The midday sun crept high into the sky, scorching the skin of anyone brave enough to linger beneath its rays.
Elena, her body still aching and her head wrapped in a dingy bandage, chose to retreat from the chaotic noise of the kitchen.
She dragged her feet toward the edge of the Dracox family’s private lake, an area seldom visited by lowly servants due to its isolated location behind the main pavilion.
Hiding behind a cluster of thick bushes, Elena sat on the dirt.
She unrolled a small cloth bundle containing leftover scraps from the nobles’ breakfast table: hard bread crusts and cold, congealed meat fat.
To anyone else, it was trash.
To Elena, it was the only fuel keeping her from fainting over the laundry tubs later.
Suddenly, a deep voice shattered the silence.
“Why are you eating over there like a mole?”
Elena gasped, nearly dropping her bread.
She whipped her head around and found a man in a black knight’s uniform leaning against a large tree, just a few feet from her hiding spot.
It was Hugo, the Crown Prince’s personal aide, known for his cold demeanor and razor-sharp gaze.
He was taking a break, holding a fresh, appetizing meat sandwich.
Elena bowed her head deeply, pulling her shabby hood down to obscure her face.
“I am sorry, Master Hugo.
I didn’t mean to disturb your rest.”
Hugo fell silent for a moment, his stoic eyes drifting toward the meager bundle in her hands.
Without a word, he split his sandwich in two and held out a portion toward her.
“Eat this.”
Elena shook her head frantically, fear easily overpowering her hunger.
“Thank you, Master Hugo, but…
this is enough for me.”
“You mean that stale trash is enough?” Hugo asked bluntly.
His tone wasn’t mocking, merely filled with genuine disbelief.
Elena didn’t answer.
She stuffed the hard piece of bread back into her mouth.
Her cheeks puffed out as she struggled to chew the tough crust, a sight that made Hugo line his brow in a frown.
A flicker of disgust crossed the knight’s face, he couldn’t comprehend how a human being could consume something fit for swine without feeling nauseous.
Yet beneath that disgust, an unsettling pang of sympathy stirred in Hugo’s chest.
He recalled the incident from a few days ago at the washing area.
“I was the one who pulled you out of that water tub,” Hugo blurted out.
Elena stopped chewing.
She snapped her head up, her round eyes brimming with tears.
“So…
it was you who saved me?
I thought…” She trailed off, refusing to utter Alexander’s name.
“Thank you so much, Master Hugo.
I owe you my life.”
Hugo merely let out a soft huff, surveying her from head to toe.
The girl possessed naturally striking features, expressive eyes and vibrant red hair, but her plump frame and shattered spirit buried that beauty beneath layers of suffering.
She is just a naive girl being slowly broken apart, Hugo thought.
A fleeting urge to protect her surfaced, a knight’s pure instinct.
However, his comrade Alaric’s warning echoed sharply in his mind.
“Don’t interfere, Hugo.
That girl is already on His Highness’s radar.
You know what happens to anyone who tries to touch the Crown Prince’s playthings.”
Hugo clenched his fists against the grass.
He chose to crush his sympathy before it turned into a blade against his own neck.
“Elena!
Where on earth is Elena?!”
The shrill voice of the head laundry maid shattered the moment.
Elena scrambled to her feet in a panic, wrapping her leftover scraps and bowing respectfully to Hugo before sprinting back to her personal hell.
Hugo watched her retreating back with a conflicted gaze.
Every leader had a dark side, and he knew all too well what kind of darkness awaited that poor girl.
.
.
Misfortune seemed relentlessly tethered to Elena.
The moment she reached the washing area, she was greeted by a pale blue silk nightgown featuring a massive tear down the center.
“What did you do, you idiot?!” Daisy shrieked, waving the torn fabric in her face.
“This is Lady Clementine’s favorite nightgown!
You tore it on purpose out of jealousy, didn’t you?!”
“No!
I washed it with utmost care!” Elena protested.
But no one listened.
The order had already been issued: Elena was to face Lady Clementine directly for her punishment.
In her luxurious private quarters, Clementine stood with a face flushed crimson with rage.
The moment Elena stepped inside and knelt, a harsh hand dragged her up by her red hair, yanking her head back violently.
“You useless pig!
First, you try to seduce my fiancé, and now you ruin my garments?!”
Slap!
A stinging blow landed squarely on Elena’s cheek.
Slap!
Slap!
Clementine was utterly hysterical, unleashing all her deep-seated insecurities regarding Alexander onto Elena.
Elena could only remain still, closing her eyes as tears of pain spilled over.
Each slap felt like reopening the raw wound on her head.
Her vision spun, and the physical agony slowly turned numb compared to the complete devastation of her dignity.
.
.
Late that evening, Elena returned to the servants’ quarters with a swollen face and a split lip.
All she wanted was to sleep and forget that she was still breathing.
However, the atmosphere inside the room felt eerily off.
Quiet.
Far too quiet.
Daisy, Emily, and two other maids were already in their respective cots.
They were sleeping in unnaturally still positions—far too peaceful for people who normally snored or tossed and turned restless in their sleep.
Elena froze at the threshold.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she caught a scent that had become her worst nightmare.
Sandalwood and biting cold snow.
“Back so soon, sweetheart?
I was just about to bring you some ointment for that swollen cheek.”
Alexander sat on a small stool in the dark corner of the room, resting his leg casually against Elena’s bed.
He held a small jar of salve, his eyes gleaming through the shadows.
“You…
what are you doing here again?” Elena whispered, her voice trembling violently.
She glanced toward her roommates.
“What did you do to them?!”
Alexander stood up, taking slow, deliberate steps toward Elena, who was backed against the door.
“Just a little help so they could enjoy sweet dreams without any disturbing noises…
or any moans that might slip from your lips tonight.”
He reached out, brushing his fingers softly against her bruised cheek, though the touch felt like fire burning her skin.
Elena jerked her face away, but Alexander instantly seized her jaw in a firm grip, forcing her to look into blue eyes drowning in manipulative darkness.
“Every leader has a dark side, Elena,” Alexander whispered directly against her lips.
“And tonight, I want to show you just how dark I can become when I don’t get what I want.”