The Camellia Tattoo - Chapter 17
With that single remark, the servants, especially those working in the hierarchy-strict kitchen, were the first to realize that their master had elevated his wife a step higher than the Madam of the house.
On the contrary, the Madam did not use any formalities or honorifics when addressing the Master. It seemed, in a way, she was comfortable dealing with him.
She didn’t even hesitate to call the formidable Master by his name. What did Mariam do to someone the Master even treats so privileged.
The kitchen staff stared at Mariam with eyes filled with suspicion. The nobility seemed like distant clouds to them.
Yet, they all knew the Master was fearsome.
As the realization that Mariam had made a grave mistake became evident, the kitchen staff began to think she had done something terribly wrong.
“Ah, aah, aaaah…!”
Mariam screamed, clutching her head.
The attention she craved from the Grand Duke was no longer hers. There was no way out of this situation.
The butler had already rolled up his pants and bared his calves, ready for the next step. Mariam’s turn was imminent.
“Ahh!”
Thunk!
The sound of the cane striking flesh echoed, and Mariam clenched her teeth, not just from the pain but from the overwhelming sense of disgrace.
In a castle without a true Mistress, Mariam had behaved as if she were the Madam herself.
She neglected group cleanings, avoided dirty tasks like taking out the trash, and did only the bare minimum, such as cleaning the corridor near the Grand Duke’s bedroom.
All this time, Mariam had dreamt of a day when everything would be hers.
The men in the lower village couldn’t help but drool when they saw her, anxious, unable to match her grace and charm. Although she didn’t mingle with them freely, Mariam reveled in the adoration of the men, confident in her own charm.
Until she saw the Princess from a distant land sitting elegantly one morning. At that moment, she sensed defeat.
Despite her attempts to maintain elegance, Mariam could see the stark difference in their hands. The Madam’s hands were different, fundamentally from a different class. Freckles and calluses were absent, and her skin was transparent and clear.
Her shoulders were straight, and her neck was upright, displaying a sense of nobility. It was something Mariam could never achieve, no matter how hard she tried.
And the sparkling golden hair, reflecting the sun over Niflheim’s peaks! Mariam realized that her beauty, even if she claimed it, was only recognized in this remote village.
This realization shattered Mariam’s self-esteem entirely.
“Tsk… huk.”
As the harsh punishment continued, Mariam’s torn calves began to ache, and tears flowed. Despite the pain, she held onto a faint hope that perhaps the Grand Duke would come to comfort her and scold the Madam for going too far.
“What a disappointment, Huvern. I trusted you to handle things well until now.”
But Igmeyer had no interest in Mariam. He casually addressed Huvern as he passed by, showing no concern for what was happening behind him.
“….I will correct it. I apologize.”
With a polite nod from Huvern, Igmeyer completely dismissed the events unfolding behind him. His attention was now solely on this woman, his new wife.
She seemed delicate yet, intriguingly, appeared to have strong roots.
“You said you would be away because of Fenrir yesterday.”
“It seems you didn’t want your husband to return quickly.”
In truth, Amber felt a bit disappointed.
After putting in so much effort to tidy up the house in Igmeyer’s absence, she didn’t expect his return to be like this. She felt a bit deflated.
‘He wasn’t like this in the past.’
She couldn’t pinpoint what had caused Igmeyer’s behavior to change so drastically.
Amber glanced up at the man standing like a shadow over her.
‘Was he like this at this age?’
In the bright light, he looked more mischievous, like a boy, rather than decadent. His eyes were hard to meet, still haunted by the image of him covered in blood.
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll be out again soon. I’ll make sure to catch Fenrir so you can use it as a footstool.”
What should she say in response? Should she express gratitude? Praise it as a great feat?
‘But I’ve never used anything made from monster skin before, so I don’t really know.’
Amber was familiar with slippers made of soft lamb leather or pillows filled with goose feathers, but she had no knowledge of items made from monsters. In the past, she stubbornly used only things brought from Shadroch. As they wore out, she inadvertently contributed to the deterioration of her world.
Meanwhile, Igmeyer had never given her anything.
‘No, that’s not true. Maybe he did, but I just don’t remember.’
