Chương 92: “The Second Tragedy (2)”

It had already been several hours since her mistress had entered her office. Paimon stood in the hallway outside the door, her hands in front of her, her back straight. Martha stood beside her, slightly closer to the door, in the same posture. Lady Celestia's parents had seemed like wonderful people the last time Paimon had seen them. The Duke had been large and quiet, his presence heavy. The Duchess had been warm.

She had smiled at Paimon and asked her name, and when Paimon had fumbled the introduction, the Duchess had laughed and told her not to worry about it. Paimon had not stopped thinking about them since the officials left.

"I wonder how Lady Celestia is feeling right now..." Paimon said quietly.

"Do not make unneeded speculations." Martha's voice was level.

"Our duty is to serve our mistress. That is all." The words were correct. Martha always had the composure of a woman who had served noble households. But her hands, usually folded neatly at her waist, were gripping each other. The hallway was dim. The oil lamps along the walls had not been lit yet; the light from the window showed that the sky had turned a deep amber. A shadow stretched across the floor from the window frame, longer now than it had been when they first arrived.

Footsteps approached from the far end of the corridor. One of the other maids appeared, carrying a long-handled lighter. She went lamp by lamp down the hallway, touching the flame to each wick without pausing. The warm glow spread down the corridor in stages. When she reached the section near the office door, she glanced at Paimon and Martha, gave a small nod, and continued past without a word. The sun had nearly set.

The window at the end of the hallway showed a sky that was darkening fast, the amber bleeding into bluish-grey. Another thirty minutes passed, and the door behind them opened. Paimon turned immediately. Out walked Celestia von Reingarde. Her head was raised, her back was straight. A folded fan was open in her right hand, held just below her chin, covering her mouth. But why? There was no reason for it—the hallway was empty except for the two of them, and there was no one to hide her expression from.

And yet, something about her was different. Paimon could not place it immediately. Her mistress looked the same, but the way she held the fan and the way her crimson eyes moved… Paimon couldn't help but stare at her. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Eyes forward." Celestia's voice was sharp.

"Did you forget your station?" Paimon flinched. Her body snapped forward, eyes fixed on the window on the opposite wall. Her heartbeat jumped. That tone. Lady Celestia had scolded her before, more times than she could count, and Paimon had grown used to it. But the scoldings though firm and short, were ones that were always simple corrections with a hint of playfulness at times. But… this had been different. Celestia's eyes moved to Martha.

"Martha, I'm quite disappointed in you." Martha lowered her head into a bow immediately.

"I apologize, Lady Celestia. Paimon's conduct is my responsibility. Her training under my supervision has not yet reached a sufficient standard, and her behavior is a reflection of that. I will ensure this does not occur again." Celestia regarded her for a moment.

"Hm." That was all she said. Paimon's eyes stayed fixed forward. Her hands were clasped in front of her so tightly that her fingers ached. She wanted to look at her mistress. She wanted to ask what had happened, what was wrong, whether there was anything she could do. But the voice that had just spoken to her was not the one she was used to, and every part of her body was telling her to stay still. She could hear the fan tapping lightly against Celestia's palm. Once. Twice. What had happened in those few hours?

Paimon knew that her mistress had certain tendencies. Lady Celestia would begin speaking to herself as though she were two people, the tone shifting between questions and answers, sometimes calm, sometimes agitated. Paimon had never brought it up. She understood, or at least she believed she understood, that her mistress carried a great deal on her shoulders. The business, the slaves, the academy, what had happened inside the Tower.

If talking to herself behind a closed door was how she managed all of it, then Paimon would not judge her for it. But this? This was not that. Whatever had changed behind that door had gone deeper than stress or exhaustion. The woman standing in the hallway right now felt as though something more fundamental to herself had changed. Celestia closed the fan with a snap.

"I will be leaving for the evening. Do not disturb me for the rest of the night." She began walking down the hallway, her footsteps steady on the floor.

"Yes, Lady Celestia," Martha said.

"Yes, Lady Celestia," Paimon said. The footsteps continued down the corridor. They grew quieter, fainter, until the sound disappeared entirely. Paimon and Martha stayed in position for several seconds after the last footstep faded. Then, slowly, they both straightened. Martha exhaled. It was a small sound, barely audible, and Paimon almost missed it. In all the months she had served alongside the head maid, she couldn't remember the last time she heard Martha sigh.

"H-Head maid..." Paimon said. Martha's expression had not changed. Her posture was as precise as ever, but the color had left her face.

"Our duties," Martha said.

"We need to accomplish them no matter what. Do you understand, Paimon?"

"Yes..." Martha turned and began walking in the opposite direction from where Celestia had gone. Paimon followed a step behind. As they walked, Martha's right hand moved to her left wrist. She pressed the cloth of her uniform sleeve against the skin there, rubbing it slowly.