Chapter 6
Most people didn’t really know who Marsha was.
That her father had once been a minor lord, and that her childhood dream was to become a knight apprentice.
Of course they didn’t. She had thoroughly hidden her past.
There was only one reason she entered the House of Leways: revenge.
The Marquisate of Leways was an old and wealthy noble family, but from an employee’s perspective, it was far from a good workplace.
The maids were paid the industry average. But the workload was heavy, and the treatment was terrible. Naturally, there were always vacancies, and job postings were constantly up.
It wasn’t hard to get in, and the screening process wasn’t strict.
Why bother? Anyone they hired would just get driven out eventually by the marquis or Jeppetto.
The head maid felt the same.
“Name’s Marsha. Says here you’ve worked as a nanny—is that right?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve looked after children before. Perfect. You’ll be in charge of the young lady.”
“Pardon?”
“You answer without hesitation. That’s the mark of a prepared employee. I like it.”
“…Pardon?”
And just like that, she was assigned to serve the young lady—Laura.
“So you’re Marsha?”
“Yes, please call me Marsha.”
She was surprisingly unlike the marquis.
Always tense and irritable, yes, but only because the environment around her was so harsh.
Later, Marsha learned Laura was adopted—and, surprisingly, a rare spirit-wielder.
“So how long are you staying? Just tonight? Or are you leaving after lunch?”
“Excuse me?”
“Leave if you want. Just make sure to prep my lunch before you go. If you don’t, I might not get to eat all day.”
The position of a personal attendant to a family member was highly sought after among the servants. It was where power gathered. You got to attend important social functions as a companion, and it was a great chance to gain experience.
But not when it came to Laura.
‘I see.’
Watching carefully, Marsha understood Laura’s place in this house.
The Marquis of Leways treated her like a mere chess piece. If the master was like that, there was no reason the servants would show her respect.
Subtle scorn and disregard were constant. People would “accidentally” forget her meals or embezzle her allocated budget like it was nothing.
If Laura was treated that poorly, then how much worse would it be for her maid?
Still, Marsha endured it. After all, she had infiltrated this household for revenge.
And if her goal was to bide her time and wait for the right moment, there was no better position. No one else wanted to be Laura’s personal maid.
Yes. She didn’t stay for Laura’s sake.
She used her, just like the marquis did.
But you weren’t a fool. You knew everything.
And even so, you—
[So what if that’s true?]
[The one who stayed by my side in the end… was you.]
You came looking for me.
[I just did what I could do.]
You saved me.
[So, do you want to take revenge together or not? I’ve got plenty of grudges against the marquis myself.]
You made me feel needed.
‘How could I…’
Forget someone like you?
“Marsha?”
Even now, the voice gently checking on her was filled with warmth. Marsha lowered her head, unable to meet Laura’s eyes.
“…I’m sorry.”
“Huh?”
“I’m really sorry.”
Why had she snapped at Laura earlier for returning the handkerchief?
Because it hurt to see Laura taking losses on her behalf.
Because she knew how long Laura had yearned for that noble lady status.
Even without her memories, from the moment their eyes met, she had given her whole heart again.
‘But maybe it’s only natural.’
Because aside from her family, the only person who had accepted her just as she was—
Was Laura.
Someone far too kind to push her away just because she was an adopted daughter.
“Um, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course.”
Because…
How could she not love someone this precious?
Rustle, rustle.
That was the sound of an apple being peeled.
No surprise—Marsha, ever the professional, peeled the apple neatly and beautifully.
“Please have some. I bought them fresh at the market today. They looked quite good.”
And it wasn’t just the apples.
Marsha had brought cleaning tools and swept and scrubbed the temple. Of course, no matter how much she cleaned, the old temple wouldn’t suddenly turn brand-new, but it looked much more presentable now.
More importantly—
“Who told you to clean?!”
This isn’t why I brought her here.
“I feel more at ease when I’m doing something rather than just sitting still,” Marsha replied.
“Honestly, I’ve always felt uneasy. Leaving you alone in that haunted house while I came to this comfortable temple… I kept wondering if I should go back. I worried whether you were eating properly every single day.”
She was referring to what happened two years ago.
That day, I kicked Jeppetto to the ground and took Marsha with me.
Of course, I couldn’t just bring her out without a plan. I’d arranged a place for her to stay and got her a job so she could live well.
And when I found out about her dream, I offered her the position of Holy Knight.
It happened to be just as Seraphina was beginning to establish herself as the Saint, so I needed someone trustworthy to guard her.
“Don’t worry. I beat Jeppetto up that time too. You know that, right?”
“Yes, you did mention it.”
Marsha and I smiled at each other.
And she hadn’t brought the apple just for me.
Of course not. I’m not the only one with a mouth to feed here.
Marsha also ate some herself, and I handed a piece to Seraphina too.
She was still very young, so I cut it into small pieces to prevent choking.
“She’s eating well. Though, I suppose it’s not surprising. The Saint was never a picky eater.”
“Really? You… you recognize her?”
“Well… who wouldn’t? She’s unmistakably the Saint.”
Now that Marsha had regained her memories, she recognized not only me but Seraphina as well.
So I could speak to her more freely.
I told her what had happened after I killed the Marquis.
“I thought Seraphina had failed to lift the curse and lost her divine power, reverting into a child… but…”
Though temporary, divine energy had emerged from Seraphina again—it seemed her powers hadn’t vanished completely.
‘A Saint really is a Saint, huh.’
Perhaps realizing we were talking about her, Seraphina looked up and reached out her hand.
“Apple?”
“Yes, here you go.”
She grabbed the piece Marsha gave her and stuffed it into her mouth, whole fist and all. She still spilled more than she swallowed, but at least she seemed to like the taste.
“Do you have a plan? Something you’ve been thinking about?”
I did.
‘This is as far as I can go from my current position.’
From here on out, I needed a bigger stage—and a stronger foothold.
‘I’m no longer the Marquis’s daughter, but I’m still the fiancée of the First Prince.’
To take advantage of that, there was something I had to do.
“Starting now…”
I made my declaration.
“I’m going to seize every last bit of the Marquis’s inheritance.”
And I had my hopes, too.
That collapsing house was doomed anyway. But if I could bring it down with my own hands—maybe that, too, would count as a virtuous deed.
‘Leways itself is a blight. The Empire would be better off if it vanished even a day sooner.’
Of course, it wasn’t something I could do alone.
“Will you help me, Marsha?”
Marsha beamed.
“Of course.”
Meanwhile, at that very moment, Axel—
“She’s not at the Marquis’s estate?”
—was speaking with his close aides at the Imperial Capital.
The subject was tracking down Laura’s whereabouts.
Now that the Marquis was dead, Axel figured it was the perfect time to annul the engagement.
“She hasn’t attended any social gatherings. She hasn’t visited any jewelers or dress shops either.”
Laura used to love wielding her status as the Prince’s fiancée. She took great pleasure in dressing extravagantly and flaunting herself at parties while basking in the flattery of her followers.
Which is why Axel had let his guard down. He figured she might falter briefly from the shock, but that she’d soon return to the social scene as usual.
“She’s probably laying low because her father just died.”
That could be the case.
But Axel couldn’t answer with confidence.
“Your Highness, do you take me for someone who secretly leaks imperial information to the Marquis behind the scenes, slaps anyone who insults me to their face, and specializes in manipulation and scheming?”
He remembered the moment he had mocked her.
And the way her face clouded with pain—as though genuinely hurt.
‘It’s strange.’
He usually wouldn’t have given it a second thought. She was always an irritating woman—why should her feelings matter to him?
So why—
‘Why did that face—so full of injustice—look so real?’
Why was he even thinking about her like this?
