Words Can Be Wounds

Cassus held his head high, looking down at Franche as he continued. "I will not accept a refusal. The formal request for the dissolution of our engagement has already been sent, so..."

"W-Wait a moment. What on earth are you talking about?"

"Did you not hear me? I said I am breaking off our engagement."

Hit with this sudden demand out of nowhere, Franche's eyes widened. Her lower lip trembled slightly behind her parted mouth. Her face was the very picture of someone forced to confront a reality they desperately wanted to deny. Barely managing to cling to her composure, she began to press him.

"W-Why? What did I do wrong...!"

"Ha. Ridiculous."

Cassus cut her off instantly. Letting out a dry, mocking chuckle, he looked down at her with pure contempt.

"Franche Decartes. The shame of the ducal house. That is the title your own family bestows upon you, is it not? I can no longer stand by and watch the honor of the House of Persia be tarnished by association."

"That's...!"

Franche's eyes shook violently. She had likely never imagined this day would come. To hide the fact that she was neglected and despised at home, she had indulged in endless luxury. She had put on an ill-fitting mask and dominated high society just to elevate her own standing. Yet, the young heir of Persia had seen right through it. To her, this must have felt like a bolt from the blue.

The further the scenario of this game progressed, the more one learned about her past. Now, I could say it with absolute certainty: she was no villainess. She was merely a victim created by this game.

Franche grabbed Cassus's hand. Her face was painted with sheer desperation and pleading. "Cassus!"

She looked as if she might burst into tears at any second. But completely indifferent to her desperate plea, Cassus coldly slapped her hand away.

"Tsk. Where do you think you are putting those filthy hands? I feel as though the curse of the Decartes family's trash is going to rub off on me."

His venomous tongue did not stop there.

"Cowering like a weakling at home, yet parading around outside in lavish luxury, abusing your power over lower-ranking nobles. Franche, that is the path you have walked. If that is not trash, then what is?"

His tongue was laced with thorns. No, thorns would have been a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mercy. His tongue was a razor-sharp blade.

"If the House of Decartes falls, it will be entirely your fault, Franche. I only hope you take that curse of yours and vanish, keeping it to yourself instead of spreading it to others."

I wish you would shut your mouth already.

"We only reluctantly agreed to this engagement because the Duke of Decartes practically begged us, even handing over their mining development rights. Now I see why he was so eager to give them up. Who could have known you were such a defective woman? The Duke must have known, which is why he threw in the mines as a bribe."

Cassus grimaced in disgust as he adjusted his cravat.

"I have nothing left to say to you, so I suggest you get out of my sight. I hope we never cross paths again, in any shape or form. Lest the dreadful curse known as Franche Decartes infects me."

At that moment, a heavy weight seemed to crash down. Spoken words are invisible, so one cannot see the shape they take. The world is likely divided into those who can perceive their weight and those who cannot—and Cassus was clearly one of the blind. He had no idea that his words were flying like daggers, piercing her straight through.

"..."

Clench. Before I knew it, my fists had tightened. Whether it was out of anger or hatred, I couldn't say. Perhaps my hands had balled up because they wanted to swing at Cassus. That was how violently my emotions—usually as still as a placid lake—were churning.

Utterly devastated, Franche stood frozen, unable to utter a single word. Finally, she turned and fled from the banquet hall.

Swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth, I stood up from where the escort knights were gathered and followed after her.

She had run out into the gardens of the Marquis of Eldas's estate. With the party in full swing, the gardens were completely deserted, devoid of any sound. In this quiet, tranquil sanctuary, she stood wrapped in her solitude, gazing up at the night sky.

Countless stars sparkled against the pitch-black canvas. The starlight was beautiful. Yet, to Franche, it probably didn't look like mere starlight. After tonight, she might never be able to look at the stars the same way again. The wounds carved into her heart tonight were just that deep.

I spoke softly. "My lady."

There was no reply. Franche simply continued to silently watch the stars.

"My lady."

"...Leave me be for now."

"I cannot do that."

Franche turned around to look at me. Her tear-brimmed eyes shimmered under the pale moonlight.

"If you weren't a slave, you would have abandoned me long ago too, wouldn't you?"

I wonder. If I weren't a slave, would I have abandoned her in a situation like this?

"..."

I couldn't find the words to answer easily. It was for a simple reason: I had no idea what to say to comfort her.

Franche looked at me and let out a hollow chuckle. It was a fragile smile, forced to the surface with great effort.

"Your silence speaks for itself. Well, of course. It's only natural. We aren't anything special—just master and slave. You may go join the other escort knights at their party. I have no orders for you right now."

She turned her head back to the night sky. The air was freezing. Franche's heart was likely just as cold right now.

She had been abandoned by the one she trusted. Her only escape route had vanished. She would have to return to that dreadful household and endure the same abuse and neglect she always had. Now that her engagement with the House of Persia was broken, the torment would only worsen. Her future was painfully predictable.

What words could possibly comfort her? How could I heal the deep wounds in her heart? What could I even do for her here? Countless thoughts and worries raced through my mind. And finally, I reached a conclusion.

"I, at least, will always be on your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠side, my lady."

Normally, I would have cringed at such a cheesy line and cursed, but perhaps because my synchronization with Jin was progressing, it didn't feel so foreign to say.

Franche spoke. "I see. Thank you for the empty words, at least."

"They are not empty words."

"...What do you mean by that?"

"They are words born from what I truly feel."

"You aren't just sugarcoating things for my sake?"

"I am not."

A heavy silence fell over us. Franche stared at me blankly before suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter. "Ahaha!"

"You must be the only slave in the entire world who is this sentimental. How can you say such things to the daughter of an imperial ducal house—the very enemy of your fallen kingdom? Have you forgotten your loyal subjects? Have you forgotten the royal family of Barenberg?"

I understood exactly why she was speaking this way to the only person who had stood by her and offered comfort. She felt exposed, having shown her vulnerability, and was deliberately lashing out to reassert her strength. It is human nature, after all, to hide one's weakness.

The abuse she suffered at home was not her weakness; it was simply someone else's cruelty. On the other hand, this current situation was, to Franche, her own absolute vulnerability.

"What an amusing slave you are. Well, thanks to you, my mood has improved a bit. Does the royalty of Barenberg inherit a sense of humor as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠well?"

"It is not something I learned."

"Is that so? Well, what does any of that matter now? For now, you are simply mine."

Her tears have finally stopped. Good. Now it's time to put my plan for revenge into motion.

"My lady."

"What is it?"

"Would you care to re-enter the banquet hall?"

"...I do not have a partner."

"I shall be your partner."

Franche froze, her gaze snapping to me as she glared.

"Have you forgotten your status as a slave? While it is not entirely unheard of to bring an escort knight as a partner, who in their right mind would bring a slave?"

Well, she has a point. But she can rest easy—I have a plan.

"Though my status is lowly now, I was once royalty. You need not worry about my etiquette. Besides, my slave collar is hidden, so it will be fine."

Franche looked skeptical. "And what exactly would be the point of going that far?"

"If you immediately return with a new partner, the rumors will frame the young heir of Persia as the problem, not you."

I raised my head, locking eyes with her. "We are going to get revenge on him."

Her doubts returned. "But wouldn't that just spark rumors that the young Duke broke off the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠engagement because he caught me having an affair? If that happens, my reputation will truly hit rock bottom."

Franche narrowed her eyes.

"I have a plan. A very simple one."

She let out a scoffing laugh. "Fine. Let's say you do have a plan. But what if it fails? I am not foolish enough to gamble on a plan I know nothing about."

But I remained firm. "You will not regret it. I have planned for every variable. I will absolutely not allow your honor or reputation to be tarnished. Please, trust me just this once."

Another silence fell. Franche quietly studied me. To earn her trust, I pressed on.

"Did I not tell you? I am on your side. Is that not the only command—the final command—you have given me? There is no way I would do anything that would put my own life at risk."

After a long moment of quiet scrutiny, she finally nodded.

"Very well. Your eyes are full of conviction, so I shall trust you. But you know what will happen if this plan of yours goes up in smoke, right?"

"It will not fail."

"We shall see about that."

Franche stood up and extended her hand. "Won't you tell me what this plan is?"

"I will explain the details once we are inside."

"Fine. Since things have already come to this, do as you wish."

With that, we headed back toward the banquet hall.

"Announcing the re-entry of Lady Franche Decartes!"

The moment we stepped inside, the banquet hall erupted into a flurry of whispers. Thanks to a Sword Master's heightened senses, their hushed murmurs reached my ears with crystal clarity.

In an instant, we had become the sole focus of the party's gossip. Franche must have caught wind of the whispers too, as she bit her lip and hung her head low.

"I understand you are shaken and distressed, but raise your head, my lady. Show them you have nothing to hide."

Franche slowly lifted her gaze to look at me. Wearing a confident, reassuring smile, I spoke to bolster her courage.

"The real show starts now."