4. The Maid
“Ah, those days really felt like a dream. The Loren family’s ball was more splendid and glamorous than any party I’ve ever seen on the western continent.”
As Emily gently ran her fingers through Olivier’s honey-gold hair from behind her chair in the dressing room, Olivier murmured while gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her face gleamed with a radiant glow, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. Her eyes, fixed on the mirror, grew dreamy as memories of the recent ball flooded back.
“How can the nobles of Ashton be so refined? They were all so courteous, treating the ladies like princesses. Whether standing or sitting, they were so attentive—handing us drinks right after a dance if we looked thirsty. And that distinctive accent. How is Ashton-style courtesy so sexy and elegant? Even among those with similar accents, it’s worlds apart from Templton. It must be unique to Leisha nobles. They speak quickly, but their witty, humorous stories slip right into your ears.”
Olivier let out a soft chuckle, a smile playing on her lips.
“Was I popular that night? Well, it wasn’t people my age—it was the more mature guests who took a liking to me. Lord Ritterven and Lord Crosyrus stayed by my side until the end, keeping me entertained. But they both looked nearly thirty. A bit... off-putting, I guess? Especially Lord Ritterven—he’s in business in Eliyum, I heard. He made such a fuss over my handkerchief, saying he admired me and all that.”
“What about Lord Ritterven? Did you like him?”
Emily asked, and Olivier rolled her eyes toward the ceiling before shaking her head.
“Honestly, if not for that refined Ashton accent, he wouldn’t have been all that appealing. Too much of a playboy, you know? And his looks—considering his age—don’t hold a candle to Lord Ilroy or Lord Killian.”
Hmm. Olivier seemed lost in thought again, reminiscing about the ball. Not wanting to disturb her, Emily carefully tended to the strands of hair falling from her forehead.
After a long moment of silence, Olivier met Emily’s gaze in the mirror and spoke.
“It was such a surprise when Lady Evril came to my room that night after the ball. She has plenty of close noble friends, but she sought me out and asked me to stay with her until the day they left for Leisha. Did she take a liking to me? Or...”
Recalling that moment, her thoughts drifting to Killian standing beside Evril, her cheeks flushed pink.
Emily smoothed a lock of hair with a bronze comb. She kept silent, letting her lady indulge in pleasant daydreams, and carefully brushed through the silky strands. The soft rustle of hair against the comb filled the dressing room.
“...Do you remember the day they left?”
“Pardon?”
Emily looked up, and Olivier shyly lifted the corners of her mouth.
“The day they headed to Eliyum on their way to Leisha. In front of the Loren count’s manor, Lord Killian said he wanted to thank me.”
“Oh... that.”
Emily recalled the scene. It had been just a few days ago. With carriages waiting at the entrance as everyone prepared to depart for their destinations, Killian—who had been with Evril and Ilroy—approached Olivier.
It was around noon under the blazing sun, the air thick with heat. Killian walked quietly and stopped before Olivier. His tall frame cast a slight shadow, blocking the midday sun.
“Lady Belpharos,” he called in a low voice. Olivier demurely bowed her head like a proper lady.
Then Killian’s dark brown eyes shifted to Emily, standing behind her. Their transparent gray eyes met, and his gaze pierced straight through her, intense and unwavering.
“Thank you for taking such good care of my sister all this time. She gets lonely easily and always needs a close friend by her side. It’s not easy to find a lady she can open up to here in the western continent, so as her brother, I’m truly grateful that you’ve been such a kind friend to her. As thanks, I’d like to give you a small gift on our next visit.”
Emily tried to look away, but his stare made it impossible.
“...No, not at all. Lady Loren taught me so much while we were together. If anything, I’m the one who should be grateful.”
Olivier replied shyly, head still bowed.
“Evril wants to express her thanks too, so we’ll see you again on our next visit. Until then...”
Killian paused, his eyes locked on Emily. His gaze sharpened, deepening with intensity. A hidden longing lurked there, squeezing her nerves until she could barely breathe. Her heart pounded.
Emily dropped her eyes. The midday heat was unbearable, and his piercing stare even more so. Unconsciously, she clenched her fists tight.
“...?”
Olivier lifted her head curiously at the silence, and Killian shifted his cool gaze back to her.
“...I look forward to seeing you again. Farewell.”
With that, he turned and strode away with firm steps, boarding the carriage where his companions waited. Olivier’s cheeks had flushed bright red. She fanned herself hurriedly, blaming the hot weather.
“I wonder what the thank-you gift will be? It’s a long way until winter, but I’m already looking forward to it.”
Olivier shrugged, her bright brown hair shimmering and swaying with glossy waves. Emily lightly smoothed the ends into place.
As Emily finished brushing and admired her work with a satisfied smile, their eyes met again in the mirror. Olivier, with her pink blush, curved her lips into a gentle smile.
“...Why?”
“Because you look beautiful.”
Emily’s honest words made Olivier softly grasp the hand resting on her shoulder.
“You’re becoming a master of etiquette now. Quite the progress. Well, it’s not a lie, so...”
Seemingly pleased by the praise, she stroked Emily’s fingertips lightly in approval, then rose from her seat. Stretching out her back, which had been hunched from sitting.
“Aigoo... Will the aftereffects of the party linger this long? I wish there could be balls every day. Full of fun, glamour, and interesting people.”
As they left the dressing room, Olivier glanced toward the window. Outside, a heavy gray sky pressed down. Fierce winds rustled the tree branches.
“The weather’s gloomy today too—no walks, just tea inside. But even with eyes the color of those gray clouds, yours sparkle like jewels. It’s amazing.”
Olivier gazed at Emily as she spoke.
“That’s a compliment, Emily. You’ve gotten prettier lately. The ladies at the party kept asking who the maid that came in with me was. Thanks to you, I got some extra attention.”
Olivier flashed a bright smile. Emily hurriedly bowed her head and excused herself to fetch the tea. Olivier chuckled softly at the sight.
In her simple brown maid’s dress without adornments, Emily had filled out a bit and grown taller, becoming noticeably beautiful. Beauties shine brighter in groups. Better than having an ugly maid trailing behind, Olivier thought, stroking her own soft hair. The strands, groomed by Emily’s fingertips, were fluffy, glossy, and fragrant.