Chapter 29 : Loyalty (2)

A Slight Confusion.

That was what I felt about Ayla’s change in attitude.
It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. After all, my efforts hadn’t been completely meaningless.
But even so—

Ayla’s body was far too stimulating in my eyes.

Why is that?
I had made up my mind. It’s not like I’ve never seen a woman’s body before. Haven’t I lived in a brothel before?
Of course, I was too young back then, just a kid who wasn’t even useful as a worker. Even if I saw women changing clothes then, my memories aren’t vivid. Still, I must have seen it, right?

Even if I hadn’t, it’s not like I’ve ever had trouble talking to women. The three most important connections in my life are all women. Granted, they didn’t fit the usual mold of what one might think of as “women.”
Still, they were all beautiful in their own way, though maybe not to Ayla’s level.

“……”
“Ayla.”
“Just stay still for a moment,” Ayla said.

Our faces were very close now.

It wasn’t an extremely strange situation. Her eyes were close, but not close enough for our lips to touch.

Instead, Ayla’s hand rested on my face. In that hand, she held a brush.

After finishing washing herself, Ayla had ordered me to wash my face as well. Was she trying to say I didn’t need makeup as a maid?

I still had makeup on, yet Ayla’s face was nearly bare of any. Despite that, she was still beautiful. Still, as a maid and her master, shouldn’t appearances matter less? A maid being more adorned than her master could be an issue.

But that wasn’t what Ayla had in mind.

She brought two chairs close together and made me sit across from her.
Then she took out makeup tools and began applying them to my face.

“I’m not someone who particularly enjoys makeup. I don’t even let the staff here touch my face,” Ayla said.

She dressed herself, bathed herself, and obviously wouldn’t let anyone touch her face either.
“But I did learn makeup. I had to know how to present myself well to the Count.”

I flinched.

My eyelids trembled slightly. Normally, I wouldn’t have reacted, but unfortunately, Ayla’s brush danced across my face.

“What does it matter to you if I did makeup for the Count?”

“…Ayla.”

“Don’t move your mouth. It makes your eyes move too.”

She baited me into answering and then scolded me for speaking.

I wondered if Ayla had always been like this. Maybe she had.

“The Baron also sent beautiful clothes with me. You’ve noticed they’re all off-shoulder dresses, haven’t you?”

“……”

“Now your lips are twitching.”

Ayla switched brushes and now applied a faint pink blush to my lips. It tickled a bit.

“You owe the Count a debt but consider him a target for revenge. And every time you hear about how I was supposed to be with him, you flinch in surprise. I really can’t figure out what you came here wanting.”

Ayla spoke calmly.
“Though it doesn’t seem like you wanted me.”

This time, I barely managed to keep my face still.

Ironically, I had expected to face such questions. Even before coming here. In my original plan, I could’ve answered, “Because I wanted you,” but now that I was a woman, such a response had to be avoided.

Thinking back, I wondered if I’d been too infatuated with myself.

I wanted to be the prince on the white horse who rescues the princess trapped in the tower. Yet, I had never truly seen how Ayla had been living.

And Ayla, who had been determined to face her fate, might’ve been trying to escape it completely by transforming herself.

It wasn’t even certain if she had truly loved the me of those days.

“All done.”

Ayla spoke and turned me to the side.

There was a vanity and mirror.

Ayla was still only wearing a robe, her face bare of makeup.

I, on the other hand, wore a maid uniform, my face adorned with glamorous makeup—just on the edge of being excessive.

“Hmm, maybe I overdid it? Well, I’m not going to a ball. I couldn’t help it after learning how to do makeup for the Count’s taste.”

Ayla stood and spoke.

“From now on, I’ll test makeup on your face. Once I’ve perfected a look I like, you’ll be responsible for maintaining it. You don’t have any complaints, do you?”

“Of course not, Ayla.”

At least Ayla didn’t seem displeased with keeping me by her side.

I felt I was beginning to understand how this arrangement worked.

“I’ll change clothes. Luna, pick something that suits me, will you?”

“Yes, Ayla.”

As I felt my racing heart, I thought it was fortunate my makeup was heavier today.

“Ayla.”

When we stepped outside, Helena, dressed in a butler’s outfit, was waiting.

“What is it?”

“A message has arrived for you, Ayla.”

Helena handed Ayla an envelope with a respectful attitude.

It was made of stiff paper, imported from the east. Paper production was still being studied here and hadn’t yet reached the same quality.

Even before Helena explained, Ayla seemed to recognize where the letter had come from. A red wax seal stamped with a crest was affixed to the envelope.

The crest depicted a knight’s helmet with a crossed sword and spear beneath it. If the helmet were replaced with a skull, it would resemble the emblem of pirates sailing the high seas. However, historically, this design predated those by far.

The House of Ridbury.

It was Ayla’s family crest.

“…”

Ayla’s gaze briefly shifted to me.

Just moments ago, when she was calmly applying makeup to my face, she had been at ease. Now, I could see a slight tremor in her eyes.

One of the reasons Ayla had tried to run away.

It meant that reason had started moving.

“The messenger seems to have departed about four days ago,” Helena said.

“The letter states, ‘I will depart in a week.’”

“So they’ll leave in two days, then. If they hurry, it might take them two weeks.”

“Two weeks…”

Commonly said: The fief is the land, and the lord is the king.

Though this notion has somewhat faded in modern times, within their fief, the lord is still almost like a king. However, this does not mean a lord is always confined to their fief.

Some, like the Count, focus more on central power, while others own multiple fiefs. The distinctions between baron, count, and marquis, once relatively clear, have now become somewhat meaningless. This is because, even if someone holds multiple titles, they don’t always use the highest rank but instead adapt their titles to fit different situations.

Nevertheless, people remain the same, and as a result, someone who holds a baron’s title under a count’s authority may find themselves bowing to a count who also holds a baronial title.

This repetition and growing complexity have led to a situation where the hierarchy between fiefs is now determined by their wealth and military strength.

Of course, for those like the Baron of Ridbury, who only owns one fief, they are usually found within their territory. Particularly in Ridbury’s case, the baron doesn’t hold much favor within his fief and was not close enough to the central power to frequently visit the royal capital.

“The fact that the busy baron is personally visiting suggests how worried he must be about the baron’s young lady,” I said.
“Indeed,” Ayla sighed softly in agreement.

The Count is dead.

His wife survived, and so did the young lady.

In such a situation, the people happiest about this are undoubtedly the Countess’s family. The fief itself won’t be renamed after the Countess, but having one of their own govern it practically ensures their influence over it.

If they marry the young lady to someone from the baron’s family, renaming the fief one day might not just be a dream.

“Ayla, may I say something?” I asked politely.
“Go ahead.”

Ayla, seated on the sofa, gave me permission.

“You are no longer the Baron’s young lady.”

“……”

“You are the Countess.”

Perhaps because she disliked the title, Ayla’s brow slightly twitched at my words.

“And?”

“The Baron must be delighted that you are now alone,” I continued.

“Of course. He sent me to that old man hoping for such an outcome,” Ayla replied, her tone laced with bitterness.

This time, I felt my own brow twitch.

“Ayla, do you think you can pretend to love the Count?”

“…What?”

“He’s dead now, isn’t he? Even if you profess your love for him, he won’t rise from the grave to embrace you.”

“Mourn the Count’s death sincerely, and cry out for revenge. Exercise your rights as the Countess.”

If the Baron truly had a hand in the Count’s death, this alone would unsettle him greatly.

After all, the man had little to no political acumen.

“Revenge, huh? You seem quite sincere about it,” Ayla said with a faint, incredulous smile.

“Judging by how you speak.”

“If mourning is difficult, Ayla, allow me to assist you with your makeup,” I offered.

Indeed, the key was to make the Baron genuinely flustered.

And if that’s the goal, wouldn’t it be even better if Ayla’s expression of grief was also completely sincere?