiana thought.

For a moment, she seemed to hesitate in front of Bainti. True, Bainti was cunning and had many tricks, but in critical moments she got emotional, thoughtless, and foolish. Hence, she couldn’t escape Meiana’s calculated foresight.

When Meiana closed her mouth, Bainti grew even more anxious, her face turning ashen. Quite a change from her first day at the mansion when she had been so rude.

Yet, Meiana had no intention of exacting revenge for that. As long as Bainti was useful in the future, she was willing to overlook it. Absolutely…

“If I manipulated the Count to make you serve the Countess… don’t you find that strange, Bainti? What do you think will happen if I report this conversation to Head Butler Joslyn?”

“It would obviously be you…!”

“You’ll be the one first. Right? According to you, the Count has no will or spine and relies entirely on a no-name maid like me. Did you really mean that?”

“Lower your voice!”

Terrified, Bainti tried to forcefully cover Meiana’s mouth. But Meiana slapped her hand away.

“Ah!”

“You’d better not think about using force with me. Not unless you’ve carried two or three siblings at once from the farm with your straw sandals.”

Now the momentum was entirely on Meiana’s side. Bainti had reached the point where she had no choice but to accept that she had to work in the east wing, whether she liked it or not, as per either Meiana’s or officially Sedilroy’s will.

“Why does it have to be me?”

But Bainti couldn’t help grumbling one last time.

“Don’t you know? You’ve seen Grete, haven’t you?”

Meanwhile, Grete, who had helped Joslyn to her room, had no idea what had happened.

“Bu, Butler… just, uh, made it to the bed.”

Grete was weak. Exceptionally so for a maid, and her stamina didn’t improve no matter how much work she did.

Though she was frail, she believed it was because she had noble blood. She believed the blood flowing through her was different from the commoners who grew robust from hard work.

True or not, and whether it comforted Grete or not, it was certain that she was of no help in moving Joslyn, who was almost unconscious.

After finally rolling Joslyn onto the bed, Grete collapsed on the wooden floor. As if drained of all energy, she felt like she could cry.
“Dammit! Dammit! Why do I have to do this? Why do I have to exert so much effort moving this old woman!”

No one had ever instructed Grete to move Joslyn. When Joslyn was about to collapse, Grete didn’t know why she was running toward her. It was purely instinctual. However, she swore that within that instinctual movement, there was no sympathy for Joslyn.

“Water…”

Lying on the bed, Joslyn spoke in a cracked voice. The sound was so dreadful that Grete feared Joslyn might die right then and there.

“Water.”

But Grete’s apprehension vanished in an instant. The second voice was just like Joslyn’s usual tone, just slightly weaker.

Joslyn, now turned on her back, glared with all her might at Grete, who was sitting stupidly on the floor. If she had enough strength to lift her arm, she would use it not to drink water but to slap Grete’s face.

Wretched woman, Grete thought. She hurriedly rubbed her eyes and stood up. Then she tilted the jug sitting on the worn vanity and filled a cup halfway before handing it to Joslyn.

“Here you go, madam. Please drink…”

“Don’t you think you should bring a spoon, you idiot?”

Joslyn snapped, still lying down. Grete felt the urge to spill all the water on her face but restrained herself. She returned to the vanity and spotted a scratched but still shiny silver teaspoon.

‘Did she steal this? Unbelievable,’ Grete thought.

Grete then very slowly spooned water into Joslyn’s mouth, wiping near her lips with an apron when it seemed she dribbled.

After finishing the water, Joslyn finally appeared to clear her head a bit, letting out a long sigh. There was no word of thanks to Grete.

“So, madam… I should be going now…”

“Stop right there.”

Grete’s body jolted as she was about to quickly make her exit. She turned back, her face teary, and Joslyn wore a pleased smile. Her face seemed more wrinkled due to her weakened state.

“You’re a maid from the east wing, aren’t you?”

“Yes, madam…”

“Follow my instructions and I can recommend a promotion to His Grace. Of course, you’ll earn more money. Stick it out for a few years and you can buy back your lowly family’s lineage.”

While saying this, Joslyn’s eyes clearly held mockery. Grete felt shame pouring over her like a waterfall. It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of refuse on her and she could do nothing but take it.

“You might even regain your family’s status. Isn’t it so? Just having the title of nobility can easily win you a man. Innocent faces like yours can be more conniving than streetwalkers. I’ve seen it plenty of times. Gullible young noblemen falling for such tricks. Of course, a girl from the Balterminster family will live a different life. Suitors will flock to her name without her lifting a finger. Tsk, tsk…”

Grete’s shoulders were shuddering. Her entire small frame seemed to shake as a wheezing sound escaped her lips. Joslyn glanced up at the red-eyed Grete and wore a mocking smile with her sallow face.
“Why the fuss? Crying over something so trivial? Thought you might be useful, but turns out you’re just good for wiping windows.”

“What on earth do you want me to do?”

Jocelyn’s face slowly moved. Greta’s face was flushed as if she was about to burst into tears, but not a single drop fell. Her small, widened eyes seemed to be boiling with anger rather than sorrow or misery.

In truth, at that moment, Greta was holding back the urge to strangle Jocelyn with all her might. She wanted to kill Jocelyn, Ariante, Meiana, Bainti, and every other human being she couldn’t stand.

Except for Sedilroy von Balterminster, that one man.

And Jocelyn seemed to peer right into Greta’s mind as if reading an open book. There was never an easier prey or puppet. She had always been good at manipulating puppets.

“Come closer if you want to hear me.”

Greta hesitated for a moment but eventually approached Jocelyn as instructed. Jocelyn turned her stiff shoulders and reached into an old pillow, pulling out a rustling piece of paper. It was a note.

“Go to the address written here and say I sent you. Take whatever the owner gives you without asking questions.”

“And then what?”

“Once you successfully obtain the item, I’ll tell you what to do next. Remember, this can’t leak to anyone. Especially not to that impudent wench, Meiana. Understand?”

Suddenly frightened, Greta looked down at the note in her palm. Whether it was wine or something else, a dark stain wet the corner of the very old note. And it had a very short phrase written on it.

Negrian was an address in a neighboring village just beyond the boundaries of the duchy. Unconsciously clutching the note tightly, Greta looked at Jocelyn, gasping for breath.

Her face was as cold and lifeless as a stone. She looked less like a person and more like a devil.