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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Chaos
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“Evan! Evan! Don’t tell me you’re still asleep in the attic! Get out here!”
The day at the mansion began with the master’s bellow.
As Evan tumbled down from the attic, the master slapped him across the face and yelled,
“You little shit! Do you know what time it is?! Still lazing around?! Huh?! Do you want to get kicked out?!”
“No, sir! I’m sorry, sir!”
Evan would then clutch his cheek and prostrate himself on the floor, and the master, seemingly satisfied with his groveling, would smirk and grind his heel into Evan’s curly hair.
Evan had light brown curls.
His hair was quite nice, so I couldn’t bear to see it getting dirty on the floor.
I focused on the oven rather than the trampled Evan.
Evan being trampled wasn’t a rare occurrence.
Burning the bread was a more pressing issue than Evan’s physical and mental well-being.
Even if I turned my head, I knew what the master would do next.
He’d wiggle his foot, jostling Evan’s head, and say,
“Listen here, you little shit. Work harder. Huh? I’m being a good master by not kicking you out and letting you stay here.”
The master was always self-centered and had low self-esteem.
The pride chipped away each time he failed to secure a position in the capital seemed to be replenished only by beating a slave who had nothing.
As if he had accomplished all of life’s achievements, he said with a satisfied expression,
“Shouldn’t you be thanking me?”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”
“You little shit, you’re especially energetic today, aren’t you?”
The master was an idiot, as always.
He would go out drinking with the local dignitaries again today, under the pretext of strengthening his position in the village.
The only thing of substance the master ever did was write letters to the capital, pleading for a position.
The expensive stationery, embossed with a red seal, proved that he was once a descendant of a prominent family.
And the atrocious handwriting that filled the letters proved that even without the hero, he would never have made it to the capital.
“You lot! I’m leaving!”
Sometimes, I wondered if coming to this mansion with the mistress had been the wrong choice.
If I had stayed at my family home, I wouldn’t have to witness such a disgusting spectacle.
“Hey! Evan!”
As soon as the master opened the door and left, the mansion’s servants came and harassed Evan.
I silently prepared the tea in the kitchen.
The mansion servants were ill-mannered and spent more time tormenting Evan than working.
Evan, who had been lying on the floor, grinned and followed the servants outside.
I felt a sense of unease at how much Evan was smiling today.
Was he always this cheerful?
Seeing his almost frivolous grin, the servants’ faces darkened.
Though the way he was being dragged out looked rather pitiful, I didn’t pay them any mind.
I didn’t want to get involved with such vulgar people.
I took out the nicely baked bread and placed it on a tray.
Warm coffee and soft bread.
The mistress always enjoyed the bread I baked for breakfast.
“Breakfast is ready.”
“Come in.”
When I knocked, the mistress would put down her book and pull up a chair to the table.
The mistress was the third daughter of a prominent family in the capital.
She had no real power or ability, but her beauty and haughty demeanor attracted a long line of noble suitors.
Her family, hoping for the master’s then-renowned success, arranged their marriage.
“The aroma is lovely today as well.”
Of course, the marriage was a complete failure.
The master, once successful in the capital, had been caught accepting bribes and banished to the countryside, where he remained, writing letters to the capital.
Her family, who should have rescued the delicate mistress, treated her like a discarded child.
“Is it a letter from the young lady?”
“Yes. It’s full of Sylvia again. Does she really have nothing else to talk about from her academy life? It’s all Sylvia, Sylvia. Anyway, I’m glad she’s enjoying her time at the academy.”
The young lady wasn’t the mistress’s biological daughter.
The mistress only learned about the master’s eight-year-old daughter after they were married.
The daughter, kept hidden away in a corner of the mansion, had skin as white as a sheet of paper and, unlike other noble children and a gaunt face.
Of course, now that she had grown into a fine young lady and even entered the academy, it was an old story that didn’t need to be brought up.
The initially awkward relationship between mother and daughter had blossomed into a close bond, as they found solace in their shared misfortune of having a pathetic and vulgar husband and father.
The young lady only ever sent letters to the mistress, and the master wasn’t even curious about what his daughter was doing at the academy.
The only thing he was interested in regarding his daughter was whether she could snag a man from an outstanding family who could save him.
“You look tired.”
The mistress looked haggard today, as well.
The barbaric and violent master seemed never to have learned how to please or consider his partner in bed.
Late at night, if I walked past their bedroom, I would hear cries of pain or the master’s horrific groans, like a rutting pig.
After those vile hours, the mistress always took contraceptives.
Was it resistance against carrying the seed of that beastly man?
Perhaps the mistress was waiting for the day she would be freed from this mansion.
“It’s always like this, isn’t it? Rather than that, isn’t it about time you got married or found a man? It’s been over ten years since you came to this mansion with me. It will be difficult if you don’t start looking for a husband soon.”
The kind mistress was always worried about me.
I responded to her concern with a smile.
I would get married someday, but not now.
There wasn’t a man in this mansion who made my heart flutter, and I didn’t want to waste time on things like dating.
“I’m fine. I’m still only twenty-six.”
“Elena, sometimes I feel like you’re my younger sister. You’ve truly been with me for a long time.”
“You’re too kind, mistress.”
The mistress said things like this sometimes.
That she thought of me like a sister.
That she truly cherished me.
I knew she meant it.
After I shook my head like this, the mistress would hold my hand and say,
“That’s why, Elena, I hope you find your own life, instead of taking care of me.”
“But mistress, there are no decent men around here.”
“How about I arrange a blind date for you?”
“I’m fine, mistress.”
When that happens, I would firmly refuse, and the mistress would look at me with concern in her eyes.
Looking into her ebony eyes, I always thought that I wanted to serve her forever.
And I also thought that it would be nice if the master of this mansion died in a sudden accident.
The mistress sipped her lukewarm coffee and smiled at me.
I stood beside her, then, pretending to give in to her complaints about there being too much bread or her not being able to drink much coffee, I sat down and ate with her.
“Really, you shouldn’t do this.”
“You’re the only one I can talk to in this mansion.”
When I smiled, the mistress began to share small stories.
The novel she read yesterday.
The fireworks from last night.
I would listen or talk about the things I had seen.
About how the servants were still noisy, or how the master was still tormenting Evan.
“Really, I wish he would ease up. Even if he’s a slave, there’s a limit.”
The mistress shook her head as she said this.
I nodded in agreement, but we didn’t discuss solutions.
The master was a terrifying man when angered.
Since buying Evan, the frequency of the master’s outbursts had definitely decreased.
So, we decided to avoid talking about Evan and talk about other things.
After all, it was a problem that would be solved if Evan just stayed quiet.
While Evan endured the hatred, we could enjoy this comfortable life.
“Aagh! Aaagh! Uwaaagh!”
Just as we were about to change the subject to how beautiful the fireworks had been last night, screams and the sounds of someone being beaten echoed from outside.
Even I, who had tried to ignore it and pretend not to notice, was startled by the brutal sounds.
The mistress jumped in surprise and said to me,
“What the… ! Elena, go and stop the servants. They’ll kill someone if they keep hitting him like that.”
“Yes, mistress.”
I quickly headed towards the back of the mansion, where the screams were coming from.
This damned mansion had few workers but many abusers, so the screams never seemed to end.
“Uwaaagh!”
The screams today were louder, more violent, and more frequent.
If Evan died, it would be troublesome in many ways.
“Kuh…! Kuh…!”
I neared the back of the mansion.
The sounds of beating subsided, replaced by pained groans.
I squeezed my eyes shut and shouted at the disrespectful perpetrators,
“Stop hitting him! The mistress says it’s too loud!”
And I cautiously opened my eyes.
When the mistress intervened, the servants would usually leave Evan rolling on the floor and go back, as if they had no choice.
The sounds of them clicking their tongues in disappointment and their blatant glances at my figure were things I hated to face.
So, I would usually avert my gaze, looking up from the floor to avoid their eyes.
“Kuh…!”
When I opened my eyes slightly, I saw a blurry figure rolling around.
Thinking it was Evan, I raised my head a little further, and saw two more people sprawled on the ground.
Startled, I widened my eyes, and there stood Evan.
He was looking down at the servants with a look of satisfaction.
The servants were rolling on the ground.
Evan stepped on one of the fallen servants, walked leisurely towards me, patted my shoulder, and disappeared.
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