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8. A Relationship That Wasn't Even Funny
"Ah, uh, ngh!"
A red tongue swept greedily along her slender neck. A large hand groped her waist. When a finger pressed firmly into her side, Daphne flinched and shuddered.
A thumb toyed with the jutting bone of her hip before the hand slid down between her legs. Daphne looked up at the one stealing her reason, her face a muddle of pleasure and pain.
Her golden hair lay scattered like spun gold across the crown prince's snow-white bedsheet. Long fingers invaded her.
Almond-shaped green eyes observed her with something like mockery. Whenever Daphne flinched or made a different sound, Ashelard would relentlessly probe that spot.
And so she had to come undone in pleasure, a mess yet again.
"You said you hated me so much."
"……."
"Hm? Daphne, you hated me that much. So why are you like this right now?"
Daphne looked up at Ashelard with tear-filled eyes. He brought his face close and licked away the tears that spilled.
Ever since the Emperor had taken to his sickbed, Daphne had been summoned to the crown prince's palace. Ashelard did not hesitate to take her into his burning embrace.
Was it because she had tried to run?
Was it to mock her for ending up like this?
"And yet, I love you."
Ashelard was mocking her again, even as he spoke of love. Daphne stared up at him with a blank expression as she watched him do it.
There had once been a time when she had longed for this man's touch.
He shone so brightly. There were moments when the way he quietly called her name was unbearable in how much she loved it.
"Ah, ngh!"
Her fingers laced through his as he pressed deep inside her. He rubbed his cheek against her as if she were utterly lovely, and Daphne thought she couldn't understand why he was acting this way.
If he loved her, why only now?
Why say it only when she was trying to flee?
It truly wasn't even funny.
"Ahh, ahhhhh!"
At Ashelard's movements, Daphne couldn't hold back her cries. Even as her mind grew hazy with pleasure, Daphne thought.
It really was a relationship that wasn't even funny. * * *
"Shameless creature!"
Olga shouted through gritted teeth. Daphne brushed the words off. It didn't matter what she heard, really.
Anyone serving close to the crown prince would naturally know. The crown prince had been continuously involved with a woman, and that woman was Daphne.
"You seductress. Utterly wicked!"
If she had been a noble lady, it might have been tolerated to some degree. But the crown prince, with the throne within his grasp, tangled up with a mere maid—and the daughter of that ominous seductress, no less. That alone was enough to make Olga nearly fall over backward.
"Take off your clothes!"
Daphne frowned. No matter how much she had given up on herself, this kind of humiliation never became familiar.
"What, do you think you're something now just because you've been in the crown prince's arms?"
Seeing the displeasure settle over Daphne's face, Olga lashed out with all her might. Olga had an uncanny talent for smelling power.
But it was not intuition—it was a wise judgment built on the examples she had witnessed during her years in the imperial palace.
By Olga's assessment, this filthy maid had no power whatsoever. Because Ashelard simply left things as they were.
It was the difference between her and Fabian, who had risked his life to help her escape.
"Then what is it you want to confirm?"
"……."
"That I've carried his child, perhaps?"
Two months had already passed. That would be enough time to know if she were with child. Daphne said in a weary voice.
"I had my monthly course last month. This month, I don't know yet."
"……."
"And even if I did, what child would a doll for venting desires have?"
Daphne had no future. She would never become empress; at best, she was a favored mistress. Which meant she was fated to become just like her mother.
Even if she bore a child, it would only be checked and eliminated by an heir like Ashelard.
A child, as if.
Daphne let out a scoffing laugh. She did not want to make a child like herself. Seeing this, Olga asked her, watching Daphne's face. It made things easier this way.
"Really? Then will you take this?"
"……."
"It's a potion that will make you barren."
Daphne looked at the bottle Olga held out. The amount of potion in the blue bottle was enormous.
"Let's not make each other miserable over this."
Even so, Olga was faintly afraid that this girl might run off and tell Ashelard.
But before Olga could even collect herself, Daphne snatched the bottle, opened it, and drank. The potion was bitter. Heat flared through her.
"Is that satisfactory?"
Olga was dumbfounded by Daphne's actions. Was she that desperate to be barren? To become barren was as good as abandoning one's life as a woman. To an old woman like Olga, it seemed so.
"Vicious thing."
But it was fine—it was now clear this was not a woman who would scheme behind their backs. As long as she bore no child, she was nothing more and nothing less than a woman the crown prince had touched.
In any case, what power could the crown prince's pet doll, unable to produce even a child, possibly hold? Daphne's future was over.
Olga smiled coldly. * * *
Daphne's trials did not end. The next day, though she had previously been exempted from all duties by the Emperor's command, she was now assigned to the laundry by the head maid's order. No longer cleaning—now she had to do the washing for the members of the imperial household.
"Can't you work any faster?"
She seemed to have thoroughly earned the head maid's dislike. Having decided to side with Callista, the head maid treated Daphne like a thorn in her eye.
The laundry piled up every day. The sheets used by the royal family had to be changed daily, and wet laundry was heavy. There were the royals' garments, the training clothes of knights practicing in the grounds, the rags maids used to wipe up filth—everything had to be washed.
Daphne had to wash diligently, exactly as they commanded. Having given up on living a better life, it was not that it didn't wear on her.
Daphne, panting for breath, looked up at the sun in the sky. The sun set and rose again; Daphne would let out an anguished breath and drag her life on, again and again.
She no longer knew what she was supposed to live for.
Daphne thought with a blank expression.
Even so, she mechanically washed the ruined tablecloth. Food had splattered on it and it reeked of rot. It looked as if someone had spilled milk on it.
Daphne washed that enormous tablecloth all by herself.
When the washing was done, Daphne looked at her reflection in the water. There was unmistakably a woman worn down by labor. With those hollow eyes, the figure was not pretty in the least—it was utterly wretched.
That was what an anguished woman looked like.
Was she miserable because the work was hard, or because she was trapped in a hell that would never end? If she had left the palace and done this kind of work, would she have worn the same expression?
The answer was no.
Her head ached and felt foggy. Ever since taking that sterility potion yesterday, she kept running a fever alongside abdominal pain.
Well, of course a potion that rendered a woman barren would be harsh. Some part of her body must have been badly damaged.
Daphne pressed a hand to her forehead. Her body swayed, then collapsed.
It would be better if her breath just stopped.
Daphne wished for it with all her heart. * * *
Daphne lay sick for days on the musty sheets. It had been a long time since she'd been this ill. Clutching her stomach, she lay staring blankly at the ceiling.
It had already been several years since she'd come to stay here. The small chamber where a young girl had once stayed was too cramped for her.
A storage room for cleaning tools and refuse. When Daphne first arrived at the imperial palace and learned this was to be her bedroom, she had wept.
The one mercy was that she had brought in the bed of a maid who had died of illness and made herself a place to sleep. She had tried to decorate her room as prettily as the other maids' rooms, but it was shabby and dirty, and her room still smelled.
Daphne hated this room. It was like a coffin. Lying in it, she felt as though she might die at any moment. Daphne could barely get up. Now and then, Sara came to bring her food.
"Daphne, are you all right?"
Sara's gentle words gave Daphne some small comfort. But that was all—Sara extended kindness, but she was not one who held affection for her.
Why, in this moment, did Ashelard come to mind?
Daphne couldn't understand it. But that man was the same as ever. Whether she was sick or not—he wasn't even interested.
After their burning physical relations, he didn't care in the slightest what became of her. Ashelard had shaken Daphne's life to its core, while Daphne couldn't deal even the smallest blow to his.
Daphne knew that well enough.
She clutched her stomach as the tears kept falling. It hurt. It hurt so much she couldn't bear it. The loneliness hurt more than the twisting pain in her belly.
Shedding tears, Daphne collapsed into sleep.