RAMHM Chapter 23

I Prefer New Things

The fatigue came suddenly, rising like a tide. Novian collapsed onto the sofa—thud—unable to eat throughout the meal. Adrienne's face kept appearing, superimposed on his plate. That face he looked at several times a day, now laid out before him like a cut of meat.

His throat burned. He seized the relief-cut glass, filled it hastily with ice and liquor, drank. Adrienne was dead. It was time—past time—to take Bliea Acacia.

"Your Grace."

"?"

He'd just taken a mouthful of the clinking liquid, was pressing his temple, when the butler Gaspar entered through the curtains.

"Is it finished already?"

"It's only beginning now."

Novian's brow twitched briefly. He exhaled—a long, surrendering breath.

"If it brings her peace, what can I do?"

"……."

"Go outside and observe."

Gaspar stared at him, then bowed his head and withdrew. The butler's departure—confirmed—and those blue eyes darkened instantly, sinking into shadow. Novian didn't touch the liquor again after that first sip.

"……Strangely quiet."

She'd changed in just a few days. Something subtle, something wrong. After Adrienne's death, Bliea had become unstable. He'd invited her to the funeral, let her witness Adrienne's death with her own eyes—surely she'd be unable to hide her joy. But no.

Reckless behavior was what he despised most, yet lately Bliea had shifted somehow. At Adrienne's memorial service, she wasn't the type to overlook a maid's rudeness, yet when he'd heard Bliea couldn't breathe—how he'd doubted his own ears. She'd always acted however she pleased, common enough that some thought her vulgar, yet she'd twisted herself around him like a tongue in a mouth.

'To interrupt a ladies' conversation…that would be cheating, wouldn't it, Your Grace?'

Bliea Acacia, who'd been so eager to tattle with that nasal whine of hers, had suddenly stepped forward herself and said such things to him. This unsettled feeling—what was it?

He'd long known Bliea Acacia was unusual, but there'd always been something coarse about her—not in dress or manners exactly, but in how she'd scream without warning, throw whatever objects were nearby when her mood soured.

He'd witnessed such displays. But today? What was this?

She'd never called him, a butler, "this bastard" or "that bastard" to his face before. Like someone nursing a long grudge, she'd turned those cold eyes on the maid, called her worthless without hesitation, held her posture rigid.

The words that came out were too direct for nobility, but every gesture, movement, glance—nothing resembled a commoner. He'd worked in many noble houses as a footman in his youth—this was familiar. Familiar? As if there'd ever been anything familiar about Bliea, dressed in noble's clothing while raging like a wild thing.

He walked down the dark corridor, climbed the grand staircase one floor. Someone's sobbing murmur grew louder.

"I know my place. My place…I know my place. My, my place… Sob."

"!"

He'd expected Bliea to deliver at least one proper slap. Instead she just stood there, looking down at the maid. It was Annie who couldn't contain her rage, kneeling on the floor, forehead pressed to the ground, muttering those words. The floor was already soaked with Annie's tears.

"I can't hear you very well."

Bliea's voice—leisurely, almost bored. Annie's head snapped up. She bit her lip hard, shook her head. Would she strike her? But Bliea was only looking at the maid standing beside Annie. Then came a sound like tearing air.

"!"

That maid slapped Annie's cheek. Crack. It didn't look particularly painful, but the humiliation of being struck by a fellow maid—that was considerable.

"What is this…"

Annie wailed, her tears soaked in injustice and rage—not knowing who to blame. She clutched her reddening cheek, sobbing. This wasn't her first time, clearly. Gaspar watched Bliea watching that cruel scene, his expression unchanging. The gorgeous, beautiful lady felt his gaze—turned it on him.

"!"

At that moment, Gaspar felt inexplicable chills rise along his arms—prickling. The lady smiled sweetly at him and somewhere distant, bells seemed to ring.

He felt himself clearly aroused for that instant, his heart stolen by the lady's sensual appearance. But he didn't know. Didn't know that Bliea's eyes held neither goodwill toward him nor satisfaction with this situation.

Next is you, Gaspar.

I directed that thought toward the butler watching from afar, then turned back to Annie. She'd cried for a while as if hoping someone would come help her, then realized—ah—it was a waste of energy. Started hiccupping instead.

Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks red and puffy from three or four strikes, but she didn't look pitiful to me. What I noticed instead: the plump flesh of her cheeks and hands, the crisp, freshly pressed maid's uniform she'd just changed into. Her mistress withered to nothing, not even given fresh clothes for days, while this maid still lived so well—my heart twisted violently, tangled like a knot pulled wrong.

At the same time, this version of myself administering such punishment felt suddenly strange. Alien. I snapped awake.

Because I'm Bliea. If it were the real Bliea, she wouldn't have stopped here. So it's fine.

I'd never been cruel to anyone before—told myself this, steadied my trembling hands, my trembling heart. I looked at Annie, still dazed from shock, then rang the bell beside me quietly. Tinkle. Gaspar came immediately, breathing roughly as if winded, his eyes more oiled than before.

"Remove that."

"Yes, Madam."

"Ah, and you—support her."

I pointed to the maid who'd just had to strike Annie's cheeks repeatedly. Smiled kindly, as if bearing no grudge. But the maid I'd designated was none other than Marie—the one who'd first recognized me at the memorial service, called the other maids together.

Meaning Marie was the one who should've been beaten according to the original intent. Her face darkened with guilt. She nodded, trembling. When Annie grabbed the arm supporting her—squeezed hard—Marie went pale as death. I watched this, smiling warmly. Marie and the other maids' punishment—Annie would deliver that sufficiently.

Novian returned reeking faintly of alcohol. He said nothing to me. He was often away from home anyway, had no interest in the servants.

'So if I didn't tell him, he wouldn't have known.'

What an indifferent master, really. I laughed softly, followed where he led. The servants didn't follow. Just Novian and I climbed to the third floor, walked toward the dressing room. He wasn't looking at me with heated eyes today—probably nothing would happen. But why the dressing room?

"This is my wife's dressing room."

He opened the door himself to the dressing room that now had no owner. It had been so long since I'd entered this dressing room—felt like the first time. Like an old memory. Enormous, elegant. In the center, a glass display case held countless jewels. The three surrounding walls were packed with seasonal dresses. All expensive. All Adrienne's taste. Classical, elegant, that sort of thing.

Could Mother's necklace also……?

I approached the jewelry display as if entranced, searched frantically for the necklace. I heard Novian laugh low behind me. Surprisingly, I hated that sound.

Hated it so much. And—

Ah.

I saw his reflection in the glass case, drew in a small breath. What glinted at his throat was definitely my mother's necklace. He never wore accessories—none—yet suddenly he wore that around his neck.

Did he recover what the maid stole, or was it from the beginning…?

I felt the blood inside my body begin to race, turned around quietly. My expression was probably flushed. Novian would interpret it differently, of course.

"Is there something you want? You wanted a direct apology from the person responsible, but since it happened in my residence, I'd like to give you a gift as an apology."

Just like that. Certainly, these were all objects far too fine for a lady of Bliea's status. Besides, even when Adrienne received such expensive jewels as gifts, she had nowhere to wear them. So……they were practically new.

But contrary to Novian's assumption, my eyes were fixed solely on the gold chain glinting inside his shirt. Follow that chain down, open the pendant, and my mother's only portrait would appear.

The mother whose life I'd consumed to be born, whose daughter wanted so desperately to live, killed by my husband who now wore it openly—the thought made me want to tear that necklace off immediately. I hid my trembling hands behind my back, smiled like Bliea.

"That necklace around your neck…"

I stepped forward. He stepped back—as if by magic.

I'd never seen him do that before.

"I haven't seen it before. What is it?"

"This belonged to my wife."

His face visibly hardened as he answered.

"Everything here belonged to her."

"Grand Duchess."

"?"

A faint ripple passed through his calm eyes. Then they slowly froze over—cold as ice. I was the one left dumbfounded.

"Call her Grand Duchess."

I stopped approaching Novian. How much more miserable did this terrible, splendid man need to make Adrienne? He said he wanted a mistress, yet that mistress referring to his wife as "her"—he couldn't tolerate it.

Novian fastened the two undone buttons of his shirt, pressed his mouth shut. Hiding that necklace from me. He looked down at me standing there for a long moment, then exhaled like a sigh.

"I can't give you this. But you can take anything else here."

A cold tension stretched between us. What on earth made him guard Adrienne's necklace like that? What meaning did it hold for him? Regardless, from Bliea's perspective, it might be better to take everything in this dressing room rather than choosing a few desired items.

"Tomorrow I'll send someone to the Count's residence…"

"No."

I cut off Novian's words cleanly. I had absolutely no interest in objects I'd already owned once. Even when I was Adrienne, I'd wanted the man before me more than those glittering things.

"…You don't want them?"

And if it were Bliea, rather than things used by that man's wife—

"Give me all new things."

"What?"

If it were Bliea, that woman would surely say this.

"I prefer new things, Your Grace."

I lifted my chin naturally, stared at Novian.