[Scylla, Lowly Peasant Half-breed, Maid]
[Demon Territory, De Gracia—Guest Mansion]
Pervert.
That was the word that came to my mind upon meeting the young lord Deilos.
I stood by the door outside his room, thinking about what to do with my boredom, as he and Demon Lord Barbatos were talking.
If someone would let you in while they were changing their clothes, knowing full well that they were naked, you would only think of that person as a pervert. The way his eyes regarded my body was quite uncomfortable. He was on par with other pieces of trash, calling themselves 'nobles'.
This is one big joke, correct? Those same people who are supposed to be looked up to by the people they rule are the same as some mutts on the streets drooling over some rotten throwaway food.
"Disappointing."
Oops. I have to watch my mouth. If I were to be caught talking in any way disrespectful to these revered people, I might lose my head, or worse, get my tongue cut off.
By the time I've reached the conclusion that nobles were perverted waste-eating garbage, Demon Lord Barbatos had walked out of the young lord's room.
I bowed at her, and she snickered.
"Tch—why is there a half-breed here?"
I kept my head low, pretending not to hear her not-so-veiled threat.
Peasants and slaves are the lowest, bottom-of-the-barrel status you could have in the demon territory. But there's also another one, and that is half-breeds. If you were to ask someone to choose between a slave and a half-breed, they would more likely than not pick the slave.
If you consider nobles to be lions or tigers and slaves to be rabbits in a food chain, then half-breeds would be insects. That much is evident from guiding the young lord through the mansion earlier this day.
The servants and maids had their eyes stuck on us, mostly on me. I can tell by their faces what they're thinking.
— Why is a half-breed escorting a noble? Isn't she new? This is rather insulting.
— Just because you were the one chosen by the head maid, that doesn't mean you're better than us. Filthy half-breed.
— Is she a loose one? She most likely is. She's keeping her head high, after all.
These words are quite normal. In fact, it is understandable. For them, who lick the toes of those in power, they can only really vent their frustrations to those below them. That is reality. No matter how low your status is, a person would want to elevate themselves from their current predicament in one way or another, and if stepping on others would be the thing that can make them have that feeling of superiority, then so be it, they will ruin your life just because they feel inferior to others and would like some of that power.
This is the ideological need of the suppressed. Such unsavory needs...
The voice of the young lord came through the door, asking me to go in. He was sitting on the chair by the side of his bed, staring at a piece of paper.
"What does the young lord want from this lowly one that he wanted her to be in his room in the night?"
"Didn't I tell you? I'd like to talk with Scylla some more."
He smiled softly at me.
While I'm quite adept at telling someone's face, it seems like I'm not able to do that with the young lord so easily. I don't know his motives. Is he truly interested in me, or is there something else hidden beneath that 'kind' façade of his?
"Now come, sit here."
He tapped at an empty space in his bed.
"..."
"What's the matter? Are you perhaps scared? I'm not going to do anything with you."
"Although it is a generous offer, this one must decline. If the young lord had not noticed yet, then it would dissatisfy him to know that this lowly one is a mere half-breed and would likely stain his bed if she so touched it."
Despite him treating me with a skewed sense of kindness earlier, now that he knows my lineage, he might be less interested in me, lessening what I have to deal with. There is a risk, though. One such instance was when I was smacked in the face by a noble for not telling him that I'm a half-breed and was beaten senselessly for it.
"And? If you being a half-breed was the reason you had such a beautiful face, then there's no real reason why I'd be dissatisfied in any way."
"..."
He is an odd one.
"Is it that Scylla does not want to be with me? That does hurt me a little."
"I—this one—"
"It's ok. Go ahead and rest. We'll be going to the market tomorrow."
"Market? Isn't the young lord injured? From the instructions of the knight that had asked this one, he said to look after the young lord because of his injuries."
"That's fine. Go rest. It is my problem, not yours."
"Understood."
It took a few minutes before I got back to the maid's quarters and stepped inside my room. It was a small, crooked place that was used as a place to store cleaning equipment.
I took off my clothes and put on my nightgown.
My habit was to write random things in a diary. It was the only thing that I had control over, whether it was the daily work or the mishaps the other maids would blame on me. When I reached out my hand to grab my small notebook, there was a letter on my desk.
Could it be from them?
I opened the letter.
'Report. One goose was let go. Two mice have entered the building. The third head is on her trail. Four treats have been tossed into the den.
Report. Gather information about the goose. Eliminate the mice.'
...It seems like I have some more work to do than expected.
. . .
By the next day, I came to the young lord's room and knocked. No one answered. Is he still asleep perhaps? It's already been approximately 3 hours since the sun has come up the horizon. The usual waking time for nobles is around 1 hour after sunrise in the winter, 30 minutes more in the fall, and 2 hours in the spring. This season is within the middle ground of fall. The young lord seems to sleep more than usual.
While waiting for his answer, one of the servants came up to me.
"Half-breed, did you see the head maid around?"
"This lowly one had not."
"Tsk, not being present when you need her the most. Such a hassle."
I tipped my head as he left.
"Come in."
The young lord spoke.
"Please excuse me—"
Upon entering, my whole body froze.
The young lord is half-naked again. I closed the door behind me so that there wouldn't be anyone else to see such an inappropriate scene and stood in the center of the room. Does he have a fetish for exposing himself? Such uncouth.
I composed myself.
"Should I help the young lord dress?"
"There's no need."
Yesterday, when I looked at his body, I saw his injuries.
Now that I'm this close to him, I was able to observe the scars on his back and wrists properly. They were quite plentiful. From whip marks and bruises, some even had the look of acids poured on the skin.
He fixed the cuffs of his shirt and straightened his back.
"Shall we go?"
I nodded.
We walked through the streets of the city down to the marketplace. The young lord's attire was not reminiscent of his noble status. He was wearing clothes that were similar to those of low-ranking nobles, close to commoner clothes.
"Not here."
He said as he checked the goods in the stores. After some thinking, he proceeded to go deeper into the market, towards the slums.
"Young lord, is it ok to not bring a knight with us? We're going into the slums, after all."
"It's unnecessary."
If this were any other noble, then they would likely have brought 4-5 knights with them at a minimum. Yet, the young lord did not even bother bringing one and going to the slums at that.
"This one finds the young lord brave."
"Brave, you say? This is quite normal. I'm only here to check for something, anyway. There's no need to bring someone that's not even going to contribute to the problem at hand."
"Then why did the young lord bring this one?"
"Why not?"
"You're contradicting yourself, young lord."
I truly cannot comprehend what's going on in his head.
"May I ask what the young lord is here for?"
"I'm looking for a pet."
"Pet?"
He smirked.
"Yes, a pet."
We walked through the winding alleyways of the slums, through the pubs and red district to the slave market. There, the young lord handed a man some sort of card and then led us in.
Inside the building was a shabby tavern.
The young lord was talking to someone. I couldn't hear what they were talking about. After a while of talking, he and the man went inside a room with a metal door.
I wanted to follow, but the guard didn't let me.
"Little miss, you're not permitted."
"Certainly."
I stepped back to a corner of the tavern.
Observing the place, it seemed like eyes were on me. From all around, the drinking men were whispering to one another while taking glances as if they were presented something like treasure before them to steal.
"Ehe, what do we have there?"
One of the drunk men in the tavern approached me. His breath stank of alcohol and bathlessness, and came closer, eyeing me down. His appearance was something to be considered filthy.
"Hehe~ how about you miss come down the alley with us? I'd give you a good buck, ya know."
"This one does not want to participate in such acts."
I replied to him.
"Oho~ that's one top-notch quality maid we have here~"
He put his hand on my shoulder. I stepped to the side, letting him fall to the ground because of his off-balanced structure.
"Ack! This bitch!"
He tried to grab my legs, but I kicked the man's hand, making him recoil.
"Kuh!"
He tried again, now grabbing my shoes. Pathetic. I kicked his face. The man curled while covering his face. I kicked his face again and again and again until blood was pooling below him.
"O-oi! Stop that," the guard intervened, creating space between me and the drunk man. "Giuseppe, you really got to stop drinking, you bastard. This might be the reason your wife left you for another man."
"Suddap, you son of a bitch! This woman kicked me! She kicked me multiple times!"
The man on the ground started to grovel and cry as the guard picked him up.
"I mean, look at you. You look like shit. My bad young lady."
"It is fine."
The guard gave me a concerned look and shouldered the drunken man away.
"..."
The onlookers were staring at me while the drunk man was dragged by the guard. Their gazes told me that they wouldn't be trying to do such stupid acts like him. Good. Now I can have my moment of peace.
It took the young lord a few minutes to come out—on his hands was a dog—a small scrawny and dirty dog.
"The young lord came all the way here to buy that?"
"Why? Isn't it cute?"
Cute...
"I believe the young lord does not know the definition of cute."
He frowned.
"Cuteness, although subjective, is the byproduct of something or someone that contains such elements in them. More likely than not, if a person deems a thing cute, someone else would also deem it cute. By that logic, I do have to question why you don't find this creature cute."
What is he talking about?
"That is such... a roundabout way to tell this one that she's not flattered by the young lord's purchase."
"It might be."
He looked around. He looked at me and at my feet.
"Did something happen?"
"No, young lord."
He stared at me as he stroked the puppy's head.
"It is not a good habit to lie, you know."
"This lowly one did not lie."
The young lord made a 'hmm' sound and shrugged.
As we exited the slave market, I couldn't help but glance at the puppy in his arms. Despite its pitiful state, it seemed oddly content, its small body leaning into the young lord's warmth.
"This is one interesting place, no?"
"If the young lord deems it so, then it is."
"Have a good look. This wouldn't be our first time going here."
All around us were only the slum people, made for the slums, living in the slums. I looked at the young lord. For a split second, his red eyes had a gaze without the usual playfulness but something far more sinister—eyes I'd seen countless times before.
The gaze of a cold-blooded murderer.
"This one fears the young lord's intentions."
He chuckled.
"You shouldn't."
. . .
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