Chapter 3 –
As Odette cut her off, Paula faltered in confusion.
‘Of course. If it were me until just yesterday, I’d have been desperate to stay on Paula’s good side since she’s close to Mother.’
How much pleasure must Paula have taken in tormenting a noble count’s daughter, lording over her? Odette, knowing exactly what Paula’s insecurities were, let out a natural sneer.
“How dare you speak to me like that—”
“To discipline someone, you should set an example. You didn’t even bother with the basic courtesy of knocking. What kind of discipline do you think that is?”
At Odette’s pointed remark, Paula’s face twisted.
“And look at that. Your emotions show all over your face, Paula.”
“…Milady.”
“What could I possibly learn from a maid who loses her composure and shows her true feelings so easily?”
When she let go of the childish, high-pitched tone Ferdinand preferred, a clear, strong, and natural voice emerged instead.
Just the fact that she no longer craved to be loved changed everything.
More than her voice or tone, it was her perspective that had changed the most. The Paula she used to fear now seemed pitifully laughable.
“Did you come here to teach me how to act disrespectful and above my station, Paula?”
At Odette’s cold, mocking smile, Paula’s face turned beet red.
‘What… what the hell?’
Paula couldn’t help but be flustered. Odette looked—truly—like a perfect noblewoman.
And it wasn’t just about her flawless etiquette. Senior maids like Paula had always mocked Odette’s perfection in following court manners.
Because they knew she hadn’t learned it as a noble lady, but as someone being constantly tormented.
The madam delighted in finding fault with outdated etiquette in books just to disown and reinstate Odette at will.
Watching her stubbornly maintain perfect manners had always seemed pathetic. A form of trauma-induced obsession from fear—how pitiful.
But today, even those same gestures felt like they belonged to a ruler.
Paula tried to stay calm.
‘She’s still just Odette.’
All she had to do was mention the madam. That would make her grovel immediately.
“If you continue acting this arrogantly, I’ll report you to Madam!”
But Odette only smiled gently. Her presence was cold and noble, like she could crush Paula beneath her heel.
‘And what’s with that voice?’
So graceful it could bewitch someone—like a flute. Paula trembled without realizing it.
It felt like she was watching the embodiment of the voice she had always tried—and failed—to mimic.
“Milady, get on your knees this instant. You were locked in the attic as punishment for faking illness after being medicated yesterday! Have you forgotten the master’s orders?”
Paula couldn’t back down. If she did, she knew she would never again be able to stand above Odette.
‘I was the one meant to be in that position…! That orphan dares!’
What was she supposed to do with the long-standing anger she’d built up? Feeling superior to Odette in this moment was something she could never give up.
“Have you forgotten your lowly origins, milady? Should I inform Madam and have you disowned immediately?”
She would make sure Odette never dared defy her again. Fired up with that resolve, Paula abandoned her usual refined tone and pressed forward.
And then it happened. A sharp slap, cracking against her heated cheek—cold fingers leaving a sting in their wake.
“W-what was that…?”
Paula reeled. Odette’s hand had struck far harder than expected. That slim arm shouldn’t have had that much strength.
Her vision spun. There was no doubt—the strike had been expertly delivered.
“You’ve got no manners, Paula. If I had learned etiquette from you, I’d be the laughingstock of high society.”
While Paula stood frozen, shocked, Odette deftly snatched the riding crop from her hand as if taking back something that was rightfully hers. The motion was fluid, smooth—and impossible to stop midway.
Like the sleight of hand of a skilled pickpocket.
‘How the hell did she move so fast?’
While Paula stared blankly at the almost magical motion, the riding crop came down hard on her back.
“Aaagh!”
Paula collapsed to the floor from the pain—something she had never felt before in her life.
“You always said it yourself, didn’t you? Nothing works better for fixing bad habits than a riding crop.”
‘H-how could it hurt this much?’
She had spent twelve years using that crop on Odette—but this was the first time she had ever felt its sting herself.
Being hit with it inflicted pain beyond imagination. Her body trembled uncontrollably, and all her will to fight drained away.
“On your knees. Today, I’ll be the one disciplining you.”
Were Odette’s teal eyes always this cold?
Even just one strike had completely broken Paula. She dropped to her knees, drenched in cold sweat at the thought of feeling that pain again.
Her mind boiled with humiliation and the urge to fight back, but her body—shocked by its first taste of true pain—simply submitted.
“A maid who dares threaten her mistress… Looks like you’re the one who needs training.”
Odette calmly raised the crop and struck Paula’s back again.
“Gyaaah!”
Only two strikes—and Paula was already trembling and crying.
“M-Milady…”
“Don’t forget to count out loud. You’re supposed to reflect on each strike, remember?”
“Count out loud, milady! You’re supposed to reflect on each strike!”
Mimicking Paula’s exact words, Odette spoke softly and sweetly.
‘I’ll tell Madam—you think you can get away with this humiliation?’
Clenching her teeth, Paula clung to the belief that the countess would protect her. But the pain from the crop was overwhelming enough to shatter that hope.
“Th-three… hic!”
She felt her palms grow wet against the floor as she bit down hard on her lip.
I looked down coldly at Paula, who had passed out after just five strikes.
‘Passing out from so little… ridiculous.’
Compared to what I used to endure, this wasn’t even half as intense. After three strikes, I used to bleed. Paula’s skin hadn’t even started to bruise.
‘She always shouted that I needed at least thirty lashes when I was that little.’
When I cried in pain, Paula would say I was exaggerating—and then hit me dozens more times.
So harsh to others, and yet so pathetically gentle to herself.
‘If I had more time, I’d wait for her to wake up and train her properly…’
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time.
‘With Paula unconscious, she won’t be tattling to Mother for a while.’
She looked perfectly in place, collapsed on the floor of the attic. No wonder she’d always been treated better than most maids—because she was suspiciously well-matched with that room.
“You’ve wasted my precious time.”
I murmured toward her unconscious form and left the room—locking the attic door from the outside, of course.
“My time isn’t as cheap as yours.”
Then I resumed my original objective.
Odette left the attic where she had been locked up and headed to her own room.
Second floor. Her bedroom was a small room attached to Ferdinand’s, like how a royal mistress’s chamber might sit beside an emperor’s.
“Did you think a mother wouldn’t notice? Of course I realized he started having lewd thoughts about you as he got older. Disgusted? You should feel honored instead, shouldn’t you?”
As if flaunting the fact that the count’s family saw her as nothing more than Ferdinand’s plaything.
“How brazen. Adopted just to be Ferdinand’s toy, and yet you don’t know your place.”
Her mother’s voice, mocking her as she sat in that prison-like attic. What kind of person raises a beast like that for a son?
It made Odette furious to think she had spent her life trying to become part of such a family.
Her face turned icy as she grasped the doorknob of her room.
And just then, the silhouette waiting inside turned to look at her.
