ILIOTS 12

Chapter 12

I hadn’t so much as scratched Johan’s body, but merely threatening him with a sharp weapon was enough to sever every tie with the duke’s family.

Luckily for me, the power of the crown and the nobility wasn’t what it used to be; real authority lay with the parliament and cabinet. In older times, a single incident like that could have ruined a house overnight.

At least, that’s what the servants whispered. I hadn’t intended to bring my family to ruin. I only did what I had to: that damned Johan had tried to harm me first, and I’d acted in self-defense.

But the count wouldn’t listen to my explanation. He’d invested time and money into raising a girl he believed could become a fine match — someone to secure the family’s future — and instead she’d returned not only stealing the duke’s favor but disgracing the family name. That thought had completely unhinged him.

I was no longer a lady. The count didn’t acknowledge me as his daughter. Well, did he ever truly think of me as a cherished daughter in the first place? I doubted it. He summoned me at the slightest annoyance and beat me until his anger was spent.

After being kicked and beaten down on the floor and curling up into a ball, I was locked away in a cramped place. He was quite creative. He confined me in the attic, in the closet for cleaning supplies, and at one point even shoved me beneath the floorboards.

Lying beneath a nailed-down floorboard, my body a ruin, I did not cry. My whole body ached — that was true — but the pain did not break me. Instead, I became very calm and composed.

If you asked whether I regretted my choice the day I threatened the duke, I would answer without hesitation: not for a second. I had not regretted it at all.

I had succeeded in protecting myself. I had terrified a large man who tried to harm me, and I had freed myself from his grasp. I was proud of myself.

New wounds appeared on my body one by one, but I didn’t care. This was the consequence of my choice. At least being beaten wasn’t the worst thing anymore.

The count’s family seemed intent on letting me waste away slowly and painfully. Whenever I was close to losing consciousness they would miraculously notice and pull me out, feeding me crumbs of bread and a tiny amount of water.

It seemed they wanted to torment me in their own way. Perhaps they wanted me to spend every night crying in remorse. But the more they tormented me, the clearer my mind became.

Having the experience of choosing my fate with my own will rather than submitting to what others demanded made me tenacious.

I wanted to live. Even if only to spite the duke and my father who treated me like property, I had to live. The fact that they wanted me dead only reinforced my resolve.

If the duke couldn’t hurt me, the count couldn’t either.

I had escaped the iron grip of a madman.

No one could force my destiny on me or harm me again.

Once you bash the cage door in and come out, you realize how narrow and suffocating the inside was. I decided I would never go back into a cage.

Still, I did not regret my choice.

Being trapped mostly under the floorboards meant I learned a lot of things. For example, I found out a new, inexperienced maid had been hired.

I always listened closely to the servants. The new maid’s name was Roxy. Roxy Martin. She was eighteen, with five younger sisters and a younger brother. It looked like she had become a maid in order to feed the poor siblings and send them to school.

Roxy did not know I existed. My name was taboo inside the mansion. Only a handful of people who had orders knew about me.

I realized this was an opportunity.

Although the space under the floor was narrow, it was perfect for planning. In a few days I learned Roxy’s schedule and movements: when she started work, when she worked, and when she was likely to have a moment alone.

As the sun faded and evening fell, most of the maids left for the day or went to rest. Roxy had a habit of humming to herself. Whenever I heard that hum, I forced myself to think sad thoughts and coax a few tears out.

Hearing my sobs, Roxy stopped singing.

“Is someone there?”

I made a crying sound, and in a voice wet with tears I called to her.

“Sister….”

There was a sound of sharp inhalation from above. Roxy, who had been pressing her ear to the floor to listen to me, asked in a trembling voice.

“Who is it down there?”

“Sister, please help me.”

“How did you get in there? W-what should I do? I’ll call someone, so please just wait a little?”

“No one will help me. I am being punished.”

“What?”

“I did something wrong, but… I’m so cold and weak. I think I’ll die like this. Could you please get me out for just a moment? Please….”

Just as I expected, Roxy couldn’t ignore me. She was too kind to pass by and not help a younger girl who was crying and begging.

The eighteen-year-old who had taken the job to support her siblings did not disappoint me.

“J-just wait! I’ll find something to pry up the boards with.”

Roxy whispered to me and ran off somewhere. I waited, my heart tight. After a few minutes the footfalls I’d heard going away came back near. I heard Roxy working to pry the nails loose with a tool.

Finally, I saw Roxy’s face framed by bright moonlight, looking down at me.

“Are you all right?”

I was thin, my face streaked with tears. I didn’t need to perform like an actress — I already looked pitiable. Roxy felt sorry for me.

She didn’t ask what crime I had committed. She likely assumed a shabby girl like me couldn’t have done anything so terrible. I kept my mouth shut and wiped my tears, reinforcing Roxy’s belief.

There was no reason to tell her that I was actually the count’s natural daughter who had threatened Duke Meyer with a shard of glass.

Half of what kept me alive was my own effort, but it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say the other half was thanks to Roxy. She secretly helped me even though she knew if she was caught she would be punished.

I felt a little guilty that I was taking advantage of her kindness, but only a little. Nothing was more important than survival.

Roxy brought me the food she could spare. I rationed it in small portions. I had to be careful not to be discovered receiving help.

She wrapped the food in sheets of newspaper. I kept those newspapers; I didn’t throw them away. During the day a little light filtered through the floorboard gaps. I used that light to read the papers and keep my mind from going numb.

Meanwhile, the Bismarck family’s fortunes were declining day by day. I wasn’t sure whether my threatening the duke had directly caused it, but regardless, the count’s house was no longer as it had been. I guessed the count’s so-called business venture that he’d once boasted about at dinner had failed.

The family needed someone to take out their anger on, and that person was me. Fine — let them be. I was satisfied as long as they kept me alive.

Pain and hunger had long since become parts of my body. I had adapted to a new life and environment; expecting me to die now because I couldn’t endure it was ridiculous.

I kept persuading soft-hearted girls and collecting newspapers. I thought about opportunities to escape the mansion one day.

All that I could do at the moment was endure and wait for the right chance.

Years passed that way.

I forgot how old I was. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was alive. Lying in that cramped place that had become as familiar as my own room, I thought.

I vaguely remembered reading something about a “world war” in the newspapers. It seemed the war had been going on for some time, so why did it feel so peaceful here?

I shut my eyes and imagined enemy troops invading this country. I pictured them bursting into the mansion. The count, a noble, wouldn’t be drafted to the front. He probably didn’t even know how to fight.

They would kill the count, strip the house of its gold and silver, and leave — and I would wait hidden beneath the floorboards. Even if they were enemy soldiers, surely no one would think to look under the floor for a person. When they were all gone, I would be free.

That’s what I was thinking when—

A tremendous noise announced the arrival of people.

I curled up under the floor and held my breath. What was happening? Shouts and screams overlapped. It was definitely not a friendly visit. Pairs of boots tramped wildly above my head, making the floor shake and resound.