Chapter 2

　　Part 1: The Suspicious Maid

　　The bell tolled. As the soft, resonant chimes cut through the morning air, Gyeongju opened her eyes. The monastery bell chimed seven times a day: midnight, three in the morning, six in the morning, nine in the morning, three in the afternoon, six in the evening, and nine at night. Though intended to call the faithful to prayer, for the common folk residing in the suburbs who could not afford mechanical clocks in their homes, the bells marked the passage of their day.

　　Gyeongju’s home of Clovis Manor was littered with clocks, yet she lacked trust in machinery and preferred to regulate her life by the monastery’s chimes. Having lived by that sound for so long, it felt far more comfortable to move according to this instinctual rhythm. Though her younger sister mocked her for being behind the times, Gyeongju paid it no mind.

　　The bells announcing six in the morning gradually faded away. She wished to savor the moment as the sound dissolved into the twilight landscape slowly brightening beyond the window. Yet it was the beginning of November. Inju, terribly frail against the cold, might be startled into fits should the freezing air from the window strike her.

　　Gyeongju gently nudged her younger sister, who slept wrapped in her arms, and carefully slipped out of bed. The curtained room remained shrouded in darkness. Nevertheless, Gyeongju walked without a single misstep straight to the side of the door.

　　She picked up a thin piece of linen from the basin resting upon the desk, kneading it thoroughly so the water soaked in evenly. Water left overnight in an unheated room could not possibly be warm. Yet Gyeongju was indifferent to such bitter cold, taking off even the thin shift she wore as nightwear. She wiped every corner of her naked body clean with the wet linen.

　　Opening the desk drawer, she pulled out a neatly pressed leaf. Placing it in her mouth to chew, she put on the clothes she had taken off the previous night. The willow leaf crumbled between her teeth as it mixed with her saliva. Wearing a loose dress and a large apron, Gyeongju inserted her fingers past her lips and thoroughly rubbed her leaf-covered teeth. Cleaning her teeth with the tooth powder used by nobility was something she could never dream of doing.

　　With a swift motion, she spat the leaf residue into the chamber pot. Rinsing her mouth with water, she spat once more, concluding her morning cleanse.

　　“…Sister?”

　　The call was tinged with a whine. The faint silhouette of Inju squirmed under the blanket as she sought her. Gyeongju strode toward the bed and stroked her fretful younger sister.

　　“Why are you awake? Sleep some more.”

　　“It is cold. Sister, can you not stay just a little longer before you go?”

　　“I cannot be late, even by a moment. You know very well how foul the young lady’s temper has been of late.”

　　“Even so, calling for a person every single day from the crack of dawn, day in and day out? I truly dislike her.”

　　“Hush,” Gyeongju covered Inju’s mouth with her hand. “You must not speak such words. What if someone hears you?”

　　“Even if they hear, no one cares. She is merely a woman who fell out of the duchess’ favor anyway. ‘Young lady,’ my foot. She is nothing but an illegitimate daughter…”

　　Gyeongju firmly pinched Inju’s chattering lips. Inju felt her sister’s blue eyes harden sternly. Knowing that her sister was an endlessly warm person, which meant it was all the more terrifying when she grew angry, Inju berated herself for making another slip of the tongue.

　　“I told you to forget the rumors whispered by the manor servants. If you blurt out words so carelessly and make a slip of the tongue before the young lady, you will be thrown out of here. Do you not know that?”

　　“…I am sorry.”

　　“If we are thrown out of here, the only place left for us is Kintol. Or would you rather sell your body? How else could we survive!”

　　Gyeongju gritted her teeth and scolded her in a hushed tone. Inju gasped and sobbed. Seeing her younger sister’s body, frailer than others her age, trembling like an aspen leaf, Gyeongju finally removed her hand from Inju’s mouth. Sobs as fragile as breath leaked out.

　　“Do not forget that the only reason we can lodge in this manor at all is entirely thanks to Lady Rose. You must not give your heart to anyone in this house. There is no one here who will take our side.”

　　“It is only you and me, Sister.”

　　“Yes, you and I. There are only the two of us in this world.”

　　“…What about Otto? Otto is on our side.”

　　Though sobbing, Inju’s eyes sparkled. Otto was an orphan wandering Kintol, and Inju’s sole friend, though whether Otto considered herself as such remained unknown.

　　“Yes, Otto is on our side. Therefore, you’re not to talk with anyone other than Otto.”

　　Inju nodded her head. Gyeongju laid her sister back down and pulled the thin blanket all the way up to Inju’s head.

　　“The young lady mentioned that today’s lunch menu is beef pie.”

　　“Is that true?”

　　“Of course it is true. Yesterday, that insolent girl serving as the kitchen maid was whining about not wanting to make pastry dough, was she not?”

　　Beef pie, an oven-baked dish of minced meat and vegetables stuffed inside pastry dough, was the favorite meal of Inju, who had quite a delicate appetite.

　　Gyeongju promised to bring back a generous portion, including her own share. Inju squirmed as her sister pecked her forehead again and again, giggling as if she had never been crying at all.

* * *

　　Gyeongju walked barefoot down the manor corridor. The first floor was comprised of the living room and dining room; the second floor contained the master bedchamber and study of Duchess Clovis; the third floor held the bedchambers of the family and guest rooms; and the fourth floor housed the servants’ quarters. The four-story Clovis Manor was a splendid residence situated in the suburbs away from the city.

　　Passing through the fourth-floor corridor, Gyeongju was not heading down, but upwards, toward a secret space known only to the manor’s residents. Therefore, she moved barefoot to make as little noise as possible. Climbing the narrow stairs leading above the fourth floor, she opened the attic door. The young lady she served would be waiting beyond the door at the end of the short corridor.

　　“Lady Rose, it is I,” Gyeongju whispered, knocking twice on the door out of courtesy. Then, without waiting for an answer, she slowly pushed the door open. A dank, musty scent of rotting wood mixed with the young lady’s perfume greeted Gyeongju.

　　“You are late,” Rose spoke sulkily, lying on the bed with her back turned.

　　Damn it, Gyeongju cursed to herself. Soothing Rose, whose mood was twisted from the crack of dawn, was no easy task.

　　“I am sorry. I tried to come as quickly as possible…”

　　“But your little sister is more important than I am, is that it?”

　　“Young Lady.”

　　“Rose!” Rose shouted her own name irritably, thrashing her body. “I told you to call me Rose when the two of us are alone! How many times must I say it before you understand!”

　　It was a lie. A temporary whim. One could never know when she might suddenly turn vicious, demanding why her name had been called. Gyeongju let out a silent sigh. Yet, enduring the annoyance and mood swings of the mistress she served was also part of her duty.

　　Kneeling on the spot, Gyeongju bowed her head toward the bed where Rose lay.

　　“Kneel where I can see you.”

　　Gyeongju immediately stood up and walked swiftly to a spot where Rose could view her. She then knelt before Rose, who stared at her with eyes brimming with anger.

　　“Raise your head. Come closer and meet my eyes.”

　　Gyeongju lifted her head and drew close to the bed so Rose could touch her face. Rose assumed a languid expression and sat up. She softly caressed Gyeongju’s face, which stared straight back at her, with both hands.

　　“Did I not tell you from early morning that I wished to see your face the moment I opened my eyes?”

　　“I shall never be late again, Young Lady… no, Rose.”

　　“Very well, I shall forgive you.”

　　The young lady loves granting forgiveness, Gyeongju thought, bowing her head to Rose, who smiled while whispering to her sweetly. Rose seized Gyeongju’s chin and forced it upward.

　　The young lady loves my eyes, Gyeongju thought. As a gesture of apology, she widened her eyes, allowing Rose a full view of the feature she adored.

　　“These blue eyes are even prettier when viewed at dawn.”

　　“Thank you.”

　　“I never tire of them. How can they be so clear and pristine?”

　　Rose stuck out her tongue and licked the skin around Gyeongju’s eyes. Gyeongju tightly clenched both hands resting on her legs. Her fists trembled as they gripped her apron.

　　“You know as well, do you not? The news from Forza Castle.”

　　News of the new vampire queen, who had awakened from a three-hundred-year slumber, had reached even the lowliest beggars of the Forza region. The nobles of Forza desperately hoped that a bride for the queen would be chosen from their respective houses.

　　To be linked to the vampire royal family through marriage meant attaining immortal renown. Furthermore, as the queen’s elder sister was deceased, the successor to inherit the throne after the new queen would be the offspring of the bride to be welcomed. Everyone desired to become the protagonist of that glory.

　　All except one person: Rose Clovis.

　　“I cannot sleep at night, fearing that I might somehow be selected as the bride and separated from you.”

　　Rose assumed a somewhat exaggeratedly mournful expression. Gyeongju felt Rose’s cold touch burrowing into her hair.

　　“Do you think like the others, Gyeongju? Do you think I am a filthy illegitimate child who could never possibly be chosen? Is that why you are so carefree, unlike me?”

　　Rose grasped Gyeongju’s hair and pulled it slowly. Gyeongju shook her head. She whispered repeatedly that it was absolutely not so.

　　“Ah, I see. Then you wish for me to be selected and leave this manor.”

　　“Rose…”

　　One could never defeat Rose with logic. Rose possessed her own logic, and that logic always made Rose correct. Gyeongju knew all too well that in their conversations, she was inevitably forced into the role of the wrongdoer. She immediately begged her young lady for forgiveness, realizing that a few simple words could not soothe a mistress whose mood had turned sour the moment she awoke.

　　“You know very well that I cannot manage without you, Young Lady.”