Chapter 5: A Fragrance of Misunderstandings
Chapter 5: A Fragrance of Misunderstandings
The servants, still bowed until their master vanished from sight, now turned their curious gazes to Brittany, who had been left behind alone.
They looked at the girl their master had brought in place of a debt with thinly veiled curiosity.
Brittany took a step back and lowered her head, rubbing her neck nervously under the weight of their stares. A few brief glances were exchanged among the staff.
“Mary, escort her.”
At the head maid’s command, the gathered servants dispersed.
“I’ll escort you,” said Mary, the maid in question.
She was a girl with neatly braided orange hair and a gentle face dusted with freckles. She looked about sixteen years old. Brittany silently followed her.
They arrived at the bath. Just like the rest of the mansion, it was extravagantly luxurious. When she saw the gold-trimmed bathtub, Brittany froze in place.
‘Do even the servants bathe here?’
She feared that using such a lavish bath might increase her debt. Her first instinct was to refuse and leave.
“I’ll assist you with your bath,” Mary said kindly, reaching out to take the bag Brittany clutched to her chest.
She began to unzip Brittany’s dress. Startled, Brittany tried to escape her hands.
“I-I can do it myself,” she stammered.
“No, it looks like I’ll be serving you from now on. Let me help you!”
Mary clapped her hands together cheerfully and looked at Brittany with sparkling eyes.
“It’s fine, really. I’ll manage,” Brittany said, waving her hand.
She still bore the bruises from her father’s beatings. While the marks on her face and arms might be visible, she didn’t want anyone to see them.
At her firm refusal, Mary blinked her green eyes and tilted her head.
“But the master told us to take care of you… What if he gets angry that I didn’t help?”
Mary always felt her salary was too generous, and so she tried to perform her duties diligently. Her words were intended to persuade Brittany, but there was genuine concern in them too—knowing her employer’s calculating nature, he might indeed reduce her pay.
Her lips drooped like a scolded puppy.
Seeing Mary’s disheartened expression, Brittany feared she might get the girl in trouble. Her lips moved with difficulty. “Alright… please.”
With Brittany’s reluctant permission, Mary’s face lit up with joy.
She unzipped Brittany’s dress completely, revealing a back covered in bruises.
The violent marks of years of beatings were painted across her pale skin like smeared colors on a torn canvas.
Mary paused in shock, and Brittany wished she could disappear. She tried to cover the scars on her arms, but her limbs weren’t enough to hide them all.
Brittany hurried into the steamy bath, curling her legs tightly beneath her and burying her face into her knees.
“Is the temperature okay?”
“…Yes…”
Unused to being served, Brittany answered softly, her body curled into itself.
Mary gently washed her with rosewater soap and combed through her hair. As she worked through the strands carefully, she murmured, almost to herself, “I’ve never seen such a beautiful shade of brown before.”
“……”
Brittany didn’t know how to respond to what was perhaps the first compliment she had ever received. Her cheeks turned red. Thankfully, Mary didn’t seem to expect a reply, and Brittany quietly exhaled.
When her tense muscles finally relaxed in the warm bath, the bathing ended.
Mary applied a fragrant oil to her damp skin. The sweet, heavy scent of amber vanilla filled the air. For the first time in a long while, Brittany felt a little better—though the feeling didn’t last.
“This is… a little much.”
Brittany received the clothes Mary offered and couldn’t hide her unease.
“What? You have to wear something like this!”
Mary saw nothing wrong with the nightgown, but Brittany swallowed her breath.
The gown was short-sleeved and far too small. The only modest part was the frilly neckline that covered her chest. Beyond that, it was nearly indecent.
Given the circumstances, it was clear—she had been sold as a mistress.
Though Brittany had suspected it, facing the truth made her heart race with panic.
‘Where did she even get this?’
The fabric was nearly transparent. If this was his taste, would she have to wear such things every day?
Brittany bit her lip.
While she stood frozen, Mary dressed her and brushed her damp hair with careful hands, completely focused on making her look pretty.
This entire misunderstanding stemmed from Mary.
When her master said he had brought Brittany instead of a debt, Mary assumed the wrong thing.
The naive sixteen-year-old believed her cold and elegant master had fallen in love at first sight.
Like a scene from a romance novel, she imagined her master couldn’t resist his instincts as a man.
Carried away by such thoughts, she looked at the young lady before her.
Brittany’s features were delicately symmetrical, as if painted with a fine brush. Her skin was translucent like porcelain, her cheeks tinged with the hue of ripened peaches, her eyes golden, her hair a soft light brown, her shoulders gently rounded, arms slender, and her waist narrow.
She was a heroine from one of Mary’s beloved novels, and that was enough to reinforce her fantasy.
‘The master will be pleased to see her all dressed up!’
For this reason, Mary gave Brittany a cherished gown she had bought to wear when she was older. She didn’t feel regret, only pride at fulfilling her role and justifying her salary.
Once she had finished, Mary took Brittany to the master’s room, completely forgetting the instruction to place her in a vacant guest room.
Unlike Mary’s light steps, Brittany’s were heavy as if shackled by chains.
She followed Mary with the tremble of someone walking across thin ice.
‘No, maybe it won’t be as bad as I think…’
She tried to console herself.
‘I definitely won’t die…’
But weren’t there women who did? Perhaps she really would die.
Oh God, if only time would stop.
A wave of dizziness washed over her. Brittany hoped she might faint before reaching the room.
But soon enough, Mary stopped at a door and knocked. In the quiet corridor, the sound echoed like a bell tolling an execution.
“Come in.”
It was the man’s voice—the very one Brittany did not want to hear at that moment.
“Please, go in.”
Mary opened the large door. Brittany tried to calm her pounding heart, pressing her hand against her chest as she stepped inside behind Mary. As the glow of the fireplace and gas lamp painted the room in golden hues, Brittany caught sight of the man’s shadow on the wall and instinctively hid behind Mary like a frightened fawn entering a wolf’s den.
“What is it?”
When she looked up, she saw him lounging on the sofa in a robe, as if fresh from a bath.
His muscular chest peeked through the loosely tied robe.
Brittany jerked her head away as if she had seen something forbidden, clenching her right arm with her left.
Her knees wobbled, and she rolled her heel against the carpet to steady herself.
“I’ve brought Miss Raven,” Mary said politely, bowing. Then, without another word, she closed the door and left Brittany alone.
