Ilya's steps were as soft as feathers being cradled by the wind. And so was the atmosphere surrounding her figure.
No matter how one feasted their eyes on her, her appearance was that of an undernourished adolescent. Anyone would be afraid to behold her limbs, for they were slim and as delicate as porcelain.
Upon meeting the gentle light of the moon, her pale skin created the impression that she would disappear in the blink of an eye. Her impassive gaze was always on the ground. She didn't want to be accused of throwing animosity at someone when she had nothing to do with them.
Despite how weak and unhealthy she looked, Ilya was beautiful.
Lamentably, no one knew of that. In the Gertrude Duchy where her existence was imprisoned, she was viewed as the grottiest of rodents. Yet Ilya didn't seem to mind that.
It's as if she had accepted her fate from when it was reversed.
Even though she had done nothing to be worthy of such treatment.
The only redeeming trait of hers that Ilya appreciated was her inability to throw a temper. If calmness was a living existence, it would be disguised as Ilya von Bismarck. However, there was a fine line between being able to control one's emotions and possessing them.
As for Ilya, it's still in question whether it was the former or the latter.
Ilya didn't know herself.
'The Duchy is quiet. I should make haste. Someone might wake up.' Ilya thought as she gripped the doorknob.
It didn't take her long to reach the kitchen. The darkness was her companion and she knew her way around the building. As she turned her head to where the barrels were placed, Ilya couldn't help but feel dizzy.
All of a sudden, the world in front of her started to spin. She took a step back and tightly shut her eyes. The pain that rattled her senses was too unbearable for her.
'What… what is this?'
Ilya tried to keep her balance by putting her hand on top of the wooden centre island. Regrettably, there was a tiny puddle of water right on the spot that she touched. She fell to the ground almost immediately, almost hitting her head.
Fortunate or not, her shoulders took most of the impact.
The lady groaned as she hugged her body. In the midst of her agony, she heard the door creak. Ilya didn't want to trouble the other staff with her presence, so she attempted to get on her feet. But she couldn't summon enough strength to do so.
The door soon opened, revealing the figure of two maids in their sleep-wears. Ilya pursed her lips to not let a sound out of her mouth. It wasn't for the purpose of hiding considering that her body was blocking the passageway. She just wished to avoid troubling the maids.
For a few seconds, the maids looked at Ilya without saying a word. Their gazes were filled with an ambiguous glint.
Were they contemplating if they should help Ilya or not?
Well, of course not.
"Rosanna, I'm too tired from serving at the banquet. I wish the Duchess won't hold something as grand as that again. It's so frustrating."
"I'm the same, you know! Those nobles are so demanding. If only the pay was not good, I will be tending my family's cows right about now."
The two maids went on with their business inside the kitchen. The staff weren't forbidden to take late-night snacks as long as it's within the budget. The maids were just making the best out of their circumstances. Since back in their homes, the meals were limited to three times a day.
"Still, I can't believe that an aide of one of the Royals paid a visit to the banquet."
"Now that you said i-- ouch!"
Rosanna lost her footing and nearly fell on the cold, hard ground. Thankfully for her, Elma was there to catch her.
"Oh my, my left shoe is dirty!" Rosanna exclaimed as she took her handkerchief to wipe the buckle of her shoe.
"Did you remove it?"
"I think I have to wash it later. Ugh, I hate this."
"It's fine. Let's just get going. I'm hungry. Also, the matron might catch us here."
Without further ado, Rosanna and Elma took what they needed and left the kitchen in a hurry. They made sure to close the door behind them, leaving Ilya to her own devices.
Solely the unwelcoming quietude remained to accompany Ilya.
It neither comforted nor ridiculed her.
It just stayed there out of curiosity for the unmoving lady.
The reason why Rosanna lost her footing was that her foot got caught up on Ilya's head. As a consequence, Ilya had to deal with a greater amount of pain. But not a groan was heard from Ilya the moment that the maids encountered her. Someone might come to the kitchen right after the two maids. She didn't want to risk disturbing them by her pained moans.
Regardless of what she was feeling, Ilya had no choice but to surrender to her situation. Her body was writhing in pain, though nothing was more painful than the treatment she had been receiving.
That was supposed to be the case.
Be that as it may, Ilya had not called for help, not even once.
'I'm sure I'll get better soon. I'll stay here until then. I won't be a disturbance. I won't.'
All the while time was nursing her body, Ilya repeated those sentiments over and over again. By the heavens' grace, the pain died down within a quarter of an hour. In that window, no one had stopped by the kitchen, much to Ilya's gratitude.
As soon as she was able, Ilya stood up with a bit of difficulty. She clutched the centre-island with her weakened grip. Within a minute, she managed to be on her feet, albeit fighting for her breath thereafter.
She gazed at the floor to look for her pitcher and saw that it had rolled a couple of meters away. She quickly picked it up and noticed that it was dented. It was clear that one of the maids had stepped on it, but Ilya ignored it.
Ilya made her way towards the water barrel and opened the lid. Following that, she stayed still for a few seconds.
Even under the dim illumination of the lamp, one could see that the water had been contaminated. Together with visible specks of dust, scraps of wood were floating on the water. Ilya did nothing and just watched the surface of the water with blank eyes.
Right then, the door to the kitchen burst open. The matron -- a woman who was in her forties but looked like she stopped aging in her early thirties -- was the one on the other side of the passageway. Behind her was Rosanna and Elma.
Clearing her throat, the matron spoke, "What do we have here? Didn't we get rid of pests this morning?"