From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 58

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

Arzeletta watched her as if enchanted, feeling half a sigh, but also an irresistible rapture.

A woman like that—she was truly worthy of standing beside the Del Rose that everyone revered.

Even in the darkness, Arzeletta held her breath.

Would that person know about her? Would she know that the cursed woman who left an unerasable scar on her fiancé’s face is none other than herself?

That the villagers, who love him so dearly, have hated her with the same intensity of their love?

“……”

If she knew, what kind of expression would that kind young lady make? Arzeletta suddenly wondered.

Would she shed tears, moved by the villagers’ love and loyalty toward her, or…

“There she is!”

…would she, even a little, pity someone like Arzeletta?

Someone who does not possess a single piece of what she has, whose heart tightens just from watching her in secret, who has cut the throats of dozens of beasts in the shadows for her…

“You impudent wretch!”

In an instant, her hair was yanked. Arzeletta’s eyes trembled with surprise and fear.

She knew that if she were caught peeking at the young lady, she would not get away unscathed.

“How dare you spy on a noble young lady, how dare you!”

“Weren’t you trying to cast some filthy curse or something?”

Arzeletta shook her head while her hair was being yanked.

A curse? She didn’t know how to do such a thing. If she truly knew how to curse, they would have feared Arzeletta without anyone having to command it.

Meanwhile, the angelic young lady had already disappeared far off toward the castle.

The rapture that had felt like a fleeting dream ended in an instant. What remained was her shabby shadow.

Alongside those who, with as much hatred as they had loved Daphne, had now finished with love and returned to the familiar hatred.

It was hard for Arzeletta to believe that the ones baring their brows fiercely at her were the same kind souls who had just been waving toward the carriage.

“Ah, stop it…!”

“Are those new clothes? That ragged outfit looked good on you—when did you get new clothes made?”

“A butcher’s outfit, huh? You’re wearing exactly what suits you.”

Laughter and the sound of someone clicking their tongue were mixed together.

Arzeletta, lying face-down on the ground, couldn’t even lift her head and simply endured the gazes fixed on her.

Now that the festival was over, they would be looking for a new form of amusement.

Arzeletta curled her body inward. She wanted to pass through this moment as quietly as possible.

But this time, it didn’t seem like it would end the way it usually did—with curses and spit.

Arzeletta felt a chill at the way their gazes clung to her clothes. A butcher’s, a butcher’s clothes…

The lowest woman in the territory, the butcher girl. Arzeletta knew all too well what they were expecting.

“Come with us!”

“Ah…!”

A solid, rough arm seized Arzeletta’s body. She was lifted lightly off the ground and kicked her legs in the air.

Slung over the broad shoulder of a burly man like a sack of goods, Arzeletta’s white leg peeked out between the hem of her black garments.

It was the kind of prank one might play on a child. No adult should ever have their body exposed in such a way.

Before the eyes filled with expectation, Arzeletta lowered her face as her legs were nearly fully exposed.

“Insolent wench. How dare you spy on the Lady, how dare you.”

“She crawled into the slaughterhouse on her own feet, now it’s time we show her the way.”

Arzeletta, slung over a shoulder, was dragged off somewhere.

Regardless of her fear and resignation, the cackling laughter and cheers followed her to the end.

“What a splendid domain.”

The Grand Duchess, seated on the terrace, said as she looked down at the Rosenburg Castle under the night sky.

Her pronunciation, laced with the western Lukwell accent of the continent, was both lively and elegant.

Behind the terrace, the lights of the banquet hall glowed.

Thinking of the lord of this castle, who must have prepared an abundance of fine candles just for her, the Grand Duchess narrowed her eyes and smiled.