4. The Maid
That evening, Olivier's nerves, taut with tension from morning till night, finally began to unwind. Sleepy now, she announced she was turning in early and started preparing for bed. After helping Olivier change into her nightgown, Emily returned to her own room a little earlier than usual.
The servants' quarters on the inner wing were clustered at the far end of the corridor where the family's bedrooms lay, tucked into the corner. Walking that silent hallway late at night could feel eerily unsettling. Even tonight, the darkened corridor seemed a touch foreboding, urging Emily to quicken her steps toward her room. At last, she spotted the four cramped doors in a row, their old frames weathered and narrow.
On the corridor floor before her door lay her laundry, neatly folded by the daytime maids from the washroom. Emily bent down to gather the precisely creased garments. Glancing at the first door, she saw Lotte's clothes laid out there too. Lotte hadn't returned yet.
Emily fished the key from her skirt pocket and turned it in the lock. She always kept her door secured, so laundry was always left this way. The first-floor day maids would place it outside before clocking out. Stepping inside, the cool air of her room—left open all day for the summer heat—greeted her like a balm. Lighting the candle after a long day, entering this empty sanctuary always melted away her fatigue, wrapping her in cozy comfort.
She'd change into something comfortable, sit by the window overlooking the grounds, reflect on the day's events, mentally run through tomorrow's tasks, and close out the evening. Before bed, she'd pick a favorite novel from Olivier's collection, read until drowsiness overtook her, snuff the candle, and drift off peacefully.
Tonight, exhausted from prepping for the count's guests since dawn, drowsiness crept in even as she sat. But squandering this rare, precious alone time on sleep felt like such a waste. To shake off the sleepiness, Emily rose from the window and paced the narrow room. When that didn't help, she flung the window wide, climbed over the knee-high sill, and stepped out onto the terrace.
The terrace lay beyond the faint reach of her room's candlelight, swallowed in pure darkness. Looking up, stars twinkled densely across the sky, but all around was utter black. The first floor stood empty now, and the servants' rooms on the second were tucked into the building's remote corner, with the terrace jutting out prominently. Below sprawled a storage area; above on the third floor were more storage for unused clothes and miscellaneous items.
There were servants' rooms on the third floor too, but those sat above the inner guest chambers. With the servants' stairs connecting directly to the guest wing, convenience had placed the third-floor quarters there for smoother access.
Emily wandered the silent terrace's shadows. At first, it was pitch black, but as her eyes adjusted, faint outlines of objects emerged from the gloom. Aside from her own, every room connected to the terrace stood vacant. Approaching the window of the first room, she noted Lotte had left hers wide open for ventilation, the room empty.
As she paced back and forth, the door to Lotte's room creaked open. Candlelight flickered on inside, followed by rustling sounds—Lotte sorting her laundry from the corridor into the wardrobe.
To avoid disturbing her rest, Emily tiptoed toward her own connected window. Then, from the wide-open first window came another thud of the door, followed by a man's voice.
“My, it's been a while.”
Lotte's tone dripped with sarcasm, feigning familiarity.
“……I've kept my distance these past months.”
The moment Emily caught that voice leaking from the window, she instantly knew its owner: Baron Belpharos.
Just then, she recalled what Olens had told Eli in the guest room last time. She considered slipping away, but wicked curiosity held her fast. Silently, she crept to the second window, leaned against it, and twisted her head to peer discreetly through the hinge gap into Lotte's room.
Inside, Lotte stood before the wardrobe, glaring at the baron with venomous eyes. He lingered by the door, shrugging awkwardly with a strained smile.
“Off to Eliyum tomorrow, aren't you? To meet Eli who's long gone? Planning a steamy night together?”
Lotte's words barbed like thorns.
The baron slowly shook his head.
“Eli can't return for a while. The owner of her shop was summoned back home, and she went with him to Slatton. She promised to get in touch if she comes back.”
Lotte nodded as if it all made sense now.
“Whoring off after her pimp to the homeland. How touchingly devoted.”
As the baron drew closer amid her relentless barbs, he reached out, pulling her into an embrace and cupping her backside. Lotte yielded for a moment, then twisted away in distaste.
“I hate this. When Eli was around, you ignored me completely—now you come running the second she's gone. From now on, just go to the baroness.”
Gripping her buttocks harder, the baron rested his chin on her shoulder with a sigh.
“Eleanor detests bedding me. As you know, she just grimaces through it in silent agony. Besides, you're taking such good care of her.”
Lotte narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his words.
“……You knew? Since when?”
He offered only a cryptic smile, no answer. Instead, his hands slid up from her hips to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Lotte extended her arms to push him back.
“Since when?! When did you find out?”
Her voice sharpened. With reluctant candor, the baron replied,
“Eli told me the day she first arrived here. I hadn't suspected a thing before. Once she pointed it out, it clicked—and that's why I've kept my distance from you lately. …Makes sense now, doesn't it.”
Lowering her arms, Lotte stared at him. He grinned slyly once more.
“I've thought it over. It's not so bad. Nothing's changed about you or anyone—I've just learned one more secret. I've decided I'm fine with it now.”
Approaching the still figure, the baron began undressing her in her maid uniform. Lotte watched impassively, lost in thought, as it happened. Removing her bonnet and untying her hair, chestnut locks cascaded to her shoulders in waves.
At nearly forty, with her hair pinned up and no makeup under the uniform, Lotte looked squarely middle-aged. Stripped bare, though, her figure was average for a woman: breasts neither large nor small, a modestly nipped waist, hips slightly sagging—but passable overall. With her hair down, she appeared a touch younger.
The baron eyed her nude form up and down, frowning faintly.
“Haven't touched you in a while, and you've spread a bit. Gotten careless, have we?”
Snapping from reverie, Lotte shot him a glare.
“You've been chasing younger skirts, so of course I look that way to you.”
Not entirely wrong, he chuckled indulgently and drew the naked woman close. Better a wild grouse in hand than a departed peacock.
“Going to keep bristling like that? I'm off to Eliyum at first light tomorrow. Time's short.”
Lowering his head, the baron began licking the nape of Lotte's neck as he held her. His saliva-slick tongue tickled between neck and shoulder; Lotte responded by wrapping her arms around him. Taking it as invitation, he trailed his tongue downward over her shoulder toward her breasts, lapping long strokes.
Soon, his wet tongue met her apricot nipple, and Lotte's body twitched in response. The baron lavished attention on the soft, shapeless bud, licking slowly from below upward, curling to suck, then downward again.
Lotte's fingertips tightened on his back.
“Ah, mmph……”
He persisted, teasing the nipple: wrapping his slick tongue tip around it to tug and release, suckling repeatedly. After several mouthfuls, the fleshy bud flushed pink, erect and stiff.
The swollen tip glistened temptingly; the baron extended his tongue long and pointed, tapping it lightly. Each prod sent it retreating into its areola, then springing back.
A zinging thrill shot from nipple to breast; Lotte swallowed a moan, tilting her head back.
“Ngh……”
As the reddened tip hardened further with arousal, he engulfed it fully, nibbling gently with his teeth, pressing, then laving in circles before nipping the end again. Each subtle bite between his teeth drew fine tremors from her shoulders and soft cries.
“Ahh, ah, ha……ah……”
Aroused by her moans, the baron gaped his mouth wide, encircling the crimson tip with tongue and lips, sucking hard. Piercing pleasure surged from the nipple, racing down her spine to her core.
“Haaang……”
Her buttocks quivered; a sudden gush soaked her below. Craving more, Lotte arched her chest forward, pressing his nose slightly. He released the nipple he'd been suckling voraciously.
Emerging from his hot mouth into the cool room air, the tip puckered tightly. He blew warm breath over it; it shivered, sparking tingles. Warm saliva enveloped the rigid peak as his tongue coiled slickly within, sending shivers through her.
“Ahh……”
Hot saliva swirled relentlessly around the engorged tip, his serpentine tongue wrapping and squeezing. He suckled hard, released, then lapped teasingly; Lotte trembled uncontrollably, savoring the electric aftershocks to her fingertips.
“Shall we stop here?”
Withdrawing his steaming tongue, the baron murmured slyly. Lotte gazed at him languidly through half-lidded eyes, slowly shaking her head.
“Then?”
He teased. She trailed fingertips along her inner thigh, dipping into the clear, slick arousal, then lifted them glistening. With ongoing moans, she painted the glistening fluid along the dry inner edges of her lips like translucent paint.
The shiny nectar glossed her red lips, lewdly slick and inviting.
“……Don't you want a taste?”
Her voice dripped with sultry wetness; entranced, the baron parted his lips and extended his tongue.