[Is it over? Truly over? That damned bastard really gone, right?]
[Thank God, finally I can breathe.]
So thought Maharani, the notorious bully now trapped within the frail body of the Lady.
Yet, in stark contrast, Maeve wept uncontrollably.
Her breath grew short, but her tears refused to stop, soaking the thin gown that clung to her body.
Slowly, guilt gnawed at her. And Maharani, dragged unwillingly into the emotions of the woman she inhabited, could not escape it either.
[Stop it! Stop, you idiot. Why the hell are you crying?]
[You should've yelled back at that gray-haired bastard.]
"A… all fault lies with me. Forgive me… hick… I only wished to help her. But… hick…" Maeve's trembling voice was heavy with remorse.
[And you nearly drowned. You almost died, and that's what you're thinking about?!]
[God, what kind of stupid girl did I end up in?]
"My Lady, I beg you, cease this wailing. If you truly feel remorse, you ought never to have received Lady Eleonora's visit," said the maid from the doorway, stepping forward.
The creak of old wood echoed beneath her shoes, each step like a warning drawing nearer.
Even as a madi, she feared not her mistress.
Her rough fingers clenched the rim of a worn wooden basin. The hurried way she carried it spilled water onto the dirty floor.
[You're JUST A MAID. Don't you dare glare at me as if we're equals.]
[If I wished, I could make you lick the dirt off my shoes.]
"Forgive me. I… I was truly delighted by Lady Eleonora's visit," whispered Maeve weakly, her shaking voice nearly drowned by sobs as she wiped her tears with frail, pale hands.
[This stupid girl is apologizing again.]
"You truly have no heart, My Lady. You shoved Lady Eleonora, yet you rejoice at her presence," the maid sneered bitterly, lips curled in scorn, as though barely restraining her boiling rage.
"I… I never pushed her. I…"
[God, you're so damn stupid. Why are you stammering?!]
[Why the hell are you scared of an ugly maid like her?!]
Thud!
"Here's the water, My Lady. I've brought it for you." The insolent maid dropped the basin harshly, splashing water onto the floor.
Her brown eyes glared sharply, her jaw clenched tight, ready to lash out another rebuke.
"You can bathe yourself, can you not? Everything is prepared. Wash without my aid. Because of you, Lord Dominic scolded me," she ordered coldly.
Then, with haughty steps, the maid left—cursing her fate under her breath.
"What sin have I committed, O Lord, to serve such a discarded and cruel Lady?" she muttered bitterly.
But Maeve heard her.
The young woman did not rage. Instead, her guilt-ridden heart tore further apart.
[Don't smile at her. She doesn't deserve kindness.If I were in control, I'd crush her spirit until she begged for mercy.]
[If this were my world, I'd have her kneel and kiss my hand every morning. That's the only place a maid belongs—on her knees.]
Maeve tried to stand. Looking down, faint bruises marred her pale legs.
Bruises left from helping Eleonora at the lake.
But no one cared for that fact.
[Damn it, the bruises hurt like hell. Don't walk. Don't move. Just lie down!]
But the body did not heed Maharani.
Maeve walked toward the basin the maid had left.
Just a few steps away, atop a small vanity table.
The mirror reflected the image of a discarded woman.
[Argh, this is my beautiful, precious face now?! This ugly one?!
[Wait... that face. And she's still alive? Ugly and sickly thin.]
[She looks just like a zombie.]
When Maeve looked down, the water inside was murky and nearly insufficient.
[That insolent maid, can't she do her job right? She thinks this is enough?!]
[Ugh, filthy.]
[Watch out, maid. I'll remember your face.]
[I'll shove your ugly face into this filthy basin. Hold you down till you can't breathe. Better off dead.]
[Goddamn it.]
Maharani cursed harshly. But the body she inhabited did not obey.
Maeve gently washed her face.
Her sharp cheekbones jutted out, like some beggar starving in the street.
Her pale blue eyes looked hollow, drained of spirit—devoured by suffering.
Her silver hair hung dull and lifeless, a stark contrast to Dominic, her brother.
"My Lady, here is your meal. Take it now, or after your bath," the maid appeared once more, placing a bowl of porridge on the small table beside the bed.
"Th… thank you…"
"Yes, keep thanking me, My Lady. Remember—only I still care for you. This food proves it," the young servant declared proudly, though her brown eyes carried no hesitation in belittling the mistress she served.
As though she were slowly brainwashing her.
The young lady took no offense. Instead, a faint smile touched her lips—feeding the maid arrogance.
[Oh my God. Care, my ass. She didn't give a damn when I was in pain all night.]
[Stop smiling, idiot!]
The maid left again, abandoning Maeve in her fragile state.
She hobbled toward the food, left by the only maid still attending her.
And when she drew near…
The porridge looked pitiful. Pale in color, ruined in shape, watery in texture—not appetizing in the slightest.
[So this is what passes for food here? I wouldn't feed this slop to my dog.]
But Maeve did not care.
As though accustomed, her small mouth ate eagerly.
[You eat it eagerly—like a starved rat.]
[Oh God, disgusting.]
[Don't eat. Don't eat, you fool.]
Though Maharani begged her to stop eating.
Maeve struggled for every mouthful. Her hands had long been drained of strength, utterly powerless.
It was the cruel consequence of the days she spent starved and unconscious, a void left by her near-fatal embrace with the lake's cold waters.
Slurp.
Her frail hands scooped eagerly.
[What the hell kind of taste is this?!]
[Stop eating. Just stop.]
Slurp.
[I'm gonna puke.]
Slurp.
[Dear God.]
[What kind of curse did I get? Arghhh, I want to go back!]
Once again, Maharani tasted the bitter contrast of a life that was not her own.