YWTO 04

Chapter 4

Yuraine’s eyes widened when she saw the girl. Her hand gripping the railing tightened instinctively.
That radiant golden hair. Those shining green eyes.

She barely even heard the head maid, Merellin, babbling about how “this sort of behavior can’t be tolerated” and “an example must be made.”

Ayla.

The name echoed in her mind, and bitterness rose in her throat again.
Her heart lurched—it felt like she might cough up blood.
But the more her chest ached, the higher Yuraine lifted her chin.

She was no longer the old Yuraine who knew nothing.

“What is the meaning of this?”
She spoke in a cool, detached tone, looking down from above.

The noisy hall fell silent almost instantly.

“…My lady!”
After a short pause, Merellin stepped forward and bowed.

Yuraine’s lips curled faintly.
How amusing.

She had simply asked what was going on—surely everyone had heard her voice, yet no one, not the servants, not the maids, not even the head maid, answered.

It wasn’t surprising, really.
Her father ignored her, and her brothers never treated her as human.
For the servants to do the same was only natural.

“Do I look like someone who enjoys repeating herself?”
Her voice grew even colder.

The gathered servants murmured quietly.
It was a side of her they had never seen before.

Yuraine had always lived as if she were invisible—a shadow in the grand house of Duke Tarbargen, unwelcomed by all.
Though they never said it aloud, the servants looked down on her.
And until now, Yuraine had never said a word against it.

Until now.

Rebecca, head bowed low, gazed up at Yuraine with pleading eyes, as if she wanted to say something.
But the moment she opened her mouth, Merellin gave a sharp look, and the maids beside her clamped their hands over Rebecca’s lips.

“Mmmph—! Mmm!”

Merellin glanced briefly at Rebecca, then bowed to Yuraine.
“My apologies, my lady. A small incident occurred, that’s all…”

“I’ll decide whether it’s small or not.”
Yuraine’s eyes narrowed, her tone cutting.

Merellin froze. She disliked how Yuraine—who should have been meek—was suddenly acting so high and proud.

Yuraine might have been of Tarbargen blood, but she was a sinner.
The one who had “killed” the Duchess—her own mother.

Merellin, a baron’s widow, clung to the last shreds of her noble title.
Though her husband had gone bankrupt and taken his life, she still considered herself a baroness.
She had once admired the Duchess of Tarbargen—nearly worshiped her—and when she heard the ducal household was hiring a new head maid, she volunteered eagerly.
Even though the Tarbargen family had long since been absorbed into the Empire, Merellin still took pride in serving them—once kings in their own right.

But that Duchess, the lady she revered, had died giving birth to this girl, Yuraine Tarbargen.

And now that very girl dared to raise her head so arrogantly?

She used to be so docile—what’s gotten into her now…?

Merellin was briefly taken aback by the change in her demeanor, but irritation soon replaced it.

Yuraine was just a teenager, a naive girl in her late teens.
She had no right to speak so disrespectfully.

“And why,” Yuraine asked, voice calm but icy, “is my personal maid being treated this way?”

At that, Merellin answered with barely concealed satisfaction.
She could already imagine how it would feel when Yuraine learned that her most trusted maid had “betrayed” her—it would be delicious.

“My lady, your maid Rebecca… was caught stealing the late madam’s belongings.”

“…My mother’s?”

Yuraine blinked, feigning surprise. Merellin smiled faintly, keeping her head bowed so her face couldn’t be seen—just as she intended.

If she thinks her mother’s keepsake was stolen, she won’t let the girl go unpunished. She might even cast her out herself, without hearing the details.

To drive the point home, Merellin held out a necklace she’d brought.
“Yes. And even when faced with this evidence, she refused to confess. I apologize for the disturbance, my lady.”

“I see.”

Yuraine accepted the necklace lightly, glancing at it.
“Hmm.”

Something in her tone made Merellin look up—and freeze.

The girl standing before her stared back with calm, steady eyes—completely unshaken.
There was even a faint smile playing at her lips.

It was not the same Yuraine she’d seen yesterday.

The Yuraine of before had always been timid, forever watching her family’s moods, trying to please Ayla, her adopted sister.
Merellin had known exactly why: Yuraine hovered around Ayla hoping to receive even a scrap of the affection that was showered on her sister.

Of course—what else could a sinner like her do?
She was the daughter who had killed the Duchess, after all.
She should have lived her life in guilt, quiet and small.

And until now, she had.

But today, she was different.
Gone was the timid girl—before Merellin stood a calm, cold young woman, chin raised, eyes clear and sharp as glass.

It made Merellin’s irritation flare.
But Yuraine paid her no mind.

“Rebecca,” she said, turning toward her maid, “tell me yourself. Did you steal it?”

Rebecca tried desperately to speak, but the maids still covered her mouth.
Merellin glanced their way, hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.
At her silent signal, the maids withdrew their hands.

Yuraine’s lips curved faintly.
A duchess’s daughter she might be, but the blatant disrespect was undeniable.

Her mother had died giving birth to her—her magical power had gone berserk, as often happened with espers.
But her family had all blamed her.

Because of you, they said.
Because of you, our fragile wife, our mother, is dead.

If even her family treated her like a curse, why would the servants act differently?

She knew it well.
Still—it disgusted her.

…Ha. It’s still infuriating to see it so clearly.

It had once seemed natural that no one would listen to her.
She was useless, a sinner—that was just how things were.
But now that she remembered her past life and had returned to this moment, the sight made her stomach twist.

Her brows drew together as she stared down at the scene before her.

If even her family called her a burden, no wonder Merellin felt bold enough to stage something like this.
The baroness had always flaunted her noble birth before the other maids.
So of course she’d dare to pull a stunt like this, even in Yuraine’s presence.

Freed from the maids’ grasp, Rebecca crawled forward on her knees to Yuraine’s feet.
“M-my lady… I, I didn’t…”

Yuraine’s coldness softened slightly, her tone gentle.
“Rebecca. Did you take it?”

Rebecca flinched, trembling as though she’d been struck.
She shook her head violently, nearly convulsing as she bowed low again.
“N-no! I swear I didn’t touch it!”

“Really? Then—”

Yuraine reached down and lifted Rebecca’s hand.
“If you’ve done nothing wrong, you don’t need to bow so low.”

Rebecca’s golden eyes quivered. She stared up at Yuraine, wide-eyed, and Yuraine smiled faintly.

“But…”

Merellin began to protest—

“What is this commotion?”

A low, authoritative voice rang through the hall.

At once, every servant in the mansion turned their heads toward it.

And no wonder—
that voice belonged to none other than…