The boy was swinging his sword¹ with a desperate, singular focus, as though his very life depended on the arc of the blade.
However, his lower body was wobbling dangerously, and his torso swayed with every clumsy strike. It was a pitiful display; he had barely managed a few dozen swings before his strength began to fail him. It was painfully clear just how little he had moved his body in the past, a fact made even more obvious by the thick layers of fat that clung to his frame.
Yet, he did not utter a single word of complaint. No matter how agonizing it became or how much his muscles screamed in protest, he simply bit his lip and endured. I found myself wondering, as I watched him, what could possibly be driving him to such lengths.
My mind drifted back to the events of yesterday.
* * *
The heavy, loathsome weight of the slave collar, which had bound me for so long, was finally removed.
In a heartbeat, I drew the knife I had kept hidden and swung it in a sharp, horizontal arc toward the neck of the boy who had, until that very second, been my master.
"Swish--!"
"...!"
I stopped the blade just as it grazed his skin. A single, crimson bead of blood welled up where the sharp edge had bitten in, trickling slowly down his throat.
I glared at him, maintaining my stance. I could have ended his life with the slightest flick of my wrist.
The round, soft boy was frozen in sheer terror. His teeth clattered together with a frantic clicking sound, and tears began to shimmer in his eyes. It was a truly pathetic sight, one utterly unbecoming of the heir to a Duke house².
And yet... he did not look away. He kept his eyes fixed on mine, staring straight back at me.
* * *
I was born into a Count house³ in a kingdom far to the north.
My father had been a Knight Order Commander⁴, a man who enjoyed the deep trust of His Majesty⁵. My mother had been a celebrated female knight herself, though she eventually chose to support my father with unwavering devotion after they were married. I was blessed with parents who were as kind as they were strict, and for a time, I was truly happy.
That happiness was severed without warning. A neighboring country, seeking to expand its borders, invaded us without so much as a formal declaration of war.
During the chaos of the conflict, my parents vanished. Left alone and vulnerable, I was sold to a slave trader and spirited away to a land far from my home.
The one who eventually purchased me was a child, barely even an adolescent. He was the eldest son of a ducal family, yet he possessed a bloated body that looked as though it had never once grasped the hilt of a sword.
It was obvious he had been raised on a diet of pure indulgence. The way he looked at me, with that permanent, greasy smirk, made my blood boil with hatred.
When I was first brought out from the cage they called the slave quarters, he looked at me with a mocking glint in his eye.
'I'm the one who bought you, you know. Shouldn't you be grateful?'
In that moment, I felt a surge of murderous intent stronger than any I had ever known. Had it not been for the magical constraints of the slave contract, I might have strangled him where he stood.
From then on, my life became an exercise in silent endurance.
My parents had taught me that the nobility existed to protect the people. It was for that reason I had trained with the sword since I was a small child, dreaming of one day becoming a magnificent knight like them.
Instead, my parents were gone, my future was shattered, and I was forced to spend my days serving a foolish brat who did nothing but oppress the common folk.
Everything about him set my teeth on edge-his vulgar gaze, his coarse way of speaking, and his wretched expressions. He was only a child now, but it required little imagination to fear what he might demand of me once he grew older.
I had resolved that, when that day came, I would use the knife hidden in the belt strapped to my thigh to take him with me to the grave. But then... everything changed. Ever since he was thrown from his horse, the boy had become an entirely different person.
He stopped being tyrannical toward the servants. In fact, he actually started saying 'thank you.'
He stopped gorging himself on expensive sweets. Instead, he frequently brought treats to the staff.
He began exercising to lose weight, and he even started applying himself to the studies and etiquette lessons he had always despised.
And then-he asked me to teach him the sword. He didn't order me; he asked.
I cannot disobey a direct command, yet he gave me a choice. Was he truly, honestly trying to change?
To test him, I set a condition. I told him to remove my collar, to show me if he truly had the resolve to face the consequences.
He hesitated for a moment, looking down. But then, he raised his head and reached for my neck--
* * *
I continued to stare into the boy's eyes, my knife still held firm against his throat. One drop of blood followed another, staining the white fabric of his collar a vivid red.
"..."
"..."
"I despise you," I said quietly. "And as I am now, it would be the simplest thing in the world to kill you. Knowing that, what will you do?"
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then, with a serious expression I had never seen before, he spoke.
"I am truly, deeply sorry for everything I've done until now. No matter what you say or what you do to me, I won't resist. But even so... I am shameless enough to ask. I want to become strong."
It was such a convenient, bold, and selfish thing to say... and yet, his words were undeniably sincere.
I lowered the knife. Turning my back to him, I muttered a single sentence.
"...I won't be going easy on you."
I didn't need to see his face to know how happy he was. His response told me everything.
* * *
"Guh--!"
A sound like a squashed frog snapped me back to the present. The boy had collapsed in a heap, his stamina finally having reached its limit. He hadn't even managed a hundred swings.
"Young Master!!" Sebastian the butler shouted, rushing to his side. He had been repeating this same cycle almost every day lately, yet the butler's loyalty remained impressively firm.
...I still dislike this arrogant boy. Even if he has improved, it has only been a week or so.
There is no telling when he might change his mind again and revert to being a pampered, foolish son. I remember every insult and every humiliation I have suffered at his hands.
Even so, perhaps... perhaps I can manage to be his maid for just a little while longer.
Summary:
Heliotrope reflects on her past as a noble-born knight's daughter turned slave. She recalls the pivotal moment yesterday when she held a knife to the young master's throat after he freed her from her collar. To her surprise, he accepted his past faults and pleaded for her help to become strong. Now, she watches him struggle through training, skeptical but willing to stay by his side for now.
Character Insight:
Heliotrope's internal conflict centers on the juxtaposition of her knightly upbringing and her current status as a maid/slave. Her willingness to lower the knife reveals that she values sincerity and martial resolve over petty revenge. The young master's sudden shift from an arrogant brat to a dedicated student suggests a profound internal change that even his most cynical victim can't entirely ignore.
Behind the Scene:
This chapter serves as a crucial backstory for Heliotrope, establishing her as more than just a maid, but a fallen noble with a warrior's heart. It also confirms that the 'change' in the protagonist is visible and impactful to those around him.
T/L:
1 ↩ Sword: Here referring to the act of practicing swordsmanship or a practice blade.
2 ↩ Duke house: One of the highest ranks of nobility, typically second only to royalty.
3 ↩ Count house: A mid-to-high level noble rank, often overseeing significant territory.
4 ↩ Knight Order Commander: The high-ranking leader of a group of knights, usually a position of great prestige and military power.
5 ↩ Your/His Majesty: A formal title used to address or refer to a King or Emperor.
Notes:
• Sebastian - An elderly butler serving the Weltheim household.
• Heliotrope - Kraut's exclusive maid, fifteen years old (six years older than Kraut). She has long black hair reaching her waist and a cool, beautiful face. She is a 'slave battle maid' who was formerly a noble lady from a fallen northern country. She wears a Victorian-style long-dress maid outfit.