Chapter 32 - The Project to Make the Duchess’s Daughter Hate Me (2)
Chapter 32 - The Project to Make the Duchess’s Daughter Hate Me (2)
Among the servants attending Parmela, Head Maid Elina’s true identity had long been a subject of speculation.
In this world, her jet-black bob cut was uncommon, and her pitch-black eyes weren’t just rare—they were unprecedented.
Outwardly, she appeared to be a sharp-featured beauty in her twenties.
As head maid, she flawlessly performed all her duties, standing alongside Head Butler Krabel as one of the two pillars supporting Parmela.
Yet within the Herthe household, baseless rumors about her true nature ran rampant.
Some said she was a witch who’d lived for millennia, others whispered she was the shadowy mastermind controlling the Herthe family from behind the scenes, and a few even claimed to have seen the head maid step out from literal shadows…
Of course, no one dared voice such gossip in her presence, though Elina herself was well aware of these circulating rumors.
Not millennia—just centuries. And I’m a loyal servant who has faithfully supported the Herthe family from close quarters. How utterly rude these slanders are. Though about the shadows… where did they see that?
Truth be told, the servants’ gossip wasn’t entirely unfounded.
Elina was descended from an ancient family that worshiped demons.
That lineage had passed down forbidden dark magic, and Elina had been no exception—forced to learn those black arts against her will.
What her mother called “education to become followers who would drive out the false gods and welcome the true lords—the 60 Prophets—into the human world” was, by any normal standard, torture indistinguishable from abuse.
After her family was purged by what was then the Kingdom of Arkesia, the Herthe family took in Elina—the sole survivor.
Seven hundred years had passed since.
Her body, neither aging nor dying due to the dark magic, had been devoted entirely to serving the women of House Herthe.
Moreover, she fully utilized her knowledge of dark magic to assist the Herthes in their demon-hunting pursuits.
In other words, Elina was the loyal retainer who had supported the Herthe women from the shadows all this time.
Her devotion to her current mistress, Parmela, hadn’t diminished one bit from when she’d first been taken in by the family.
“…Hehe… I can still feel Theodor’s touch on my cheeks and nape… What should I do…!”
“…”
Yet whenever she saw Parmela like this, Elina couldn’t help but occasionally—just occasionally—feel slight doubts about her mission.
“Young Lady.”
“What?”
“Theodor’s actions just now were an unacceptable mistake for a butler—publicly undermining his master’s dignity.”
“So?”
“He must receive appropriate punishment. Or perhaps be relieved of his personal attendant duties entirely…”
“Ugh, fine! I’ll handle it myself…”
As if you’ll “handle” anything. It’s obvious you’ll use punishment as an excuse to drag him along shopping later.
But as Parmela’s faithful maid, Elina kept that thought to herself.
“By the way, did you see that, Elina? This brings us even closer!”
“Nobody would think that.”
Watching Parmela ignore her response entirely made Elina’s head throb.
Having served generations of Herthe women, Elina had attended several mistresses who exhibited similar “symptoms,”
but Parmela was by far the most severe case.
Compounding the problem was how suspicious Theodor himself was.
Right after Parmela brought him in, Elina and the other Herthe servants had mobilized the family’s intelligence network to uncover his origins—but found nothing.
As if he’d never existed to begin with.
This could… become dangerous.
Parmela was currently the strongest candidate among the Herthe siblings to inherit the duchy.
For her to be infatuated with some commoner of unknown origins meant the family’s future itself was at risk.
I’ll need to take measures.
My project to lower Parmela’s affection was progressing smoothly.
“My apologies, Young Lady. About today’s teatime… I couldn’t prepare proper tea leaves, so we’ll have to make do with the cheap chamomile tea I usually drink.”
“How plebeian of you, Theodor. Well, humoring you occasionally isn’t so bad.”
“Young Lady, regarding the flowers for the windowsill vase… My apologies. I couldn’t find anything suitable and only managed to get these cheap flowers from a nearby shop.”
“The meaning of chrysanthemums is… devoted love. As expected…”
“Young Lady? Your uniform is disheveled. How could the daughter of a ducal house go about looking so untidy? Honestly…”
“My… you’ve been paying such close attention to me. But since you can’t express it openly, you just nitpick… Hehe, how adorable…”
I’d been showering the ducal daughter with behavior no mere butler should ever direct at his mistress.
Occasionally, I thought I heard auditory hallucinations that shouldn’t exist, but I ignored them. Probably Vertus’s doing.
…At this point, I’m starting to wonder if she’s under some curse that twists everything into romantic interpretations.
As a result, Parmela had recently reached the point where she wouldn’t even meet my eyes.
Good. Almost there.
However, walking the fine line between provoking her without crossing into punishable territory proved harder than expected.
Before long, I started running out of ideas for what to do next.
But the opportunity came sooner than expected—and in an unforeseen form.
One Thursday morning, during swordsmanship class.
Students gathered on one side of the wide training grounds, dressed in light exercise clothes.
With practice wooden swords at their waists, they clustered in small groups while waiting for the fencing instructor.
Parmela’s Class A was the highest-level group, comprising only students at the academy’s peak in both skill and status.
Naturally, the crown prince destined to rule the empire was also in Class A.
“…”
Parmela deliberately ignored the crown prince’s persistent gaze.
Talk about having guts…
At this rate, I worried she might get beheaded for treason.
After the prince’s unilateral rivalry declaration, I’d cautiously asked Parmela what was going on, but she never gave me a straight answer.
Honestly, if she likes me, she should either confess outright or use her status to forcibly restrain me.
That way I could clearly decide whether to reject her or flee under cover of night.
Still, it was fortunate that her affection for me had been steadily decreasing lately.
“Alright! Everyone gather up!”
The swordsmanship lesson began as a burly middle-aged instructor appeared.
After demonstrating basic forms, the instructor had students practice while he circulated to correct their stances.
A typical fencing class scene.
A short distance away, I and other attendants waited for our masters’ lessons to end.
Maids stood with hands folded before them, butlers at attention with hands clasped behind their backs—their disciplined rows resembling a well-trained military unit.
Did you hear? Yesterday in the laundry room, I saw Pelum family’s third son’s butler hugging Midain family’s only daughter’s maid.
What?! No way. What happened? Of all people, attendants from those two feuding families…
Of course, while their postures were perfect, their eyes fixed forward, their mouths were busy spreading gossip left and right.
Me? As befitting a servant of the grand ducal Herthe household, I maintained dignified silence in proper stance, far above such petty chatter.
…Not because I was being ostracized or anything.
Since most Class A students were from ducal or marquis families, their attendants were lower nobles too.
Being the only commoner, the noble-born butlers and maids seemed to have collectively decided none would speak to me.
Damn class system.
“Good! That’s enough practice. Now pair up by gender for light sparring.”
Students began pairing up at the instructor’s direction.
“Instructor.”
Then Edgar suddenly raised his hand.
“Oh? Prince Edgar. What is it?”
“Who should I partner with?”
“Ah…”
The instructor’s gaze wandered among the students.
“You’re right. None in Class A can match your swordsmanship.”
Good at magic and swordsmanship? What an overachiever.
“Then I’ll be your opponent.”
“That would be fine, but…”
The crown prince turned his gaze toward where we attendants were gathered.
Wait, no—
He couldn’t possibly mean what I think he means?
“I’d like to designate my sparring partner. Someone among the attendants.”
“Among the attendants? Hmm. Strictly speaking, attendants aren’t academy students, but setting that aside—is there even one who could match you, Prince Edgar?”
“There’s exactly one.”
“Oh ho.”
My unease grew as I watched the instructor’s eyes sparkle with interest at Edgar’s proposal.
“A fighter you acknowledge… I’m curious.”
“Have you heard of the incident where Lady Parmela exterminated the large flock of corrupted wyverns nesting north of Bainwood?”
“Yes. Quite the tale.”
Students’ eyes briefly turned to Parmela.
Despite her feat being discussed, Parmela’s expression remained grim. She seemed to have already guessed the prince’s intentions.
“While Lady Parmela’s glorious exploits are well-known, there was a butler at her side whose excellent swordsmanship protected her.”
“Oh?”
“A master who could bisect three wyverns with a single sword stroke. Even more remarkable—he reached such heights despite being a commoner.”
The prince’s narrowed silver eyes were locked precisely on mine.