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chapter 55
“Did you hear? They say His Majesty came out of the underground prison yesterday drenched in blood.”
“Quiet, you fool! If someone important hears that, you’ll be in real trouble.”
“Oh dear…”
One coachman whispered, and the older coachman immediately scolded him, trying to shut him up. The two men nervously circled far around the Black Tower before heading toward the large imperial stables.
The Delion Imperial Palace was buzzing with tales of Roberto Brida’s horrific end.
Stories spread quickly—how Milan, one of the emperor’s closest men, was so shocked he tried to wrap the body from head to toe, how even after using every scrap of cloth he had, the blood could not be wiped away. How blood dripped from His Majesty’s steps, and attendants had to scrub the stains until dawn. Every rumor was more gruesome than the last.
Yet all of it seemed grounded in truth. Even now, near the underground prison, a thick stench of blood lingered—far too strong to have come from just one person.
In the palace dining hall, the handmaids whispered of nothing else. Rumors spread rapidly—from a maid fainting at the smell while cleaning that morning, to increasingly sensational claims.
“It’s terrifying how much blood a single person can shed. And he was small too—where did all that blood come from?”
“They said every drop was spilled. Practically hacked apart. The body was in pieces.”
“I heard they could barely even recognize his hair—soaked in blood.”
“Someone even tried to take bits of the body. For good luck!”
“They must be insane.”
“Someone got hurt trying to grab pieces. Ugh. I heard the corpse was thrown to wild dogs and torn apart—why fight over that….”
“Shh, shh. Lady Vanessa is coming.”
The handmaids immediately straightened their lines and fell silent. Lady Vanessa, First Lady-in-Waiting, was the strictest woman in the palace. Her neat shoes clicked crisply against the floor as she approached and stopped.
“Use the official waist ties. And your ribbon is tied incorrectly.”
“My apologies, my lady. I will correct it.”
She walked a few more steps, then halted again.
“Your shoes do not match.”
Though her eyes faced forward, she had already inspected the maid beside her from head to toe. Startled, the maid hid one foot behind the other.
“I’m sorry, my lady. The pair I wore this morning had a hole in it.”
“Then wear the ones with the hole. Take a night shift and visit the repairer tomorrow morning. If you refuse, your wages will be reduced.”
“…Yes, my lady.”
Lady Vanessa spoke coldly. No excuses were accepted. Her rules never changed. Maids were required to wear black shoes, imperial-issued uniforms, skirts reaching mid-calf and knee-high socks.
Hair long enough to touch the shoulders had to be tied low and secured in a net. Shorter hair was exempt, but she strongly encouraged growing it to uniform length.
Lady Vanessa wanted all maids to look identical. Body type and skin tone were unavoidable differences, but behavior, posture, and discipline were not. She demanded what she herself had lived by all her life.
She scanned the hall. This area alone held a hundred maids. Across the palace, she personally managed three hundred, centered in the buildings closest to the emperor.
The empress’s throne had been empty since the coronation, and the emperor’s mother was long deceased. In truth, the palace had no real need for ladies-in-waiting. Traditionally, when a new empress arrived, noble families would select the attendants.
But the throne had remained empty for so long that the Ladies-in-Waiting had been forced to manage all maids directly. Vanessa was no exception.
If an empress was ever chosen, she would be the first to move. If a royal heir was ever born, she would be the one to serve closest to the child.
Among attendants, Vanessa wielded the most influence. Maids hoped to be chosen by her in order to keep their jobs longer. But avoiding her displeasure was difficult enough.
She clapped twice. All maids raised their heads sharply as apprentice maids entered in lines from the hallway.
“Beginning today, the apprentice maids will be assigned to rooms. There are fifty of them. One apprentice will be paired with two full maids and work in a team. Only half of these apprentices will become maids legally serving the palace.”
Silence.
“The rest will return to where they came from.”
The apprentices ranged from their mid-teens to mid-twenties. Some had worked in noble households before; others were new entirely.
Serving as a palace maid was a position even small noble daughters sometimes wanted—but most apprentices were here for money. The palace paid well and did not deduct lodging or meals. It made saving easy—but life was tightly controlled in return.
The apprentices stood in five rows of ten, watching the full maids straighten their posture and imitate them awkwardly. Some already knew the discipline and followed naturally.
At the very end of the fifth row stood a girl who resembled no one else. Thin, sickly-looking—someone who seemed unsuited to any kind of labor.
A rough, uneven bob of hair, cracked lips, a pale face. She wasn’t short, but blended so easily into the crowd that she almost disappeared—like someone hoping to stay unnoticed.
It had been a long time since she had worn a skirt, and the airy sensation felt strange, but she did not fidget. Standing perfectly still was easy for her.
Half the apprentices would be sent back. She heard it clearly. But one question lingered in her mind:
What happens to someone who has nowhere to return to?
She could not ask. So her mind slipped back to last night.
The blade Dante swung cut through nothing—no, not nothing. A hidden pouch filled with blood. Perhaps the stomach of some large monster. From inside spilled foul digestive fluid, severed limbs, pieces of bodies. Human remains still undigested. The stench of pooled blood was nauseating.
Even Rosellina, who rarely felt sick, nearly retched. Dante swung again—lightly, delicately—just enough to shear cleanly through her long hair.
Her platinum hair fell to the floor, soaking in blood. Rosellina stood still, knowing only Dante could explain what this meant.
“Roberto Brida is dead. I killed him. And Rosellina Brida, I deliver your punishment. You will never hold a sword again, and you will never again use the name Brida. You will live like a ghost, unable to show your face to your father or brother.”
Rosellina couldn’t grasp the meaning.
Live like a ghost? Where?
Survive without a sword? How?
Questions she had never once needed to ask. Dante continued, as if answering her thoughts:
“You will become a palace maid. You’ll spend your life scrubbing floors, seeing no light, calling no one family, living and dying in the Delion Palace.”
She stayed silent.
“And right beside me—the man you hate most.”
Rosellina lifted her head and met his eyes. Dante looked even more conflicted than she was. It was clear he agonized long before making this decision.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. His trembling lips, the faint sorrow in his eyes—they were too heavy for her to bear.
Should she beg him to kill her? Or simply lunge at him and die?
In that instant, she thought of a thousand ways to end it—yet only one answer remained.
“I will accept the punishment His Majesty has given me. Roberto Brida is dead.”
Silence.
“I will never again take up a sword. I will live as a maid.”
Whatever punishment Dante handed down… if it made him suffer less… she would endure it.
Soaked in blood that belonged to no one they knew, the two stared at each other in silence. No more words were exchanged.
Dante left first. Moments later, Marco and his men came through the back entrance. Marco gathered Rosellina’s cut hair and the stray pieces of corpses, then lifted her with them onto a stretcher. She left the palace with the gruesome remains and washed herself again and again at Marco’s home.
Before dawn, she returned—under a new title: apprentice maid.
Lady Vanessa dislike the sudden addition, but since Marco requested it, she accepted.
No one knew each other yet, so Rosellina blended in easily. The apprentice uniform covered her neck to wrists, hiding every half-healed wound.
Rosellina returned to the present, watching as Vanessa assigned groups. When her turn came, the lady spoke mechanically:
“Last one. By the order of Chief Attendant Milan, you will clean His Majesty’s chambers.”
Rosellina remained silent.
“Your name?”
“…Rina.”
Rosellina. Rina. A name made up on the spot.
Vanessa nodded, uninterested.
“Maxi and Lexi. You will train Rina.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Rina looked at the two freckled girls in front of her. A maid. She had never once imagined such a title belonging to her. A life without a sword—she couldn’t even picture it.
Still, like the others, she quietly stepped behind the maids assigned to her.
If the day came when she met Dante again—could she pretend not to know him?
Rosellina felt the weight of a punishment heavier than death pressing on her chest as she stared forward. Lady Vanessa’s cold gaze brushed over her, then moved on.
