Hiya– It’s Me, The Runaway Female Lead - Chapter 8

Up until then, the Duke’s interest in me ended exactly there.

A son who disliked people so much he refused to keep even the most common private tutor or personal servant by his side, choosing a servant for the very first time. Still, there was no telling how long that whim would last.

Relief at seeing Duke Clausewitz, who was much less frightening than I had imagined, quickly faded as the reality set in. I would have to serve the young master starting tomorrow. My heart grew heavy again.

Damn this world, if things were going to be like this, why couldn’t my life have ended together with my family’s?

I resented it for a moment, but soon changed my mind.

Yes, it wasn’t the worst yet. Even though I now had to serve a master who was no easy task, compared to nearly starving to death and wandering the streets, this was practically paradise.

There was a roof to keep out the rain, clothes to cover my body, and meals provided every day. Wasn’t that enough to say I’d avoided the very worst?

And I learned a valuable lesson in my short eleven years of life.

That was the law of the world.

Never assume anything.

* * *

“What did you say your name was?”

“My name is Ayla Bell, Young Master.”

“Ayla… Doesn’t that mean ‘moonlight’?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Nothing about you looks like moonlight. Maybe mud, at best.”

“……”

The boy, sitting with his chin in one hand and a slouched posture, spoke in a tone that made it impossible to tell whether he was joking or serious.

That conversation was the beginning. Of course, I’d expected things to be this way from the start, but I didn’t fully realize that the title of ‘playmate’ was just a decorative pretext until about a week after I began serving Claude.

After another month passed, I had become something that, under the name of ‘friend’, acted as a servant, maid, errand runner, conversation partner, plaything, and even squire.

He said he’d never had anyone by his side before, but judging by how eagerly and thoroughly he worked me, I wondered how he’d managed to live without someone until now.

Though it was as if I was rolled around like a Schneeballen, a treat only eaten at the winter festival, I clung on desperately.

Even as a child, I judged that, having made it this far, I would only survive in this terrifying ducal house if I proved my usefulness.

In status and strength, Claude was someone who could crush me like a bug with a single gesture.

So whether I liked it or not, my duty back then was to work hard enough to catch his eye. Or at the very least, not fall out of favor.

“Strange. Did you eat something bad yesterday?”

“…Pardon?”

He’d say things I couldn’t make sense of, now and then.

“Why do you look even uglier today? Is it just my mood?”

He’d toss out irritating comments as if they meant nothing, but at least he never crossed a certain line…

“Suddenly I’m in a foul mood. My vision seems blurry too… So, clean the windows today, for that reason.”

…Or so I thought.

“After the windows, clean the scabbard. And while you’re at it, polish the armor, too.”

Really… so much for that.

He was only two years older than me, but sometimes I thought he was insufferable enough to kill. If he’d just been some brat from my neighborhood, I’d have half a mind to beat him up. But now, I had no choice but to swallow my pride and endure.

Honestly, those everyday little torments were nothing I couldn’t bear.

What really struck me as odd was the young master’s occasional fits.

It was a strong word, but nothing else seemed to fit. Whenever he erupted for no reason and got lost in a frenzy or a tantrum, I could only grit my teeth and take the brunt of his anger.

It always started with a chilling stare in my direction. Even on normal days, those crimson eyes were never clear, but when they quietly fixed on me, I’d brace myself in my mind. Ah, here we go again.