From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 57

This work contains scenes of sadistic coercion and hardcore depictions of BDSM. Reader discretion is advised.

The noble Grand Duchess was different from me in every way. She would never have reason to set foot in a slaughterhouse. A place like this would be somewhere she would cover her nose with an embroidered handkerchief and flee from in haste.

The beasts she killed, smeared in blood and sin, would pass through the skilled hands of chefs, be seasoned and richly roasted, and then placed on silver plates adorned with jewels.

She would take just one bite of that meat using coral cutlery and not even look back.

For that one piece of meat, Arzeletta and the beasts would cry together, pitying each other.

“Arzeletta….”

At the name spoken like a groan, Arzeletta once again looked down at the dark man curled at her feet.

There was no hesitation in the man who licked her wound like an injured beast.

Yoseph, with the great hump on his back rising and falling, licked the wound on Arzeletta’s leg.

Though he was someone who cut throats and slit bellies of animals, the thin scratch on Arzeletta’s leg pained him as though his own flesh had been sliced.

He licked her wound as if possessed. Yoseph was someone for whom the scent of blood was as familiar as breathing. On his skin, his clothes, and even in his breath, the scent of death and blood lingered.

But Arzeletta’s blood was so very sweet.

Yoseph, like a moth licking honey, licked her calf. The blood had already stopped, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Yoseph was experiencing a strange rapture. It was a fleeting moment he didn’t even fully realize.

“……”

Arzeletta bent down. As she lowered her body, her white calf was once again hidden beneath her black skirt.

Arzeletta carefully held Yoseph’s face in her hands. Only then did Yoseph, snapped out of licking her blood, look up at her with dazed eyes.

“Stop it, Yoseph.”

Arzeletta’s face was filled with sorrow and pity. Unaware that he had become intoxicated by her, Yoseph grasped Arzeletta’s hand that was holding his face as if he were longing for it.

Aside from the two seasonal festivals held each year, there was little joy in the land of Rosenburg. So the Grand Duchess’s visit was certainly a delight that stirred everyone.

Lukwell was a very wealthy city, and the carriage the Grand Duchess rode in followed the most current trends of the time.

Grand Duchess Daphne often sent many gifts to the territory. Sweet molasses candies for the children, brightly colored books for the library, or fragrant teas. Dozens of painted tiles sent from Lukwell decorated the fountains in the streets.

Viewing those gifts was the most anticipated spectacle in Rosenburg, a land lacking in entertainment.

“Miss Daphne!”

“Miss! Please wave over here too!”

As the Grand Duchess arrived, people smiled and waved their hands toward her carriage.

They scattered colorful pieces of paper and dried flower petals in front of her, each having prepared their own.

The villagers welcoming the Grand Duchess looked more kind-hearted, healthy, and joyful than anyone else.

Moved by the people’s enthusiastic welcome, the Grand Duchess pulled aside the curtain drawn over the window and revealed her face outside.

“Hello, child. What’s your name? Cedric? And you’re Liria?”

The beautiful Grand Duchess called the children by name and laughed like a bird. That sight filled the hearts of all the sincere people welcoming her with joy.

Daphne, whom they had only known through the lyrics of poets’ songs until now, was a young lady even more vibrant than imagined. Golden hair like sunlight, skin the color of sweet honey.

She was like sunlight and moonlight. The young lady who resembled sunlight was a perfect match for their Del Rose, who resembled moonlight.

To have such a young lady as a fiancée—and for that lady to come all the way to this deep and isolated territory just to see their Del Rose—was a story more beautiful than any lyric.

No one doubted that only the glory of the great god would be at the end of this marriage.

“……”

While all the people of the territory were happy, only Arzeletta watched the procession hidden in the shadows, isolated.

The young lady extending her delicate hand outside the beautiful carriage did not seem the least bit fussy or selfish like a typical noble lady.

Arzeletta held her breath and leaned forward. She was curious about Daphne. What kind of young lady must she be to receive everyone’s love? Why was everyone wearing fine clothes and scattering fragrant flowers for her?

The Daphne she saw with her own eyes was even more splendid than the vague image Arzeletta had imagined while listening to the poets’ songs.