Chapter 7
Just now, Hana felt as though she were passing back and forth between heaven and hell.
It had been about a month since she was assigned to this place. At first she had been nothing but grateful for the simple fact that she could carry out the great one's most intimate commands, but life here was far from comfortable.
Weren't people animals too, in the end? However they pretended otherwise, they sorted one another into ranks and measured their own worth by the rank they happened to occupy. By that standard, even Hana had to admit she belonged to the very bottom here.
For a woman who had once been a noble's daughter—who had even helped her father govern their territory—it was a profound humiliation. There was nothing to be done about it. Everyone stationed in this place was talent that person had picked over, and picked over again. For people gathered merely to attend a single individual, every last one of them was absurdly capable.
That alone was enough to wound the pride of someone who had always stood at the very top. And there was another problem besides.
"As expected of someone from Arzen—so sluggish. Belly too full to get your feet moving, I suppose? If you can't even manage this properly, what exactly are we meant to do with you... Haah. I truly have nothing left to say."
"...I'm sorry."
Of all people, her direct superior was from Berto.
That bitch...
Berto had once been a small territory clinging to Arzen's side. The land was tiny and rugged, yet it yielded fine iron ore and turned a respectable profit—only the location was wretched, so any trade had to pass through Arzen, no exceptions. Geography being what it was, they had to humor Arzen whether they liked it or not, and Hana's father had used that fact to make a fortune. Of course the two sides could never have gotten along. The overturned order—former underlings now standing over her—was more than enough to make Hana's days a burden.
Not that anyone was going to help her, either.
The one she served looked only at a servant's ability and offered not a scrap of interest beyond it. Weep and plead all she liked, and she would only be treated as a useless worm. The sole comfort left to Hana was that she could at least serve that person's successor.
She looks exactly like them.
Observed even from a distance, the successor's appearance—a few differences aside—resembled that person a great deal. It was the sort of face that made one think this was what that person might become, once matured, and at the sight of it Hana swallowed her discontent.
Right. I'm not working for that bitch, am I? I'm working for the successor. That's what this is. Of course it is.
Let this labor be worth more than the humiliation I feel...
She weathered those grinding days, and opportunity found her at last—on or about the third day of the second month since she had first arrived.
"You mean... me?"
"...Yes. The young lady named you."
At Yuri's words—her face crumpled as if she had just bitten into shit—Hana could only look dazed. It was only natural. Until now she had lived strictly by the guidelines, and she had had next to no point of contact with the young lady at all.
But why, all of a sudden...?
As if she had read the question, Yuri sighed and spoke.
"She likes the white hair, I'm told."
"Ah."
Those few words were enough for Hana to understand. Even without memories, it seemed a fondness for one's creator lingered at the level of instinct. If that was so, the reason she had been chosen made a rough kind of sense. She would never dare compare herself to that person, but if one looked at appearance alone, she was the nearest likeness. It had to be that.
Yuri went on, her face a cold blank.
"I can't imagine you've forgotten, but I will repeat the directives that were handed down. Move for the young lady's convenience, but never try to grow close. Grant what she wants, but never let her take an interest in the world outside. Keep it firmly in mind."
"Yes. I'll remember."
Hana's head was bowed low, but the face beneath it wore a mean little smile that had nothing to do with the gesture.
It had been a long, long season of contempt and persecution.
This was plainly not a matter to take lightly. The attention that person lavished on the young lady was anything but casual, and the instant Hana displeased them, her life would gutter out like a small candle. Even so, this was unmistakably an opportunity. If she could win Lady Lust's favor—no, even a small measure of trust—her place could climb higher still.
The day I go back to being Hana, the Chatterbox of Arzen!
And if a rose-colored future unfolded just as she imagined, she would pack every ounce of the fury she had swallowed until now into a punch across that bitch's face. The way she used to harvest the fangs of the monsters that prowled the territory! She would smash those damned rectangular glasses too, and leave the woman fit for nothing but gruel for the rest of her life.
Hana took up her duties with that vow, and contrary to all her bracing, the work itself went remarkably smoothly.
"Really? That's funny."
Contrary to what Hana had expected, the person called Lust was neither particularly overbearing, nor arrogant, nor cold. Her looks resembled the master's, but her temperament was the precise opposite. She laughed often, and more than anything she was far too beautiful—outside and in, both of them.
The work itself had improved a great deal as well, compared with before. In truth, the tasks entrusted to the women here amounted to nothing but chores. Serving an exalted person was not without worth, and yet someone once called the slaughter-fiend of one kingdom or another was sweeping garbage, while someone hailed as master of the dark veil—who had run a brothel—was grunting and straining just to wipe a window. Wasn't that a little much?
No one said so aloud, but just as Hana had, not one of them was without complaint. The only work of any real value was attending Lust in person, and even that had been claimed by veterans whose names anyone would have heard. Hana, too, used to watch those people and think how fine it must be, nursing her wounded pride all alone.
Now, though, it was different.
"Hana, do you want some too?"
"M-me?! How could I possibly dare?"
"Hm? I like eating with someone. Does Hana not like eating with me?"
"Th-then... just one..."
A seat higher than anyone else's, and a downpour of jealous eyes.
This feels incredible...!
Under the envious stares of people she had once found difficult even to look at, Hana felt as if she had arrived in heaven. With days like these, how could she fail to be happy? Every morning she sprang from her bed crying "A strong and glorious morning!" and with each day that passed her face took on a glossier sheen. In inverse proportion, Yuri's face grew ever more contorted—and to Hana, even that was nothing but a pleasure.
Nor was that the end of it.
A gaze she was receiving for the very first time. As if some vast existence had turned its attention upon her, a stare that carried physical weight along with it began to fix itself on her. It was the first overwhelming gaze Hana had ever known. She prostrated herself, of course, and before that person she swore—resolved in her heart to give even more of her utmost.
And she was certain. This, right now, was the finest moment of her life.
...To be precise, until a few days ago.
"Hm? What's wrong?"
"I-it's just... this sort of contact is, um... not good for one's state of mind, perhaps...?"
"Why?"
"Why, you ask... well..."
The trouble had begun on the third day after she became the young lady's personal maid. Honestly, it was hardly something one could even call trouble. Considering her true age, and considering that the knowledge she possessed was still not very great, there was nothing strange about it. The great one, too, regarded these months as a period for learning common sense—that is, a period in which a personality took shape—and had warned in advance that strange things might happen along the way.
Think of her as still a baby, and there was nothing one couldn't understand. Even so, this was a bit much.
You're much too close...!
It had begun with subtle touches. Fingertips meeting, or a hand taken as if it were only natural—small contact of skin against skin. Ordinarily she would have refused, firm and immediate.
How am I supposed to explain this...
The other party was who she was. A lack of common sense turned out to be a larger matter than expected, and she could hardly answer someone who smiled with clear, limpid eyes and asked—
"Why would that be something to be ashamed of? Weren't we close?"
—with anything like—
"I'm getting far too aroused, so this is indecent. We can't."
And she liked it, besides. Damn it...!
That face is cheating.
It was a face that left one's mind hazy just from looking at it, and when that face let smiles fly without restraint, there was no surviving it. On top of that, why was her body so soft? They were both women, and still, whenever skin met skin, Hana's heart threw a fit. In a situation like this, missing the moment to refuse was a given.
"If it pleases you, my lady, then I... I suppose I'm all right with it too..."
Quietly going along had been the mistake. The subtle touches she had thought might be fine evolved, little by little, into blatant contact, and the trouble was that the other party bore not the slightest ill will.
"Isn't it warm, staying like this? I feel good."
Hana found the situation hopeless. To think that fastening the first button in the wrong hole had come to this. The scent was so lovely she didn't even want to pull away. And of course, having come this far, saying she disliked it was awkward in its own right. She might leave a scratch on the young lady's heart... The girl was still young; perhaps it would even settle into a deep wound. A baby was a baby. And the result of that would be Hana's own death.
...Even setting that aside, I might be dead before long. What do I do...?
A quiet anger, with nowhere to settle.
Hana stole a glance overhead. From the gaze she felt above her came a faint anger she could not quite name.
What am I actually supposed to do...