"D-Duke?"
"Eek!"
"My goodness…"
Early in the morning, Whitney returned home in a carriage after leaving the mansion without an escort, claiming he had urgent business.
As he arrived, Sasha—who had been sweeping the yard with the other maids—widened her eyes in shock.
"Good morning, Sasha."
Beside him stood an unfamiliar girl.
"W-Who is she…?"
Sasha hesitated, trying to ask cautiously.
But then, her words trailed off.
It wasn't because she recalled Whitney's chilling advice to suppress her curiosity.
It was because the girl standing beside him was in such a pitiful state that Sasha could hardly bear to look at her.
Her pale face suggested she hadn't eaten for days.
Bruises and wounds were scattered across her body.
And most strikingly, her empty eyes had lost all light.
She looked eerily similar to the version of Sasha that sometimes appeared in her nightmares—the one locked in the basement of the mansion after making a grave mistake.
"A-Ah… Yes, I can see that she's in quite a state."
"Y-Yes, she is…"
"So, could you help me out a little?"
Help with what, exactly?
Was he asking her to fetch torture tools?
A flood of gruesome thoughts momentarily flashed through Sasha's mind, making her squeeze her eyes shut.
Fortunately, Whitney's request was nothing of the sort.
"First, help her wash up and treat her wounds."
"..."
"There are plenty of empty rooms in the servants' quarters, so she can use one of those."
"A-Ah…"
"And make sure she eats something as well."
"..."
"She has a lot of work ahead of her, after all."
It was a much more reasonable request than Sasha had feared.
Still, she couldn't shake the ominous feeling in her chest.
Where exactly had her master picked up this near-dead girl?
And what kind of work was he expecting from someone in such a dire state?
"…I'll do my best!"
Of course, Sasha had just received a private lecture in the carriage under the guise of a personal conversation.
So, she swallowed all her questions and forced the brightest smile she could muster.
"Oh, and one more thing…"
Whitney's next words made that smile falter.
"When you wash her, don't touch her shoulders."
"…What?"
"She's a little sensitive there."
The girl visibly flinched at his words.
However, the reaction of the other maids standing beside Sasha was even more dramatic.
"See? I told you—there's no way this is a casual relationship."
"Shh! Do you have a death wish?"
But even they didn't react as strongly as Sasha did.
Unlike them, she had the unfortunate knowledge—thanks to her troubled upbringing—that slave brands were usually imprinted on the shoulder.
'Forget it. Forget it. Forget it…'
Now pale as a ghost, Sasha muttered those words repeatedly in her mind as she took custody of the dazed and vacant-eyed Runiel.
*****
'She should be somewhat recovered by now, right?'
A week had passed since Runiel arrived at the mansion.
When I first took her from the slave market, her condition was far worse than I had anticipated.
I had been genuinely worried.
But after a week of Sasha and the maids tending to her with great care, she should have regained at least some of her health.
However, my real concern was not her physical health.
It was her mental state.
Alfred had been sulking, saying he was too ashamed to face the Count, but after calming him down and receiving a report, I found out something unsettling.
Runiel's expression had not changed at all since the day I first saw her in prison.
Well, considering her past and the humiliations she had suffered, it was understandable.
Even I was struggling just to avoid becoming a fallen noble.
But she had already lost her noble status.
She had been branded as a slave.
Under such circumstances, no amount of luxury or kindness would be enough to heal her spirit.
'But it's not like there's no solution at all.'
Unfortunately , I couldn't immediately remove the slave brand on her shoulder.
Not only did removing it require a high-level magician, but the brand also contained traces of dark magic.
That meant I would need either a cardinal from the Holy Kingdom or a white mage as powerful as my father.
The former would likely get me tried for heresy, while the latter would never cooperate with my family, who were essentially their rivals.
So, until my father returned, it was impossible.
Of course, if I could do it myself, that would be ideal.
But after that nerve-wracking incident at Lady Meredia's tea party, I knew better than to attempt it until my research was complete.
Given the circumstances, there was only one option left.
'I just need to solve the root problem instead.'
If I could restore the one thing that defined her very existence—something that would render the slave brand meaningless—then she would no longer be bound by it.
Of course, if that were so easy, she wouldn't have ended up in this situation.
Nor would she have earned the nickname 'The Emperor's Hound.'
But I knew the truth.
I knew why she, once hailed as a sword prodigy, had been unable to wield a sword again.
And I also knew how the Emperor had solved that problem for her.
Now, it was time to show her that solution.
"Sasha, are you there?"
"Yes!"
Since I needed to call Runiel, I stood up and called for Sasha, and her immediate response echoed down the hallway.
She's been working way too hard lately—I hope she doesn't end up getting sick.
"Could you bring Miss Runiel here?"
"Ru-Ru, Runiel is actually right here next to me."
I was about to say something about her overworking herself, but then Sasha peeked her head out from the door and answered with a confused expression.
Had she already carried out my request before I even said it?
That seemed a bit excessive, even for someone as enthusiastic about work as Sasha.
"Y-You said that once she got better, she should start working as a maid…"
"Aha."
For a moment, I was puzzled, but Sasha's words made everything clear.
I wouldn't be able to keep it a secret forever, but for now, it was best to conceal the fact that Runiel had become my sword.
If word got out that I was the one who had helped her wield a sword again, it could cause unnecessary complications, given my current lack of power and influence.
For now, I intended to keep up the appearance that I had kindly taken in a homeless girl as a maid.
Apparently, the command I had given to support that deception was already being carried out.
In any case, it seemed that her body had fully recovered.
That meant I could proceed with my plan without hesitation.
"Are you adjusting to your work?"
"…Yes."
After sorting out my thoughts, I approached Runiel, who was sweeping the hallway in a maid's uniform, and asked.
Her lifeless response came back immediately.
"You should try to sound a bit more lively…!"
Sasha, watching nervously from the side, poked her in the ribs and murmured something, but Runiel only lowered her head and kept her vacant expression.
"I'm sure Sasha is taking good care of you, but if anything is too difficult, let me know."
Feeling sorry for her, I stepped forward slightly.
At the same time, I thought about whether I could somehow weaken the slave mark on her shoulder and patted her gently.
"Ugh."
But as if my white magic and the slave mark had reacted to each other, Runiel winced in pain, her expression twisting.
Startled, I quickly withdrew my hand.
"Well, anyway, that's not the main issue right now…"
For some reason, I felt like I had done something unnecessary.
I should just get to the point—
"Huh? What's wrong?"
Just as I was about to speak with an awkward expression, Runiel suddenly swayed unsteadily.
"Are you okay?"
"…I apologize. I'm fine now."
Fortunately, Sasha was right there to catch her, so nothing serious happened.
But she still looked pale.
This didn't seem to be a lingering effect from her time in the slave market.
It was probably 'that' problem.
If so, talking to her now would be too much.
"I'm glad to hear that, but for now, just get some rest."
"Thank you…"
"When you're feeling better, come to my office quietly, even if it's late at night."
So, as a sign of consideration, I leaned in and whispered softly.
"I have something important to discuss with you."
Runiel, who had been staring at me blankly, suddenly lowered her head in silence.
"...Understood."
Seeing how drained she looked, I was about to tell her that we could talk tomorrow instead.
But before I could, her subdued voice came first.
It pained me to feel like I was pressuring her.
But for her sake, I had to move quickly.
"Sasha, could you help—?"
"Eek! I didn't hear anything!"
"…What? Never mind, just help her to her room."
"Y-Yes!"
Watching Runiel lean on Sasha's shoulder as she walked away, I let out a quiet chuckle and turned around.
"Well, today will be the last time she wears that expression."
"I didn't hear anything. I didn't hear anything. I didn't hear anything…"
Lately, I kept hearing strange mutterings.
Was it just my imagination?
°°°°°°°°
That night, in the Lingard estate, shrouded in darkness—
Most of the household was already asleep, leaving only one person quietly walking down the corridor.
That person was Runiel Mistilane.
Over the past week, thanks to Whitney's care, her body had significantly improved.
But her steps, leading her toward the office on the top floor, felt unbearably heavy.
"…Ugh."
She continued walking, but the maid uniform she was wearing—something she had never worn in her life—felt suffocatingly tight.
Of course, kind-hearted Sasha had made sure it wasn't uncomfortable.
It wasn't the fabric that was constricting her.
To Runiel, the uniform itself was a suffocating symbol of her new reality.
But this was just the beginning.
If what was coming next was worse, the discomfort of this outfit would be nothing in comparison.
The boy who exuded an aura of pure dread hadn't spent a fortune to buy her just to make her do chores.
There were nobles who took pleasure in forcing fallen aristocrats to serve them.
But Runiel had no such delusions.
She didn't entertain the faintest hope that she had been purchased for something so trivial.
No matter what happened, her life was already in ruins.
This was merely the moment when her fate would be decided.
So, before she was completely broken, she could only hope that her past as a knight would make her valuable enough to be sent to some dangerous battlefield instead.
That was the most hopeful outcome she could imagine.
"Come in."
When she finally reached the office, a familiar, gentle voice called from inside.
Creak…
The same bone-chilling presence she had felt when she first met him in the prison now filled the room.
But there was no other choice.
Runiel clenched her teeth and pulled the door open.
"I've been waiting for you."
At the desk, Whitney sat with his chin resting on his hand.
"You didn't push yourself too hard to come here, did you?"
"…No."
"Haha… That's a relief."
As their eyes met, Whitney's already narrow eyes curved into an even thinner smile.
Seeing it, Runiel's body involuntarily trembled.
The way the moonlight from the window illuminated his smile—it was powerful enough to make even someone like her, who had survived life-and-death battles, flinch.
"Well then… shall we get to the main topic?"
Even as the tension built, she remained still.
But the moment Whitney finally got to the point, she clenched her eyes shut.
"There's only one thing I want from you."
She braced herself.
No matter what he did to her, she wouldn't show the reaction he wanted.
No matter how much he humiliated her, she wouldn't let him see any satisfaction in it.
"Pick up a sword again."
And just like that, her resolve shattered instantly.
"And become—"
"Impossible."
She had thought she no longer had the strength to react.
But before she knew it, her empty eyes were blazing with fury.
"If I could still wield a sword, I wouldn't be standing here in front of you like this."
No matter how broken a dragon's horns and scales were, they always had a fatal weak spot.
For Runiel, that weak spot was the sword.
"You can do whatever you want with me. Enjoy yourself."
Clenching her teeth, she spat out the anger she had been bottling up.
"But if you mock me by bringing up the sword again, I swear I will—"
"What if I told you I know how to make you wield a sword again?"
Whitney's expression hadn't changed at all.
His calm words left Runiel momentarily speechless.
"What?"
"To be more precise…"
And in the next moment, she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"What if I told you that I know how to restore your completely burned-out mana circuits?"
Her body trembled—far worse than before.
"Would you be willing to give everything for that?"
But this time, it wasn't out of despair.
Nor was it from Whitney's ominous presence.
"…If that's true."
It was because, in her endless abyss of hopelessness, she had caught a glimpse of a faint light.
"I'd give you my soul."
"Ah, no need for that. But anyway…"
For that chance, she would do anything.
"Then we have a deal."
Even if it meant selling her soul to the devil himself.