Chapter 3
The count quickly curled the corners of his lips into another smile.
“I’ve left a memo with Marsha explaining the details, so ask her. Take care, Brown.”
Harriet froze so completely that she couldn’t utter a single word before she was unceremoniously ushered out of the study.
Only after hearing the door slam shut behind her did she regain her senses.
Is my life cursed or something?
She had done nothing but work diligently, yet the whims of powerful people kept dictating the course of her life. It honestly felt as though she’d been hexed.
Otherwise, there was no way her life could keep spiraling like this.
“People say fortune and misfortune go hand in hand, and that every crisis hides an opportunity. But who in my position would ever call this a blessing?”
Congratulations, you’ve found a job.
The only catch was that the job might very well send you to your grave.
“…Sigh.”
Harriet glared at the study door one last time before letting out a long, defeated sigh.
She trudged downstairs. By the time she’d collected the memo the count had mentioned from Marsha, all the strength had drained from her body.
She absentmindedly fiddled with her hat before pulling it firmly over her head.
Perhaps intending to see her off, Marsha stayed by her side until Harriet tied the ribbon beneath her chin and opened the front door.
Her expression remained as cold as ever.
It’s not like I even wanted to work at the royal palace.
If anything, she might end up dragged off to prison. Why on earth would she want that?
On the way home after exchanging brief farewells with Marsha, Harriet’s feet felt impossibly heavy.
Her white breath drifted through the air like smoke rising from factory chimneys, even though the season when one’s breath turned white should have been ending.
If I run away, the count will really come after me.
Count Phelan looked like a kind, easygoing man.
But nothing enraged him more than anything that stained his reputation.
He acted humble, yet valued his honor and public image above everything else in the world—perhaps even above his own family.
His threat to skin her alive couldn’t possibly have been an empty one.
Whether I go or refuse, I’m doomed either way.
A dark cloud had truly settled over her life.
Harriet stopped in the middle of the road and rubbed both hands over her face.
Her situation was so pitiful she didn’t know what to do.
If only she could turn back time…
She would return to the moment before she’d lost her mind and challenged the emperor of the neighboring empire to a duel.
For hours afterward, Harriet wandered aimlessly.
Only when not just her fingertips but even the joints of her toes had frozen from the cold—making every step agony—did she finally sort through her thoughts.
She made up her mind.
Though, truthfully, there wasn’t much of a decision to make.
There was only one thing she could do.
I’ll go to the palace. What choice do I have?
She needed a job immediately anyway.
Let’s think of it as earning money and saving my life at the same time. Better that than getting murdered by the count.
Besides, who in the world would suspect that Elliot Dark was working in the royal palace?
She’d just hold out for a while, perform badly enough to get fired, or resign on her own.
As long as it didn’t damage the count’s reputation, he probably wouldn’t care if she eventually left.
All right.
Let’s do this.
Harriet clenched both fists.
Fueled by resentment and indignation at a life that never rewarded her hard work, determination blazed within her.
And so, with her resolve firmly set, she entered the royal palace.
“So, what does your father do?… Ah, an accountant?”
Things somehow fell apart from the very beginning.
The newcomer personally recommended by Count Phelan—the brilliant young star of politics whose reputation had recently soared thanks to the king’s favor—naturally became the center of attention.
“What about your relatives? Brown… Are you related to Baron Brown, who recently entered politics?… Oh, you’re not? They’re all doctors and lawyers?”
“No siblings? You’re an only child?”
Unfortunately, it was attention of the worst kind.
The maids peppering Harriet with questions silently exchanged glances.
Nothing remarkable about her family.
No distinguished relatives.
Her family’s wealth? Judging from her father’s profession, middle class. She probably hadn’t grown up in poverty, but compared to the aristocracy, she certainly hadn’t lived in luxury.
She graduated second in her class from the Royal Academy? So she’s smart.
But who cares about grades?
The silent assessment was swift and unanimous.
In less than a week, Harriet had been branded the lowest-ranking maid among them.
Whenever she asked questions, she was ignored or answered with curt one-word replies.
Instead of serving royalty or even members of the royal family, she was assigned to Sienia Palace—a deserted detached palace where hardly anyone lived—and spent her days overseeing odd jobs.
Truthfully, she’d expected to be looked down on.
Even noble ladies competed desperately just for the chance to become royal attendants.
What chance had she?
Besides, what good would serving royalty do? It’d only increase the chances of my identity being exposed.
If anything, this quiet assignment suited her perfectly.
No one came to the neglected palace tucked far away from everyone’s attention.
Harriet decided she’d take things easy and enjoy the peaceful workload.
That peace lasted only a short while.
The pitiful condition of Sienia Palace horrified her so much that she immediately rolled up her sleeves.
Unable to ignore the cracked exterior walls, she hounded the caretaker into inspecting the building to make sure it wasn’t in danger of collapsing.
The overgrown garden made her dizzy just looking at it, so she started pulling weeds herself.
She yanked weeds like a woman possessed until the head maid, who had stopped by for an inspection, caught her and gave her a thorough scolding.
“You should supervise the servants or order them to do it! What are you doing pulling weeds yourself?”
Because the servants barely do any work!
The maids and servants assigned to Sienia Palace all worked at a painfully sluggish pace.
Being forgotten by everyone had consequences.
Nothing here functioned properly.
But that wasn’t even the biggest problem.
The real nightmare began the moment she moved into the dormitory.
“Need any help, Brown?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Why am I the only one stuck sharing a room?!
Everything else she could tolerate.
The dormitory arrangement, however, was impossible to accept.
Harriet felt like pointing at the heavens and screaming at the top of her lungs.
Every maid had a private room…
Except for exactly two people, who had to share one.
Which also meant she couldn’t secretly write at night.
What terrible sin did I commit in my previous life?
As she mechanically folded the few sets of clothes she owned into the dresser, the light gradually faded from her eyes.
“If not… then why is everything happening all at once?”
The words barely left her lips before dissolving into meaningless muttering.
Her unfocused gaze stared blankly ahead, her complexion lifeless.
As though the sole purpose of her existence had become folding clothes, she mindlessly continued the task until frustration suddenly surged within her.
Everything had been fine before she entered the palace.
The stern-looking head maid had looked her over once and given her two days to pack before moving into the dormitory.
During those two precious days, Harriet hurriedly finished the manuscript for her next novel.
The magazine had been surprisingly pleased with the submission.
How overjoyed she’d been when they replied that they wanted to serialize it in their weekly publication.
Of course, the magazine was undoubtedly hoping to capitalize on the notoriety of the name Elliot Dark.
She didn’t mind.
It bruised her pride that her infamous reputation attracted more attention than her actual talent, but she could prove herself through her writing.
More importantly, the magazine consistently acted as though they had absolutely no interest in discovering who Elliot Dark really was.
That was exactly what Harriet wanted.
As she reached for another piece of clothing to fold, her hand suddenly froze.
There was a hole in her favorite navy-blue skirt.
With an irritated grunt, she hurled it onto the floor.
Seriously!
Can adults stop acting like children already?
Since they served the royal family, most of the maids were noble daughters, members of wealthy households, or women from upper-class families with noble relatives.
She’d expected hazing.
But what was she supposed to do when grown adults behaved even more childishly than Academy students?
Receiving smaller meal portions than everyone else was the least of it.
Every piece of clothing she sent out to be washed came back tattered or full of holes.
Eventually, she had no choice but to do her own laundry.
Important notices somehow never reached her, leaving her to get scolded for things she knew nothing about.
It was childish beyond belief.
If this had happened back at the Academy, she could have reported them to the headmaster and gotten them disciplined.
Here, she couldn’t even complain to the head maid.
…To be honest, if only she hadn’t been assigned a shared room, she could have overlooked this level of bullying.
Behind her, Grace asked innocently,
“Is something wrong with your skirt? Want to borrow one of mine?”
“I’m really fine, so would you please just sit quietly over there?”
I have to share a room with Grace because there aren’t enough rooms?
Just because you have a mouth doesn’t mean everything you say makes sense!
On the day they first met, Grace had shyly twirled a lock of hair around her finger and smiled brightly at Harriet.
“Looks like we’re new roommates. Nice to meet you, Brown.”
Roommates in name only.
In reality, she was Harriet’s master.
Whenever Harriet lay down to sleep, Grace would suddenly complain she was thirsty and order her to fetch water.
She insisted she hated having maids enter her room, then shamelessly demanded that Harriet clean up the disaster she’d made instead.
Did I come here as a lady’s maid… or as a servant?
