Chapter 3

“...Wasn’t Count Vicente an old man?”

Edford muttered in disbelief, as if dreaming.

Hearing this, Massera tilted his head, his face expressionless.

“I received his title. It’s pretty old news, so I guess word travels slow out here in the countryside.”

The rumors that Count Vicente was an old man deep in debt were true.

But that was before he had sold off his title.

***

The servants were bewildered by the situation when they heard that the “unlucky white rat” suddenly became the “young lady of the Count’s household.”

“Is it true? Is Cynthia actually the Count’s real daughter?”

“Remember that drunk who fell down the stairs to his death a few years ago? I heard he secretly took away someone of royal blood.”

“Then why was she sent here as a maid?”

“I guess he couldn’t afford to raise her. Probably just kept her working until she was old enough to be sold off in marriage.”

“What happens to us then?”

The servants who had tormented Cynthia for so long were filled with dread.

Putting on airs, one servant said smugly—

“She’ll probably just let it go. I mean, she’s so stupidly kind.”

“Right?”

Several servants then headed to Cynthia’s room to help her get dressed.

They glanced at Cynthia nervously, but she didn’t seem particularly intent on taking revenge.

“Um… Cindy—I mean, Lady Cynthia. Please forgive my past rudeness.”

The maid, who had more of a conscience than the others, asked for forgiveness.

Another maid jabbed her in the arm with a look that said, ‘Why are you stirring the pot?’

“What for?”

Cynthia asked this as she turned around with a bright smile.

The maid, who had already decided to ask for forgiveness, wiped her tears.

“For everything. For hurting you and saying awful things… I’m really sorry.”

“All right.”

After that simple answer, a suffocating silence followed.

Ever since some time ago, Cynthia began to give off an aura that made it hard to treat her carelessly.

The girl, who used to cry timidly, would smile no matter what people said to her. Even when the insults crossed the line, she’d just stare silently at them with that same smile.

And she did it all without saying a single word while following them around.

It was around then that the bullying started dying down. Everyone had slowly begun to realize that she wasn’t someone they should mess with.

“I guess this will be the first and last time you’ll help dress me.”

Once she had been done getting dressed, Cynthia handed a note to the only maid who had apologized.

“Read it in secret, okay?”

After Cynthia left, the maid discreetly opened the note.

[If you want to live, run away from this mansion the moment I’m gone.]

***

“Come now, Cynthia. Let’s go greet your future husband.”

Count Queensguard took Cynthia’s hand as though he were a loving father.

“Yes.”

Cynthia smiled.

She had looked beautiful even in her plain maid’s uniform, but dressed in an expensive gown, she looked every bit the part of a noble lady.

Though it was hard to tell what she was thinking, she always wore a kind expression. She began to ask more questions lately too, but her obedient personality remained.

She had all the traits that successful men would find appealing.

‘I knew she’d be useful.’

For now, she served as the perfect tool.

Wearing a satisfied smile, he approached Brigadier General Massera del Vicente.

“Thank you for coming such a long way, General Vicente.”

“Yes.”

Massera gave a curt reply and looked down at Cynthia.

Cynthia looked up at him, who was much taller than her.

His mysterious eyes were like a lake reflecting the lavender sunset sky, or an aurora only visible in the cold north.

There was a strange tension in the way they looked at each other.

His gaze, which had been fixed on Cynthia’s face, drifted down to the red pendant around her neck. He then paused for a moment, lost in thought as if recalling something.

Meanwhile, Carlos watched this scene in the distance, wearing the same stunned look as Edford.

He had been told by his father that Brigadier General Vicente was a wealthy man in his seventies, which is why he had brought Cynthia into all this.

At least then, Cynthia wouldn’t fall in love with the man and betray him.

But this man—he was young and handsome.

‘Father lied to me.’

The Count of Queensguard was as sly as a fox. He had even deceived his own son and used him to hand Cynthia over.

Even so, Carlos remained arrogant.

‘But Cynthia would never betray me.’

She had started to behave and speak a little differently as of late, but she was still Cynthia.

The timid, ignorant, and weak girl who knew nothing but Carlos.

“Young Master, I will never forget your kindness until the day I die…”

The trembling vow she had made after accidentally killing someone would never change.

Meanwhile, Cynthia took one look at Massera’s striking appearance and became certain that he was the male lead.

‘Yeah, I made the right choice.’

That unrivaled presence. That glow that made him stand out even from afar.

He had to be the male lead.

Even if she had to deceive such a handsome man… if she sincerely apologized later, wouldn’t he be understanding and forgive her?

With a radiant smile, Cynthia looked up at him.

“Hello, I’m Cynthia Queensguard.”

“Massera del Vicente.”

Despite his curt answer, his smile was kind.

He then offered his hand to politely escort her.

“I’m quite eager to leave this wretched place.”

He was a strange man, saying such rude things in a polite tone.

With that thought in mind, Cynthia placed her hand in his.

At that moment, someone approached them.

“Lady Cynthia.”

It was Anita, the maid who never took part in bullying Cynthia and always did her work quietly.

She handed Cynthia a parasol.

“Unlike this gloomy place, the capital has strong sunlight.”

“Thank you.”

Did she know I was sensitive to sunlight?

Approaching her with a smile, Cynthia leaned in and whispered something to her.

Anita’s eyes widened slightly as she listened to her, but returned to her usual expressionless face.

“...Understood.”

Escorted by Massera, Cynthia boarded the luxurious car and waved out the window.

“I’ll keep in touch, Father! Take care, Brother, Sister!”

She looked just like a beloved daughter raised with affection.

Unlike Carlos and Edford, who blinked unresponsively, Count Queensguard and Helene waved back naturally.

“Write to me as soon as you arrive, my precious gem.”

Helene was understandable, but that man was something else. Anyone watching would think he’s a doting father.

Cynthia shuddered as she turned away.

And so, Cynthia left.

Not long after, a series of gunshots rang through the estate.

A few days later, all the servants at the mansion had been replaced.

This was how Count Queensguard “silenced” them.

***

It took a full three days just to reach the capital.

It was fascinating to see the world beyond the Count’s estate for the first time.

And yet the architecture of the Luthemia Republic, the terrain and environment all felt oddly familiar.

Did the original author base this on real-world geography?

Massera barely spoke, so I couldn’t tell if he was just not a talkative person or simply had nothing to say.

Even when I tried to converse with him, he kept his eyes on the newspaper and gave disinterested replies.

“General, what’s that?”

“A tree.”

“Wow, isn’t that building beautiful?”

“It’s Art Deco architecture.”

“Is that newspaper interesting?”

“Yes.”

Our conversations were a battle of relentless questions and curt full-stops.

Though he showed little interest, he still answered politely.

“General, do you know what a croongie is?”

“No idea.”

“It’s a croissant pressed flat to make it crispy.”

“I see.”

Arriving at his estate, the pointless exchanges of words came to an end.

Phew, I thought I was going to die of awkwardness.

“You must be tired from chatting by yourself for three days. Please rest.”

His face looked like he was already sick of me.

“Lady Queensguard, allow me to escort you to your room.”

Just like their master, the mansion’s servants were all stiff and expressionless.

At that moment, a boy who looked to be around eight years old approached and looked up at me.

“Who are you?”

He was a beautiful child with black hair and green eyes like fresh sprouts.

Wearing a shirt with a ribbon and having a sullen expression, he looked adorable like a little black kitten.

“Is he your son?”

In response to my blunt question, Massera brushed back his platinum blond hair and smiled.

“No. I picked him up on the battlefield and am raising him.”

So he’s like a lost kitten. I knelt down and offered him a handshake.

“Hi, I’m Cynthia. I’m going to marry the General soo—”

“Go away!”

The boy slapped the back of my hand like a feisty cat and ran away.

As I sheepishly looked around, I noticed the cold gazes of the servants directed at me.

For some reason, it feels like no one here is particularly happy to see me.