Chapter 4

The head maid's eyes widened, seemingly fixated on something beyond Azriel. Slowly, her complexion paled as if she had witnessed a horrifying sight.

"Head Maid, what's happening?" Azriel, shocked, grabbed the head maid's collar, seeking answers.

At that very moment, the head maid convulsed as if struck by lightning before collapsing to the ground, crawling away on all fours.

"Uh, oh, oh, arrgghh!!"

She hastily got back on her feet and sprinted away, screaming.

Azriel stood there, bewilderment etched across her face, as she watched the head maid vanish with an inexplicable shimmer.

She scrutinized the spot where the head maid had been staring, but there was nothing discernible to her eyes.

All that remained was a bucket filled with water and a neatly placed box on the ground.

"No way."

She gingerly picked up the box, noticing the silk ribbon adorning it, intricately tied into a floral pattern that felt too precious to untangle. Her fingertips toyed with the edge of the ribbon as she glanced around.

"Mr. Wizard? Where are you?"

Silence was her only response. The pale wizard did not materialize.

"Reshith… No, Mr. Rhema? Did you have something to do with this just now?"

Despite feeling somewhat foolish, she posed her question to the empty air.

After waiting for a while without receiving an answer, she was left with nothing but the rustling of leaves in the wind and the bustling activity of people coming and going from the castle.

It all felt like a dream.

Were it not for the box in her arms, she might have wondered if she had dozed off while standing.

Perplexed and uneasy, she looked down at the ornate box and muttered, "Why did he give this to me?"

Though she felt apprehensive, she couldn't simply leave it behind. She decided to take the box to her room later and resumed her task of carrying water.

***

Rhema Reshith stood beside the lifeless body of the head maid, gazing down at the corpse without a trace of remorse. It had been a long while since he had taken a life that didn't belong to a fellow wizard.

How dare she, he seethed.

He felt no regret for his actions; in fact, they felt insufficient.

How dare she curse her? How dare she lay a hand on her? How dare she, how dare she!

These thoughts consumed his mind. With a flick of his hand, the wizard transformed the head maid's body into dust, which dispersed into the wind. Although he watched the remnants of what had once been a living being, his thoughts were elsewhere.

He thought of her tattered shoes with half-lost soles, a foot bearing a burnt mark, legs scarred and fragile, a ragged skirt, chapped lips and hands, and those large, sunken eyes that radiated exhaustion—yes, those weary, golden eyes…

I didn't leave hoping she'd live like this.

An emotion stirred within his usually barren heart, an emotion he couldn't quite identify. All he could do was repeat the same words like a broken record.

I thought you'd be happy. I only wished for you to enjoy a life of abundance and happiness like others…

He rubbed his face, contorted with an emotion he seldom experienced. It happened so infrequently that he didn't know how to handle it. The more he dwelled on the situation, the more intense this unfamiliar feeling became.

Perhaps it had begun when he made excuses to himself, claiming he would merely check on how she was faring—just for a brief moment. Or perhaps things had already started to unravel when he decided to leave her.

If you're not happy when I'm gone, then I'd rather stay…

No, that couldn't have been the right choice. He knew full well that his presence would only make her unhappier—perhaps more so than she was now. However, he couldn't bear to see her in this condition.

The wizard gently closed his eyes.

***

Preparations for the guest continued late into the night.

"Azriel! Azriel! Are you there?" A voice called from outside.

Azriel had been engrossed in examining a box she had yet to open, but she hastily concealed it upon hearing the voice.

"Yes," she responded, "I'm here. Come inside."

With a mischievous giggle, Maylie entered through the door.

Maylie was a kind-hearted maid with curly, vibrant red hair and the only friend Azriel had. She was hiding something behind her back and shrugged playfully.

"Guess what I've brought you."

Azriel's keen senses detected a sweet aroma.

"Let me see," she said, curiosity piqued.

"Look!" Maylie beamed as she revealed her hidden treasure.

In her hand, wrapped in paper, was a round chocolate pie, about the size of her palm, adorned with a charming cherry on top.

Azriel's eyes widened in surprise.

"Isn't this a dessert for the guests?"

"Yeah! It got a little crushed, so the chef gave it to me since it can't be served anymore. I brought it to share with you."

This was a precious dessert, not easily accessible to mere maids, yet Maylie had thoughtfully sneaked it into Azriel's room to share.

Touched by her kindness, Azriel felt as though she could already taste the sweetness of the pie on her tongue, especially after enduring a particularly challenging day.

Azriel smiled and shook her head. "You can have it all. I'm fine. Pies aren't really to my liking, and I know you adore them."

"But I know you like chocolate! Let's enjoy it together, please? And look, I brought this too. You missed dinner, didn't you?"

In one swift motion, Maylie retrieved a loaf of bread from the basket hanging on her arm and placed it in Azriel's hand. Its sweet aroma wafted through the air.

"You missed dinner, didn't you?" Maylie repeated.

Azriel was reminded of her younger days when her brother used to say the same words before handing her a piece of bread. Her voice trembled as she gazed down at the bread in her hand.

"Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Maylie replied with a warm smile.

Maylie settled beside Azriel and chuckled. Their friendship hadn't always been so harmonious. When they first met, Maylie had been hesitant to get close to Azriel. While she didn't taunt her like the other servants did, she kept her distance.

Azriel's unusually pale skin, a characteristic unique to the northern ethnic group she belonged to, made her stand out awkwardly here.

Maylie had never encountered anyone with golden eyes before, and they appeared strange to her. Furthermore, she couldn't help but notice that Azriel, a slave, was dressed in better clothing than the other maids.

Then, one fateful day, a pair of earrings cherished by Countess Colte disappeared. Maylie had been the last person to exit the countess's dressing room, making her the prime suspect.

Facing expulsion from the estate and a hefty debt for the earrings, she had been on the brink of despair.

No one except Azriel believed in Maylie's innocence. In that crucial moment, Azriel stepped forward and spoke her mind.

"Lady Deborah must have borrowed those earrings. They should be in her jewelry box."

True to her words, the earrings were discovered in Deborah's possession. She hadn't intended to steal them; she had merely forgotten to return them after borrowing and wearing them for a day without her mother's consent.

Of course, Deborah refused to admit her mistake, vehemently proclaiming her innocence before her mother.

The countess, rather than exposing her daughter's wrongdoing to all the servants, chose to punish Azriel instead.

"Come to think of it, you must have stolen them and hidden them in my daughter's jewelry box when things got out of hand!"

The countess was well aware that Azriel was not the culprit, but the truth held no significance for her.

Azriel endured a severe whipping and was locked in the castle's dungeon for a month as punishment.

Other servants, even after knowing the truth, chose to remain silent out of fear of reprisal.

These individuals perpetuated the lie that Azriel had stolen the earrings, tarnishing her reputation among the staff.

"She was punished so harshly for stealing Madam's belongings," the servants and maids would gossip. "Why does that slave receive such favoritism?"

Maylie, who had narrowly escaped false accusations, found the situation perplexing. She clandestinely entered the dungeon to visit Azriel and express her gratitude.

"Why does everyone believe you did it?" she inquired. "Madam punished you to protect Lady Deborah!"

"It's more convenient for them to believe that," Azriel replied.

"Convenient? How so?"

"It's easier for them to think that a slave girl misbehaved than to consider that the mistress they've served would unfairly accuse someone or that they turned a blind eye to injustice out of fear, even when they knew the truth."

"Are you suggesting they believe her because it's more comfortable to believe you're the thief? That's absurd! What makes it convenient for them?"

"They just find it easier to feel that way because I'm already considered detestable."

Azriel was only fourteen at the time, and Maylie couldn't fathom how calmly she was discussing this matter despite her age. She looked at the girl crouched behind the bars.

"Don't you find it unfair?" Maylie asked.

"It is unfair."

"But how can you remain so composed?"

"I'm not composed. I cried."

"Don't just cry about it! Get angry instead! Tell everyone not to do this!"

"A slave like me?"

Slaves were not regarded as human beings. While there had been debates in the capital regarding the continuation of slavery, it was still largely practiced at that time.

Maylie herself had held a vague belief that slaves were fundamentally different beings until she encountered one who had helped her to such an extent. She struggled for words and, after careful contemplation, posed another question to Azriel.

"Th-then, why don't you try not to be disliked by others?"

"How?" Azriel inquired.

"Well, um… Listen to others attentively, diligently carry out your tasks, and be kind…?"

"Do you believe I'm disliked because I don't work hard enough or because I'm unkind?"

Maylie suddenly found herself overcome with embarrassment and fell silent. She had misjudged Azriel entirely.

Azriel was neither unkind nor lazy; she was a gentle soul who obediently carried out her orders, and she had even risked herself to help Maylie when it was not her responsibility.

Despite all this, Maylie had been avoiding her, believing Azriel to be a slave who was clearly different, hailing from a different ethnic group, and therefore someone society inherently disliked.

As Maylie hesitated, Azriel continued, her voice soft yet resolute, "People who harbor hate for the sake of having something to hate seldom change."

Maylie remained silent.

"But perhaps, if I try harder, they might redirect their hate elsewhere. If I become less introspective, blindly obedient, and ingratiating, things might improve a little."

"Y-yes, you're so quiet… If you flatter others more, the head maid and the others might take a liking to you. You're quite charming, you know…"

"But, Maylie, if I have to lower myself and compromise my worth to gain the favor of others, then that favor isn't genuine. I don't want to strive for fake affection and diminish my self-worth."

Maylie stared blankly at Azriel. The girl seated in the shadow of the dungeon stretched her back and sat up straight.

"I refuse to become servile," she whispered. "I won't live that way."

These words didn't sound like those of a slave.

Unknowingly, Maylie voiced a question, "Are you really a slave?"

"Yes, I am."

"Were you born into slavery?"

"No."

"Then what were you before?"

"I'm not sure."

"Could it be… Aren't you, in fact, some kind of princess from a distant land who became a slave for a reason? And when nobles come to rescue you, will all the people who mistreated you be pushed aside?"

Behind her bars, Azriel burst into laughter. She continued laughing for a long while, leaving Maylie blushing in embarrassment.

"Wh-why are you laughing? Did I say something strange?"

"No, it's just amusing. And thank you."

"Thank you? What are you thanking me for?"

Azriel didn't provide an immediate response.

It was only at the age of fourteen, after hearing Maylie's fantastical imagination and bursting into laughter, that Azriel finally let go of the hope that "that person" would come to her rescue.

She realized then how unrealistic and vain her expectations had been.

From that point on, she began plotting her escape, preparing for it. It was around that time she met Warden at the bookstore and found a way to earn money whenever she was sent on errands to the market.

After the King of Aucandor abolished the abhorrent practice of slavery, she knew she could escape if she managed to accumulate more funds.

Maylie had become her friend after that conversation in the dungeon and had become privy to her escape plan. Whenever she ran errands, she would stop by the bookstore to pick up jobs for Azriel.

Once Azriel had finished her bread, Maylie handed her a water bottle from the basket.

"Thank you," Azriel said gratefully. "I haven't had anything to eat all day. I finally feel like I can breathe now."

"No problem. By the way, Azriel, how's your preparation for leaving going?" Maylie inquired.

"I still need to raise more money. Whatever I do, I'll have to bribe someone. I have to consider the cost of obtaining a new identity and covering my living expenses until I secure another job."

"I hate to see you go… but you should leave as soon as you can."

"Why?"

Rather than responding immediately, Maylie carefully sliced a chocolate pie in half. She handed one portion to Azriel, hesitating before speaking.