It Seems Like The Infamous Trash Can is Right Here! - Chapter 11
‘I must’ve forgotten because I was half-asleep.’
I tried to rationalize it for the sake of my mental health, but the unease lingered all day.
The thought that Lionel might have come to fetch me and then carried me to bed gnawed at my mind.
‘Why would he?’
I knew it was an absurd idea, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about the… peculiar way he had looked at me.
Even more unsettling was the money pouch Lionel had left on the tea table, now resting neatly on the bedside table.
It would’ve been better to ask him outright, but, as luck would have it, Lionel wasn’t at the mansion today.
When I inquired with the servant who had taken his clothes back to the main house, I learned he had gone to the palace to attend a council meeting.
‘What good would asking even do?’
Whether he had come to get me only to leave disappointed, moved me to the bed after seeing me sound asleep, or simply forgotten about me altogether…
Why bother asking?
No matter the answer, it wouldn’t ease the discomfort I felt.
Pondering this, I made my way to the annex library—the cozy haven I’d discovered just a few days ago.
“Priestess!”
A maid approached me hastily. Judging by her unfamiliar face, she was likely from the main house.
“The young lady wishes to see you.”
Had Vivian overexerted herself while excitedly roaming about with Illina yesterday?
At the mention of Vivian, I turned back without delay. Even if I hadn’t promised Lionel to try harder, attending to her was the only duty keeping my otherwise idle days in this mansion from becoming unbearably dull.
I entered the main house and ascended to the second floor, where Vivian’s chambers were located.
“Lady Vivian, it’s Sasha.”
After knocking, I waited briefly until a woman’s voice invited me in. Though it wasn’t Vivian’s voice, I thought nothing of it—her maid often responded for her, especially if she was unconscious.
But when I stepped into Vivian’s private sitting room, I found myself in an utterly unexpected situation.
“Ah, yes… Ahh…!”
A red-haired man reclined casually on a long sofa.
On his lap, a maid moved suggestively, her hips rising and falling.
“What… What is…?”
The scene of indecent debauchery played out in full view.
“Hello, Priestess.”
The red-haired man, Dantère Ortatum, grinned at me with obvious delight.
“I had a question to ask you. Do you have a moment?”
Though his words made it seem as though he was seeking my consent, I knew better.
That was simply how nobles spoke—framed as a request but always an order.
True to form, his golden eyes gleamed with cruelty, belying the smile on his lips.
Dantère Ortatum wasn’t asking for my permission; he was binding me to the spot under the guise of politeness, ensuring I couldn’t simply walk out.
With little choice, I lowered my gaze to my feet.
“…Yes, please ask.”
While kneading the soft, exposed flesh of the maid on his lap, Dantère posed his question.
“Have you slept with Lionel?”
‘This guy’s a potential male lead?’
It was the kind of thought anyone would have, but the selling point of A Night of Entwined Serpents lay precisely in its male protagonists—men devoid of conscience or morality.
Readers thrilled at the sight of the innocent heroine Vivian being deceived, used, and corrupted, until they collectively declared:
This heap of trash is oddly cozy.
I, too, had once been among those readers. But reincarnating as a side character—a minor, inconsequential one at that—made it impossible to enjoy the story so casually.
After all, if the male leads could so thoroughly exploit Vivian, the recognized daughter of the noble Luanax family, despite her precarious legitimacy, how much more cruelly would they treat those with no protection?
