The Maid Who Poisoned the Food

Esika frowned as she hung her wet dress near the window.

She had merely gone to wash. For a martial artist, bathing in a lake was nothing of consequence.

Of course, before awakening Yeong-ryeong's past life, she had never once bathed in a lake. At her natal home, the Brigate viscountcy, warm water had always been prepared for her. Here, however… they always hauled up water as cold as ice and told her to wash with it. Time after time. Afterward she invariably suffered chills, and catching cold was a regular occurrence. But she could not live without bathing, so she had washed anyway.

The more I think about it, the more absurd the Dowager Duchess's petty, childish spite becomes.

And then another thought followed.

And because of that, I ran into the Crown Prince.

Lesban Deon Rusein — black-haired, with brilliant golden eyes — was the Crown Prince of the Turesian Empire.

Looking into those eyes, a certain man had come unbidden to mind.

What if she had heeded his words?

A bitter smile touched Esika's lips. She shook her head. Their eyes merely resembled each other. She would not dwell on it.

In any case, revealing my presence to a master of his caliber at this stage would only bring headaches. I had best be careful.

The moment their eyes had met, Esika had seen straight through Lesban's realm.

He is undoubtedly a master on par with the Extreme Demon.

Lesban was a born martial prodigy, concealing far greater power than he had ever revealed to the world.

Even if I returned to my prime, I would have no confidence I could defeat him.

By a martial artist's measure, her present physique was no better than a complete novice's. Masters could gauge one another's skill from bearing alone. If she drew his eye any further, she might invite unnecessary suspicion.

His rank was one thing, but his nature had been written as warlike. She felt a sharp intuition that getting entangled with him would be nothing but trouble.

Fortunately, the Lesban of the book stood at the vanguard of the conquest wars, and so spent very little time in the capital, Torres. Once the capital was moved to the conquered territories, his connection with House Klaus would end, and he would forget this place soon enough.

Well then. I should eat.

Esika opened her door.

On a tray before the threshold sat an assortment of seasonal dishes. Things Sella must have had no choice but to steal from the kitchen.

Hmm?

Esika's cool blue eyes gleamed.

A half-moon hung a little fuller in the dim night sky. On the balcony of his own chambers, Kalian stood with a glass in hand, taking the air.

Beneath that dark heaven, only his violet eyes shone — cold and vividly bright.

It had already been ten days since Esika Klaus had last emerged from her room.

Just what is she plotting?

The thought of seeing her face was irritating enough, but her refusal to come out at all left him equally unsettled.

The Dowager Duchess had said they needed to maintain amicable relations with House Brigate, and Kalian agreed. He simply had no desire to watch Esika swagger about, leaning on her natal family.

Is she going to demand a divorce?

Tears had welled in those blue eyes as she threw herself at him.

He scoffed.

As if.

The corner of Kalian's mouth twisted with arrogance. The Esika he knew did not have the spine to demand a divorce.

"That girl, you see, is a woman who thinks she can purchase the ancient honor of House Klaus with the pittance she brought as her dowry."

A wicked creature who wanted only to flaunt the wealth her natal house had pressed into her hands, always restless, who took pleasure in tormenting those weaker than herself.

"There is a black snake coiled inside her. A stupid snake that does not even know how to use its fangs, so she is not dangerous — but she is certainly harmful. Even between husband and wife, a certain distance is necessary."

His mother was exacting and severe, but she had always been a keen judge of character. The impression she had delivered with a furrowed brow after first meeting Esika had been little different from Kalian's own, and it had only hardened his opinion of her.

I do not know what you hope to accomplish by hiding in that room.

A cool wind stirred Kalian's hair.

But inside this House Klaus, nothing will ever go as you intend.

That thought was broken by the sound of a door.

He turned. Yuri stood there with a tray, staring at him with a startled expression.

Yuri Anesis. She had entered the ducal household as Esika's lady's maid, and she was Esika's opposite in every respect. Warm golden hair and red eyes lent her a vivid liveliness that sat somewhat at odds with the rigid atmosphere of the duchy.

After a brief hesitation, she crossed the remaining distance to his side. A faint scent of apples teased at his senses.

"What brings you here at this hour?"

At the sound of Kalian's voice, Yuri's eyes wavered for a moment. Come to think of it, his mother had recently announced that she would appoint Yuri Anesis as head lady's maid. Yuri was diligent, yes — but she was Esika's friend. Entrusting her with such a post had been unexpected.

"I… I went to see Esika."

Yuri hesitated, then opened her mouth.

"But Esika…"

"I have no wish to hear of her."

"But… Esika seems to have misunderstood our relationship. Because of the ring Your Grace bought for me. I wanted to clear up the misunderstanding, but she only pushes me away with sharp words, so I don't know what to do…"

"Yuri. Enough."

Kalian cut her off, his face gone cold.

"Ah…"

Yuri lifted a hand to her lips. When she spoke again, her voice was subdued.

"I'm sorry. I'm no longer Esika's friend. As head lady's maid of this house, I have a duty to obey Your Grace's commands… I forgot my place for a moment."

Yuri Anesis was, at her core, nothing like Esika. Even when Esika was in the wrong, she dug in her heels and refused to admit it. She ignored the duchy's hierarchy and its procedures and insisted on having her own way. She slapped whoever she pleased and exhausted him in the process.

"Please forgive me. I will not go against your wishes again, Your Grace."

Yuri watched his face, her warm red eyes searching his — as if she meant to breathe heat into a heart frozen solid.

After a brief silence, Kalian's lips moved.

"You are truly foolish."

"…I beg your pardon?"

He swallowed the rest — to defend a woman like that, even if she is your friend — and went on in a low voice.

"And a little disappointed, too."

Yuri's eyes flickered.

"To call it a misunderstanding — the way you took that ring. I… don't think it was entirely a misunderstanding. When I gave it to you."

Yuri stared at him, dazed, and then color rose in her cheeks. It was that season when two people on the verge of becoming lovers found the signs of their interest in each other growing deeper by the day.

Then Kalian's voice came again.

"The evening is cool. How about a walk together?"

Yuri gazed at him with shy eyes, then dipped her head in assent. A faint smile touched her lips.

Sella had set the tray of food before the door and was easing it open, meaning only to glance inside, when someone within seized her and dragged her in with brutal force.

The door slammed shut. Sella's forehead struck the floor, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"P-p-please… spare me…"

Her whole body was shaking.

Someone brought a chair and sat before her, one leg crossed over the other. Then a low voice spoke.

"You're trembling so pitifully. But do you understand why you don't look the least bit pitiable to my eyes?"

"…Y-young… young master…"

A foot stretched out and shoved the tray Sella had left toward her. At the sight of the untouched food, Sella's face went bloodless.

"Eat."

The voice slid into her ear. Sella's hands were shaking violently.

"I said eat it, Sella."

Hearing her own name felt like a death sentence. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter.

The figure in the chair reached out and seized Sella by the hair in a sudden, vicious grip. Sella clenched her eyes still harder, refusing to look.

"Countless people mixed deadly poison into my food. Consort Yeong, Lady Ga, Minor Consort So… there were days when the poison clans grew rich off of me, you know."

The voice was so cold it was impossible to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. It felt as though it were closing around her throat.

"But this lady's body — the body of the Heavenly Demon Cult's own daughter — is an indestructible vessel, immune to every poison under heaven. Even the Gu born of a viper, a toad, and a venomous centipede devouring one another in a jar never dared approach my dantian."

She had possessed enemies beyond counting. She had reached a realm where a glance at the color of a dish was enough to tell whether it had been poisoned.

"And not a single soul who mixed poison into my food ever lived to speak of it."

"…Hh-hk…"

"Circumstances don't permit me to tear the flesh from your bones, so I have decided you will atone by devouring your own sin. Eat."

She seized Sella's hair and drove her face down. The salad Sella herself had dusted with poison filled her vision. If she ate it, she would surely die with her eyes rolled back in her head.

Sella clasped her hands and begged. The other already knew she had been the one to lace the food.

"Please… please spare me. Young master, young master."

"Come to think of it, 'young master' grates on the ear as well."

Esika frowned and yanked Sella's head up by the hair. The moment their eyes met, shock crashed across Sella's face.

"M-my lady…?"

The person gazing down at her with those merciless, ice-cold blue eyes was none other than the owner of this shabby room — Esika Klaus.

"Did you call me 'young master' knowing who I was?"

Come to think of it, Esika had never once claimed to be anyone else. The notion that some assassin had threatened the Duchess and was hiding in her rooms had been Sella's own guess, and nothing more.

It is the Duchess… but she's different.

Like a herbivore standing before a predator, Sella felt it in her bones. The woman who had detected the poison in the food and was calmly about to shove her face into it was not the Duchess she knew. That was the face of a savage beast.

But she could not die like this.

"M-my lady… why… why are you doing this to me…?"

Sella trembled as she challenged her.

"You weren't… you weren't this kind of person."

Esika did not so much as twitch an eyebrow. She answered with eyes like ice.

"Are you referring to my foolish past — when I watched the faces of wretches like you, who aren't even worth calling vermin?"

At that blade-edged voice, Sella's body jerked hard. Esika Klaus had been a young, easy woman. She had bought the title of Duchess of Klaus with money, and because not a soul acknowledged her, she had had to grovel even before maids like Sella.

But the woman before her now…

"You have always committed the grave insolence of bringing me garbage for food."

She was cold as a killing frost, as threatening as a blade laid against the throat.

"And yet, when given the chance to bring proper food and beg this lady's forgiveness, you kicked that opportunity away. How dare you…"

Esika's grip tightened. Pain lanced through Sella's scalp. The strength in that slender wrist was something Sella would never have imagined; she could not even turn her head. The killing intent in those eyes made it hard to breathe.

"You put poison in my food. You tried to kill me."

"My lady… please spare me. Please forgive me… hh-hk…"

Tears spilled from Sella's eyes — tears of the terror welling up from somewhere deep inside her. She had only meant to silence the assassin who had learned her secret, and be done with it.

"You are a dead woman already. If it becomes known that a mere maid attempted to poison the Duchess of Klaus, your family will not die easily either."

Sella's shaking body flinched again. The empire's laws were absolute. Even if the victim was a despised, unloved Duchess whom no one cared for… if Esika ate that food and died, and the truth came out, neither Sella nor her family would escape the scaffold. And even if she died here and now, there was no guarantee her family would be left in peace. Esika already knew every one of her crimes. She had already counted the lives she meant to take.

"Hh-hk… I'm sorry. I'm sorry, my lady… please…"

Sella wept openly, begging for mercy.

"Please spare my family…"

However it had happened, the Esika Klaus before her was not the mistress she had known. Her gaze was sharper and darker than even the Dowager Duchess's — a look that could make a person feel cold in the height of summer. It called up a primal fear, like a predator that had crawled back from hell.

Regret came flooding into Sella's chest, far too late.

"Please. If you give me one more chance…"

Sella lifted her tear-soaked eyes to Esika, pleading for a last scrap of mercy.

"I will live for you from now on."