Karen Florence (3)
Around sundown, Rihardt—fresh from his bath—gave the order that Karen be brought to the dining hall.
So the "someone" he'd promised to send was me. Given his twisted temperament, it was an obvious choice of messenger.
I drew a deep breath in front of the room where Karen was staying, then knocked.
Knock knock.
"Miss Karen Florence, I will be escorting you to the dining hall."
Click.
Like Rihardt, she too had apparently just finished her bath; her skin was still damp and dewy. If only she would keep her mouth shut like this, she really would be a rather adorable girl.
"Out of all the people in this world, why did it have to be you?"
For all her cute looks, she was a vicious-tempered creature. Then again, perhaps it was precisely because of that adorable face that she bared her thorns—so as not to be underestimated.
Though she does seem to treat me more harshly than anyone. Was she so prickly with me because she believed I held Rihardt's favor? If she knew how that favor actually worked, would she look at me differently? A laughable delusion. And yet, if things went well, it was a delusion that would soon become reality—for Karen Florence herself would come to feel Rihardt's "favor" firsthand. Brushing away the sinister daydream, I led Karen toward the dining hall.
No words passed between us on the way. Or rather, I hadn't expected any.
"You. Don't get cocky just because Rihardt finds you pretty."
The words jabbed in like an awl. Had I seemed full of myself? I didn't think I'd ever been, not once. So I had well and truly gotten under Karen Florence's skin. My own temperament itched to ram headlong back at her, but that would only snarl the plans I had ahead.
"If I came across that way, I can only apologize."
"His favor won't last forever, you know. Everything you've done until now will come circling back as karma. Hmph, I can see it without even looking. Deceiving innocent Rihardt—"
This woman. She clucked on and on until my ears ached. Her insufferable arrogance was enough to sicken me, yet the thought of the humiliation she would soon suffer at Rihardt's own hands left me strangely torn. So this was the petty sympathy Rihardt had spoken of.
"Are you even listening to me?"
It's going in one ear and out the other. Any more of this and my ears might start bleeding.
Let her keep talking like this, and she was bound to blow her top. In a placid tone, I offered Karen Florence what sincerity I could muster.
"I'm well aware you find me displeasing, Miss Florence. In hopes that you might set that anger aside, allow me one remark: Young Master Rihardt will hold far deeper interest in a beautiful woman such as yourself than in some common maid he could take to his bed whenever and wherever he pleased. So do put your misplaced worries away, and let that needlessly inflamed hostility of yours settle."
Karen Florence, who had been turning my words over in her mind, abruptly contorted her face. What is it this time?
"So right now, you're bragging to me that Rihardt's taken you to bed?"
How could anyone stretch it into that? Or was it my fault, for phrasing things so loosely? I hastened to correct her misunderstanding.
"I am a virgin."
"A virgin? Truly?"
"I swear it by Lou, the god of light."
At the invocation of faith, her ferocious momentum deflated a notch. Apparently, for the devout, nothing was more binding than an oath sworn to their god.
"You do realize that if that's a lie, I'm entitled to punish you in a religious sense?"
"I say it because I'm confident enough in myself to say it. Or must I show you before you'll believe me? If only that would satisfy you, then so be it."
"...Mmm."
"And I will say this with certainty: Young Master Rihardt will never look at me as a romantic prospect."
He might take me for an 'accomplice' or a 'plaything'—never that. Besides, I had never once believed Rihardt capable of anything so normal as courtship. What woman alive could possibly cater to that fucked-up personality of his?
"...You mean that?"
"Must I swear even this to god?"
"...No, forget it. I only make a fool of myself, doubting you."
Karen, whose vigilance had been excessive, let her shoulders sag. She seemed hollowed out by the discovery that the rival she'd taken so seriously was, in truth, nothing at all. Most misunderstandings, after all, were meant to be dissolved by a simple conversation.
"Feeling reassured now?"
"...Fine, fine, just lead the way. I'm ashamed of myself, making all that fuss over nothing."
"As you wish."
And with that, one small misunderstanding was laid to rest.
I saw Karen Florence to the dining hall and turned back. A mere maid had no business intruding on the meal of exalted nobles, after all. There were plenty of other capable hired hands to see to it.
So I made for the servants' bathhouse instead; all that running around had left me sweating plenty. If this godforsaken world had a single virtue to its name, it was that—unlike the true Middle Ages—its waterways were properly laid, and the supply of water ran plentiful. Bathhouses had existed even in the Greek era, so there was nothing wondrous about that.
Being a communal bath, it held other servants besides me. From the sidelong glances they kept sending my way, I gathered I was well on my way to becoming a hot topic. Nothing to be done about it. The trouble was that Rihardt's behavior was every bit as scandalous as it appeared. Hadn't he plucked me straight from the head maid's own hands? To onlookers, it must have seemed I'd become the favored woman of the family's next head—the one who would inherit the county. Servants lived and breathed their sensitivity to power, so it was only natural their manner toward me turned wary. For my part, too, that distance was for the best. If someone I'd finally grown close to became Rihardt's plaything, no torment could compare.
I worked the cleanser into a lather, washed myself down, then lowered myself into the bath, ankles first. The warm water seemed to melt the stiffness from my muscles. Sinking until it lapped at my shoulders, I set my mind to the problem of how to drag Karen down to the Basement.
I couldn't make a move on Karen Florence while she was a guest of the estate. Vanishing as Rihardt's guest, and vanishing when she was not—those were two very different matters. One left the order she belonged to with grounds to assign blame; the other did not. The intensity of any search of the estate would hinge on precisely that distinction. The ideal, then, was to strike the moment Karen left the house.
But how does one waylay a girl who keeps her own horse? Her means of travel were simply too good; there was no intercepting her mid-journey. Worse, she was a combatant of the order, one who bore the famed title of Battle Nun. In looks she was nothing more than a cute girl, but her martial skill would surely live up to that bloodcurdling epithet. Half-baked threats would obviously bounce right off her. And I wasn't blessed with Rihardt's physical gifts. Best not to entertain any notion of managing this by force.
Which left...
"Well, if it isn't Lucy? The one everyone's been buzzing about lately?"
A voice so brash it hurt to hear. Her manner of speech had a somewhat affected ring. I turned to see who it was and found a woman whose face looked every bit as ill-tempered as her voice—blonde hair and blue eyes her defining features. Her looks were nothing remarkable. Was she homely, or merely middling? I'd never put much stock in face-reading, but one look at this woman and I felt it might deserve a little faith after all.
So she knew Lucy? Judging by her attitude, the relationship was anything but friendly. Then again, Rihardt did only ever set his sights on people whose relationships were rocky.
When I gave no reply, did she take it for a deliberate snub?
"Fawning over Young Master Rihardt with that cheap little body of yours—life treating you better now? Feel like the whole world belongs to you? Hm?"
At her words, I glanced down at Lucy's body—no, at what was mine now. Objectively speaking, the figure was nothing to scoff at. It wasn't, but I did suspect Rihardt's taste ran toward something a bit more violent than this. If anything, that woman's build was closer to his ideal. Her face would filter her out, though.
Had my leisurely once-over displeased her somehow? She strode right up and seized a fistful of my hair. You've got grabby hands, lady.
"Hey, you gone mute on me? Why won't you answer?"
This was getting unpleasant.
"Let go of my hair. I'm telling you this for your own good."
Rihardt was, at bottom, a man of fierce possessiveness. Lay a hand on what was his? He would repay it with thorough, merciless retribution. And if I came away with so much as a scratch, I would be the one who couldn't bear what followed. Then again, people who couldn't read the room existed in every corner of the world.
"Ha, so the great Lucy talks back now? And what's with that insolent stare?"
Stay silent and she shrieks about it; say a word and I'm talking back. Another one of those people it was pointless to try and please, it seemed. Wasn't a bathhouse, of all places, supposed to offer some peace? Why did these incidents never stop circling me? At this point, surely I was cursed. I don't know who you are, lady, but even without your shrieking, my stress is already fit to burst.
With a sigh, I rose slowly from the water.
"I honestly can't fathom why every woman I meet treats me like I'm an easy mark."
Smack.
I knocked her hand away from my hair.
"That jealous of me, are you?"
Then I drove my fist into her solar plexus with everything I had. It wasn't called a vital point for nothing—a clean strike there, and the pain was considerable. The busty blonde crumpled to the floor, wheezing.
I crouched down at my ease and brought my eyes level with hers.
"Just because you're jealous doesn't mean you get to spew your crap at the wrong person, you stupid bitch. If it sticks in your throat that badly, go fawn over Young Master Rihardt yourself. What, no guts for that, so you'd rather throw your tantrum at the one who won't fight back? Hm?"
The pain had stolen her voice, but she glared at me with venomous eyes. Was it simply unbearable, being defied by someone she considered her lesser? With both hands, I cupped her cheeks.
"Hey. I don't know who you are, but open those eyes nice and wide for me."
I pressed my thumbs hard into her eye sockets. The blonde flinched back, terrified.
"Because the way you're looking at me is souring my mood, and I just might gouge those eyes clean out."