Roiling Undercurrents

The failure of her appeal to Frau Helga forced Elara to fully accept her situation in Blackstone Keep—she was an object to be manipulated at will, devoid of rights, unprotected by any rules.

A wave of immense frustration and helplessness washed over her, but this time, Elara didn't succumb to despair as before. Tempered by the Duke's cruel "brand" and Frau Helga's cold rules, her spirit felt forged anew, harder, and perhaps... colder.

She knew tears and complaints were the most useless things in this world. To survive, to escape this hellish cage, she had to rely on herself, using any means necessary.

That one hour each afternoon in the courtyard became her only chance to connect with the "outside" world (even if just the "outside" within the castle walls). She no longer just paced silently or stared blankly. She began observing everything around her with greater intensity.

She watched Knight Kaelen. He remained silent as ice, but Elara started trying to decipher more information from his subtle movements, the shifts in his gaze. He seemed particularly wary of certain areas within the castle, his eyes lingering longer when scanning those spots. He seemed... not to fully trust everyone in the castle, even the higher-ranking servants. These observations, like tentative feelers in the dark, though faint, gave Elara a sliver of extremely slim hope—perhaps Kaelen wasn't entirely the Duke's puppet? Did he possess his own judgment? Even... his own secrets?

She also watched Isabelle's movements with heightened vigilance. Isabelle hadn't backed down after Kaelen's "warning." Instead, like a snake lurking in the shadows, she released her malice in more covert ways. She no longer appeared in the courtyard to harass Elara directly, but Elara could feel pairs of eyes belonging to Isabelle's spies watching her secretly. Furthermore, on the few occasions Elara was permitted to leave the tower (e.g., when Frau Helga sent her to fetch something), she always encountered minor "accidents"—a clean floor suddenly becoming slippery, nearly causing her to fall; items she needed to carry being "accidentally" messed up or damaged... Though there was no direct proof linking these incidents to Isabelle, Elara was almost certain they were her handiwork.

Isabelle seemed to be playing a game of cat and mouse, enjoying the pleasure of tormenting Elara secretly, watching her be constantly on edge yet unable to pinpoint blame.

Elara understood that Isabelle's ultimate goal wasn't just to make her look foolish or suffer minor injuries. She was waiting for an opportunity, a chance to utterly destroy her! Just like the trap she set at the hunting ground, accusing her of "colluding with servants to escape"!

The sense of crisis hung over Elara like a suspended sword, keeping her constantly vigilant. She knew she had to devise a countermeasure quickly, or she might not be so lucky next time.

She began to more systematically review the knowledge from her past life that might be useful in this world. Not just identifying herbs and practicing hygiene, but also... more about interpersonal dynamics, psychological games, even some... basic chemistry or physics? Although most were impractical due to lack of materials and tools, the knowledge itself broadened her thinking.

She even began... attempting to use Knight Kaelen's presence.

For instance, during her time in the courtyard, she would intentionally or unintentionally move closer to the areas she sensed Kaelen paid more attention to, observing his reaction. Or, when she felt Isabelle's spies watching, she would deliberately act more "submissive," even... showing a hint of "reliance" on Kaelen (extremely subtly, of course). She hoped Kaelen might subconsciously see her as a "harmless object needing protection (surveillance)," potentially gaining a minuscule, subconscious bias in her favor at a critical moment.

This was undoubtedly playing with fire, dancing on a knife's edge. Elara didn't know if Kaelen would see through her small manipulations, much less if it would anger the capricious Duke.

But she had no other path.

Blackstone Keep was like a roiling undercurrent. Calm on the surface, but filled with deadly whirlpools and hidden reefs beneath. She, a lone boat, had to learn to read the currents, utilize any available force to avoid being swallowed, even if that force itself was dangerous.

Her eyes, tempered by repeated hardships, grew deeper and more complex. Fear and despair still lingered, but they were increasingly overshadowed by a near-cold survival instinct and... calculation, born from desperation.

Isabelle's venomous fangs were bared, the Duke's shadow was omnipresent, and the silent knight remained an icy enigma. Elara knew a more violent storm was brewing in secret. And before it hit, she had to find her own, tiny sliver of... hope for survival.