The Dreaming Girl, The Slave Whose Dream Ended (1)
In the study of the mansion, Lebion del Rosel was, as always, reviewing documents when the door burst open without so much as a knock. Reflexively, a pleased smile spread across his face.
There was only one person in the lord's mansion who could open the study door so rudely—his adopted daughter, Silia.
"Daddy~"
"Come here, my pretty Silia~"
Rosel rose from his desk and swept the rushing Silia into a tight embrace. Holding this adorable little girl, not even half his size, always freed him a bit from the pounding pressure of paperwork.
He spun her around in circles, her favorite, and she burst into delighted giggles in his arms.
"But what brings my girl here? Weren't you playing with Roden?"
"Nope~ I had something to ask you, Daddy."
"What is it?"
Silia put on a cheeky expression. The poised demeanor of a young lady she showed around Roden melted away completely in Rosel's arms.
"Roden keeps saying Hero Emilia is a traitor. She's not, right? You're with me on this, aren't you, Daddy?"
"Haha, Roden said that?"
"Yeah! That jerk! He doesn't even know how he gets to sleep with his legs stretched out thanks to Hero Emilia!"
Rosel smiled warmly at Silia's cute outburst. Rumors planted by the kingdom were slandering Emilia, claiming she'd merely sat at the table her party members had prepared. But Silia believed in her. In fact, Rosel knew that even among the mansion's servants, whispers were spreading that Emilia had fallen victim to a conspiracy—the first female hero garnered support from women, after all.
Especially in the Kingdom of Elond, where women's rights and status lagged behind other nations, thanks to King Brikal's womanizing and male supremacist ideology. Rosel knew the secret that Biela, the sole woman in the hero's party, had received only half the promised rewards for her family.
"Right? Daddy, Hero Emilia isn't a traitor, is she? You know everything...!"
"The king must have his reasons for judging her so. But sometimes, it's important not to lose faith."
"Not lose... faith?"
Rosel stroked Silia's chubby cheek, still soft with baby fat.
"Do you trust Daddy, Silia?"
"Of course!"
"You know Daddy's never made a wrong choice, right?"
"I do~! Daddy knows everything!"
"Then you can believe whatever Daddy says, yeah?"
"Aww, yeah, I get it~ What is it?"
Silia wiggled playfully, urging him on with a goofy grin, and Rosel decided to tell her about Isel. There was no point hiding it anyway.
He leaned in and whispered in her ear, framing it as a 'secret'—perfect for a 13-year-old girl who loved such things.
"Hero Emilia is here in our mansion."
"W-what? Really!? Did you bring her here, Daddy?"
"Yeah. But her heart's hurting a lot, so she needs some rest. For now, Daddy's going to help her recover in secret. Can you help too, Silia?"
Silia had inherited her blood father's talent for swordsmanship and possessed a sharp mind beyond her years. She'd understand the implication of 'secret.'
She pouted her pink lips, tapping them with her index finger, then nodded vigorously.
"Yes! I'll follow your orders, Daddy!"
"Haha, such a cutie. It's our little secret, okay?"
Rosel pressed a finger to his lips with a shh, and Silia mimicked him with a giggle. He wanted to protect her innocence. In the Kingdom of Elond, where women's rights were low, the dream of a female hero that Silia cherished was something precious.
"Yup~"
"Alright, off you go."
Silia planted a kiss on Rosel's cheek and scampered out of the study. As if tag-teaming, Gellion knocked politely and entered through the open door.
"Heh heh, Lady Silia is growing more like you by the day, my lord."
"Haha, welcome, Gellion. Even though she's not blood, sometimes I wonder if she's truly mine."
"Heh heh heh, that's all thanks to your high reputation and virtue, my lord."
Rosel gave a faint smile. As Gellion said, Silia was coming to resemble him more and more—like a chip off the old block, despite their bond starting in the filthy streets.
"So, what brings you here?"
"I have something important to discuss."
"Important, hmm? Then please, sit."
Rosel knew that when Gellion prefixed with 'important,' it meant a long talk. He sat on the sofa, and Gellion took the seat to the right of the head.
"It's about Isel, isn't it?"
"Heh heh, I can't fool you, my lord."
Impressed once more by his lord's insight, Gellion got straight to the point.
"Isel is a criminal guilty of treason. May I ask why you've brought her here?"
Rosel nodded, acknowledging it as a fair question—he'd expected it. Gellion was staunchly loyal to the kingdom, trusted by the king, so his displeasure was natural. Besides, Rosel himself was publicly seen as a 'pro-king' figure.
"Steward, what do you think is the proper punishment for a traitor?"
Instead of answering, Rosel countered with a question. Gellion pondered with a hum. There wasn't much to deliberate—the kingdom's laws mandated summary execution for the three great crimes.
"Summary execution, of course."
Rosel nodded.
"Correct. Summary execution. Yet the king released her. Likely to sell her to some noble house, where she'd writhe as a sex slave until a miserable end."
And that was exactly the case. If Rosel hadn't bought her, that would have been her fate.
Rosel steadied his breath, shifting the mood. His red, single-stroke eyebrows arched slightly, expressing firm resolve.
"However, I see it differently."
"Pardon? How so...?"
"Two years ago, bandits raided our then-small territory."
Gellion couldn't forget. It was soon after he'd settled here as steward. A band of over fifty had slipped in at dawn through the west gate, opened by an inside spy, exploiting weak defenses. Rosel, busy writing new history, hadn't anticipated it. Five territory folk died. But thanks to heavy investment in guards, no more casualties occurred, and they captured over thirty bandits.
Rosel had agonized. Developing the territory required laborers. He persuaded the bereaved families with great effort and sentenced the prisoners to labor for the territory's growth—as atonement. In the very place they'd tried to destroy.
"What became of them?"
"They've all faithfully done their duties ever since."
Now they worked sincerely for the territory and contributed greatly to pencil production.
"That's how I see it. Death is actually merciful. Murderers must live for their victims; thieves, to repair the damage—that's true atonement."
"Th-then."
Gellion felt like he'd been struck in the back of the head. He knew his lord wasn't one to keep a 'sex slave.' He'd worried it might be favoritism, an act of rebellion against the king. But his lord meant the opposite.
Rosel smiled faintly.
"Traitors endanger the kingdom. So laboring for the kingdom is fitting atonement."
As if gaining profound insight, Gellion slapped his thigh and gaped.
"Ah...! As expected of the duke, such profound intent...!"
"But given the severity, she'll atone as a lifelong slave with unpaid labor."
"Heh heh heh! Understood."
Gellion bowed lightly in respect. It had been needless worry.
"Then I'll take my leave."
Gellion rose, bowed, and left the study.
Alone now, Rosel let out a low hmm and sighed. He leaned back on the sofa, gazing at the ceiling, then closed his eyes.
Gellion was quick-witted with insight born of experience. Lying to him wasn't easy. But it seemed to end successfully.
He wanted to play his card to clear Isel's name as soon as possible, but everything had its time. Unripe fruit was too bitter.
Thus, Rosel rested with eyes closed.
**
"It's working..."
Isel murmured, gazing at her somewhat faded scars. Healing cream from neo-elves—a rare race—outstripped any holy priest's power. Two vials cost ten gold coins. Why had Duke Rosel spent such a fortune to erase her scars?
...Ah.
It hit her. A sex slave covered in scars wouldn't be appealing. He must be preparing her for some future scheme.
...Orders are orders.
With that, Isel carefully applied the cream to the scars on her chest and abdomen. At this rate, she'd hear the reason from her master in a few days—the reason he'd bought her.
But... how do I reach my back?
She could fumble up to her lower back, but her upper back was impossible. Her arms wouldn't stretch that far. Several attempts failed. Especially near her shoulder blades—severe burns from the torturer's red-hot iron.
Ha...
—Knock knock knock.
A knock sounded. Isel corked the vial and dressed, approaching the door.
It wasn't her master Rosel's knock. The maidservant Jichel had brought bread for dinner earlier, so not her.
...Who is it?
Fear flickered again in Isel's eyes at the unfamiliar knock. Trembling, she opened the door—but saw no one.
"Down here...! Hero...! You really are here!"
The voice drew her gaze downward to a beaming little girl—Silia, who still believed in her.
A different fear settled in Isel's eyes.