HSMLHP 08

Chapter 8

 The Ducal Castle Hides a Spy

Completely unaware of what kind of sinister schemes Oran was cooking up in her head, Eshaphe spotted the bed. Beside it stood an antique nightstand with a vase of flowers casually resting upon it.

Were those daisies?

“Goodness, even the dried flowers are so pretty.”

“Pardon? But the flowers are withered?”

She had deliberately gone out of her way to place shriveled, dying flowers there just to upset her, hadn’t she?

Eshaphe looked at the bed and was impressed all over again.

“Wow. Even the iron bed frame looks genuinely stylish.”

The ironwork was painted white. In interior design, white was the absolute foundation. The white-painted iron frame had its paint peeling away in just the right places, giving it a charming vintage aesthetic.

Oran wondered if something had finally snapped in her own brain. Was “stylish” really a word meant for a crude, shoddy bed like that used by common servants?

Eshaphe approached the bed with quick, graceful strides.

Oran gathered her wits tightly once more. The grand duke’s daughter was bound to fall straight into the final trap she had prepared.

She simply had to.

After running a hand over the mattress, Eshaphe sat down upon it with a faint smile, lightly bouncing her hips.

“Oh, it’s quite bouncy.”

Tapping and smoothing the bedding with her hands, the texture against her fingertips was surprisingly satisfying—

Creak, bang!

“Yikes!”

A sudden metallic screech tore through the air, and the bed frame collapsed loudly. Two of its iron legs buckled, causing the bed to tilt forward.

Eshaphe’s body pitched forward right along with it.

“My lady!”

Even though it was an expected outcome, the metallic clatter startled Oran.

Eshaphe froze in her face-planted position.

What the heck!

What on earth is the problem here?!

‘Did I accidentally channel aura into it without realizing? That shouldn’t be possible.’

Not only had she broken the doorknob on her very first day at the Bexborn Ducal Castle, but now she had wrecked the bed as well. She wanted to vanish off the face of the earth right then and there.

“My lady! Are you alright?”

Oran put on an Oscar-worthy performance of intense worry.

Her loose hair fell forward, shielding Eshaphe’s face.

While that was a blessing in disguise for her, Oran’s heart hammered because she couldn’t read her reaction at all.

The fallen grand duke’s daughter remained completely motionless.

Was she furious?

She must have been utterly dumbfounded by the appalling treatment she had received. Her shoulders trembled slightly. Oran, of course, had no idea that she was actually just dying of embarrassment.

“I-I will bring a new bed right away!”

Only then did Eshaphe take a deep breath and brush her hair back. She stood up and casually brushed off the hem of her skirt.

She turned to inspect the bed. One side of it was completely collapsed. Only the legs seemed broken; the frame itself was intact.

Wouldn’t it be better to just change rooms rather than fetch a new bed?

A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over her. Having broken the ducal family’s property twice in one day, she just wanted to be left alone in peace.

After giving the bed a brief inspection, Eshaphe let out a soft sigh.

“I’ll just sleep here for tonight, I suppose.”

“Pardon?”

On that tilted bed?

Clump, clump. Eshaphe walked around to the opposite side of the bed. Glancing down at the legs on the undamaged frame, she gave one of them a sharp kick.

A weak whisper of her aura—borrowed from the ‘real Eshaphe’s’ frail body—infused into the kick, and the iron leg snapped with a crisp snap.

This tiny, sparrow-dropping amount of aura was something she could use in secret.

“!”

Oran’s eyes widened to unimaginable proportions.

When Eshaphe snapped off the final iron leg, a heavy thud echoed as the mattress leveled out flat. Though it had lost its height, it now functioned as a perfectly adequate sleeping platform.

Eshaphe turned back to look at the housekeeper.

“I’m tired, so may I rest now? Huuuaaaam.”

A yawn slipped right out.

She was genuinely exhausted.

Part of it was due to inhabiting the ‘real Eshaphe’s’ fragile body, but after experiencing a whole circus of events today, she just wanted everything to shut down and disappear.

Still wide-eyed, the housekeeper stammered,

“Y-You’re going to sleep here?”

“Mmhmm. The mattress isn’t cut in half or anything.”

In that case, wouldn’t it be lovely if you left so I could get some rest?

Eshaphe adopted that exact look with an air of refined composure and offered a faint smile.

Oran’s heart hammered against her ribs. It felt like a dream. This was completely outside her calculations.

‘Why isn’t she getting angry? She has every right to slap my cheek and scream that I’m looking down on her. I was even prepared to get slapped!’

After all, she was the Grand Duke of Bexborn’s fiancée and a noble existence destined to become the future duchess.

This was a room prepared for such a person, yet the doorknob was broken, the interior looked like an unfinished warehouse, the flowers were withered and rotting, and the bed had collapsed.

And yet, instead of throwing a fit, she simply broke the rest of the tilted bed to make herself a makeshift sleeping spot.

Oran turned completely pale.

What kind of aristocratic weirdo is this…?

Seeing the housekeeper’s face drain of color, Eshaphe tilted her head.

“Housekeeper. Are you feeling unwell?”

“Y-Yes? Ah, no, not at all. Are you truly certain you can stay here?”

Please beg me to change your room! That way you’ll fall right into my trap…!

Eshaphe beamed brightly.

“Yes. What of it? It’s getting far too late anyway.”

Out of sheer politeness, Oran had offered to change her room, but Eshaphe didn’t care at all and simply lay down. In the end, Oran had no choice but to leave the room empty-handed.

Her whole body was trembling from Eshaphe’s extraordinary composure.

The daughter of the Duke of Andover was undeniably abnormal.

Oran became thoroughly convinced.

This grand duke’s daughter was a bit—no, a whole lot—peculiar.

‘Ah. Finally, some time to myself!’

Feeling the comfort of the soft bedding, Eshaphe rubbed her face against the pillow. Before she could even fully take in the cozy scent, a soft click echoed as the door swung open.

‘Hmm? Did the doorknob break again?’

The housekeeper had roughly patched it up earlier, but maybe she needed to drag a table over to block the door shut.

To her surprise, however, someone appeared.

It was a young maid. Her hair was cut into a short bob the color of ripe fallen leaves, and her round eyes sparkled like Shine Muscat grapes.

“…?”

Thud.

The maid closed the door behind her and stepped forward with an upright, rigid posture. Not a shred of apology for failing to knock was reflected in her gaze.

Stopping at a respectable distance, the maid let out a soft sigh and looked around the room. It was an attitude utterly accustomed to brazen, discourteous behavior.

“…Looking at the state of this room, I can clearly tell how the Bexborn Ducal House regards you, my lady.”

Eshaphe pulled the corners of her lips up into a knowing smirk.

She had a strong hunch about who this maid really was.

“Right? It’s wild, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. Honestly, it just makes me sigh wondering how on earth you’re ever going to survive in this ducal household, my lady.”

Eshaphe had completely lost the psychological tug-of-war with the head housekeeper.

Instead of giving her a stern reprimand, she had even gone out of her way to coddle and accommodate the housekeeper with unnecessary kindness.

She hadn’t expected much to begin with, but she certainly hadn’t expected to be this disappointed.

The Duke of Andover’s household was a premier seat of power. No matter how much of an abandoned child she was considered within that family, she had assumed she would at least retain a basic sense of pride and situational awareness.

Surely even now, she wouldn’t have the slightest clue who she was dealing with… huh?

The maid looked at Eshaphe with a slightly perplexed expression.

Keeping her smirk, Eshaphe let out a small chuckle.

“Hehehe.”

At that enigmatic laugh, the maid, Ingrid, tilted her head in confusion.

“Do you know who I am? Did the Duke of Andover’s household give you a heads-up beforehand? There’s no way you could know…”

“Of course I know. I can tell just by looking at hands that are trained to handle a sword.”

“?”

Well, aren’t you quite observant?

Ingrid was an agent belonging to the Special Operations Division of the Imperial Knights. Concealing her true identity from the public, she carried out top-secret missions. It had already been two years since she took a job as a maid at the Bexborn Ducal Castle to begin her assignment as a spy.

“What’s your name? Which family is your main house?”

Eshaphe slid out of bed and approached Ingrid. Her gait was strangely imposing yet entirely relaxed.

“I am Ingrid Druban. Even if I told you it’s the Baron Druban household, you wouldn’t know them anyway, right?”

“That’s true. I wouldn’t. I suppose it’s a family I never had any need to hear about.”

“Well, obviously…”

Baron Druban was a minor noble family holding barely a foothold of a title. Rising up from such a modest background, Ingrid had carved out her path to success purely through her swordsmanship.

In exchange for swearing lifelong loyalty to the imperial family, her family was now living more comfortably than ever before.

Ingrid’s leaf-green eyes flashed with amusement.

“Did you deliberately pretend not to notice earlier?”

“Notice what?”

Eshaphe feigned complete ignorance and smiled.

Ingrid was undoubtedly affiliated with the imperial faction. She had suspected as much, but to think an imperial spy was already deeply embedded inside the Bexborn Ducal Castle.