Misfortune 44

Chapter 44

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"The slave, I'm told, was originally of noble birth, is that correct?"

The maid nodded her head, unable to hide her bewilderment at the sudden change of subject. Then Josephine's mouth curved into an amused smile.

"In that case, I suppose she’ll make a pretty good conversation partner until the Colonel arrives."

Drawing her own conclusions, Josephine glared at the maid, a glare that the maid did not fail to recognize as a warning.

Only then did Emma understand the butler's assessment of the Young Lady. At the same time, she remembered his advice to be careful not to offend her.

As far as Emma knew, there was only one way to avoid offending those in authority: do as you are told.

Emma felt a twinge of trepidation at the thought of summoning the slave who was now Roan's exclusive servant, but she clenched her jaw in obedience.

"Then I will summon the slave, please be patient."

Finally getting the answer she wanted, Josephine's mouth curved into a smile as cold as a shadow in summer.

***

It was not long before the parlor door opened again. A woman in a plain black dress stepped quietly from behind the head maid.

Josephine scrutinized her out of the corner of her eye.

Her platinum locks swayed are a tight bun like the tail of a beautiful white horse, her apricot-colored eyes like the petals of an early-autumn bloom on a bluebell, her skin as white as pearls and her graceful gait not the least bit slavish.

From head to toe, she was so beautiful that it was annoying.

But instead of showing her irritation, Josephine offered the head maid a friendly smile.

"Thank you, head maid. The rest of you may leave now."

The head maid glanced at the slave, then retreated with her maids. It was unlikely that a noblewoman would ever harm the slave, and even if she did, it was none of her business.

The door closed behind them, and silence settled over the parlor.

Josephine, of course, did not offer the slave a seat.

Setting down her teacup with a graceful touch, she finally opened her closed lips.

"Lady Eperne."

The no-longer-valid title sliced through the silent air.

She watched Delnia's reaction like a hunter waiting to be caught in a trap.

Delnia, who had heard the head maid's comments during her summons, met Josephine's expectations by avoiding her gaze and bowing slightly.

"Hmph."

Josephine let out a steaming snort at the disappointing response.

She'd been prepared to chastise her for the slightest reaction, but the slave was as nonchalant as if she'd never been called by that name before.

But it didn't matter, there were plenty of other ways to humiliate a slave.

"Looks like you dropped the name pretty easily."

"...."

"That's what you were, Eherne. High and proud, never showing your expensive face at imperial banquets."

If not because of Roan, Josephine was fascinated by this faceless woman. She would not have bothered to look at the imperial invitations, which were so desperate for an honorable Viscount’s daughter like her.

The thought of such a humble downfall in return was not pleasant.

"I know some of the old nobles still grumble that His Majesty had gone too far with his decision, but I think it was very Eperne-worthy, don't you?"

Josephine asked with a soft smile and an even softer voice.

Her stare demanded an answer. Delnia didn't look away this time, but met her eyes bravely.

Josephine was a young woman, barely into adulthood. An innocent young lady who knew nothing about the world really believed that these words would humiliate her.

Delnia, who had endured Roan's insults for so long, could not have imagined that her naiveté bordered on the cute.

“How could a mere slave dare to interfere with His Majesty’s decision?”

Delnia avoided Josephine's option by humbling herself instead of speaking up.

Josephine's eyes narrowed, as if she were surprised that she would so casually call herself a slave.

"I see. A question too much for a slave."

Josephine nodded, one corner of her mouth twitching upward.

"Tell me, what's it like to be a slave?"

Josephine's olive eyes sparkled with an innocent, cruel curiosity, like a child plucking a butterfly's wings and placing it into a spider’s web.

"If it were me, I'd bite my tongue and die. It’s brave you're still alive."

"...."

"Oh, that was a sincere compliment."

Josephine added, as if not to be misunderstood. Her chin resting on her hand, she glanced up at Delnia, the corners of her mouth twitching in mockery.

But Delnia was unmoved by the crude, uncultivated remark, for its intentions were too transparent.

The young lady wasn’t even wrong. For those who did not die honorably were left with a life of dishonor.

Now, for Delnia, being alive was an insult in itself.

It was just yesterday.

After fleeing from Roan’s bathroom and returning to her room, Delnia couldn't sleep all night. It was that same dark hatred that had stayed with her through the night as she lay under the covers like a child.

Why did he do it?

Such confusion and questioning was ridiculous. Roan had always made it clear to her why.

Because he hates you.

So much so that he was willing to get his hands dirty if it meant hurting the terrible woman.

The realization was as clear and cold as the dawn sky that had just dawned. In the bluish light that faintly leaked through the cracks in the wall, she felt sad, wistful, and most of all, tired.

How could she feel so humiliated by such a few words?

"Thank you."

"..................what?"

Delnia bowed her head, and Josephine couldn't help but chuckle.

Apparently, the woman was fully acclimated to slavery. For a woman who looked as if she could collapse at the slightest touch, she seemed to have a natural aptitude for not responding to insults.

Well, there was no reason not to. It was in the palm of Roan Barthez's hand that she fell into slavery.

Would such an elegant gentleman, who never spoke harshly to anyone even his employees, treat a slave with such disrespect?

The thought made Josephine's heart ache and she wanted to rip out every hair on the woman's head. Just as her mother had done to her father's mistress.

But she quelled her simmering jealousy by reminding herself to be a good little lady and not make a scene in the Colonel’s mansion.

"Yes. If you’re alive and well, there will come a day when you can be the maid who keeps Colonel Barthez awake at night like you do now. Isn’t that right?"

The slave's usually grim expression stiffened slightly at the mention of Roan. And Josephine did not miss the moment.

It was more of a question, really. She wanted to find out what the rumors of Roan Barthez's satisfaction with the slave the Emperor had given him meant.

And the slave's reaction proved the rumor to be true in the way she least wanted.

To keep from screaming, Josephine drained her teacup completely. The clink of the glass as she angrily set it down echoed sharply through the room.

It was an unbecoming behavior for a lady, but it didn't bother Josephine in the least. This wasn't someone she had to be polite to, this was a slave.

And the slave lifted the teapot and filled Josephine's empty cup. Her posture was flawless, down to her fingertips.

"Every young man is bound to have a mistress. I can understand that. I'm going to be the benevolent Madame Barthez."

Josephine, glaring at the slave, spoke up. She even broke off the last sentence to emphasize it.

Officially, Roan and Josephine were still not a couple, but they never would be.

Her father still didn't like Roan, but he couldn’t break Josephine's stubbornness.

She would definitely win Roan. It was just a matter of when.

It would have been better if he had been knighted this time, but it was still a matter of time. Roan Barthez would have earned the title on his own merit.

"But it's a different story if you're just a slave who can't even become a mistress.”

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