Episode 7
Staria tried to force her voice out, but only wheezing air came. No matter how loudly she screamed, it was useless.
“Why… why is this happening?”
Had it only been a few days since experiencing living hell, yet even her voice had been taken from her?
No maid would notice Staria’s pitiful plight.
“The house steward instructed that you be treated with utmost care. Stay still. If you move again, we’ll put on the shackles.”
Shackles?
Staria froze stiffly. Her expression was hard, her voice cold. The maid was serious, not joking. Realizing that “being shackled” was no idle threat, her shoulders instinctively hunched.
Since she had been in her mother’s womb, she had been showered with affection. She never shied away from attention, enjoying all eyes on her, and had never been accustomed to such cold treatment.
Had she ever felt as if the whole world was pressing down on her, crushing her? Overwhelmed with injustice, unable to do anything but endure?
Naked in a place where no one could help, Staria had to endure every trial with her entire body. The bravery she had carried so far now seemed meaningless; she shrank under the pressure, her confidence fading.
While Staria tried not to draw the maids’ ire, even her socks were removed, leaving them floating in the air. The maids scrubbed her with soap, pressing close, until she was buried in suds. Then the head maid poured water from the tub over her and asked,
“How’s the temperature?”
“A little hot, but it’s okay.”
She answered immediately, but only her lips moved—no sound came out. The head maid asked again, but her answer could not be conveyed. Another maid spoke up.
“She can’t speak?”
“Mute? The house steward didn’t mention anything.”
“Doesn’t even hear?”
It seemed she wasn’t the only one paying attention. Misunderstanding Staria, the other maids started chatting. The freckled maid was the chattiest.
“Is this the one everyone’s been talking about?”
“You saw the master carrying her, didn’t you?”
“Unbelievable. If it were a male, maybe, but for the master to take interest in a female—this could shake the forest!”
“Right.”
“Could this human become the mistress of Verakin?”
“Not sure. But one thing’s certain: she’ll stay in the castle. If sent back to the cottage, she’ll come out as a corpse…”
Given the subject, Staria couldn’t help but lean toward the conversation, straining to hear. The chatter wandered, eventually turning into gossip.
“Doesn’t the steward get annoyed?”
“Right, he’s so tidy and perverted, showing off too. Listening to him, it’s like bleeding from the ears. Sometimes he’s clueless too.”
“Just ignore him. Seems the master hasn’t found a match not from lack of interest, but due to peculiar tastes.”
“For a while, the females will be howling; better wear earplugs.”
Amid the gossip, camaraderie blossomed. From afar, it looked comedic; up close, tragic. Compared to Staria’s predicament, the maids were lively, almost cheerful, creating a stark contrast.
Staria focused even more. If she immersed herself in the maids’ trivial chatter, she could forget her grim reality. The crushing guilt felt lighter. She wished the conversation would never end.
But her attentiveness aroused suspicion. A sharp-eyed maid hushed the others.
“Quiet! This one isn’t mute.”
“No way.”
“If we keep saying ‘no way,’ we’ll lose our heads. She’s been listening to everything we said.”
“Really? Could she tell everything we were blabbing?”
The maids panicked. All Staria could do was tilt her head in innocent bewilderment, hoping to erase their suspicion. But the head maid suggested confirming.
“How?”
“They say to see if a human is normal, you hold them upside down and smack their butt when they’re born.”
“Smack?”
“If they cry, they’re normal; if not, abnormal.”
It was hopeless. Her mother had warned her that half-baked knowledge could get someone killed. Staria had never imagined she’d experience it firsthand. And just like that, her brief escape into oblivion ended.
Verakin Castle, in hibernation for decades, began to stir. It had been 45 years since it welcomed a guest, and this time, that guest was a ten-year-old human. The staff were utterly lost. Even if the human dressed, ate, and lived like them, their culture was completely different.
Most of the castle’s residents had never left; there was no law forbidding it, but they simply never ventured outside. Old customs persisted. They postponed everything until there was never an opportunity at all.
“If we leave this to chance, disaster will strike,” thought Taylor, watching carefully. He took command.
“Who put a knife in the vase? It should hold flowers!”
“Why does the meat still seem alive? Humans don’t enjoy eating it raw! Drain the blood first.”
“Torch for the candles? You’ll burn the table!”
Despite the scolding, their faces grew pale. Only one could release them from the house steward’s scrutiny: Haska. Their gaze turned to him. Reading their desperation, he spoke:
“Enough.”
“Oh, sorry. Meeting a human after so long got us a bit excited.”
“A bit?”
“Very excited.”
Interestingly, House Steward Taylor went outside right after awakening. He wanted to see and feel a world beyond the forest. As an adventurer, he had traveled the continent and had human friends… but now they were long gone. His past memories compelled him to treat the newly encountered human kindly.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it? All white of the eyes.”
“Actually, they resemble the only human I ever trusted. A descendant of one told in legends… I owe my life to them.”
Perhaps that explained his concern. Taylor, realizing his unusual behavior, adjusted his glasses and calmed down.
“By the way, how did our master get involved with humans, given there’s usually no contact?”
Haska recalled a peculiar thing the traveling human medicine seller had said:
“A very special star will fall for you someday. Nurture it so it can shine. It will end your misfortune.”
It sounded like nonsense, yet the situation was strange. If the “special star” referred to a still-growing human, even if true, nothing would change. Haska had no intention of nurturing the immature human. The cyclical monotony of life—being born, fighting, becoming a leader—left him unmoved. He saw no reason to end misfortune that didn’t bother him. Only those attached to the future concern themselves with such things. Haska did not wish for tomorrow to differ from today.
Thus, he had to find another way.
“Sort out suitable candidates to associate with the immature human.”
“To associate?”
“Assign them responsibility.”
“Just ensure sufficient financial support. That fulfills the promise.”
Haska, reluctant to leave the human in the forest, devised this plan.
“What if none exist?”
“There must be a distant relative or neighbor.”
“No one should be entrusted blindly. Some pretend to care but abuse in secret. Better…”
Taylor, trying to suggest offering a spare room in the castle, fell silent as Haska flicked his finger, signaling the topic was closed.
