I was bent over, scrubbing the waste pit of the servants’ latrines.

The stench was unbearable.

By the time I finished, I was certain it would take days of washing to rid myself of it.

What did these people even eat?

And Albert—damn him. That shameless betrayal.

He had sworn he would soften my punishment, only to deliver me straight into Madame Marsala’s hands before disappearing with endless apologies.

As if I would forgive him so easily.

And those girls.

I clenched my jaw. Let me finish this first. I was no longer the obedient, silent Clare they remembered.

Hours passed before I finally completed the task. I stepped out of the building and into the woods, moving beneath the trees while sweat clung to my skin.

The smell clung to me even worse.

But tonight, they would suffer far more than I had.

The thought brought a sharp smile to my lips.

I made my way toward the lake, then paused.

The water there always flowed gently, more like a narrow river than a lake. I still called it one out of habit. Its source was clean, the water clear and steady.

It would do.

I set down my soap and cloth, glancing around carefully. Hardly anyone ever came this way. I would not stay long.

I undressed quickly and entered the water, washing myself as thoroughly and swiftly as I could.

Once finished, I dressed in the clean clothes I had brought along in a small bag earlier. I had prepared everything in advance, knowing I would avoid the communal washrooms.

The bath was brief but necessary.

When I finished, I felt renewed.

“What are you doing?”

The voice startled me. I turned at once, stepping back instinctively.

Thankfully, I was already dressed.

A familiar figure stood nearby.

The young Duke.

I stared, momentarily speechless. Why was he here? Of all places.

“Did you bathe in the river?” he asked.

“No— I mean…”

I paused.

Why was I even flustered? We were not forbidden from bathing here.

“Why?” I challenged. “Am I not allowed to?”

Surprisingly, fear did not take hold of me.

When it was only the two of us, without witnesses, I felt neither intimidated nor threatened.

And despite myself, I did not hate him as much as I insisted I did.

He had not truly wronged me in the beginning. I had been the one who forced my feelings upon him, who manipulated circumstances and harmed others in the process.

He had merely removed what he considered an obstacle to his twisted devotion.

As an adult, the Duke had not been a schemer. He was principled in his own rigid way, fair but neither gentle nor forgiving.

I could not bring myself to hate him entirely for what he did to me.

Perhaps I deserved it.

What I truly resented was what he did to Ariana.

If I had believed my suffering severe, hers had been far worse in the lives I remembered.

Had I been reborn just a little earlier, I would have prevented him from ever noticing her.

Interfering now would only lead me to die again. And I was certain this was my final chance at life.

“Who are you?” I asked abruptly.

He looked startled.

He remained silent, hands in his pockets, studying me. I could not deny it. For a boy his age, he carried an unsettling charm.

He tilted his head. “Clare, correct? Are you pretending?”

I raised an eyebrow.

What an absurdly direct question.

“Yes, I am Clare. But I truly do not know who you are.”

“How?” irritation crept into his voice. “Do you not recognize me? Or are you blind as well?”

“Oh, I am,” I replied lightly. “I wear spectacles for a reason. I cannot see well, especially at night. Perhaps you would tell me your name instead. And why you appeared so suddenly after I finished bathing.”

I lifted my brow teasingly. “Or were you hoping to catch something improper?”

His expression twisted in disgust.

“Insolent. Vulgar. As expected of a poorly raised servant.”

He turned to leave.

I had enjoyed provoking him, but not the insult.

Without thinking, I called out, “Bold words from someone who dreams obsessively about a poorly raised servant just like me.”

He stopped.

Then turned.

His gaze was sharp, dangerous, filled with something that made my instincts scream.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of what I had done.

This was the future Duke.

A powerful figure, respected throughout the land.

I cleared my throat and forced an awkward smile, his stare still fixed on me.

Think.

“A-ah— I know how to make her notice you,” I blurted. “She does not even know you care for her, does she? From now on, I shall be your personal advisor in matters of love.”

I laughed nervously, hoping to break the tension.

Silence followed.

Then he spoke.

“How do you know?”

I blinked.

After everything I had said, that was his question?

“Well,” I hesitated, “let us keep that a secret for now. We should begin with the first task, don’t you think?”

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