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~Chapter 7~
After that, time itself became a living hell. Etienne turned his head sharply away, as though even the act of speaking to me was unbearable.
I swallowed my tears, wishing I’d taken the chance to retract my foolish words.
At long last, after what felt like an eternity, the carriage came to a halt. Etienne stepped down swiftly, fleeing as if I carried the plague. I could only stare at his retreating figure.
Did you really despise me that much? I’m sorry… I love you.
Not wanting to be left behind like a lost child, I hurried after him.
“Wow…”
The moment I caught sight of what lay before me, all my lingering embarrassment vanished like smoke.
A vast emerald garden stretched out under the sun, its neatly trimmed lawns and flowering shrubs glistening with life. And at its heart stood a mansion so magnificent that it might have stepped straight out of a historical documentary—grand, timeless, and breathtakingly beautiful.
No fantasy novel, no dream I’d ever conjured could rival the sight before my eyes.
Yes. I’ll live and die in this house if I have to, I vowed, scurrying after Etienne on my short legs.
At the gates, two enormous doors—each easily two meters tall—swung open with regal grace.
I wanted to admire the garden a bit longer… oh well, there’ll be time later—
And then I froze.
Before me, a staircase wide enough for several people to lie across unfurled like a golden ribbon. Gilded vines wound up its balustrade, which split into twin arcs embracing the second floor.
At the landing hung a vast, opulent painting framed in gold. My gaze drifted higher, to the dome above—a ceiling of glass where sunlight poured through, scattering into a thousand fragments of color as it struck the crystal ornaments below. The room shimmered with prismatic light, like a cathedral of rainbows.
As I lowered my head, movement startled me.
“Ack! I—I thought it was a person!”
It was not—merely two enormous marble statues guarding the doors.
Etienne shot me a look that could curdle milk.
“Aha… the, uh, statues. I thought they were real people! Must have cost a fortune, right?”
He offered no reply.
“Welcome home, Master Etienne,”
called a line of maids who had come rushing down the hall. Etienne acknowledged them with a curt nod and strode up the stairs without a backward glance.
The moment he disappeared, the maids’ eyes turned toward me. Their faces froze in shock.
Why are you all staring? We’ve met before, haven’t we?
“L-Lady Dahlia, allow us to prepare your bath at once.”
Ah. Of course.
One look at myself explained everything—the soot, the grime, the half-burned hair. Behind me, the spotless marble floor bore a trail of my muddy footprints.
Thanks to the maids’ swift work, I was soon immersed in a bath of steaming water.
“Haa… this is heaven.”
For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt truly human again.
“Don’t nobles usually have maids to bathe them? Not that I’m complaining…”
But my room remained empty. I’d half-expected to be pampered, fanned, and scrubbed. How disappointing.
Just then, a knock sounded, and a young maid with bright red hair entered, barely past adolescence.
“L-Lady Dahlia, I-I’ve brought you a light meal.”
Oh, she’s good.
On a silver tray rested a bowl of porridge and a cup of steaming tea.
“Shall I set it aside until you’re finished bathing?”
“No! Hand it here. I’ll eat now.”
“Pardon?”
Her startled voice made me glance up. She looked horrified.
Why? Because I’m naked? Or…
“Just give it to me and stand over there quietly!”
“Y-yes, my lady!”
She bowed deeply, trembling as she offered the tray. So that was it—Dahlia must have been the kind of mistress who terrified her servants.
With a sigh, I tasted the porridge. My trembling fingers barely managed to hold the spoon.
It was thin, almost flavorless, yet the warmth that spread down my throat was divine. My starved stomach finally stopped aching.
“Ahh… I could live again.”
By the time the bathwater cooled, the bowl was empty. The red-haired maid trimmed my singed hair, snipping away the ruined strands until what once reached my waist now barely brushed my shoulders.
I ran my fingers through the damp ends—dark pink, glistening faintly under the light.
What a shame… my first long hair. Still, this suits me better, doesn’t it?
Humming cheerfully, I let her tidy up. When she turned to leave, I called out.
“Hey, wait.”
“Do you require something, my lady?”
“I want more porridge. A big bowl this time—with plenty of meat.”
The maid blinked in confusion, then bowed and hurried out.
“Yes! Extra food!”
Grinning at the thought, I leaned back and took in the room.
It was splendid—walls engraved with delicate reliefs set with tiny gemstones, a massive chandelier glittering above, and furniture of fine, aged wood. The air smelled faintly of roses, not dampness.
When I rose, droplets fell like jewels, filling the room with a soft sound. Even wet, I wasn’t cold.
Running a hand across the flawless sheets, I sighed with pleasure.
“This… this is the life of the upper crust. Let the luxury begin.”
Just then, the red-haired maid returned. Watching her more closely, I noticed the freckles dotting her youthful face—she looked almost endearing, like a red-haired Anne from a storybook.
She set the meal on the bed, visibly nervous.
“Hey, what was your name again?”
“P-penny, my lady.”
“Pe-pe-penny? That’s unusual. Pepepenny.”
“N-no, just Penny.”
“Ah, Penny! Right.”
I chuckled at my own silliness and began eating again, as Penny released a shaky breath of relief.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“Y-yes… I mean—no! Absolutely not!”
She stumbled through panic, affirmation, and denial before dropping to her knees.
“I’m sorry! It was a slip of the tongue! Please forgive me!”
She trembled like a leaf.
Wow… Dahlia, just what kind of monster were you?
It was strange that only this young maid attended me. As a princess-consort, I should have had several attendants.
“Penny, get up. I’ll forgive you if you answer honestly. But if you lie, you’ll be punished.”
Feigning severity, I watched her rise hesitantly.
“First question—why don’t the other maids serve me?”
Her face turned scarlet, almost matching her hair. After a long pause, she stammered,
“T-that’s because… Lord Etienne said… no one needed to attend to Lady Dahlia anymore…”
“Etienne said that? Since when?”
It took several attempts for her to explain.
After the marriage, Dahlia had tormented the servants—insults daily, violence occasionally. It had been her way of rebelling against Etienne. Eventually, the maids had taken sick leave in droves, and Etienne ordered that none of them were to serve her again.
The only one who volunteered to stay was Penny—and not out of affection.
“I… I only did it because the pay was higher,” she murmured, blushing.
Dahlia, you vile woman. Thief, adulteress, brute… what else?
I shook my head in dismay.
“I’m not upset with you, Penny. Listen carefully. You answered honestly—that’s good. Keep doing that, and I promise I’ll never hit or mistreat you again. I give you my word.”
She said nothing, clearly unconvinced.
It would have been easier to tell her I’d lost my memory, but Etienne had warned me not to speak of it—no vulnerabilities, no loose ends. Understandable for a man plotting rebellion.
I sighed at the memory of his cold eyes. Penny flinched at the sound.
Not you, silly.
I forced a gentle smile, though it only made her shudder more.
Fine. Time for diplomacy.
“I’ll raise your salary.”
Her eyes widened.
“Ask me anything, my lady.”
