ECMP 13

Chapter 13

The Essence of Dignity

The head butler, Ain, was twenty-eight years old and had only been working at this estate for five years.

So, in a sense, this was his first time meeting Anastasia, who had been locked away in the tower for ten years.

Fortunately, Ain was quick-witted. From the hints—“hair like melted gold and deep blue eyes resembling lapis lazuli”—he was able to guess her identity.

The massive Saden knight who had been stirring up the estate lately, and the fourth chair he had never seen before.

‘…So he claims to be not the duke’s knight, but the young lady’s knight.’

Soon, a chair belonging to the ducal family—its backrest absurdly high—shifted.

Anastasia looked at him with those deep blue eyes.

“Is there a problem?”

“…None. It is my first time meeting you, my lady. I am Ain, the head butler.”

“The head butler?”

Was there such a position?

Anastasia searched her memory. Before Enoch had been demoted, the position had been chief steward. She didn’t recall there being a “head butler.”

Then Ain quickly added,

“It is a temporary title, my lady. I am still too young and inexperienced to bear the title of chief steward.”

“Ah… I see.”

The black-haired young man bowed his head. His eyes were dark brown, and though he had a fine appearance, his slender build didn’t inspire much confidence.

“This is good timing. A maid has been selected to replace Diana, who was dismissed.”

That was good news. Anastasia blinked slowly.

A sign that he could continue.

“Her name is Tris. She previously worked for the Count Gerlant family and came with a letter of recommendation from their head steward.”

The Count Gerlant family was prestigious. A recommendation from there was enough to trust and employ someone.

But assigning such a person as her personal maid?

Anastasia frowned slightly.

“…Is there something you find displeasing?”

“No. Not that. But now, all of a sudden, you assign me a proper maid?”

Having struck the core of the matter, Ain quickly adjusted his expression.

“…The reason for her change of employment is quite clear.”

“And what would that be?”

“They say Sir Enoch is her grandfather.”

Sir Enoch…

Long before she was born, Enoch had once saved Duke Étrangère during a territorial war.

Back when he was a renowned swordsman of the north.

For some reason, he had chosen to be satisfied with the position of a butler, even wishing not to be addressed with the title “sir”… but by status, he was still a non-hereditary minor noble—a knight.

“…I see.”

She had entrusted Enoch with selecting her new personal maid.

He must have found it difficult to choose someone trustworthy. Perhaps he thought it best to bring in family instead.

But to bring his own granddaughter…

If she were to become the maid of someone treated poorly in the ducal house, her treatment wouldn’t be… very good.

“Alright. You may go.”

“Um… if I may be so bold, the chair in the reception room…”

“After the meal, I’ll have the servants move it.”

“Thank you.”

With that, Ain bowed deeply and withdrew.

It was only after that that Artorius spoke.

“…After I became a monster, I gained several things I could never obtain as a human.”

Anastasia pushed aside her empty plate, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and looked at him.

He wasn’t wrong.

He had gained the abyss, the will to wield it, immense power, the experience of long years, and a monstrous appearance.

And he had gained her.

“Let us rise, Anastasia.”

Artorius stood first and pulled out her chair.

“Yes.”

As she stood, the maids hurriedly cleared the table.

Their faces were pale with fear.

The reason became clear the moment Anastasia turned around.

“…What are you doing here?”

Duke Étrangère stood there with his wife, his eldest daughter, and his youngest son.

Anastasia shrugged as if they weren’t even worth responding to.

“H-how insolent!”

Duchess Cecilia Étrangère frowned and pointed at her, while the duke stood silently with a hardened expression.

Then Zenis Étrangère stepped forward.

“This is too great a fault to overlook, little sister.”

Her voice was gentle and soft, as always.

Anastasia raised an eyebrow and replied,

“They say covering a subordinate’s faults with tolerance is the dignity of a noble, sister. Congratulations on losing yours.”

It wasn’t that Anastasia couldn’t win against Zenis with words.

She had simply believed for a long time that she shouldn’t.

Until the moment her so-called father slit her wrist and collected her blood as she lay dying.

“The one who lost dignity is you, Anastasia.”

Zenis narrowed her eyes and shot back.

“The Anastasia I remember from a few days ago was a dignified lady of the ducal house—obedient to father, never daring to defy him, and faithfully observing long-standing traditions and rules.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Anastasia, small and thin, wearing pajamas and fur slippers, stood in stark contrast to Zenis, tall and well-built in a dress and heels.

“But now, you’re nothing more than a vulgar brat wandering the estate in sleepwear. Isn’t that right?”

Anastasia glanced sideways at the grandfather clock pointing to 9 a.m.

“Really? So your dignity comes from dressing up in a gown with the help of maids from early morning.”

Zenis raised an eyebrow, not understanding the hidden meaning.

“Or does it come from that empty head of yours that can’t even grasp a simple insult?”

“…You.”

As her sister clenched her teeth, Anastasia narrowed her eyes and smiled faintly.

“Unlike you, I don’t need a dress to feel dignified.”

Zenis’s hand flew toward Anastasia’s cheek.

Smack!

But she failed.

Artorius had blocked her wrist.

“…How dare a mere knight!”

Zenis raged, but Artorius didn’t budge.

Instead, he leaned his grotesque helmet—glowing with eerie blue light—close to her face.

Zenis instinctively stepped back four paces.

“…How rude!”

Aslan shouted from behind but didn’t dare step forward.

To Anastasia, it all felt like a farce.

“At the next ball, why not just dress up a mannequin? It can display your dignity just as well.”

She passed by her sister with a mocking remark and stopped in front of Aslan, looking up at him.

His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, yet no one stopped him.

That was her position in this household.

Anastasia placed her hand over his and pushed the partially drawn blade back into its sheath.

The reason Aslan couldn’t draw it fully was simple—

Behind her stood Artorius, staring at him like a demon risen from hell.

“And… aren’t you the last one who should be talking about manners, Aslan?”

“W-what do you mean…?”

“Who draws a sword in front of their elder sister? Is that how your parents taught you about hierarchy?”

The duke and duchess bristled but fell silent.

A golden osmanthus blade had appeared in Anastasia’s left hand and was lightly pressing against Aslan’s throat.

“Unfortunately, I was never taught anything by the two of you.”

She said it quietly, as if she already knew what they would say.

Then she raised her voice toward the gathered maids.

“So then… if there are any maids here who were taught the same ‘incorrect hierarchy’ as Aslan, step forward. I’ll personally teach you.”

The golden blade dissolved into petals.

As she turned, her golden hair fluttered.

And every maid bowed deeply beneath her deep blue gaze.

“…You’ve grown quite bold, Anastasia.”

The duke growled.

The old Anastasia would have trembled, afraid of being locked back in the tower.

But not anymore.

“Of course. If you became a ‘real mage’ like me instead of a ‘pathetic fake one,’ you might feel a bit bolder too.”

The duke’s veins bulged, but he had no reply.

“You’d better use the blood in that orb sparingly. It won’t be easy to get more.”

With that final remark, Anastasia left the dining hall with Artorius.

Silence followed.

A long silence that lasted until her slippers could no longer be heard.

“…Head Butler Ain.”

The duke spoke quietly. Ain had already returned to his side.

“You called, Your Grace.”

“Gather the servants and nail Anastasia’s door shut. It seems it’s time to remind her who truly owns this estate.”