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Chapter 7
Three days later, Madam Emillern came to see El again.
“Did you memorize it all?”
There was a faint trace of irritation and displeasure in Madam Emillern’s voice.
Since she had left on the first day with such a pleasant face, El found her sudden change bewildering.
“Yes. I memorized everything.”
Madam Emillern’s eyes narrowed.
From the beginning, it had been an excessive amount of homework. Even Madam Emillern had known that.
It was merely an assignment meant as a kind of aptitude test.
But to hear that El had memorized it all—Madam Emillern spoke coldly.
“El. You mustn’t lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I didn’t give you that work because I thought you could finish it. I just wanted to see how far you could get if you tried your best.”
At that moment, Ena came in and placed a thick stack of papers in front of El.
“Thank you,” El said, offering her gratitude. Ena, expressionless, gave a slight nod in return.
Watching that, Madam Emillern shook her head.
“El.”
“Yes?”
“You mustn’t show gratitude to servants. If they grow arrogant, it becomes difficult to break them back into obedience later.”
“But, I…”
Honestly, El had no reason to look down on Ena. She wasn’t a noble, nor did she hold any position or rank.
She was simply a guest in this mansion, staying for who knows how long—nothing more.
“Yes, you’re not a noble yet. But a noble’s mistress is practically a lesser noble herself. Depending on who your companion is, a noble’s prestige and honor can change. So be mindful.”
“……?”
Mistress?
She had never heard anything like that before.
Of course, if someone of high standing had pitied her, at most they would have given her a warm meal and sent her away.
But to be giving her money every month, hiring her a tutor, and filling her room with fine clothes…
…So that’s what this was.
In the slums, a pretty face could be either a blessing or a curse.
For El, it had always been a curse. That’s why she spent her whole life hiding it—wearing drab clothes, smudging her face with dirt.
That was how she had lived. Better to survive with wild beasts in the forest than ever offer her body and soul to nobles.
If she were to stay true to that conviction, she should have stood up and left right now.
“……”
El let out a faint laugh as she picked up the white sheet of paper. She found herself ridiculous, as if she had already cast aside those convictions.
Madam Emillern, pushing aside her unpleasant suspicions, fixed her gaze on El’s fingertips.
Caron had never shared all his plans with her.
But if she knew his nature at all, she doubted he had brought El here out of genuine affection. El was no mistress—of that she was certain.
Caron must have had another purpose.
And that made it all the more frightening. From the nuance in his words, it seemed this rustic-looking girl might one day stand on equal ground with the Imperial family.
It was a possibility Madam Emillern did not even want to imagine.
Quickly shaking away her wandering thoughts, she focused on what El was writing. Soon, she had to cover her mouth in shock.
“That’s… impossible…”
El was copying the text from the book exactly, as if she were drawing a picture.
The author’s note, the preface, the table of contents, the content itself, and even the tiny page numbers at the bottom.
It wasn’t her mind that hurt but her arm. Every so often, El massaged her wrist and shook her hand before continuing to write.
In disbelief, Madam Emillern grabbed the book and compared it against El’s work.
It was identical. Not a single deviation.
Now the only sound in the room was the scratching of the pen.
And when the pen finally stopped, El had completed an entire book.
Her blurred eyes lifted toward the window. The deep crimson of the setting sun had filled the sky.
Suddenly, El felt her face go cold.
The last few days had been grueling. She had practically recreated an entire heavy book word for word.
It was strange—realizing one could grow exhausted from something other than hunger.
“H-how can this be…!”
“I kept my promise, teacher.”
El gave a faint smile—then staggered heavily.
Madam Emillern stared at her as though she had seen a ghost, then hurriedly gathered her things and fled. The noble Madam Emillern, running away in fear.
She went straight to Caron.
“D-Duke!”
“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Caron, still working, didn’t even glance at her as he flipped through his papers. His voice carried a faint, joking lilt.
The butler beside him let out a silent sigh.
He knew all too well—when Caron spoke as if joking, it meant he was already displeased.
But Madam Emillern, oblivious, shouted in panic.
“You must cast her out immediately!”
“What?”
Only then did Caron’s sharp eyes lift from his documents to her.
Madam Emillern, almost breathless, jabbed her finger toward the door.
“She’s dangerous! That girl is dangerous!”
It felt as though something overwhelming, something beyond what a lifelong noblewoman could ever handle, had pressed down upon her.
“Your voice is too loud,” Caron replied flatly, returning to his papers.
“She memorized The History of the Empire in just three days! Word for word, with page numbers and illustration placements! She must be interrogated at once! She must have been sent by them!”
Madam Emillern was nearly screaming.
The sight of her desperately pleading while the Duke carried on his work, detached and unmoved, looked almost like a ridiculous stage play.
“I beg you. Abandon that child, Duke! She is useless! I don’t know how you intended to make use of her, but she is far too dangerous. Please, do not be deceived by that innocent-looking face!”
She lowered her head, sobbing.
She had been one of the Duke’s loyal supporters. Having witnessed his childhood, Madam Emillern detested the idea of any threat existing near him.
“Duke… Choose another child instead…”
“Is that all you wished to say?”
“Duke!”
“What I hear is that you believe I cannot make use of that child.”
“T-that’s not what I—”
“Leave. And teach El properly. She must be ready to present at the Harvest Festival.”
Madam Emillern looked as though she wanted to argue further, but at last, defeated, she staggered out of the office.
At the same time, after Madam Emillern left, Ena sensed something was wrong and discovered El collapsed.
She quickly carried her to bed and wiped her cold body down.
After some time, El’s long lashes fluttered, and her brown eyes opened.
“My lady! You’re awake?”
The first thing El did upon opening her eyes was scan her surroundings.
Thankfully, the Duke wasn’t there.
“Thank you…”
“I’ll fetch the master right away—”
“Wait!”
El shot up and grabbed Ena’s arm, swaying with dizziness.
“Don’t tell the Duke.”
Ena’s face slowly stiffened as she looked at her.
“My lady, within this household, you are an honored guest.”
“…I know.”
“Wouldn’t it be best to have the physician examine you?”
“I really am fine. I just need to rest a bit. I guess it’s tiring, studying for the first time.”
El hastily waved her hands and rattled off excuses.
Ena erased her incredulous expression, but her face soon clouded with concern. She bit her lip hard.
“My lady.”
“Yes?”
Though El spoke informally, her manner was overly deferential—bordering on servile. It was obvious she hadn’t interacted with people much before.
Her eyes avoided direct contact, her expression was awkward, her shoulders hunched, and her bows were excessive.
Unable to hold back, Ena spoke as calmly as she could.
“This is the Duke of Feyros’ estate.”
“I know.”
“If the Duke declares you an honored guest, then even if you were a weasel, we would serve you with our utmost sincerity.”
“……”
“I’ll bring you some restorative herbs. Please allow at least that.”
Apparently, being the Duke’s “honored guest” carried more weight than El had realized.
This entire household served only the Duke. His word was absolute.
To El, too, Caron was not merely a master—he was something beyond that.
If he had taken her as a mistress, it would have almost made more sense, considering how much he had already given her.
“…Thank you, Ena.”
“Please rest. I’ll be right back.”
After Ena left, El lay back down. Her head was still spinning, sweat dampened her skin, and her face was ice cold.
Yet a smile crept onto her lips. By completing her assignment, she had earned a little more time in this mansion.
Even if the Duke had declared her a “guest,” in any conflict between a commoner and a noble, the commoner would always be punished—no matter the noble’s crime.
And for a woman of the slums, with no name or lineage, just a single word from Madam Emillern could mean death.
Keep your head down. Never provoke them.
That was El’s way of surviving among nobles.
(To be continued in the next chapter)
