One Who Repays Debts (Part 2)

"Hmm."

Her skill at stashing stolen goods was amateurish at best.

I shrugged, snagging a long, dangling necklace chain and tugging it free. This petty trinket wasn't what I had invested my precious time to find. Spinning on my heel, I surveyed the remaining corners of the room. Only the desk was left.

Is it here?

I combed through every inch of the mahogany surface until a subtle irregularity caught my attention. The four drawers flanking either side were built to sit perfectly flush against the frame when closed—all except one. The top-right drawer protruded by a barely discernible fraction of an inch, as if snagged on something wedged behind it.

I pulled the drawer open and reached into the hollow recess behind it. Just as I anticipated, my fingertips brushed against an obstruction lodged in the crawl space.

Found it.

A triumphant smile tugged at my lips as I drew the object out into the light. It was a thick, black leather-bound ledger, its pages densely packed with lists of nouns and endless columns of numbers.

"Well, well."

A soft chuckle escaped me as I scanned the crowded figures. "Not only is she clumsy at stashing stolen goods, but her sleight of hand is laughable."

I had suspected her for quite some time, and now here was the undeniable physical proof. Tapping the papers against the desktop, I swept my gaze across the head maid's office. High-end ornaments and gilded tomes filled the bookshelves and display cabinets—treasures far too lavish to have ever been purchased on a palace maid's salary.

"Indeed, hoarding things far beyond one's station always leaves a trail."

Murmuring softly, I tore several crucial pages from the binding and slipped them into my breast pocket. "That should be more than enough evidence. Time to make my exit."

It was time to repay her in kind for every ounce of misery she had dished out.

"Where on earth did it go?!"

The Head Maid of the 3rd Prince's Palace paced her office, her features contorted in sheer despair. Something that should never have vanished had disappeared without a trace.

It was the ledger recording the origins of every single coin she had pocketed over the years. More specifically, five of its most vital pages were gone. Those five sheets represented both her grandest ambitions and her absolute lifeline. Under no circumstances could they be misplaced, let alone fall into someone else's hands.

"No, it must be here! It has to be!"

Cold sweat beaded across her forehead and rolled down her sallow cheeks. Ripping open drawers and upending their contents, she frantically swept stacks of books off the shelves, sending them crashing across the floor.

"Why isn't it here—?!"

Her shrill shriek pierced the quiet of the chambers just as the door clicked open.

"H-Head Maid!"

"Didn't I tell you never to barge in without knocking?!"

"Eek!"

The heavy hardback volume the head maid hurled across the room flew through the air, only to be caught mid-flight with a sharp snap.

"Goodness me."

Behind the armored knight who had intercepted the missile stood an elegant noblewoman. It was none other than Countess Faylinn Katrina, celebrated across high society as its radiant flower.

"No matter how enraged you may be, one ought to preserve the decorum expected of nobility, Head Maid."

Why is she here?

Terror gripped the head maid's throat. Once upon a time, Faylinn was a patron to whom she had pledged unswerving devotion, but that loyalty had long since expired. Truthfully, the Countess had merely been an instrument—a bridge to establish a connection with the Second Imperial Consort. Once the head maid secured direct access to Consort Helena, she had cut ties and ceased all correspondence. So why had this formidable woman sought her out in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠person?

"It has been quite some time, hasn't it?"

"M-My Lady Countess! I greet your esteemed presence."

While the Countess maintained a flawless, aristocratic smile that befitted the darling of the imperial salons, her amber eyes burned with molten fury.

"What could you possibly be searching for with such desperate fervor? Won't you enlighten me?"

"I... that is, I misplaced a crucial document, and I was merely attempting to retrieve it..."

"Is that so? Surely this important document of yours wouldn't happen to be these, would it?"

The head maid, who had been staring fixedly at the floorboards, slowly raised her gaze under the weight of a sickening premonition. Between Faylinn's slender, pale fingers fluttered several torn sheets of parchment.

They were the missing pages of the secret ledger.

"H-How did you...!"

The blood drained instantly from the head maid's face, leaving it the color of lead. Watching her crumble, Faylinn curled the corner of her lips into a cruel smirk.

"A very righteous maid forwarded them to me anonymously."

A maid?

The head ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠maid's pupils shook violently. She stood frozen, paralyzed between an overwhelming sense of betrayal and dizzying panic.

"You really should manage your subordinates better, Head Maid."

Faylinn clicked her tongue, casting an amused glance over the itemized tallies.

"Yes, I suppose the 3rd Prince's Palace—with its grand total of twenty servants—truly requires a hundred crates of fresh carrots every single day. Wouldn't you agree?"

The stinging sarcasm burned the head maid's cheeks a blistering crimson.

"Yet what fascinates me above all else is this particular entry." The Countess tapped a manicured nail against an item near the bottom. "Why on earth is a gift of gratitude to the Katrina County billed at three hundred gold?"

Whatever remaining color had flushed the head maid's skin evaporated in a heartbeat.

"I don't recall ever performing a service that merited such extravagant compensation from you." Faylinn's voice dropped, dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "You surely aren't trying to tell me that this cheap bauble you sent for my birthday was worth three hundred gold, are you?"

From her cloak, the Countess produced a string of pearls and hurled it violently to the floor. The cord snapped on impact, scattering pearls across the rug like hail. The head maid shivered from head to foot at the clatter.

Faylinn closed the distance between them with deliberate, unhurried steps. "And three hundred gold every single year, no less. If memory serves, the last gift I ever received from your hands arrived three full years ago."

She reached out and seized the head maid's chin in a vice-like grip, yanking her face upward. In an instant, the poised noblewoman's facade shattered completely.

"You thieving wretch."

Faylinn's delicate features twisted into something grotesque and demonic. "I dragged you out of the mud while you were scrubbing floors behind a rustic baron, placed you in the imperial palace, and you dare repay me by stabbing me in the back?"

"N-No! Countess, please! I swear I never harbored such intentions!"

"Did you honestly believe a creature of your status could replace me?"

"T-That isn't—"

"Shut your mouth!" Faylinn snarled, cutting her off without mercy. "I suppose exchanging a few pleasantries with Her Highness the Second Imperial Consort went straight to your head. Made you feel as though your station had elevated, did it?"

With an expression of utter disgust, Faylinn shoved the head maid's jaw away as if brushing off filth. The maid's knees buckled, sending her tumbling onto the scattered pearls.

"To think you dared drag my family's name into your pathetic embezzlement scheme. Ungrateful bitch." Faylinn stared down at her with unfiltered contempt. "An ungrateful dog deserves to be disciplined. I shall take my time deciding what manner of punishment suits you best."

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chill in her voice was absolute. "For now, pack your belongings and scurry back to your wretched countryside. If you ever show your face before me again, your head will not remain on your shoulders."

"M-Madam! Please, wait! My Lady!" In sheer desperation, the head maid lunged forward, clutching at the hem of Faylinn's velvet gown. "It wasn't me, Countess! There must be a grave misunderstanding! I never penned those entries!"

"Do you take me for a fool who cannot recognize your handwriting?"

Faylinn kicked her foot back, dislodging the trembling hands. The head maid reached out once more, only for the accompanying knight to draw his blade halfway, blocking her with an iron arm.

Glaring down at the pathetic figure prostrated before her, Faylinn issued her final decree.

"You had best remove yourself from this palace on your own two feet, and quickly."

"Countess, I beg of you, anything but that...!"

"Why? Can't stomach the thought of returning to that gutter you crawled out of?"

The head maid bit her lip until it bled. The stark, suffocating reality she had fought so hard to bury resurfaced in vivid detail. Her husband—a brute who spent his waking hours steeped in cheap alcohol and common whores, taking out his boredom by beating her black and blue. All because he held the meager title of a rural baron and had bestowed upon her the empty designation of a baroness.

She clenched her fists against the floor. To escape that domestic hell, she had been willing to lick the dust off Faylinn's slippers in exchange for favor. Now, every scrap of effort was reduced to ash. She remained blind to the fact that her own greed had dismantled her life; in her warped mind, there was only searing resentment over her ruined ambitions.

"If you refuse to leave under your own power, the alternative will be far more gruesome," Faylinn murmured, her smile returning like a mask of painted porcelain. "It isn't as though you earned this position through your own merit anyway, so harbor no lingering attachments."

"My Lady, please...!"

"Or would you prefer having your limbs severed for treasonous embezzlement of imperial funds before you finally come to your senses?"

Right before the head maid's tearful, wide eyes, Faylinn gripped the ledger pages and tore them into confetti, scattering the shreds over her bowed head.

"Consider yourself fortunate that your flesh hasn't met the same fate."

The Countess swept her cloak aside and turned toward the door. As she crossed the threshold, the head maid raised her tear-stained face—and locked eyes with a figure standing quietly by the entry.

It was Rachel Brown.

The newly appointed nanny stood with an expression of serene detachment, observing the spectacle with all the mild curiosity of someone watching a distant bonfire across a river.

Approaching the doorway, Countess Faylinn paused and offered a polite nod. "Thank you for the gracious guidance, Lady Brown."

"May your journey be safe and pleasant, Countess," Rachel replied with flawless etiquette, lowering her head in a pristine bow.

Once the Countess and her escort had disappeared down the corridor, Rachel straightened her posture. Her gaze drifted lazily downward, settling on the ruined woman collapsed amid the scattered pearls and shredded paper.

To think that of all people, I had to be humiliated before her...

Burning shame washed over the head maid as she hung her head. But before she could turn away, a soft voice broke the silence.

"Why did you do it?"

The voice was completely devoid of inflection—flat, dry, and chilling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the bone. The head maid stiffened, doubting her own ears, and cautiously lifted her gaze.

Rachel was looking down at her, green eyes as cold and bottomless as frozen lakes.

"Especially when you were the one who insisted that lying was such a wicked sin."

The head maid stared up at her in stunned silence. And in that fleeting second, she caught it: the faint, mocking smirk playing at the corners of the young nanny's lips.

Her breath hitched. Staggering like a marionette with severed strings, the head maid pushed herself up from the floor. She had no proof, nor could she fathom how it had been orchestrated. Yet deep within her marrow, an undeniable realization took root.

This ruinous calamity that had crushed her entire existence was entirely the work of the woman standing before her.