That made it far worse.

The air tightened at once. Servants retreated instinctively, creating a clear space that left me and the girls I had just fought standing fully exposed. Every eye turned toward us.

I swallowed and dropped to my knees at once. The others followed in haste. Drawing in a breath, I raised my voice— resolute and just as much louder than my pounding heart.

“Madame Avia, Madame Marsala, I can explain what happened today.”

My chest rose and fell from the chaos moments earlier. One of the girls snapped her head toward me, and I scoffed inwardly.

I refused to be dragged off to some filthy punishment ground. Absolutely not.

Without allowing anyone else to speak, I pressed on. “I was ordered to fetch water when these girls suddenly surrounded me along with others. I was alone and did what I could to protect myself.”

I finished and exhaled slowly, realizing only then how tightly I had been breathing.

It was not a flawless explanation, and I knew I would not escape consequence—but at the very least, it made clear who began the trouble.

One of the girls beside me shook her head immediately. 

Others in the surrounding crowd did the same, stepping farther back as if distancing themselves from the matter.

The ringleader—the most unpleasant-looking among them—opened her mouth to speak, but Madame Avia raised a single hand. The girl fell silent at once.

Good.

Madame Avia turned toward Madame Marsala. The two exchanged a few quiet words; their familiarity was obvious, as though this was not the first disorder they had judged together. Madame Marsala nodded in response.

With one final sharp glance at our disheveled state, Madame Avia turned and walked away.

“Girls,” Madame Marsala said coolly, “every one of you has disappointed me. You will receive punishment according to your roles in this foolish spectacle.”

She shook her head and turned to Evelyn at her side. “Take them to the outer estate fields. Each will work alongside the external servants for a full day, and the tasks will not be light.”

Evelyn bowed and gestured for the gathered girls to move. They complied, resignation written on their faces, forming a line and following her. As they passed, many cast hard looks toward us—especially toward me.

Soon, only Madame Marsala, the three girls, and I remained.

She stared at us for a long moment, her gaze sharp and heavy with disapproval. Then she turned fully to me.

Pressing her fingers briefly to her temples, she sighed. “I regret bringing you back here. Tell me, what exactly is your problem?”

I stood speechless and lowered my gaze, adopting the look of guilt. Somehow, the weight of blame had drifted toward me again.

What had I done wrong? They provoked it.

I sensed the silent satisfaction from the girls beside me.

“Do not look pleased,” Madame Marsala snapped towards them. “Your offenses are worse. Dev, you had the nerve to stir this mess.”

“No, Mad—”

She lifted a hand, silencing Dev instantly.

“There will be no excuses. I heard everything that occurred. You were the instigator. Causing trouble under my authority suggests I have been too lenient.”

Straightening her posture, Madame Marsala clasped her hands behind her back and paced slowly before us, as though arranging her judgment.

“For the next two weeks, each of you will be assigned daily duties.”

She pointed to one of the girls—a servant with dull skin and unruly brown hair.

“You will wash all mansion linens. That includes the garments of nobles and servants alike.”

The girl gasped. So did the rest of us.

All the linens. That task alone normally required many hands. 

The noble undergarments, formal attire and seasonal fabrics—each demanded different care. For one person to manage all of it was merciless.

The girl looked as though she might faint.

Madame Marsala showed no reaction. She turned to the next.

“You,” she said, pointing to a darker-skinned girl with thick curls cascading down her back, still striking despite the earlier scuffle. “You will sweep the entire outer grounds of fallen leaves and refuse. You will do so without footwear. And you'll do so every day.”

The girl’s face went pale.

Madame Marsala did not pause. She turned to Dev. “You will clean the ceilings of the Westwond mansion and the servants’ quarters. They must shine.”

I gasped despite myself. The ceilings were towering and vast, usually tended by hired specialists. Even for them, it was difficult.

For Dev, it was perilous.

Then Madame Marsala’s finger turned toward me.

My heart dropped.

If their punishments were this severe, what awaited me? Her expression held no fondness. Would she send me straight to ruin?

Perhaps she would show restraint. Perhaps not too dangero—

“Feeding the beasts in the kennels.”

My breath caught.

That was not punishment.

That was a straight sentence!

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