14

"What is that, Luna?"

"It's a picnic basket. I prepared it ahead of time before you woke up, Lady Ayla."

"I'm asking why you made something like that."

"Over the past week, you seemed a bit lonely, Lady Ayla."

Inside the picnic basket were sandwiches made with bread I baked myself and pies filled with fruit.

The skills I learned during my time pretending to be a servant in other estates' kitchens while gathering information came in handy.

While I couldn't claim it was top-tier professional quality, I was confident enough.

"The young lady said it was delicious."

"She's been waking up quite early these days."

Ayla, still sitting on the bed, spoke indifferently.

But the fact that she asked at all was proof that she cared.

Nobles are human too. Or perhaps, because they are human, they cling even harder to their noble status.

Usually, it's hard for people to love children not related by blood.

My mother accepted me as her son, even though I wasn't her biological child, but that was probably because I showed little interest in power.

Human connections naturally improve impressions of each other.

If Ayla were truly a high-ranking noble to her core, she would have locked the young lady in some isolated room the moment the count passed away and abandoned her there.

Or maybe she would have sent her to a convent.

Of course, acting rashly could have landed her in a convent herself.

Instead, she tried to escape with her and even attempted to teach her.

This meant Ayla could empathize with the young lady, in her own way.

The feeling of being alone in the world with no one to rely on.

In my childhood, I had Ayla, but the young lady didn't even have that.

"Because she now has a maid attending to her."

"Ah, that makes sense."

The witch, being old, doesn't sleep much.

She often wakes up early in the morning and pesters me to make various things.

Though I'm supposed to play the role of a 'servant' here, the witch is still almost clueless about cooking, so I handle breakfast preparations.

During that time, the witch wakes the young lady, washes her face and hair, and helps her change clothes.

Thanks to that, the young lady, even in her groggy state, has been waking up much earlier these days.

"If you wish, I can prepare something even earlier than the young lady's schedule."

"Why do you think I'd compete over something like that?"

Ayla spoke again, sounding exasperated, and got up from her seat.

"So, that picnic basket… Oh, you might have already shown it to the young lady. You said she mentioned it tasted good."

"She probably couldn't resist the smell of freshly baked bread in the morning."

"The young lady should learn some self-control."

"If you wish, I can teach her that."

Ayla briefly looked at me and then let out a small sigh.

"I didn't want to get too involved, but it's unavoidable. I'll have to stay here for the time being."

For the time being.

Yes, for the time being.

That's how my plans go, too. I haven't yet drawn up specific plans or heard proper news from the capital, but once I gather all the information, I'll come up with a way to get Ayla out of this count's domain.

If Ayla says she truly doesn't want to leave, I'll respect that decision, but for now, it seems like her desire to leave is stronger.

… Teaching her myself would still be difficult, wouldn't it?

"She'll surely understand in time."

"Honestly, saying this now feels odd, but I don't want to be hated anymore. Not by anyone."

"Did something happen at the count's estate?"

Ayla silently stared at me for a moment.

Then she turned her gaze away and rose from the bed.

Her dress still revealed some skin.

From behind, it was even more daring, with much of her white back exposed.

Should I buy her a new dress?

I thought about how far Ayla needed to go in fulfilling her duties as the countess.

Would attending balls and banquets be acceptable?

At the very least, she must present herself as a proper high-ranking noble as my mistress.

"Luna?"

"Yes, Lady Ayla."

Snapping out of my thoughts at the sound of her voice calling me, I saw Ayla gazing at me from a short distance away.

"Is a maid supposed to move slower than her mistress?"

"My apologies, Lady Ayla."

I quickly moved my feet to reach Ayla's side.

Although it was a picnic, we didn't go far. The garden right in front of the count's mansion was sufficient.

Though it was where I had once stabbed someone to death, the traces of that had long been erased.

"It's delicious! So delicious!"

The young lady, holding the sandwich with both hands and sparkling eyes, looked adorable.

I recalled the count, who I remembered being much less attractive in appearance.

Was the former countess truly that beautiful?

Meanwhile, Ayla, seated a little apart from the others, watched the young lady and the witch—Daisy—with a somewhat complex expression.

No conversation followed.

Ayla was deep in thought.

She used to show that same contemplative expression often during my childhood, but the Ayla I've reunited with now seems to think even more deeply.

Though her personality also seems more impatient than before.

Or perhaps, it's because she now desires something more desperately. Freedom.

"So, after hiring all the servants, what do you plan to do?" Ayla asked suddenly.

"You're in a count's house that can't even afford to pay their wages."

Saying everything is covered by debt would be a bit difficult to explain.

If it were just me, maybe, but managing everyone running this mansion…

Explaining to Ayla that investing in this count's household is worth it feels odd as well.

"Are you planning to become the head maid?"

Ayla asked.

Her voice carried a slight chuckle. Not a warm laugh, but a cold joke.

"It's not exactly a grand position for someone seeking power."

"Power isn't my goal."

"Is it solely to pay off the debt?"

"Solely to pay off the debt."

So that you can smile again.

Watching someone with a dream is heart-stirring.

I had no such thing when I was young.

I only lived day to day, stealing and running to survive.

Sometimes hitting and hurting others in the process.

Even when someone generously gave me a silver or copper coin, there were others ready to kill me for that single coin.

If I got bread, at least I could shove it into my mouth. But money was different.

Bakery owners, snack shopkeepers, and others were quick to chase away a beggar like me.

The price of bread, snacks, and meat was inexplicably higher for someone poor like me than for ordinary people.

It was their way of saying, "Don't come back."

They never said a word to the leader of the beggars, though.

I suppose they took out their frustrations on me, angry at having to pay 'protection money.'

"What's your dream?"

Ayla had asked me that once.

It was shortly after I began following her into the dojo.

"To gain strength. So no one can treat me poorly anymore."

"Why? Is that something to laugh at?"

"I wouldn't say it's laughable."

Ayla looked up at the night sky.

Below the hill, the village glowed brightly.

Once people learned I had joined the dojo, received new clothes, and started training under the master, I was no longer refused bread.

No one tried to take my money, and even the leader of the alley, who was about ten years older than me, avoided me.

That leader still had scars from where Ayla had struck him.

I wonder if he's still alive. Maybe he's moved on somewhere else.

"I'm not laughing. I just think you could aim a little higher with your dreams."

"Aim higher?"

"Like becoming a knight, perhaps?"

I scoffed at that.

"Why not? You don't have to be a noble to become a knight. There are plenty of nobles looking for skilled swordsmen with good character."

"And there are plenty of skilled people who want to impress nobles. I have no illusions about my abilities being extraordinary."

"If that's your choice, I won't push it."

"Then what's your dream? To become a champion of justice, saving all the miserable lives in the back alleys?"

"That wouldn't be so bad."

I frowned as I looked at Ayla.

Her hair fluttered in the wind running beneath the night sky.

"A dream, huh. To be honest, I'm still searching for mine."

I didn't understand the meaning of her words back then.

Well, it's not like it mattered much, since it was years later that we parted ways.

"What's the point of having an impossible dream?"

"If you have an impossible dream, you can keep striving for it."

Ayla had said that with a smile.

I thought her face illuminated by the moonlight was so beautiful.

"Luna?"

"Yes, Lady Ayla."

"I was asking how much that debt amounts to."

When I blinked, the Ayla before me had grown into an adult.

An adult weighed down by reality, with too many things to think and worry about.

"It was a debt worth more than my life."

Indeed.

That day, what Ayla gave me wasn't something as simple as life.

What she gave me was a gift—a dream.

Perhaps a dream that might or might not come true.

Because if you dream of the impossible, you can keep striving for it, she had said.

Maybe, I've realized a small part of that dream now.

Ayla looked at me quietly with her blue eyes.

Was it because she thought I had more to say?

As I hesitated to answer, a sound reached my ears.

It was faint, but distinctive, coming from far away.

The sound of hoofbeats.

Ayla's gaze sharpened slightly, as if she heard it too.

"There's no need to worry, Lady Ayla," I said politely.

"It's probably the sound of the servants we've been waiting for."

It had been a week since I became a maid here.

At last, the servants who would fill the empty mansion had arrived.