Day 2: Someone Interesting
"... Fever's gone."
The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. I'd had a high fever last night, but now my temperature seemed normal.
Come to think of it, he visited me, right? He brought me not only water and food but also some medicine. Was it a fever reducer? During the day, he also took care of my wounds, and thanks to him, I felt much better today.
I heard a rustling sound under my clothes as I got up. I sat on the blanket, shook my clothes, and a small package rolled out from my skirt. I picked it up, and when I opened it, there were small, square, crispy, fox-colored pieces inside. They had a faint, toasty sweet scent.
"What is this?"
I placed the package on my lap, unfolded it, and found four small, square pieces inside, slightly smaller than the palm of my hand. They had a faint, sweet scent.
"Oh..."
These are the ones I had last night!
I took one piece, sniffed it cautiously, and recognized the sweet aroma. I scanned the room, but, of course, there was no one else here. Still, I felt somewhat cautious.
This was one of the few times I'd received proper food from someone, a rare occurrence in Lucienne's memories. A warm sense of joy spread within me.
I took one piece out of the package, closed it tightly, and placed it in an old, abandoned desk in the corner of the room. I opened the bottom drawer and carefully slipped the package into a hidden gap at the back.
The desk was quite old, and the package would never be discovered as it had never been moved.
Lucienne, who I was in a previous life, and I had the same hidden spot for our things. The only difference was that Lucienne occasionally cleaned the spot and hid food there, so it wasn't as dusty.
I pushed the drawer back into place, adjusted the cloth, and then sat down on top of it, biting into the piece I was holding.
It's still hard. It might not be proper, but I put an edge in my mouth and gradually nibble on the softer part. Yes, it's a bit salty, but sweet and delicious.
I munch on it crisply, taking my time.
Despite not being very large, just one piece gave me a strange sense of fullness. I'll savor the other three pieces.
Eating a whole piece does make me quite thirsty. After swallowing, I stand up.
I brush off my skirt and wipe my hands before leaving the room.
Peering out of the hallway window, the sun is quite high in the sky. It's probably early afternoon.
I sneak silently down the corridor to the back, heading for the well.
There's no one at the well. Just like yesterday, I drop the bucket into the well and, using the pulley, slowly draw it up to drink some water. It's relieving to quench both my hunger and thirst.
I pour out the remaining water outside the well and return the bucket to its place before going back into the building.
I slip back into the storeroom like a thief.
Then, I wrap myself in the blanket and lie down.
The queen and my half-sisters don't visit every day.
It seems they won't come today.
The storeroom's surroundings are devoid of people, and there are no sounds, making it perfect for dozing off in the blanket. I'll stay quiet until I'm sure my fever has gone down.
In this way, as I go in and out of shallow slumber, the day slowly turns into night, and the storeroom becomes dark.
Suddenly, I feel something and open my eyes to see a figure.
But I'm not surprised anymore.
In the faint moonlight that's starting to filter in, gray eyes and a gaze are locked on me.
"Ah..."
My sleepiness vanished the moment I saw him.
I hurriedly sat up, and he crouched down.
Our eyes met, closer than before.
"Um, thank you..."
His extended hand touched my forehead.
"You already said that yesterday."
His cool touch felt comforting, and it seemed like his temperature had risen slightly.
"No, not that..."
"Hmm?"
"You applied medicine to the wound."
"Oh, that's what you meant."
He tilted his head and his hand moved down to pinch my cheek.
It was as if he enjoyed the sensation and pinched it multiple times.
"Well, you know, given the nature of my job, it would have been troublesome if you had died. I felt like it would be a waste."
His hand moved away from my cheek as he rummaged in his coat. Then, he exclaimed, "Found it!"
"Here, take this."
He held out his hand, and a small pill rolled onto his palm.
"Yesterday's medicine?"
"Yeah, it's a fever reducer. It's about time for it to wear off, right?"
I see, so it was indeed a fever reducer. My improved condition today was simply due to the medicine working well, not a miraculous recovery. Lucienne's body state wouldn't allow for a straightforward cure.
I nodded and obediently swallowed the pill he offered.
He then handed me a flat container.
If I placed my mouth on the round hole at the top, water would flow slowly into my mouth from inside.
I took a sip, then another, letting the water flow back into the container.
"Thank you for the medicine and water."
"You're welcome."
He probably smiled, and his gray eyes narrowed.
"By the way, my name is Lucienne."
"I know. The Queen called you that."
"I see..."
He nodded once after I introduced myself.
Silence settled between us.
... He probably won't tell me his name, will he? Given his profession as an assassin, his covert presence in the royal palace, and the casual nature of our conversation, there might not be any particular reason for him to reveal it.
The effects of the medicine were making me drowsy. As I sat on the blanket, pretending to row a boat, I felt a faint sensation of his silent laughter.
"If you're sleepy, why don't you sleep?"
I struggled to keep my eyelids from drooping in response to his suggestion.
"Don't want to sleep."
"Why not?"
"...I want to talk more."
Indeed, Lucienne felt a deep hunger.
She longed for human interaction, for the warmth of human affection.
I am Lucienne, and Lucienne is me. Therefore, if Lucienne felt lonely, it resonated with my own solitude.
In the original narrative, Lucienne bullied the heroine out of the fear of losing her brothers and her fiancé. As the saying goes, childhood scars can linger throughout life.
Lucienne's painful childhood memories left her yearning for the presence of others, particularly her adopted family, especially her elder brother and her fiancé. This was quite natural, as these were the first people to treat her like a human being and offer her a glimpse of a real family.
The fiancé introduced to her as she reached a marriageable age was meant to be her future family, the person she would eventually marry. It was only natural for Lucienne, starved for affection, to hold onto the idea of 'family' that had eluded her as a child.
Upon reflection, the torment that Lucienne subjected the heroine to was merely a replication of the mistreatment she had endured from the Queen and her half-sisters during her formative years. This included mimicking the destruction or abandonment of personal belongings, the hurling of hysterical insults, and even resorting to violence, such as pushing and slapping—all rooted in her own traumatic childhood experiences.
It's likely that the original Lucienne never fully matured emotionally. Her early traumas had left her with an emotional growth that was stunted. So, when her newfound world seemed under threat, Lucienne fought fiercely to protect it.
As I gazed upwards, his gray eyes sparkled.
"Are you up because you want to chat with me?"
I nodded in agreement.
In response, his gray eyes narrowed slightly.
"Got it."
His voice held a hint of warmth.
"Don't worry, I'll be back."
"...When?"
"Maybe tomorrow?"
It was sooner than I expected, but it eased my mind.
"Come on, time to sleep."
He gently arranged the blanket around me, enveloping me in its comfort.
Leaning down, he drew back his hands and peered at me, hugging his knees.
Though the lower half of his face was obscured, possibly by a scarf, his gray eyes seemed to soften at the edges.
"Will you stay until I fall asleep?"
"Yeah, I'll stay."
"Thanks..."
I was almost asleep, but I managed a smile.
Then, I felt the gentle touch of his hand on my head.
"Goodnight."
As I drifted off, I heard his drawn-out words, slipping into slumber.
＊ ＊ ＊ ＊ ＊
With a hum, the sound filled the dimly lit room.
Lefebvre had just completed the report for the client and was now leisurely counting the payment he had received while lounging on a comfortable sofa.
Lefebvre, a highly skilled assassin and spy, had a unique way of doing business. He not only charged for successfully completing missions but also required advance fees and additional payments for various aspects of the job.
In this particular case, the client had agreed to pay for each report detailing the situation in the royal palace.
The client commented, "You seem to be in a good mood today."
Lefebvre, known for treating everyone the same, regardless of their status or wealth, casually replied without looking up, "Well, you could say that."
While the client held a high position among the nobility, Lefebvre's demeanor remained constant. He never allowed status or power to affect his behavior, making him a reliable choice for clients. However, his consistent attitude made it challenging to understand his true thoughts. Whether it was because he always concealed half his face or his peculiar habit of trailing off at the end of his sentences, or even his oddly cheerful voice that didn't match the typical demeanor of an assassin, Lefebvre remained an enigmatic figure.
"I found an interesting creature," Lefebvre said, breaking his usual silence about matters unrelated to work.
The client looked surprised.
"It's small, fragile, covered in scars, completely defenseless, and yet it almost willingly bares its throat to me," Lefebvre continued. "It's a rather reckless behavior, given the fact that exposing one's throat to an assassin is almost suicidal. But surprisingly, it's quite clever."
Lefebvre chuckled, and his voice contained a trace of amusement as he added, "I started feeding it because it seemed intriguing." However, his words sent a shiver down the client's spine.
Why was the assassin sharing this story now?
His face, which had turned toward the client during the conversation, his narrowed eyes, it all felt like he was stalking prey.
"Wait, you don't mean..." The client remembered the earlier report. The small, weak, scarred, and defenseless creature that Lefebvre had taken an interest in. The creature that had willingly exposed its throat to an assassin.
"Luci," the client began to say, but before they could finish, a sharp object whizzed past their face. When they turned to the side, they saw a slender knife stuck into the bookshelf behind them.
"I won't impose any restrictions on activities beyond the mission," Lefebvre's voice took on a serious tone, his gray eyes devoid of amusement.
"That's the agreement, right?" The client responded, understanding the grave consequences of violating the contract.
The client, who had been contracting with the assassin for several years, was now witnessing an unusual display of emotion from Lefebvre.
"Very well, I won't interfere," the client conceded.
"Excellent, that's what I wanted to hear," Lefebvre said, making a beckoning gesture. The knife, previously embedded in the bookshelf, effortlessly returned to his hand.
By mentioning that he had "fed" the child, Lefebvre seemed to imply he had no immediate intention of killing. This assassin showed no favoritism based on one's lineage. Whether the target was of royal blood or a child from the slums, if there was a contract, Lefebvre executed it without hesitation.
It was likely that Lefebvre's interest had been piqued by the reports of the child within the palace, which had been described in both yesterday's and today's updates.
The king could bed any woman he desired, regardless of their background, be it a noblewoman, a married lady, a commoner, a servant, a prostitute, or anyone else. It was likely that the child within the palace was a result of one such relationship, an offspring that had remained concealed until now. According to Lefebvre's reports, this child was an unfortunate one, with amber eyes and no magical abilities, who suffered abuse from the queen and her companions.
"Lefebvre, don't kill the child," the client implored.
Lefebvre nodded in agreement, saying, "I have no intention of doing so anytime soon."
The underlying message was clear; it implied that when he grew tired of the child, a darker fate might await. For now, the client could only hope that Lefebvre's disposition would remain stable for at least the next two weeks, or until a coup took place. Although the current royal family members might not be a concern, the child was innocent.
Putting the child in an orphanage was not a viable option due to their royal blood. There was a high risk of exploitation. The available choices seemed to be either a lifetime of seclusion or placement in a closely monitored location.
The client also contemplated the possibility of adopting the child after the coup, as long as their own son approved. Having the child within their reach might potentially influence Lefebvre's behavior.
Bernard Fayette, the client, let out another quiet sigh.
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