The Camellia Tattoo - Chapter 100
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
this book is completely translated on luna kofi (advanced chapters for the website will follow)
Huvern, ever the composed butler, hid his emotions well, but Jean’s jaw dropped, eyes wide with a look that screamed, ‘Are you insane?’ The other maids and servants watching shared the sentiment.
“It must be the room next door. And treat her well, she is the Prince’s guest after all.”
“Understood.”
Igmeyer pursed his lips tightly, frowning slightly, but did not interfere with Amber’s decision.
While it’s the master’s job to expel intruders, it’s the mistress’s to decide the treatment of guests. Under the circumstances, it wouldn’t look good for him to step in.
Moreover, Igmeyer was certain Amber had other plans in mind. While he could be one-dimensional when agitated, Amber always saw further ahead.
“Then rest well.”
Amber, having swiftly resolved the tense standoff, turned her gaze to Igmeyer.
Understanding her cue to leave, Igmeyer wrapped his arm proudly around Amber’s waist.
As the Duke and Duchess departed, the servants slowly dispersed to their respective duties, and Prince Loki awkwardly shuffled off, scratching the back of his head.
Truth be told, impulsively declaring the mysterious woman his guest was a reaction against the Duke’s authority. A bit of a drunkenness on his own sense of justice to protect the seemingly vulnerable.
But with the Duke gone, the whole scenario seemed pointless. It wasn’t like him, a Prince, to mingle with a woman of no noble standing.
‘Did I just complicate things?’
Then, as the woman bowed deeply towards him, Loki shivered, hastening his steps while clearing his throat unnecessarily.
And Iona.
Once led to a proper bedroom…
“Ah, ahaha! Ahahahahaha!”
Clutching her frail arms, she burst into manic laughter, laughing so hard that tears almost fell. She stumbled towards the bed and collapsed onto it.
“Nice smell… a clean room all to myself…”
Honestly, she had expected to be thrown out or end up sleeping in a stable.
From the beginning, Iona had no expectations of leaving with her limbs intact.
Women from Madame Étoile’s establishment were disposable. It wasn’t hard to imagine the grim fate that awaited once they had served their purpose.
If this deception could last, she wanted to live a dreamlike existence. Being treated as a person rather than an object.
“Kind person…”
Rolling on the soft bedding she had never experienced before, Iona mumbled into the pillow.
In her thoughts, it wasn’t her client, or Madame Étoile, or the prince she was grateful to. It was the noble and gracious lady, that was fundamentally different from someone lowly like herself.
It was the mistress of the North.
She wasn’t thankful to anyone who had spouted protection for her. She had already forgotten their faces.
The person Iona remembered was the one who willingly offered this pleasant room.
Despite all the reasons to despise her, she treated Iona humanely.
Someone who allowed her a brief moment of happiness in her dreams…
“Madam.”
Iona smiled broadly, a smile that might have been mistaken for being in love.
* * *
Iona.
She was one of many lives born out of the women of the brothel.
Madame Étoile raised such children collectively, naturally without much care.
These innocent beings quickly learned that they had to rely on each other to survive. Sharing the scant food was easier than fighting over it, they instinctively knew.
Still, there were always those who resorted to violence to steal from others.
However, those aggressive children, considered strong, were sold off quicker, and eventually, there was no word from them.
In a dilapidated warehouse, they lived together—nine girls and seventeen boys.
Among those nine girls, Iona was the youngest.
‘Ah, that one looks decent. Move her.’
This was Iona’s first memory of escaping the filthy warehouse. One day, Madame Étoile suddenly appeared, her gnarled fingers pointing at her.
Madame Etoile often selected ‘useable’ girls from the group to train separately, and Iona became one of these chosen ones.
In that training house, there were a few sayings passed down among the older girls like fairy tales or spoken folklore.
“Child, you must find a good Madam.”
“The Madam holds all the power in that mansion. She’s a very influential person.”
“How do you know who the Madam is? You’ll know when you see her. She’s the prettiest and looks the most noble.”
“So, you must be good to the Madam. Bow your head, avoid eye contact, do whatever you’re told. Understand? Then she’ll take care of you.”
As an adult, Iona would sit the younger girls on her lap and share these stories.
Whether they were true or not, she didn’t know. She didn’t know who had started these tales either.
