QHIM chapter 4- The fake Saintess (2)

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“Come in.”

I called the maid in with a voice full of tension. The maid entered the room and bowed her head.

“Milady, I’m here to assist you with your bath.”

“What are you talking about?”

“P-Pardon?”

“Don’t you know that showing your bare body is an act of shame in Sacre?”

Honestly, there was no such rule in the original story.

But since Jeanne was from the unfamiliar Sacre Island, I figured I could make up this excuse.

The maid, whose face had turned pale from my outburst, bowed her head lower and answered in a trembling voice.

“But… Milady, you are now a noblewoman. It’s unthinkable for someone of your status to prepare yourself alone. For the sake of the Efilia family’s reputation, such a thing cannot happen.”

Despite trembling, the maid was stubborn. Is this still too weak? I began to feel anxious. I raised my hand as if about to strike her.

As soon as I lifted my hand, the maid flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, and my inner sense of chivalry screamed at me.

‘…As much as this is, hitting a girl is too much.’

I wanted to appear as a villainess, not a genuinely bad person.

I clenched the hand I had raised into a fist. Then I roughly swept the objects off the table with my arm. A vase fell to the floor with a loud crash!

“Ahhh, Milady!”

My palm stung. It seemed I had cut it on a shard of glass.

Without flinching, I picked up one of the sharp glass shards. With an offended expression, I glared at the maid.

“Are you telling me to deny my roots for the sake of the duke’s reputation? To throw away my Sacre pride for such a trivial reason?”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Get out! If you ever enter this room again without my permission… I’ll feed you to the crows!”

Feed her to the crows?

I flinched at my own ruthless words.

But the moment I got close to the servants, it would only be a matter of time before Jeanne’s secret was revealed.

That’s why the original Jeanne had also deliberately been cruel to her servants.

At my words, the maid nearly had a fit as she hurried out of the room.

She was so shocked that she instinctively sought forgiveness in her heart, watching the maid quietly wipe away her tears.

“I’m sorry. But I have no choice. Please understand, this is just the act of a villain trying to survive.”

But I knew this couldn’t go on forever. The noblewomen of prestigious families always had attendants by their side.

As I wrapped my bloodied hand, I thought, ‘I need to solve this servant issue as soon as possible.’

“I went overboard.’

Even so, I figured by tomorrow, rumors would spread throughout the mansion.

They’d say, ‘Don’t mess with Jeanne, she’s like a watchdog.’

“But if you think about it… Jeanne has always been alone in this mansion.”

A memory of Jeanne from the original story flashed through my mind. A person hiding his true gender who couldn’t trust anyone in the Efilia, always living in fear that her life-threatening secret might be exposed.

It made sense why Jeanne became so sensitive and hysterical.

The strange sentiment that hadn’t been felt when writing it in mere words lingered, and I shook my head to clear it.

“…Let’s clean this up first.”

I bent down to wipe the blood droplets off the floor with my dress. At that moment, something glimmered from under the dresser, catching my eye.

“What’s that?”

I lay flat on the floor and reached under the dresser. My fingers touched something blunt. As soon as I pulled out the mysterious object and confirmed what it was, my eyes widened.

“This is definitely…”

---

Marie, the youngest daughter of Duke Carlotte, was the only one who had treated Jeanne kindly.

Jeanne, who had lived his whole life in the Sacre, couldn’t adapt to the rules of the noblewomen in the Duke’s household.

Every time the other noblewomen ignored Jeanne, Marie stood up for him, getting angry on his behalf.

When Jeanne asked why she was so kind to him, Marie replied with a bright smile.

“What do you mean? You’re my precious little sister, of course I should treat you well.”

Whenever Jeanne looked at Marie, he was reminded of the younger sister he left behind in the Sacre.

Maybe that’s why, even the fierce Jeanne always smiled softly at Marie.

But that happiness was short-lived. That winter, Marie fell seriously ill with tuberculosis.

Jeanne visited Marie’s room every day to nurse her.

Despite suffering from high fevers and losing her sight, Marie could still distinguish the sound of Jeanne’s footsteps, whom she loved dearly.

“Jeanne, look. This is my most treasured necklace. Father gave it to me on my ninth birthday.”

Marie’s frail hand was like a twig.

Jeanne grasped it tightly without expression.

Marie, gasping for breath, continued.

“When Mother passed away, Father was so heartbroken. That’s why he doesn’t come to see me. Facing the death of a loved one takes more courage than you think.”

Tears welled up in Marie’s eyes. Jeanne gripped her hand even tighter.

“So, when I die… please tell Father for me. Tell him I never hated him, not even for a moment. And that I missed him every day while looking at this necklace he gave me.”

Jeanne felt sad as she watched Marie smile brightly. The powerlessness of not being able to do anything overwhelmed her.

On a stormy night, Marie passed away, leaving her loved ones behind, and the Duke’s household fell into deep mourning.

At Marie’s funeral, Jeanne thought:

‘Maybe, as Mother said that day, I’m a rain cloud that brings misfortune.’

‘A rain cloud that no one loves and cannot love anyone.’

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A shiver ran down my spine as the episode suddenly came to mind.

Yes, the Duke’s family had another child.

Marie, who died of tuberculosis not long after Jeanne came to the mansion.

“I remember now. It was a story included to show that Jeanne still had a good heart back then.”

Duke Carlotte’s coldness toward Jeanne must have been partly because of this.

Seeing Jeanne, who was the same age as Marie, must have reminded him of his lost daughter.

At the time, readers criticized the episode, saying they didn’t want a backstory for the villain, but more of the adorable Luke.

Who would’ve thought that the episode, added to give the character more depth, would come back to haunt me like this?

When I opened Marie’s pendant, inside was a picture of the Efilia family. Seeing Cedrick smiling in the picture gave me a strange feeling.

“Well… but even if Jeanne conveyed those words now, it wouldn’t matter. It seems he’s already been hated plenty for the wrong prophecy.”

In the end, I was back to square one. Just as I was about to close the pendant with a sigh, a strange sense of déjà vu made me examine the family picture again.

Staring blankly at the image, I muttered softly.

“No, on the contrary, it might be possible because it’s Jeanne.”

My gaze shifted from the pendant to the reflection of Jeanne in the mirror.

Instead of his elegant beauty, my attention was drawn to something else.

Clutching the pendant with her bleeding hand, I murmured,

“Gaining the favor of Duke Carlotte.”

✽ ✽ ✽

The flame of the oil lamp flickered in the wind from an unknown source. Michael waited in a completely enclosed room.

His legs jittered anxiously, and at the sound of distant footsteps, his shoulders tensed.

The firmly locked door opened, and a young man, gagged like a watchdog and bound hand and foot, was dragged in.

“Father!”

Jerome beamed brightly like a puppy when he saw Michael’s face.

The priests who had restrained Jerome bowed their heads and left the room.

Waving them off, Jerome spoke warmly.

“What brings you here? Did you read the letter I sent you?”

“…”

“But more importantly, Father, the Waverly Asylum is really something. Yesterday, they pulled out all my nails. It hurt so much, I almost died.”

“What have you done?”

Michael interrupted Jerome, speaking in a voice strained with suppressed anger.

The light in Jerome’s sparkling eyes dimmed. His emotionless, dry voice echoed in the enclosed space.

“What do you mean, Father? What could I possibly do, tied up and locked away like a dog in heat?”

Bang!

Michael slammed the table, his hand trembling. His voice, strained with fury, rose as he stood abruptly.

“Don’t call me Father! I’ve never thought of a demon like you as my child!”

“That’s disappointing. I love you, Father.”

“Answer me, Jerome. Four saintesses who interviewed you have already taken their own lives. Are you saying that’s just a coincidence?”

“If it’s not a coincidence, what will you say?”

Michael’s hand, resting on the table, twitched. Jerome, puffing out his cheek with his tongue, whispered playfully.

“Will you say the bastard child of the Tower Lord brainwashed the saintesses into their deaths?”

Unlike the pale-faced Michael, Jerome remained calm. Michael covered his face with his hands, staggering.

“I regret creating a monster like you. If I could turn back time… I would have killed your lowborn mother before you were born. Then I wouldn’t have to see you.”

“But you still need me.”

“…”

“And you fear my power.”

Michael passed by Jerome, his lower lip trembling.

As soon as Michael disappeared from sight, Jerome’s smile vanished as well.

Michael’s voice, now low and grave, commanded,

“Send in the inquisitor.”

After some time passed, Jerome was once again bound in chains, his body limp and bloodied from the torture.

As he lay there, a cryptic voice whispered in his ear.

[Jerome, stop pretending and get up.]

Jerome forced open his blood-soaked eyes. Black smoke circled him teasingly.

“Pretending? You’re talking to someone who was just branded with a hot iron.”

[Keh keh, but it’s boring. You’re the only human who can hear my voice.]

“I feel the same way. I’m bored to death. Even the torture is starting to repeat itself.”

Jerome’s well-defined muscles bore the marks of whipping and fiery torture.

The Waverly Asylum was little more than a human processing facility disguised as a psychiatric ward.

Here, dozens of vagrants, prisoners, and heretics were brought in daily to undergo torture under the guise of mental treatment.

Black smoke coiled around Jerome’s thigh, whispering in a subtle voice.

[Let me tell you an interesting story. I can faintly sense Maya’s presence nearby. No, it’s more than faint—it’s almost unbearable.]

Jerome tilted his head, intrigued by the black smoke’s grumbling tone.

“Is that so? You mean… the true Saintess has actually appeared?”

It was an unbelievable story. The manifestation of Maya, who hadn’t been seen for centuries.

The black smoke wobbled with an eerie laughter.

[Could it really be the Saintess? Or is it just another pathetic imitation of Maya? Hmm, if it turns out to be real, it would be troublesome. You know, if I die, you die too, right?]

Jerome lowered his head in silence. The muscles on his burned back twitched menacingly. In the darkness, his eyes glowed a dark red.

“Then let’s test it. Of course, if she’s the true Saintess, I’ll be done for…”

Thick veins stood out on Jerome’s arm. With a clang, the easily shattered chains fell to the ground.

As Jerome fiddled with his bound wrists, he faintly smiled.

“If it’s a fake Saintess, she’ll hang herself.”

It was the smile of a predator who had found new prey.

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