4. The Maid
Emily slipped out of the banquet hall. Across the wide corridor stretching right in front of it stood a grand reception room, where elderly noblemen uninterested in the dancing and singing had gathered to discuss the political situation over quiet conversations. At one end of the room, a broad table hosted a tense card game, with men huddled intently around it. Beautifully attired noblewomen stood or sat nearby in elegant poses, cheering on their partners. Servants in blue uniforms darted busily about, trays laden with food in hand.
Emily headed for the staircase ahead. It led up to the second-floor guest rooms—an immense structure beyond comparison with the overseer's lodge. She lingered uncertainly before the rooms until an elderly servant holding a sheaf of documents approached and asked politely,
"If you could tell me the name of the family you serve, I'll let you know the room number."
"The Baron Belpharos family. Templton."
The servant flipped through the pages, tapping the spot listing the room number with his fingertip.
"Room 2145. Head that way, around the corner, and straight on—it's on the right."
"Thank you."
Emily followed his directions. Numbers were marked on every door. At last, she reached Room 2145. She hesitated before it. Surely Lotte and the baroness were inside together, yet it was so quiet and still that she wavered for a long moment over whether to knock. Finally, she clenched her fist lightly and rapped—knock knock.
A flurry of sounds came from within, and then Lotte cracked the door open. Lotte, standing there, had slightly flushed cheeks, her lips and chin glistening with moisture. Behind her, the baroness sat on the sofa, adjusting the folds of her dress's skirt. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and like Lotte, her cheeks were rosy.
Lotte, a touch taller than Emily, looked down at her with lowered eyes.
"The madam is tired. Don't disturb her—go wait somewhere else. She'll rest deeply until the ball begins."
With that, Lotte shot her a meaningful glance before shutting the door. Click—the sound of the inner lock engaging echoed from inside.
Emily stood frozen before the door, then glanced around. The corridor was empty on both sides. She made her way back to the second-floor stairs. The male servant from before eyed her curiously, so she forced an awkward smile and spoke.
"...Is there perhaps a place where the staff can rest? I'm still not familiar with everything."
He stroked his cleanly shaven chin, looking troubled.
"Well, there's a ladies' lounge on the first floor, but that's for the ladies to rest. For outside staff, it would be near the carriages or the outer garden. There's a break room in front of the kitchen."
The maid before him looked like such a young girl that the servant pondered. That area would become a meeting spot for adult male and female staff during the nobles' ball—a little party where servants from various places mingled while their masters reveled inside. It wasn't suitable for a young girl, so he tilted his head and spoke again.
"Hmm, and unlike the public library on the first floor, there's the earl's private study deeper in on the second floor. It should be deserted today. No noble comes to a ball to pore over books."
His thoughtful suggestion brightened Emily's expression. With the young miss occupied by new social activities during the upcoming dinner party, she wouldn't need Emily. Normally, she'd wait in the room or mingle with the other staff, but neither suited her—so the servant's recommended study was perfect.
Emily quickly read the name badge pinned to his uniform's chest.
"Thank you so much for telling me, Philip."
With a grateful bow to the elderly servant, Emily headed for the earl's private study as directed. Aside from the banquet wing, the entire second floor was empty, so the study lay deep within the guest quarters. Like the overseer's lodge, a firmly shut inner door marked the corridor's midpoint; passing it and rounding the corner revealed a massive, heavy door at the end. A plaque in the center read Study.
Pushing open the weighty door, she found thick blackout curtains drawn. Even so, the room wasn't pitch dark—faint magical lighting artifacts glowed softly here and there. But the light was dim, so Emily stepped inside and flung open the curtains covering the windows. Shoving the heavy, billowing fabric into the gap at the end of the bookshelf flooded the room with afternoon sunlight.
With her view clear, Emily surveyed the study. Her home at the overseer's lodge had a first-floor study too, but it held few books—just porcelain, paintings, armor, and taxidermied trophies for decoration. This place, though, brimmed with books; two walls, save for the windows and door, were lined floor-to-ceiling. Even that wasn't enough—three large freestanding shelves stood at intervals.
The furnishings suited a study perfectly. A plush reading sofa sat before the shelves, and an antique-style grand desk stood by the window. The desk's base, where the chair slid in, was neatly paneled in solid wood.
Emily approached the bookshelves. She could browse here for a while; once the room emptied, she'd head back. She scanned for something to read, then froze in surprise. She hadn't expected romance novels like those in the young miss's room, but this was excessive. Nearly every book crammed into the room was written in script she couldn't read. Yet the letters themselves were familiar—she'd seen them late at night while the young miss studied ancient tongue.
Olivier had said ancient tongue was the language of nobles, and indeed, the earl's private study overflowed with nothing but books in ancient tongue.
Emily bent to check the lower shelves. No luck—still no readable text. Disappointed, she moved to the freestanding shelves against one wall. After rummaging deep, she finally found a few volumes. Tucked in the back was a block of thick, coarse-paper books, each as hefty as a noble registry. She selected three, tucked them under her arm, returned to the sofa, and set them on the small side table beside it. She opened one, lit the stand lamp behind the sofa.
Soft light from the magical lamp bathed the pages. The lengthy title Anti-Magic Wars and the Shifts in Power Structures Thereafter: Up to the History of Western Continent Colonies looked thick and daunting, but the others had even more intimidating titles—no other choice. Emily turned a page on her lap. Shh—the crisp rustle echoed in the quiet study, filling her with a serene calm.
To think she'd learned to read in just over half a year—and never imagined she'd be doing so in the hushed elegance of a noble mansion's private study. Emily lingered in quiet appreciation, then turned back to the book and read on.
The content was difficult. Words she'd never heard or seen slowed her pace. But pondering meanings, inferring from context before and after, she pressed on slowly. Outside the window, dusk gradually fell; after some time, only the lamp and room lights glowed steadily. Her eyes grew dry, her head heavy—she set the book aside to return to the room. It should be empty by now.
Carrying the heavy volume back to the shelf, she grumbled to herself. Why bother grabbing them when she couldn't even finish one? She shook her head.
As she crouched to slide it in—
Click.
The study door opened. Heavy footsteps followed.
A man? Distracted by the sound, her hand slipped—the book tumbled. Thud.
The thick volume hit the floor with a heavy thump. As she squatted to retrieve it, approaching footsteps grew near. Clutching the book and rising, she spotted polished shoe tips gleaming far across the floor.
Emily looked up slowly. The shoes belonged to a man in fine attire. She gazed higher—and met deep, dark brown eyes staring back. A spark flickered in those dark, quiet depths.
Their owner spoke softly.
"...Philip said you'd be here."