Episode 3 <— The Woman of the Expelled Ducal House —>
The tavern owner who had given Sinya a job, Madame Ali, guided her to a room and then gifted her some clothes she had worn in her youth so that Sinya could change into something comfortable. Though old, they were cleaner than what Madame Ali currently wore, and though slightly large, they could be worn without much discomfort if she folded up the sleeves. More than anything, the fact that they were easy to move in was the greatest advantage. Now that Sinya had clothes to wear, she threw the tattered dress into the trash.
It truly pained her heart to throw away her father's gift—the only thing she had been able to bring from the castle—now soiled, into the trash.
It was the only remaining trace of her father left to her. If she threw away that dress, Sinya would no longer have anything to remember her father by.
But even setting aside that she could no longer wear it, clinging to a dress that constantly reminded her of a time of economic abundance and no hardship would only hinder her adaptation to reality.
"Sinya, the beer and sausages are ready!"
Sinya quickly adapted to the work. Madame Ali handled the cooking, and Sinya took charge of carrying food and drink and cleaning up. Contrary to Madame Ali's initial worries, no customers harassed Sinya. They merely looked at Sinya—the empire's beauty of noble birth—with curiosity, murmuring amongst themselves as they used her as a side dish for their drinks. As Sinya wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, Madame Ali approached and asked her to bring food upstairs.
The upper floor was a private living space entirely separate from the tavern business, so it wasn't food for a customer.
Careful not to drop the food, Sinya climbed the stairs and walked to the room located beside the window at the end of the hallway. After knocking lightly a couple of times, she stood before the door and asked the person inside.
"Grandfather, may I come in?"
From inside came the reply, "Our Alinya?" At that answer, Sinya opened the door and went in, where an old man sitting in a rocking chair waved his hands in delight like a child.
"Ali! You wicked girl! Why has it been so long? Huh?!"
The old man was Madame Ali's father, and it was said he had suffered from dementia for a long time. Madame Ali had run the tavern alone but never neglected nursing him. The problem as of late was that the old man kept mistaking Sinya for his daughter. Because of that, there were times when Sinya inevitably had to look after the old man.
Madame Ali often felt sorry toward Sinya, but Sinya didn't mind much. Since Madame Ali handled most of the difficult tasks, Sinya's duties were simply feeding the old man, putting him to bed, and keeping him company. Because she considered Madame Ali—a benefactor who had given her a job when she had nowhere to go—as a savior, Sinya rather considered it fortunate that she could share in Madame Ali's burdens. Above all, Sinya enjoyed talking with the old man.
"Grandfather, does the soup suit your taste?"
"Of course. Our Ali might not know much else, but her cooking is something else. Your cooking skills really take after your mother."
"...But just now, you called me a wicked girl."
When she deliberately said something slightly mischievous, the old man looked at her with a crestfallen face, gauging her mood.
"How could I not feel bitter? This father searched for you so frantically, yet you only show your face now... Just how did this father raise you?"
It seemed that to a patient with dementia, even a brief absence felt as long as several years. Sinya smiled benevolently and soon soothed the old man.
"I'm sorry. I'll come often from now on."
"Really? Truly?"
"Yes, truly. So now, let's stop—shall we sleep? I'll sing you a lullaby."
"Yes. I must sleep. If my daughter is going to sing for me, I must sleep!"
Supporting the old man, Sinya walked slowly, matching his sluggish pace. The bed was only three steps from the chair, but because she walked matching the old man's steps, it took a considerable amount of time to lay him down.
Even after lying in bed, the old man held Sinya's hand tightly and repeatedly said, "Our daughter, our pretty Ali." Though she knew those words were not meant for her, the old man's expressions—looking directly into her eyes and calling her his daughter, hiding none of his affection—prodded at something buried deep in a corner of her heart.
"Now I'll sing you a lullaby."
And so, very occasionally, Sinya would dig up that buried thing for a brief moment.
"...Father."
Bringing out the longing for her father. That was Sinya's weakness, revealed only before the kind old man who mistook her for his daughter.
***
The tavern was filled with the foul stench of lowly things. Because the smoke from frying bacon and sausages couldn't escape and filled the interior, Verdick couldn't stop coughing.
Because the customers were packed shoulder to shoulder, he inevitably had to bump into people to get through, and each time, Verdick flew into a furious rage. His escort knights merely growled and threatened innocent people who had been drinking inside the tavern. At the appearance of an ungentlemanly man dressed in noble clothes, the atmosphere inside the tavern froze in an instant.
Madame Ali, who had been frantically grilling side dishes over the fire, belatedly realized it was far too quiet inside the tavern and turned around. At that moment, the man was already standing right behind her.
"Ahem."
Verdick cleared his throat, hinting at Madame Ali. It meant she should observe etiquette first. The first high-ranking person Madame Ali had ever met, besides Sinya, was him.
Sinya was no longer a noble, but this man was different. Madame Ali quickly bowed her head to him first. Based on the street smarts she had accumulated from struggling alone, she could deduce that this man was certainly connected to Sinya. There was no other reason for a noble to endure such discomfort and come into this tavern.
"What business could someone of your stature have in a place like this?"
When Madame Ali asked, Verdick smiled arrogantly, the corners of his mouth turning up.
"I heard that a piece of trash thrown away by our house was rolling around here."
Expressions like "thrown away trash" and "rolling around" were unpleasant to anyone's ears. Madame Ali couldn't hide her uncomfortable expression, but Verdick paid her no heed and issued an order.
"Bring me Sinya Clark."
Madame Ali worried over how she could protect Sinya without offending the arrogant, willful noble's temper. However, rendering that worry meaningless, Sinya's calm voice rang out.
"That person is not your servant, Brother."
It was not a loud voice, but the soft tone held a power that focused people's ears. Coming down the stairs, she looked at Verdick with green eyes identical to those she had inherited from her father, speaking in a tone as if scolding a child.
"Don't cause trouble here and let's talk outside. Just because you've inherited the ducal title doesn't give you the right to ruin these people's entertainment."
Having come all the way down the stairs, Sinya walked straight past Verdick, whose eyes gleamed with sinister light as he watched her. Though Verdick had not yet answered that he would follow her out, it was as if Sinya had not the slightest doubt that he would follow. And indeed, Verdick—though he found her attitude impertinent—obediently followed her out.
Even after Sinya, Verdick, and the escort knights left the tavern, the people maintained silence for a very brief moment. But soon, they used what had just happened as a side dish for their drinks and resumed enjoying their revelry.
***
Sinya, who had walked steadfastly forward without once looking back, finally turned around only after entering an alley where people did not pass.
Verdick Criseis. He was the eldest son of the house and her older brother. Of course, Verdick himself did not consider Sinya a sister. Setting aside that he didn't acknowledge her as a sibling, he didn't even seem to possess the awareness that they shared the same father's blood. If he possessed even a shred of such awareness, he wouldn't be able to act so vulgarly toward Sinya as he did toward courtesans.
"Am I not completely unrelated to your people now?"
"Of course, Mother may have said that, but I am not."
"...Does Mother still not know that you act this way toward me?"
Sinya threatened Verdick in a low voice. When she lived in the castle, she had wanted to be together with them as a family member, so she had no choice but to endure and keep silent about what Verdick had done to her. But despite enduring and trying so hard, in the end, she had been driven out of the house.
"Mother? Whose mother are you talking about?"
He mocked Sinya, knowing full well who she meant. However, that level of mockery could not wound Sinya. Whatever she might feel inside, at least outwardly she showed no emotional turmoil.
From childhood, she had received far more contempt and humiliation from her half-brother Verdick than from the Duchess of Criseis. The mockeries that came from his leering mouth were mostly things she could ignore calmly.
"Of course, she is not my mother. I am speaking of your mother, Brother. The woman I know is not someone who would overlook her son harassing his half-sister, even if he is her child."
It was the truth. The Duchess of Criseis certainly despised her. But setting aside personal feelings and evaluating her objectively, she was a righteous woman so armed with the spirit of chivalry that she was often said to lack flexibility toward others.
The sole target of her anger, hatred, and venting without great reason was Sinya—herself. But precisely because of that, from the Duchess of Criseis's standpoint, she would be unable to endure the fact that her son was obsessed with another child of the husband she so despised. Whether morally or from personal sentiment, she would not leave Verdick alone. The one concern was that she might take out her personal feelings on Sinya, who was entirely innocent.
For that reason, Sinya had no intention of seeking out the Duchess of Criseis either. It was simply that, for now, the only means she had to threaten the stupid and filth-minded Verdick was her "former mother," so she had no choice but to mention her.
His face red, Verdick screamed that his mother was on his side, but that was a sight that anyone could see was flustered. Still, finding it hard to watch the pathetic figure of someone she had once wanted to be acknowledged by as his sister and become a true family with, Sinya tried to walk past him.
But Verdick grabbed Sinya's arm and forcibly pushed her against the wall. Sinya tried to break free, but Verdick held her shoulders tightly with both hands and smiled awkwardly unlike when he had been shouting earlier, urgently trying to coax her.
"Sinya. Why are you like this, hm? I came because I was worried about you."
If he had been worried, he should have at least pretended to stop their mother when she drove Sinya out. Verdick had the power to do so. Because once Father passed away, the ducal seat would naturally be Verdick's.
And now Verdick had inherited the ducal title following that natural course. On the day Father passed away, Sinya had donned mourning clothes and been locked in her room, forced to send Father off alone.
Verdick had not permitted Sinya to attend the funeral. Sinya had wept and pleaded, but Verdick ignored her pleas. Sinya bore no ill will toward the fact that Verdick had not helped her when she was driven out of the ducal house.
She hadn't even expected him to help. But Father's funeral was different. At the very least, Verdick should have permitted Sinya to attend the funeral. No, Verdick had no right to stop Sinya from going to the funeral.
No one had the right to prevent Sinya Criseis Clark, daughter of Duke Criseis, from witnessing her father's final moments.
"Working is hard, isn't it? Seeing you suffering as you busily move about among such dirty, foul-smelling things—I was so heartbroken I came to help you."
It was getting harder and harder to suppress her emotions. Unaware of this, Verdick reached out to touch Sinya's cheek, but Sinya fiercely slapped his hand away before his fingertips could even touch her face.
Though the smacking sound must have hurt, Verdick kept his gaze fixed solely on Sinya.
"Sinya, I'll help you."
"......"
"I'll build you a comfortable mansion and give you clothes and accessories more splendid than the gifts Father gave you. I'll assign servants to take meticulous care of you. Hm?"
"......"
"I think I've told you before—if you just listen well to what I say, I'll give you anything..."
Verdick's hand, which had been struck away by Sinya earlier, stealthily slid down Sinya's waist. Perhaps pleased that Sinya was staying still without resisting this time, a satisfied smile began to form at the corners of Verdick's mouth.
"Ptoo—"
Verdick froze with that ambiguous face, the corners of his mouth vaguely turning up. The escort knights standing behind him also froze.
"Father used to tell me. That boy Verdick is my son, but he is a fellow with sinister eyes...."
It was a remark that struck Verdick squarely. Though he was the son and child of the legitimate wife, he had harbored jealousy toward Sinya—a daughter born of a maid—who had monopolized their father's love.
Having lost his reason beyond anyone's ability to stop him, Verdick grabbed Sinya's long brown hair and frantically pummeled her head, back, shoulders, and stomach with his fists.
The knights, unable to watch any longer, politely restrained Verdick, but he showed no signs of calming down. However, when Sinya lay prone on the ground showing no intention of getting up, he gradually regained his reason.
"Sinya."
Verdick called out to Sinya.
"Sinya...?"
But Sinya did not answer.
"Si..."
The moment a slightly frightened Verdick tried to call out to Sinya again—a sharp, small scoff, "Heh," pierced his ears.
"Come to think of it, Father said this too."
"....."
"That Verdick being stupid and cowardly is his only cute trait."
The sight of Sinya, who always firmly pushed him away but had previously lowered herself first, now talking back without yielding even after being beaten—considerably sullied Verdick's mood. Verdick clenched both hands into tight fists and struggled to control his emotions.
Right now she's baring her teeth at me, but how long will that attitude last?
He hadn't thought that just because she had fallen to rolling in the streets, he could easily possess Sinya. Rather, the more she defied him like that, the more indescribable the ecstasy would be when he finally broke her later.
Having decided to back down for now, Verdick bared his teeth in a smile. He was more than willing to wait until Sinya sank even lower to the bottom.
"You know as well as I do—if I try to take you by force, you can't resist."
"I'll tell 'Mother.'"
"Whoa, whoa. I'll withdraw for now. I have no intention of taking you by force today."
"Then you are saying you might someday?"
"Sinya. You will come to me on your own two feet."
"That is the most amusing joke I've heard recently."
Sinya retorted with the same smile, but Verdick muttered low in a tone full of conviction.
"Then I'll see you later, Sinya."
Sinya deliberately spat loudly toward Verdick's retreating back, but the spit did not reach him and fell on the innocent ground, soaking in.