《Don't Tell My Lady》 【Prologue】 The dim alley lay quiet, cloaked in early dusk and softened by a light drizzle steadily darkening the worn cobblestones. Only the faint echoes of a recent downpour lingered, rainwater pooling in every groove and crevice, reflecting the last slivers of daylight slicing through the narrow gaps between buildings. A thick, almost oppressive silence hung in the air, broken only by the cautious, hesitant murmurs of a few officers gathered at the alley''s entrance. They wore long, dark coats with high collars and wide-brimmed hats that shielded them from the persistent drizzle. Despite their duty, none seemed eager to step further into the alley''s depths, their eyes casting wary glances at the shadows stretching before them. From the other end of the alley, a figure approached, her steps measured and purposeful, each one a quiet declaration of control. Her bearing was so composed, so unshaken by the grim setting, she could have been stepping into a grand hall rather than a rain-soaked backstreet. Dressed in formal butler''s attire, the woman moved with a regal precision, her shoulders squared, her posture flawless. She carried herself with an air of detachment that seemed to place her above the bleak surroundings. Her gloved hand slipped into her coat pocket, producing a handkerchief embroidered with a faint glimmer: three roses, two red framing a central white bloom. The officers'' eyes were drawn to it, their uneasy expressions hinting at recognition of its symbolism. One officer, a young man with apprehensive eyes, took a hesitant step back, his lips parting as though to speak, yet no words emerged. Respector fearheld him silent. Her voice cut through the damp quiet, cool and crisp. "The body?" The young officer flinched slightly but answered, his voice betraying his nerves. "It''s one of them, ma''am. The markings match." Without hesitation, she moved past the officers, who instinctively parted to let her through, not daring to interfere. At the far end of the alley, the body lay sprawled, twisted and lifeless, near a rain-slicked wall. One hand still clutched at nothing, as if grasping for life itself in his final moments. She took in the scene with a practiced eye, each detail revealing itself under her scrutiny. The slight turn of the body suggested he''d been tackled sideways, his balance lost just long enough for a blade to slice across his neckprecisely, efficiently. The cut was clean, unmistakably lethal. A move executed by someone who understood the art of killing. A faint rustling reached her ears, a small noise from the shadows coiled near the corner, where stacked crates and a rusting dumpster lay drenched in the drizzle. Yet, she didn''t flinch, her gaze unwavering and unbothered by the disturbance, as if accustomed to danger. Then, the rhythmic clop of hooves echoed down the cobblestone streets, growing louder until an ornate carriage emerged from the mist, halting at the alley''s mouth. Dark, polished wood gleamed beneath the rain, its glass windows tinted and its sides adorned with an embroidered insigniaan unmistakable mark of nobility. At the sight, the officers straightened, their eyes widening with a mix of respect and apprehension as a new figure descended. The woman who stepped down wore a maid''s uniform, though it was unlike any common servant''s attire. Metal gauntlets protected her hands, and her boots, crafted from dark leather, gleamed with steel reinforcements. Her skirt, ending just above her calves, was trimmed with glinting blades woven into the fabric''s edge, a subtle hint at both elegance and lethality. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.Her face bore lines etched by time and experience, yet her posture and gaze exuded a vitality that demanded attention. The officers visibly stiffened, instinctively aware that this was no ordinary maid. "Amelia!" Her voice rang out, steady and commanding, breaking the alley''s silence. The butlerAmelialifted her head, meeting the maid''s gaze with equal composure. "Did you find them?" "Yes," Amelia replied, her tone calm, clipped, her hands resting neatly at her sides. "Good. I''ll bring the young lady. Clear the mess," the maid ordered, each word carrying an authority that made the officers avert their eyes, as though the command itself were something sacred. Without hesitation, Amelia bent down, lifting the lifeless body over her shoulder with an effortless strength that belied her refined appearance. A firm kick tipped over a nearby trash can brimming with rainwater, washing the blood from the cobblestones. She positioned herself between the walls, pressing a gloved hand against one side, and with a graceful leap, launched herself upward, vanishing into the shadows above. Meanwhile, the maid turned back to the carriage, her movements measured as she opened the door with care. Inside, a young girl sat poised, hands folded in her lap, her eyes bright with a resolve that seemed to age her. She looked up as the maid addressed her. "Young lady, are you certain you wish to meet them?" The maid''s tone softened, though her posture remained disciplined and unwavering. The girl''s voice, though small and carrying the cracks of youth, held a surprising strength. "Yes, Ophelia. I promised them." Ophelia nodded, opening an umbrella as she held her hand out to the girl, who slid forward with a dignified air unusual for her age. Barely seven, she gave a slight hop, landing on the cobblestones with an assuredness that suggested she was accustomed to new challenges. Ophelia moved to shield her with the umbrella, but the girl, with a polite yet firm gesture, took the umbrella, signaling her intent to carry it herself. The officers watched in silence, their expressions a blend of puzzlement and respect, as the girl and her maid began their descent into the alley. Together, Ophelia and the young lady walked toward the far end of the alley, where shadows thickened and dim light barely held sway. The heavy scent of blood and decay filled the air, and the girl''s face briefly reflected a flicker of apprehension. Yet, she did not falter. Her steps were steady, as if she knew the weight of the responsibility she bore. At the alley''s farthest corner, two small figures huddled between crates and the dumpstera young boy and girl, both visibly shaken, trying to blend into the shadows. The young lady tilted her umbrella, extending it toward them as a gesture of warmth. "Ann, Ed, I''m sorry I''m late," she said softly, her voice gentle yet resolute. Ann darted forward, face streaked with tears as she threw her arms around the young lady, her sob choked and desperate. "Bea!" she cried, her small frame trembling. The umbrella slipped from the young lady''s grasp, clattering to the ground. Ed, clothes stained with blood not his own, met Ophelia''s steady gaze, understanding her unspoken command. Stooping down, he picked up the fallen umbrella, holding it over his sister and the young lady. "Thank you, Ed," the young lady said, offering a small, grateful smile. He nodded once, his expression solemn beyond his years. Ophelia watched the reunion for a moment before speaking gently. "Young lady, it''s time we returned." The young girl glanced down at Ann, giving her a reassuring squeeze before standing. Together, they walked back toward the waiting carriage, Ann and Ed trailing close. Once they were settled inside, Ophelia turned to face the officers one final time. "You saw nothing tonight," she declared, her tone carrying the full weight of authority. "Your captain will see to your compensation." The officers exchanged glances but remained silent, each grasping the gravity of her words. As the rain began to pour in earnest, the carriage rolled away, its wheels splashing through puddles as it disappeared into the mist, leaving the dim alley and its secrets behind. 【Lady Beatrice Amelia Isabeau Caerwysg】 The morning lay soft over the gardens of House Caerwysg, the air tinged with the fragrance of roses as sunlight slipped through a faint mist, casting a warm, muted glow on the world awakening beneath it. Beatrice Amelia Isabeau Caerwysg sat quietly amidst this lush array, her posture composed but her gaze bright with anticipation, the way she held herself betraying a restless excitement she tried to contain. Red and white roses, like echoes of her family''s emblem, filled the garden beds around her, their petals gleaming with morning dew. Beatrice''s green eyes flitted across the blooms, occasionally catching on the flicker of light as it refracted through droplets on the rose leaves. Her smilesoft yet constantly reappearingadded warmth to her already radiant features. Just beneath her mouth was a small black mole, a singular touch of charm that made her smile all the more endearing. Today was no ordinary day for Beatrice. It was her first day attending a school beyond the estate''s walls. Until now, her education had been handled privately by the Caerwysg tutors, isolated from the world except for the occasional study session with family relatives. Her childhood had been filled with moments of daring curiosity, sometimes to her own peril. One such instance had left her with two close friends she might never have met otherwise. But those were memories she held privately, like treasures tucked away in a hidden drawer. Today, she felt a thrill at the thought of stepping beyond the familiar, of meeting others her age, of tasting a kind of freedom she had only imagined. As she let her thoughts drift, she felt someone approach. A maid stepped lightly across the cobbled path, the heels of her shoes barely sounding against the stones. She was a young woman, perhaps Beatrice''s age, with a refined yet unapproachable air that seemed to settle around her as naturally as the morning mist settled on the roses. Her hair, a deep reddish-brown, was styled neatly into a crown braid and bun. Her slender frame was graceful, and her sharp brown eyes gave her a presence both alluring and guarded, as though a wall of unspoken thoughts kept her somewhat distant. The maid''s voice was calm and steady. "Are you finished, my lady? Or is there something more you''d like?" For a moment, Beatrice didn''t respond, lost in her own world as she smiled at some passing thought. The maid watched her, and after a pause, she added in a tone touched with dry humor, "If you keep daydreaming with that smile, my lady, you might frighten your potential new friends before they even have a chance to meet you." Beatrice blinked, startled out of her reverie. "Ah! Ann!" Her laughter was soft, like the morning breeze stirring the roses. "Thank you, Ann. I''m quite finished." With a nod, Ann began clearing away Beatrice''s breakfast dishes, moving efficiently yet with a grace that made each action appear choreographed. She poured a fresh cup of tea and set it before her lady, who smiled as she took it, though a faint shadow of worry crossed her expression.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Do you think I''ll be alright on my own, Ann?" she asked, her voice suddenly small, almost like a child seeking reassurance. "Will I... find friends?" Ann''s calm eyes softened just a little. "My lady will be just fine. Her smile will charm anyone she speaks with." Beatrice flushed, her cheeks coloring as she returned the smile, though it grew somewhat silly in her eagerness. "Not with that silly smile," Ann added, her voice as steady as ever, though a hint of amusement glinted in her eyes. Beatrice quickly shifted to a more practiced, elegant expression, and Ann couldn''t help but watch with suppressed fondness as Beatrice seemed to rehearse her smile, changing from delighted to dignified to something in between. Finally, satisfied, she took a sip of her tea, only for the warmth and sweetness to soften her expression back into a silly grin. Ann suppressed a laugh, the corners of her mouth barely twitching, though a subtle tremor of amusement betrayed her. Just then, a voice called out with an authoritative tone, carrying across the garden. "Ann!" Ann''s expression snapped back to its neutral calm as she swiftly gathered the dishes, nodding farewell to Beatrice and pushing her cart back toward the house. Beatrice glanced toward the source of the voice and smiled, recognizing the woman approaching her with that same composed, measured stride. Amelia, dressed in her formal butler''s attire, approached with her usual dignified bearing. She was around late twenties, with dark hair cut short, just shy of a man''s cut, which framed her tanned face in a way that only seemed to add to her understated beauty. Her features were plain yet captivating, and her posturealways perfectgave her an elegance beyond physical appearance. There was a strength in her that came not only from her exotic charm but also from her skills, particularly her renowned talent in the culinary arts. Her sweets, often requested for noble gatherings, had gained something of a reputation in high society, though Beatrice liked to think they were made just for her. "Amelia~! Where have you been? It''s been three days!" Beatrice''s smile brightened as Amelia approached. Amelia stopped before her and gave a polite bow. "My apologies, my lady. I was called to the Northam residence; they requested my assistance for a gathering." Beatrice leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Let me guessit must have been your sweets! I bet they couldn''t resist asking for a taste of your work." Amelia''s lips quirked up in a modest smile. "Perhaps, my lady. I like to think my services are appreciated." Beatrice gave an approving nod. "Of course they are! Though I wish they''d let me know ahead of time when they want you. It''s hard to share such talent." Amelia let out a small laugh and reached into her pocket, producing a delicate box. She opened it to reveal a brooch with a deep amber hue, emblazoned with the Caerwysg insignia three roses intertwined, red on either side and a single white rose in the center. She carefully handed it to Beatrice. "For your school uniform, my lady," Amelia explained. "Please wear it as a token of your heritage." Beatrice took the brooch, her eyes lingering on its intricate design, and nodded, fastening it onto her dress. They fell into easy conversation after that, the familiarity between them creating a comforting rhythm that seemed to ease any lingering anxiety Beatrice held. Not far away, hidden just out of view, another figure observed them from within the house. Through an open window with lace curtains that blurred the world beyond, a silhouette held a teacup to their lips, eyes narrowed in faint disapproval. "Damn Amelia," the watcher muttered, almost under their breath. There was a subtle bitterness in the tone, as if the sight of Amelia so easily earning Beatrice''s trust and affection was a personal affront. 【The Twins】 The mansion of House Caerwysg lay quiet in the early morning, with sunlight slipping through the large windows and pooling onto the polished floors. The grand wooden doors connecting the garden to the interior stood slightly ajar, the faint sounds of Beatrice''s laughter drifting through. Though only six people called the mansion home, its vastness demanded extra hands daily. A few rookie maids from the main house would come from eight to four, working under Ophelia, the head of the servants, to maintain its spotless appearance. Inside, at a nearby parlor overlooking the garden, a boy stood by the open window. He held a teacup in one hand, his posture both elegant and imposing. Edward looked strikingly like his sister Ann, sharing her fine features and sharp gaze, yet he carried an intimidating presence, his shoulders broad and muscles hinted at beneath his formal attire. His slicked-back hair, held in place with pomade, lent him an almost mafioso air, the style giving him a look that suited his bold demeanor. He sipped his tea, eyes narrowed as he observed the scene in the garden below. "Damn Amelia," he muttered, watching as Amelia handed Beatrice the brooch. "Three days away, and she returns with presents. Her technique for winning the lady''s attention is always impressive." He sipped thoughtfully, both admiring and begrudging the butler''s effectiveness. Nearby, Ann stood clutching one of Beatrice''s teacups. Gone was the dignified air she held in her lady''s presence; now, her expression was rather unrefined. She held the cup close to her face, her mouth slightly open, eyes glazed with a mix of reverence and... something slightly unsettling. She whispered to herself, "My lady''s teacup..." Edward, still watching Amelia and Beatrice through the window, didn''t even look her way as he extended his empty cup toward her. "Ann, more tea," he ordered, pushing his cup against her face to break her trance. She blinked, momentarily snapped from her creepy reverie, and scowled at him. "Pour it yourself," she muttered, reluctantly pulling her gaze from the cherished teacup. "I''m not a maid." "Yes, you are," Edward replied, still watching the scene outside with hawkish intensity. Despite her grumbling, Ann poured the tea. Her hand was shaky and distracted, barely paying attention to her brother''s cup as her focus remained entirely on the precious teacup in her own hand. A fair amount of tea splashed onto the tray below, but neither seemed to care, both too absorbed in their peculiar preoccupations. Edward took a sip of his tea, sighing with satisfaction. "Do you think it''d work for me if I disappeared for three days, then came back with some grand gift?" he mused, half-serious. Ann smirked, raising her cup in mock salute. "Three days? Try three years, maybe thirty. I''m sure Lady Beatrice would be heartbroken in your absence and might even shed a tear when she sees you again." She took a long sip, then added, "And don''t worry; I''d be here every single day, keeping her company without fail." Edward grumbled, "Tempting... but I''d die without my lady''s attention. Besides, she needs my company far more than she needs yours." As they bickered, a soft, measured voice interrupted them.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "Perfect timing. Edward, please inform Lady Beatrice that the carriage is ready and accompany her to school." They both froze, glancing over to see Ophelia standing nearby, a kindly, unassuming smile on her face. She looked every bit the picture of a head maid: her small, round glasses perched low on her nose, her gray hair swept into a neat bun. Her maid uniform was more modest than Ann''s, with a long skirt that nearly brushed the floor. Despite her quiet demeanor, she had a knack for appearing without warninga skill that often left the twins uneasy. The moment they realized she was there, any further argument ceased. Ophelia''s calm yet commanding presence had that effect. Ann''s eyes darted toward her brother, her posture shifting in a flash. Before Ophelia could blink, she''d grabbed a butter knife from the tray. "Edward seems a bit... unwell, ma''am," Ann said smoothly, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Allow me to substitute for him." And with that, she lunged. In an instant, her arm shot out, aiming the knife at Edward''s neck, her movements so swift it seemed impossible to follow. The knife glinted in the morning light, slicing through the air with deadly precision. Edward barely had time to react; his hand instinctively grabbed the tray from the cart, lifting it as a makeshift shield just in time. The butter knife slammed into the tray, piercing straight through its surface and stopping mere inches from his throat. Edward blinked in surprise, his hand still clutching the teacup even as he held the tray to block the attack. Ophelia cleared her throat, unfazed by the skirmish. "Now, now, no need for quarrels with tableware," she chided, a gentle smile on her face. Her tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of authority that even the twins couldn''t ignore. Edward exhaled, regaining his composure. "Yes, especially not with sharp objects," he muttered, lowering the tray and casting a wary glance at his sister. Ann snorted, tapping the knife still embedded in the tray. "Butter knives aren''t sharp," she argued. "They''re blunt, for safety reasons." Edward raised an eyebrow, pointing to the tray where the knife had punctured cleanly through. "Blunt, huh?" Ophelia clapped her hands gently, reclaiming their attention. "Chop, chop, Edward. Mr. Albert is already outside with the carriage, and it''s Beatrice''s first day of school. We wouldn''t want her to be late." She gestured toward the door, the slight twinkle in her eye betraying her amusement at their antics. With an eager grin, Edward straightened and nodded enthusiastically. "Aye, aye, ma''am!" he replied, almost as if he''d been given a mission of utmost importance. He turned and strode toward the large doors, ready to fetch Beatrice. Just before reaching the door, however, he cast a sly glance back at Ann and, with a playful flick of his wrist, casually tossed the tray with the embedded butter knife toward her like a projectile. Ann ducked, scowling as the tray whizzed by, barely missing her head by a few inches. Ophelia caught the tray mid-air with a graceful swipe, her expression unfazed. "Now, Ann," she said, her tone gentler but firm, "you''re the elder sibling. It''s unbecoming to sulk and act like a child." Ann huffed, her cheeks coloring slightly. She brought her teacup back to her lips, muttering, "I am not sulking." She lingered over the rim of the cup, savoring each sip as though she were trying to capture every trace left by her lady''s lips. A blissful expression settled over her face, her eyes half-closed in quiet reverie. Ophelia sighed softly, though her smile remained. "Let''s clean up the mess, shall we? The day has only just begun, and there are plenty of tasks ahead." Her tone was light, understanding well the quirks and antics of the twins. Ann gave a lazy salute with her free hand, her mouth still pressed to the cup. "Aye, aye, ma''am," she mumbled, barely coherent, utterly absorbed in her devotion to her lady''s teacup. As Edward stepped out into the garden, the distance from the parlor to the door stretched out before him, the morning light casting a soft glow over the lush grounds. From this vantage point, he could see Beatrice and Amelia still chatting, unaware of the chaos unfolding inside. Beatrice''s laughter drifted toward him, her delight at Amelia''s gift evident in her radiant expression. He straightened his posture, smoothed down his jacket, and cleared his throat. This was his momenthis chance to escort his lady on her first venture to school, to be by her side as the loyal protector she deserved. As he walked the length of the hall, the slight pang of jealousy he felt toward Amelia faded, replaced by a quiet pride. Reaching the door, he took a deep breath, placed his hand on the handle, and opened it. Beatrice turned, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. "Edward!" she greeted warmly. "Are we ready?" Edward nodded, stepping forward with a flourish. "The carriage awaits, my lady." He offered his arm, and Beatrice slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, her confidence bolstered by his steady presence. As they made their way to the carriage, Edward cast a final glance back toward the mansion. On the second floor, Ann stood by the window, watching them leave with her usual half-hidden longing. She was now dusting the window with a small feather duster, both hands occupied with her task. However, clamped firmly between her teeth was the very same teacup her lady had used earlier, her expression a mix of intense focus and quiet obsession. Ophelia, catching sight of Ann''s forlorn expression, patted her gently on the shoulder. "There will be plenty of time to accompany her, dear," she reassured. "Now, let''s get back to work." Ann grumbled but dutifully followed Ophelia''s lead, her eyes lingering on the distant carriage carrying her beloved lady away. She let out a small sigh, murmuring around the teacup still clamped between her teeth, "One day, my lady... one day," her words muffled but filled with dramatic longing. The two women busied themselves with the morning''s chores, their quiet diligence a stark contrast to the spirited bickering of earlier. And as the mansion settled into its daily rhythm, the scent of roses drifted in from the garden, a reminder of the world that waited beyond the walls for young Lady Beatrice. 【Grand Capital City of Plownonida】 Plownonida, the grand capital of Alvion, basked in the early light of morning, its architecture a blend of elegant stone facades and intricate ironwork that lined the streets. Along the main avenue, polished cobblestones reflected the gentle blue glow of energy lines beneath the tram tracks, casting soft streaks across the road. The trams glided in smooth, rhythmic intervals, powered by chunks of blue-glowing stone discreetly embedded in the city''s infrastructure. The tram tracks formed intricate patterns, almost like floral motifs, that made the vehicles seem to glide along delicate lacework, a sight that grew even more enchanting by night. People moved in well-coordinated flows on either side of the avenue, a mix of dignified townsfolk, students carrying leather satchels, and workers in crisp uniforms. Public benches and streetlamps, powered by the same glowing energy, lined the main roads, giving the city a polished, almost regal atmosphere. These lamps cast a steady, blue-tinged glow over the street, while side alleys and smaller roads, farther from the center, relied on the warm flicker of whale oil lamps. The oil lamps gave the smaller streets a rustic charm, flickering with a cozy amber light that softened the otherwise grand architecture. The wide streets accommodated a mix of transporthorse-drawn carriages for those who preferred the traditional mode of travel, and the efficient trams, which zipped along the tracks in the middle of the avenue. Carriages moved in harmony with the trams, their polished wood and brass fixtures gleaming in the morning sun. Occasionally, a pedestrian would pause to let a tram pass, the familiar hum of its energy source barely a disturbance to the calm yet bustling atmosphere. Plownonida''s residents carried themselves with a quiet elegance, many dressed in tailored coats or finely crafted dresses. Shopkeepers opened their doors, dusting off storefronts as they prepared for the day, while a few street vendors set up their carts, selling everything from freshly baked bread to simple trinkets. Children darted along the sidewalks, their laughter echoing as they chased each other, occasionally stopping to marvel at the blue-glowing stones along the tram lines, their eyes wide with wonder.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Inside her carriage, Beatrice adjusted her expression repeatedly, practicing her smile in the mirror, her gaze flitting between excitement and concentration. Outside, Edward sat beside Mr. Albert, the mansion''s coachman, who was keeping a steady pace. Albert, his face solemn yet relaxed, had been nattering away for several minutes. "And thats the thing about horses," Albert went on, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "Give em too much grain, and theyre a nightmare to handle. Not enough, and theyll barely plod along. Now, take old Molly heresteady as they come, she is, but I swear shes got a nose for storms. You wouldnt credit the time she" He broke off, turning his head to look at Edward, who hadnt so much as blinked, his eyes fixed ahead like a statue. "Oi, lad, if youre gonna sit up here with me instead of keepin'' the young lady company, the least you could do is say somethin''," Albert said, his mustache twitching as he spoke, his eyes half-closed yet sharp. Edward, lost in thought, stared blankly at the road ahead. "Shut up, old man. I''m thinking." Albert snorted, clearly amused. "Thinkin'', are ya? Mighty fine excuse." He glanced over, noting Edward''s unusual silence. "So, what''s got ya so deep in thought?" Breaking his trance, Edward glanced at Albert, his brow furrowing as if struck by a sudden realization. "Wait... how is it humanly possible for anyone to sit face-to-face alone with my lady?" Albert shrugged, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Dunno, maybe by bein'' a human?" He let out a chuckle, nudging Edward. "What''s really on yer mind, lad?" Edward''s expression turned serious, his hands steepling as he sank into a brooding posture. "I''ve realized... servants aren''t allowed to accompany their masters on school grounds." Albert raised an eyebrow, half-listening. "Are ya sure about that, boy?" "Yes. In fact, I''ve known this since before my lady even knew about sweets from the school canteen," Edward replied, his voice heavy with resignation. "Hmmm... sweets, eh?" Albert echoed, clearly uninterested in the conversation but humoring him. "But today, my lady blessed me with such grace," Edward continued, his tone reverent. "She''s been making those charming little faces all morning... powerful enough to distract even me from vital information." "Hmmm... important, is it?" Albert repeated absently. "Of course, it''s important!" Edward suddenly shook Albert''s shoulder, snapping the older man from his half-daze. "Oi! Easy, boy!" Albert grumbled, startled back into attention. "Alright, then. What''s this all-important revelation?" Edward took a deep, wistful breath, his gaze softening as he leaned back. "It''s that I must always be at my lady''s side." Albert blinked, confused. "And... what for, exactly?" With a sympathetic smile, Edward patted Albert''s shoulder. "You sure are curious for an old man," he said, as if about to unveil a grand tale. "Fine, I''ll start from nine years ago..." "No... that''s not what I meant..." Albert sighed, realizing he''d walked right into Edward''s trap. Edward straightened, his voice taking on a storytelling tone. "So, on a rainy evening, at one of those fancy noble gatherings..." Inside the carriage, oblivious to the grand tale unfolding outside, Beatrice continued to practice her smile, adjusting each expression with determined concentration as the city scenery rolled by, her world quiet, focused, and perfectly serene. 【Belle, the Commoner】 Belle sat quietly in the tram, her freckled face turned toward the window as the city of Plownonida unfolded before her. The streets were broad and busy, lined with elegant storefronts and grand facades that seemed almost surreal in their polished beauty. She was used to simpler sightsthe narrow lanes around her orphanage, the small shops she''d seen now and then. Here, everything seemed so large, so meticulously crafted, as though each corner of the city held a story it was waiting to tell. Her fingers toyed nervously with her scrunchie, a bright pop of color against her dark, wavy hair, which was pulled into two low buns that framed her face. As the tram glided along the glowing blue lines, she noticed how the city''s unique energy cast a faint, magical hue around her. The blue glow flowed beneath the tram''s floor, tracing its path, and now that the morning had grown brighter, the light was subtler but still captivating, like a secret only the city held. Belle tried not to stare, though she found herself glancing down more than once, taking in the strange and beautiful power that moved the tram forward without the rattle and clank of machinery she''d imagined. Around her, other passengers sat in quiet conversations, dressed in fine coats and polished shoesso different from the worn streets and familiar faces back home. Her heart gave a small, nervous flutter as she thought of the day ahead. Today was her first day at this grand academy, and she would be giving a speech as the representative for new students. She pressed her lips together, her hand subconsciously smoothing her uniform, making sure it looked presentable. The other students she''d seen all seemed so polished, and she worried that her freckles and simpler style might stand out too much. Still, she knew she was here for a reason; they had chosen her, and she''d do her best to make her orphanage proud. The tram came to a smooth stop near the academy, and Belle gathered her courage, stepping onto the platform. The academy loomed before hertall, elegant, and bustling with students from noble families, many arriving in carriages that shone in the morning light, their polished surfaces reflecting the city''s subtle glow. She noticed how the carriages would pull up at a drop-off area near the main gate, and from there, students would step out, often followed by servants who busied themselves with bags and preparations. Everywhere she looked, there was an air of practiced elegance that made her feel both out of place and strangely fascinated.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. As she moved closer to the entrance, her gaze fell on a young noblewoman, just stepping down from her carriage. Though she couldn''t quite place why, there was something distinct about her presence, as if an invisible aura set her apart from the other nobles around her. The girl''s posture was poised, her expression calm, and she was accompanied by a young man with a sharp, observant gaze. Belle could hear a few students murmuring nearby, wondering out loud which noble house she might belong to. The girl''s grace and quiet dignity made Belle''s heart skip; there was an undeniable strength about her. She shook her head, refocusing as she made her way through the gates. Her goal was clear: she needed to find the teachers'' building and check in for her speech. But as she wove through the unfamiliar pathways, Belle began to feel her confidence slipping. The academy grounds were vast, with manicured gardens, towering buildings, and statues of dignified figures whose names she didn''t know. The paths twisted around in elegant curves, leading to grand courtyards and fountains, and after a few minutes, she found herself completely turned around. She bit her lip, realizing that she might actually be lost. Belle wandered further, her eyes taking in every detail around herthe intricate carvings on the building walls, the neatly arranged flowerbeds, the faint hum of distant conversations. A part of her wanted to appreciate the beauty of the grounds, but nerves kept her from fully enjoying it. Just as she was about to turn back, hoping retracing her steps would lead her somewhere familiar, she noticed a quiet garden tucked away from the bustling main paths. To her surprise, in this secluded spot, she saw the same noble girl she''d noticed earlier. The girl was crouched by a flowerbed, her gaze focused on a delicate blossom she was examining with a gentle curiosity. Nearby, the young man who had accompanied her from the carriage stood, arms crossed, his watchful gaze briefly flicking over to Belle. She felt her cheeks flush, realizing she had walked into their quiet moment. Unsure of what to say, Belle hesitated, feeling both nervous and oddly enchanted by the scene. The young manhis sharp eyes narrowing slightlybroke the silence. "Are you lost?" he asked, his tone direct but not unkind. Belle opened her mouth, about to respond when the girl looked up, her green eyes warm with curiosity. The girl''s gaze softened as she took in Belle''s expression, and a small smile played at her lips. "Hello," she greeted, her voice gentle. She tilted her head slightly, studying Belle with a friendly openness. "You look like you''re searching for something." Belle, feeling unexpectedly at ease under her gaze, nodded, her voice honest as she replied, "Yes... I, um, got a bit turned around. I was trying to find the teachers'' building. I have to check in... for my speech." The girl''s eyes brightened with understanding. "Ah, the teachers'' buildingit can be tricky to find if you''re not familiar with the grounds. I''ve been here a few times before, so I can guide you. You just took a wrong turn and ended up here," she explained, her voice carrying an easy confidence. Belle felt her nerves ease as the girl explained the path. "Thank you," she said earnestly, her voice soft but grateful. She cast one last glance at the girl, noting how her smile had seemed to brighten the entire garden. There was something almost magical about it, a warmth that lingered even as Belle turned to leave. With a slight bow, Belle made her way back down the path. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes catching on the two figures she was leaving behind. The noble girl remained standing, watching Belle go with a soft, encouraging smile that seemed to carry a silent message of reassurance. At her side, the young man''s gaze stayed on Belle as well, assessing but respectful, as if ensuring she found her way. Belle''s heart felt unexpectedly lighter. As she turned the corner, she could still feel their eyes on her, an unspoken support that lingered as she finally found her bearings on the winding path. 【Smiles in the Garden】 Edward and Beatrice stood quietly as the girl hurried off to her destination. A faint smile played on Edward''s lips, breaking the silence between them. "Did you hear her, my lady?" he commented, watching Belle disappear down the path. "She said she''ll be giving a speechseems she''s the representative for new students." Beatrice did not respond. Her expression had shifted, her earlier composure dissolving into something that could only be described as a quiet, creeping panic. She stared after the girl, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide with bewilderment. "Lady Beatrice?" Edward asked, his tone softening as he observed her reaction, which was far less majestic than the graceful smile she''d worn just moments earlier. "Why... why did she run away?" she finally murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "She was simply in a hurry, my lady," Edward replied patiently, attempting to soothe her with a logical explanation. "Her problem was solved, so there was no need for her to linger." Beatrice remained unconvinced, her voice betraying a quiet sadness. "But... I was waiting for her to introduce herself. I even practiced... it was all a waste of time." Edward blinked, watching with alarm as her eyes began to fill with the faint shimmer of tears, her usual poise unraveling. He tried to reason with her gently. "Are you listening, my lady? She was simply in a hurry." Beatrice''s grip on his sleeve tightened as she turned to him with a mix of disbelief and vulnerability. "But Ed... I spoke to another girl my ageand she ran away!" Her voice grew softer, almost as if she were afraid to believe what she was saying. "Did... did I say something embarrassing?" Edward was taken aback by her question, unsure how to respond. She looked up at him, her expression fraught with self-doubt, and continued, "Or... or did she think I was strange? I was talking to the flowers earlier..." She trailed off, almost to herself, her gaze falling to the garden blooms that swayed gently in the breeze around them. Edward, struggling to keep his expression neutral, suppressed the chuckle building in his throat.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! He knew, of course, that Beatrice had been practicing speaking to strangers by conversing with flowersa habit she''d picked up out of her nervousness and lack of experience. In the privacy of the garden, she would speak softly to the roses, mimicking introductions, refining the way she would say her name, even curtsying as she practiced polite phrases. To Edward, the image of his lady speaking earnestly to a rose, hoping the words would come naturally with real people, was endearing beyond measure. But he knew her sensitivity on the subject, and he took a deep breath, determined to offer reassurance. "No, my lady," he replied with utmost sincerity, "you spoke perfectly, offering her just the guidance she needed." He forced himself to hold back his grin, though a faint flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. "Ed," Beatrice murmured, her face coloring as she studied his expression, "you''re lying. You''re laughing!" She covered her mouth, a small gasp of horror escaping her. "My first time meeting someone, and it''s ruined!" Edward managed to straighten his expression, though the faint smile lingered. "I swear it, my lady! You were magnificent. Why, if she ran off after you spoke, it''s only because she was nervous before your radiant smile." Beatrice''s expression softened at his words, though a hint of self-doubt lingered in her voice. "So... should I stop smiling, then?" "NO!" Edward''s response was immediate, his voice filled with a forceful sincerity. In a heartbeat, he cupped her cheeks between his hands, pressing them gently so her lips puckered in a way that made her resemble a goldfish. "Please, don''t ever stop smiling," he pleaded, his tone filled with the kind of sincerity only a lifelong companion could muster. Beatrice''s face, squished gently between his hands, gave him a bewildered look before breaking into a soft, muffled laugh. "Alright, if Ed says so," she replied, her voice slightly distorted by the way her cheeks were pressed. "Good," Edward said, releasing her and adjusting his expression back to one of composed dignity, though a glint of mischief remained in his eyes. But after a moment, Beatrice''s humor gave way to a quieter expression. "I''m still afraid, Ed," she admitted, her tone wavering slightly. "I''m afraid I won''t be able to make friends... especially without Ann or you around." Edward''s own expression softened as he listened to her words. He gave her a steady, confident smile. "Don''t worry, my lady. I''ll always be by your side." A faint smile returned to Beatrice''s lips, though there was a hint of skepticism as she reminded him, "But, Ed... you can''t follow me into any educational areas." Edward''s confident smile faltered as he felt a pang of realization strike him. Ah, of course. He had known this rule, but somehow, in his eagerness to be near her, he''d overlooked it yet again. His face shifted, first to one of understanding, then to an almost comical shock, the impact of this truth finally settling in. As she watched his reaction, Beatrice''s lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Ah-ha! Ed forgot again!" she teased, covering her mouth with her hand as her laughter broke through, her expression bright with amusement. Edward quickly regained his composure, a determined resolve flashing in his eyes. If I can''t be with her openly, then I''ll simply have to find a discreet way to watch over her. His mind raced with the beginnings of a plan, though he kept it close, unwilling to reveal his intentions just yet. He met her gaze, giving her a light bow. "Rest assured, my lady! With me here, I''m confident you''ll make a friend todayeven if it costs me my life." The fire in Edward''s voice stirred Beatrice''s own courage, her eyes brightening with renewed confidence. "Yes! I must make a new friend today!" She threw her hands into the air, her smile returning in full. Edward, caught up in her enthusiasm, mirrored her gesture, thrusting his arms up with a resounding, "Ooooooo!" Beatrice attempted to match his volume, her own "Ooooooo!" emerging far softer, though she gave it her all. To any passerby, they must have looked quite absurdtwo figures in the secluded garden, arms thrown up in the air as if celebrating some unseen triumph. But in their small, shared world, it was a moment of pure camaraderie, of shared determination. High above, from a shadowed window overlooking the garden, a lone figure watched the scene unfold, her gaze fixed with a strange intensity. Her long, golden hair cascaded down her back, styled with loose curls at the sides, framing a composed and strikingly still face. She stood tall, her posture elegant yet tense, her fingers clenched tightly around the ruby-stone brooch pinned to her chest, as if grounding herself with its cool weight. Her eyes, a piercing blue, held a steady, unreadable expression as they followed every movement below. Not a word escaped her lips, but her grip on the brooch and the uniform seemed to harden, her knuckles restraint that spoke volumes. Her watchful gaze lingered over the young lady and her butler below, observing their every action with a quiet, enigmatic intensity that hinted at something unspokena purpose hidden within her steady, silent stance. Then, without another sound, she turned from the window, her form retreating from view, leaving the garden and its joy-filled occupants untouched by her presence. 【Belle, the Saints Scholar】 The grand auditorium of the academy unfolded before Beatrice like a stage from a dream. It resembled an opulent opera house, with gilded balconies curving elegantly along the walls and a sweeping mezzanine lined with polished wooden railings. Overhead, a massive chandelier hung suspended, its crystals refracting the warm glow of lights powered by the blue stone energy that illuminated every ornate detail of the hall. The air carried a faint hum of anticipation, mingled with the distant murmurs of students settling into their designated seats. Beatrice sat alone, poised in her seat at the very back of the section reserved for her class. The chair, upholstered in deep velvet with intricate mahogany armrests, was luxurious enough to make any commoneror even a low-ranking nobleshift uncomfortably. Yet, Beatrice sat with an effortless grace, her back straight, her hands folded lightly in her lap. Her green eyes, flecked with gold in the ambient light, flickered shut as she absorbed the atmosphere. Though her expression was serene, her solitude stood out starkly in the crowded hall. The rows around her, grouped in clusters of three seats divided by narrow aisles, only amplified the distance between her and her classmates. On either side, the seats flanking her were conspicuously empty, as though an invisible barrier had been erected between her and the others. The nearest students sat far ahead, their backs turned to her. While she could have taken a few steps forward to bridge the gap, the thought alone made her stomach tighten. She clung to her seat as though it were a sanctuary, her years of sheltered upbringing weighing heavily on her. "How would I even begin to speak to them?" she thought, her lips pressing together in a faint, nervous line. The idea of starting a conversation seemed impossiblean insurmountable wall built from years of silence and solitude. Instead, she let her gaze wander over the room, taking in the grandeur that surrounded her. A sudden tapping sound echoed through the hall, drawing Beatrice''s attention to the stage. A woman, dressed in formal academy robes, adjusted the microphone at the center. As she spoke, a faint blue glow rippled outward from the device, tracing intricate lines of energy that disappeared beneath the rows of seats. The hum of the audience quieted as the voice of the announcer emerged, clear and precise, from small, inconspicuous boxes beneath each chair. The sound was so crisp it felt as though she were speaking directly beside Beatrice. "Welcome, new students," the announcer began, her tone steady and authoritative. "We are honored to begin this academic year with the guidance of our esteemed Student Council President, who will deliver the opening address. Please welcome Lady Dorothea Alexandra Evangeline Caerwysg." The room stirred as the name echoed through the auditorium, carried by the flawless acoustics. A wave of murmurs rippled across the rows, a mix of awe and curiosity. Beatrice''s hands tightened slightly in her lap, her green eyes lifting toward the stage. She already knew who would step forward. Dorothea emerged from the shadows at the side of the stage, her figure commanding attention the moment she appeared. Her golden hair, styled with loose curls framing her face, gleamed like molten sunlight under the stage lights. The ruby-stone brooch pinned to her uniform caught the light, a symbol of her noble lineage and status. Her blue eyes, sharp and steady, scanned the audience with a cold, unreadable expression. She walked with measured precision, every step deliberate, as though she were crossing the floor of a royal court. To those in the audience, she appeared untouchablean embodiment of grace and authority. But to Beatrice, she was something else entirely. Her cousin. A girl she had once known as cheerful, clumsy, and quick to cry, though always trying to hide her tears. Yet the figure on stage now seemed a world apart from the Dorothea she remembered. Dorothea began her speech, her voice steady and resolute, filling the hall with an air of authority. She spoke of responsibility, tradition, and the values the academy upheld, her tone cold yet commanding. In the row ahead of Beatrice, a few students whispered among themselves, their voices hushed yet sharp enough to carry faintly to her ears. "She''s terrifying," one muttered. "So arrogant," another added, her voice tinged with disdain.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Beatrice frowned slightly, her instinct to defend her cousin stirring within her. They don''t understand her. They don''t know her like I do. Yet, as she continued to watch, even she couldn''t deny how different Dorothea seemed now. Her movements were precise, her gaze calculated. Beatrice hadn''t seen her in over a yearnot since their last family gatheringand the distance between them, both physical and emotional, suddenly felt wider than ever. Then, in the midst of her speech, Dorothea''s eyes shifted. For the briefest moment, her gaze flickered toward the back rows. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Beatrice noticed. Her breath caught as their eyes metor so she thought. In the front row, a girl nudged her friend, misinterpreting the glance entirely. "Did she just look at us?" she whispered, her voice hushed with a mix of nerves and excitement. "No way," her friend replied dismissively. "She''s just scanning the room." Beatrice, unaware of the exchange, felt a small, warm smile tug at her lips. It wasn''t much, but it was enough to reassure her. Maybe she hasn''t forgotten me, she thought. Dorothea, her expression unchanging, returned her focus to the speech. Whatever had passed between her and Beatrice, it was fleeting, leaving Beatrice to wonder if it had been realor just her imagination. As Dorothea''s voice continued to fill the auditorium, Beatrice''s attention wavered, her thoughts drifting back to her earlier resolve. I have to make a friend today. The goal felt more distant with each passing moment, especially as her gaze shifted to the students around her. From her position at the back, Beatrice could see her classmates scattered throughout the rows ahead. To her right, separated by two empty seats and an aisle, a girl sat with serene poise. Her long, silky black hair cascaded over her shoulders like a dark waterfall, gleaming faintly in the soft light. In one hand, she held a folding fan, its delicate pattern of blossoms and golden threads catching the light as she flicked it open with a graceful motion. The fan moved with the same unhurried elegance as its owner, accentuating her every gesture without a word spoken. Her posture was impeccable, her movements deliberate yet effortless, as if every gesturedown to the faint tilt of her head as she listened to the speechwas a performance of elegance. When she tapped the edge of the fan against her palm in an almost contemplative rhythm, it seemed less an idle habit and more a deliberate expression of thought. Beatrice felt her heart sink slightly as she observed the girl. She seems... too perfect. Further down the row, another girl caught her eye. Her dark, short hair framed her face with a practical charm, and she leaned back slightly in her seat, her posture relaxed but exuding confidence. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, as though she found the proceedings more amusing than inspiring. There was a casual energy about her that Beatrice couldn''t quite place, but it left her feeling even more out of her depth. She''d probably laugh if I tried to speak to her. On the opposite side of the room sat a brunette with a sharp gaze that seemed to pierce through the air. Her hair was neatly styled, her uniform immaculate, and her demeanor radiated precision. She sat perfectly upright, her chin slightly lifted, her eyes scanning the room with quiet judgment. Beatrice quickly looked away, feeling as though the girl could see straight through her if their eyes met. Too intimidating. Beatrice''s gaze softened as it landed on a large boy seated awkwardly near the middle rows. His broad shoulders seemed too big for his seat, and he shifted uncomfortably, as though hyperaware of how much space he took up. Despite his unease, there was a kind, almost bashful look on his face as he focused on the stage. For a moment, Beatrice considered him, but the sheer size of his presence left her feeling dwarfed in comparison. Maybe not. Lastly, her eyes lingered on a slender boy near the front, pale and slight. He adjusted his glasses repeatedly, each motion precise and methodical, as though he were fine-tuning an instrument. His gaze never left the stage, and his stillness gave him an air of detachment, as if the room around him didn''t exist. Beatrice hesitated. He seems lost in his own world. Her hands tightened in her lap as doubt crept in. Every face she observed seemed to carry its own unspoken hurdles, their confidence and individuality leaving her feeling small and invisible. The thought of reaching out felt more impossible with each passing moment. She sank slightly into her chair, her earlier determination faltering. Maybe this was a mistake. Unbeknownst to her, a few students in other sections had turned their attention toward her. From their vantage point, her composed posture and quiet elegance gave her an air of mystery. To them, she was untouchable, a figure of nobility whose distance was not one of shyness but of grandeur. They whispered quietly, wondering who she was, their speculations painting a picture far removed from Beatrice''s own self-doubt. Beatrice''s thoughts were interrupted as the announcer''s voice rang out once again, drawing the hall''s focus back to the stage. "And now, to close this segment, we welcome the Saint''s Scholar for this year''s incoming class. Representing Class 1-A, please give your attention to Belle." Beatrice straightened, her attention sharpening at the mention of the title: Saint''s Scholar. The prestigious designation, awarded only once every three years to a student of exceptional promise, had always gone to someone from a noble house. For a moment, her thoughts raced. If Dorothea had entered high school this year, she would likely have been the one standing there, yet the timing had not aligned. Her intrigue grew as the freckled girl from the garden stepped onto the stage. The memory of their brief encounter resurfaced, and Beatrice''s heart lifted slightly. It is her. Belle''s appearance was a stark contrast to the nobles who had spoken before her. Her uniform, though neat, lacked the tailored perfection that adorned the others. Her hair, tied into two low buns with a simple scrunchie, gave her a youthful, almost unpolished look. As she stepped forward, her movements were hesitant, her gaze flickering nervously toward the crowd. The audience stifled chuckles as she stumbled slightly on the raised platform, her footing faltering for a moment. A flush crept up Belle''s cheeks, but she steadied herself, lifting her head with a flicker of determination. Beatrice felt a pang of sympathy at the sound of quiet laughter rippling through the room. She must be terrified. Belle gripped the podium with both hands, her knuckles whitening as she began to speak. Her voice wavered at first, faltering under the weight of the hall''s collective gaze. But as she continued, her tone grew steadier, driven by a raw earnestness that captivated some and unsettled others. Her words were bold, unconventional, and uncompromising, striking at the heart of unspoken tensions. Beatrice leaned forward slightly, her green eyes fixed on the freckled girl as ripples spread through the room. In the row ahead of Beatrice, the reactions were varied. The sharp-eyed brunette frowned, her expression stiffening as if threatened by the speech''s implications. Across the aisle, the short-haired girl smirked, her lips curling in amused agreement, though her eyes hinted at skepticism, as if finding the words naive yet intriguing. Elsewhere in the auditorium, a boy with sharp features and an intense stare leaned forward slightly, his presence striking even in stillness. His short-cropped hair, rough and slightly uneven as though hacked with little care, gave him a rebellious edge that seemed to mirror his piercing gaze. He watched Belle closely, his arms resting on his knees, the faintest flicker of a smirk playing on his lipsnot one of amusement, but of understanding. The way his fingers tapped lightly against his seat, as if in rhythm with his thoughts, hinted at a restless energy barely contained. From other sections, the reactions were no less divided. A high-ranking noble chuckled behind a gloved hand, while her companion smiled indulgently, clearly entertained. Dorothea, standing on stage alongside the teachers, sighed faintly, her composed expression revealing nothing of her inner thoughts. As Belle''s speech reached its crescendo, her voice crackednot from weakness, but from the sheer force of her words: "For too long, we''ve been told our place is set at birth. But that isn''t true. Our strength is in our will, not our bloodlines. And if we have the will, we can risehigher than they''ve ever imagined." The room erupted into scattered murmurs. Some low-ranking nobles exchanged uneasy glances, while mid-ranking students whispered urgently among themselves. A few teachers nodded, their faces grave, while others frowned in open disapproval. Beatrice sat back, her thoughts swirling. Belle''s presence on stage had been clumsy, even awkward, but her words carried a resonance that lingered. She''s different, Beatrice thought. For the first time all day, a spark of hope flickered within her. Perhaps she''s the one. Perhaps I can make a friend after all. 【No Place for the Butler】 The auditorium entrance was a vision of opulence, its exterior gleaming under the morning sun. The building''s facade was adorned with intricate carvings and polished stone, showcasing a blend of tradition and modernity. Clearly, it was either newly constructed or recently renovated, standing as a testament to the academy''s prestige. Through the tall glass doors, the lavish interior lobby could be glimpsedrichly carpeted floors, grand chandeliers, and polished brass fixtures catching the light. Students filtered inside, one by one, their footsteps echoing faintly as they passed through the grand double doors. Most moved with purpose, eager to secure their places, while others lingered outside, reluctant or distracted. A few servants remained close, ensuring their charges were settled before dispersing to wait. Scattered across the school grounds were numerous designated areas for servants: shaded gazebos, garden benches, and even the cafeteria building. These places served as havens for the staff to wait while their masters attended their business. Among the lingering students outside the auditorium were Beatrice and Edward, standing slightly away from the main flow of traffic. Their hushed conversation carried an air of conspiracy, though their contrasting demeanors made the exchange feel almost theatrical. "Okay, here''s the plan, my lady," Edward began, his voice low but confident as he leaned slightly toward Beatrice. She tilted her head, her green eyes sparkling with mild amusement. "And what exactly is this plan?" she whispered back, humor lacing her tone. "You walk in first," Edward said, gesturing dramatically toward the entrance, "and I''ll hide behind your shoulder." Beatrice, her lips twitching as though suppressing a laugh.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. "But I''m smaller than you." "I know," Edward replied with a solemn nod, undeterred. "When we approach the staff overseeing the entrance, I''ll swiftly punch them unconscious. It''ll be over before anyone notices." Beatrice''s eyes widened in alarm, her voice rising slightly in a mix of panic and disbelief. "You can''t do that!" she exclaimed, waving her hands as if to erase the very idea. "You''re right, my lady," Edward said, stroking his chin thoughtfully, his tone as serious as ever. "Too many witnesses. It would cause trouble for us later." "That''s not what I meant!" Beatrice pouted, her cheeks puffing slightly as she stared him down. "You can''t justjust punch people whenever it''s inconvenient for you!" Her voice softened into an almost scolding tone, though it lacked the authority to truly reprimand him. Edward paused, nodding as though acknowledging a profound truth. "You''re absolutely correct, my lady," he said. "Perhaps a different approach would be better." "Forget the ''approach,''" Beatrice huffed, pushing him lightly on the shoulder. "Just wait for me somewhere. It''s only the opening ceremony and introductions today. It won''t take long." Her tone softened, a hint of reassurance creeping in as she added, "I''ll be fine on my own." Without waiting for a reply, Beatrice took a small step back, then darted toward the auditorium entrance with a delicate, almost hurried gait. Edward straightened, watching her retreating figure as she disappeared through the doors, his expression unreadable. He stood there for a moment longer, crossing his arms and letting out a quiet sigh. At just over 5 feet 11 inches, his lean but muscular frame gave him a commanding presence, further emphasized by the sharp lines of his tailored suit. Even though he wasn''t bulky, the strength hidden beneath his clothing was undeniable, and it wasn''t long before his still figure began to attract attention. Passing students glanced at him warily, subtly adjusting their paths to avoid the imposing figure who now blocked the way. A noble girl frowned slightly as she was forced to step around him, but rather than cause a scene, she simply muttered under her breath and moved on. Edward didn''t flinch, his sharp eyes scanning the flow of students with a practiced air of vigilance. Finally, he took a calm step forward, heading toward the entrance with an unhurried stride. His composed demeanor seemed to suggest he belonged there, despite the rule that only students were allowed inside. "Hey!" One of the staff members, a man in a neatly pressed uniform, stepped forward, raising a hand to stop him. "Don''t be an idiot," he said, his tone professional but harsh. "You know only students are permitted past this point." Edward stopped, tilting his head slightly as though considering his response. "This year, I''ve also begun high school-level education," he said smoothly. "At home." The staff member''s twitched, his expression shifting to one of annoyance. "Who cares?" he snapped, clearly unimpressed. "Now go wait somewhere else, or I''ll put you on the banned list." He crossed his arms, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. Edward''s calm expression didn''t falter, but his sharp gaze flicked toward the entrance as though calculating his next move. He knew he couldn''t risk being bannedit would jeopardize his ability to accompany Beatrice in the future. Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his movements precise and deliberate. As he moved farther from the entrance, the faintest flicker of frustration crossed his face. For now, he would comply. But in his mind, he was already planning his next steps. 【Butler Meets Butler】 Edward walked away from the auditorium''s main entrance, his pace unhurried but purposeful. The building''s exterior was a testament to grandeur, its sweeping arches and intricate carvings basking in the golden morning light. The manicured lawn surrounding it stretched in soft, verdant waves, bordered by flower beds bursting with meticulously arranged blooms. The pathways winding through the gardens were wide and clean, their stone surfaces smooth and almost glimmering under the sun. Yet Edward paid little attention to the artistry around him. He veered off the path and onto the grass, ignoring the small signs of curiosity from servants sitting on nearby benches. Their gazes lingered as they noted his solitary figure walking with calm yet deliberate intent across the forbidden lawn. To them, his behavior was improper, but Edward moved as though the rules of decorum didn''t apply to him. The building loomed high above him, its grand facade a labyrinth of windows, arches, and decorative reliefs. As he circled the structure, his sharp eyes searched for anythinga side entrance, a window left ajar, even a loose panel. But he found nothing. At last, he reached a quieter, more secluded section of the building, where the bustling sounds of students and staff faded into the background. Edward paused, tilting his head to study the towering wall before him. The roof''s height might have intimidated most, but to Edward, it seemed almost inviting. The stonework provided ample handholds, and the design of the building created a natural path for him to scale. His lips quirked in a faint smirk as he calculated his route. With a sharp inhale, Edward planted his feet, shifting into a crouch. His right hand reached high, fingers poised to grip the stone as if testing its strength. His left leg bent, ready to propel him upward in a leap. "Excuse me," a voice interrupted, soft and low but firm enough to break Edward''s focus. "You shouldn''t do that." Edward turned his head sharply toward the voice. Standing a short distance away on the flower-lined pathway was a slender figure. At first glance, Edward assumed it was a young womana perception shaped by the figure''s delicate build and refined features. But a closer look revealed a masculine presence cloaked in androgynous beauty. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The butler''s black eyes, sharp and steady, framed by long lashes, gave him an otherworldly allure. His porcelain-like skin, smooth and unblemished, almost glowed in the sunlight. His slightly tousled black hair fell in soft, layered strands, framing a face so symmetrical and elegant it could rival the nobility he likely served. His uniforma tailored vest over a crisp blue shirt, paired with a neatly knotted black tiedistinguished him further, a subtle yet striking deviation from the standard butler attire. Edward raised an eyebrow, his calculating gaze meeting the butler''s unflinching one. "Sorry, sweetie," Edward said, his tone polite yet dismissive. "Can you close your eyes and pretend you didn''t see me for a moment?" The butler''s lips curled into a small, amused smile. "As servants of noble masters, we shouldn''t tarnish their reputations with acts of impropriety," he replied smoothly, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of authority. Edward scoffed lightly, his expression unchanging. "Impropriety? Climbing a building isn''t improperunless someone tells my lady." His tone dropped slightly, edged with a quiet menace. The butler didn''t flinch. Instead, he adjusted his posture subtly, his feet shifting into a steady stance, as though prepared for confrontation. His hands hung loose at his sides, but there was a readiness in his frame, a balance that hinted at martial training. The way he planted himself on the pathway made it clear: if Edward moved to attack, he wouldn''t hesitate to act. "I doubt your lady would appreciate you doing something so reckless like climbing wall," the butler said. Then, his brows furrowed slightly as realization dawned. "Wait... climbing?! I was only going to ask you not to step on the grass." Edward blinked, momentarily thrown by the statement. "There''s no sign prohibiting it," he replied flatly, his logic as sharp as his tone. "Even so, as servants, we should hold ourselves to a higher standard," the butler countered, his voice steady but firm. Edward sighed, brushing off the remark with a wave of his hand. "Fine. I''ll stop stepping on the grass after I''ve climbed the building and enter the building. So relax, sweetie." The butler''s eyes narrowed, his voice sharpening. "That''s far worse. I''m afraid I''ll have to stop you." The tension between them lingered for a moment, but before either could make another move, the faint chatter of maids drifted toward them. What had been a quiet section of the grounds was now slowly becoming more populated. Edward clicked his tongue softly, annoyed at the intrusion. Without another word, he turned and began walking along the grass, ignoring the butler entirely. "Hey!" the butler called after him, his voice losing some of its composure. "You can''t just ignore me! At least walk on the pathway!" Edward didn''t reply, his focus unwavering as he continued to trace the building''s perimeter. Minutes passed as he moved with calculated steps, his sharp eyes scanning every detail of the structure as though searching for something hidden. Meanwhile, the androgynous butler trailed him from the pathway, his presence a persistent shadow that Edward stubbornly refused to acknowledge. "I''m serious!" the butler called again, his tone firmer now, though it carried a tinge of exasperation. "I don''t care what you''re planning, but you need to get back on the path!" By now, the butler''s words had become a refrain, repeated with the same patience and persistence as though Edward''s silence only encouraged him to try harder. The rhythm of their one-sided exchange stretched into what felt like an eternity. Edward could hear the faint crunch of footsteps on the stone pathway paralleling his own movements, a reminder that his unwanted companion wasn''t giving up anytime soon. Edward finally stopped, his patience wearing thin. He turned his head slightly, his voice calm but cutting. "Oi. Shut up for a moment." The butler hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the shift in Edward''s tone. Edward''s gaze fixed on a new scene unfolding just ahead. Sitting on a short staircase that led to what appeared to be a closed side entrance were three maids, clearly unaware of the two butlers observing them. The first maid, a muscular woman as tall as Edward, tipped back a bottle of whiskey, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Fuaaaahhh! This hits hard," she declared, her voice carrying an air of bold confidence. The second maid, a petite woman seated beside her, poured whiskey into a small flask while snacking on something unidentifiable. Her motions were quick and practiced, her focus entirely on her task. The third maid, the most composed-looking of the group, sipped whiskey from a small glass with an air of refinement. Adjusting her glasses, she muttered in a tone far too casual for the setting, "If only I could enjoy this fine drink while admiring my lady''s ample bosom." Edward blinked, his expression deadpan as he took in the scene. Compared to the persistent, rule-obsessed butler still hovering nearby, these three maids presented an entirely different kind of nuisance. "Just great," Edward muttered under his breath. 【Whiskey Over Grace】 The staircase was tucked away at the side of the grand auditorium, a place where shadows stretched long beneath the soft light filtering from the ornate building''s exterior. This corner of the grounds, while still part of the prestigious academy, felt worlds apart from the polished pathways and manicured lawns bustling with students and servants. Here, it was quiet but far from serenethis was a space for indulgence and irreverence, a hidden pocket of rebellion within the school''s grandeur. At the top of the stairs sat a towering woman, her presence as commanding as the thick shackle with chains subtly wrapped around her wrists, resting like accessory showing defiance. One leg bent upward, her knee drawn close to her chest, while the other stretched lazily down the steps. The fabric of her maid uniform parted just enough to reveal short bloomers beneath the long skirt, adding a curious mix of rugged charm and old-fashioned propriety. Her loose ponytail swayed with every casual motion, strands of golden hair catching the light. She leaned on her bent knee, gripping a half-empty whiskey bottle as though it were a natural extension of her hand. Despite her languid pose, her muscled frame exuded readiness, like a coiled spring waiting for a reason to leap. A faint smirk played on her lips, daring anyone to disturb her moment of revelry. Halfway down the staircase, a refined woman sat with all the composure of a noble herself. She rested on a neatly folded handkerchief, avoiding direct contact with the dirt-streaked stairs beneath her. Her long skirt flowed in elegant folds around her crossed legs, though the faint hint of a garter belt peeked out as she adjusted her position. One hand cradled a small glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid with a deliberate elegance. Her other hand rested near an uncapped bottle beside her, its fine label a testament to her exacting standards. Every sip she took was slow and measured, as though savoring not just the taste but the entire act of enjoyment. Her thin, framed glasses gleamed faintly in the light, and a knowing smirk curled at the edges of her lips. At the base of the stairs, sprawled on the dirt path without a care, sat a smaller figure. Her short hair framed her sharp, youthful features, and her shorter maid uniformbarely reaching below her kneesshifted as she stretched one leg out, the other bent. Her black pantyhose bore faint streaks of dirt from where she sat, but she paid it no mind. A flask balanced on her lap as she poured whiskey into it with one hand while sipping straight from the bottle cradled in the other. Nearby, a small pile of peculiar snacksdeep-fried squid tentacles dusted with sugar and chili flakeslay scattered on a napkin. Her free hand occasionally darted to grab a piece, stuffing her mouth full before chewing with quiet satisfaction. She moved with an air of defiance, entirely at ease with the untidiness of her surroundings.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The muscular maid at the top of the stairs raised her bottle, gesturing lazily toward her refined companion. "As expected, Cecilia," she said, her voice carrying a rough, teasing warmth. "You always manage to bring the finest drinks." Her free hand tapped the edge of a wooden crate nearby, its remaining bottles clinking faintly. Two untouched bottles nestled within, while the rest had clearly been consumed. The glasses maid, gave a small smile without opening her eyes. "You can thank my lady later," she replied, her tone light yet precise. The petite maid, her cheeks puffed with food, mumbled something incomprehensible through her full mouth. The glasses maid sighed, adjusting her glasses. "Swallow first, Feli," she said with a hint of exasperation. "Then talk." After a loud gulp, the short-haired maid pointed her flask toward The glasses maid. "I was saying," she began, "isn''t Northam House also dealing with same big problems lately?" The glasses maid''s expression shifted slightly, her gaze sharpening as she sipped her drink. "What I''ve heard," she said, her voice calm but edged with seriousness, "is that their situation is far worse than my master." She took another measured sip before adding, "Thankfully, our house isn''t under as much pressure." At this, the towering maid, tilted her head and stared at her empty bottle. She quickly opened another, the hiss of the seal breaking adding a faint edge to the silence. "You sure about that?" she asked, her voice thoughtful as she took a deep gulp. The glasses maid swirled her whiskey with a contemplative air, her tone calm but edged with mischief. "When I saw my lady''s mother talking to them, her smile was the same, but her neck wasn''t shining with sweat like usual." The muscular maid raised an eyebrow. "Sweat?" The glasses maid nodded, taking a delicate sip. "It''s a tell. When she''s cornered in negotiations, she sweatsjust a little, right along the collar." She paused, a sly smile curling her lips. "And to confirm my theory... let''s just say her evening laundry offered no surprises." The petite maid froze mid-chew, her brows furrowing. "Ceci, you''re seriously sniffing laundry now?" "Purely for research," she replied smoothly, adjusting her glasses. "And today''s whiskey? A direct result of what I didn''t find." The muscular maid barked a laugh, though she looked somewhat baffled. "Now you mention it... Amelia was sent to Northam House just before last weekend," she said, as if recalling a half-forgotten memory. The glasses maid arched an eyebrow. "Amelia?" The petite maid was quick to answer, pointing at the muscular maid. "You knowher ''friend from work.''" She raised her fingers to mimic quotation marks, her tone implying an indiscreet understanding of Amelia''s role. The glasses maid adjusted her glasses, comprehension dawning in her expression. "Ah, so that''s it." The muscular maid frowned slightly, her grip on her bottle tightening. "Wait, I thought you already knew Amelia?" The glasses maid sighed, shaking her head. "You and your secret gatherings have too many layers. Even I lose track of your conversations." The muscular maid turned to the petite maid, an almost accusatory look in her eyes. "But Felicity, you know Amelia, don''t you?" The petite maid shrugged nonchalantly. "Nope, just the name. I just pick up bits from your vague ramblings." The muscular maid groaned, rubbing her temple. "Sometimes I confuse myself with all the things I do," she admitted. The petite maid stuffed another piece of her odd snack into her mouth, her tone muffled but teasing. "Well, sounds like Northam''s doing fine if your ''friend from work'' is involved." The muscular maid gave a half-hearted nod, downing another swig from her bottle. "I hope so," she murmured before letting out a loud, satisfied sigh. "Fuaaaahhh! This hits hard." The glasses maid chuckled softly, swirling the whiskey in her glass. Her next comment came far too casually, "If only I could enjoy this drink while admiring my lady''s ample bosom." The petite maid frowned, her expression twisting into a grimace. "Ceci, you''re perv." As the petite maid stuffed another piece of her odd snack into her mouth, her gaze shifted sharply. She hurriedly swallowed, her voice dropping to a low murmur. "Hey, Bridget. Ceci. Look over there." The muscular maid tipped her bottle slightly, her golden ponytail swaying as she followed the direction of her companion''s gaze. Her eyes landed on a familiar figurea tall, broad-shouldered young man whose sharp expression radiated a mix of annoyance and disgust. Not far beside him, a more refined presence hovered, his elegant posture contrasting with the faint crease of exasperation on his face. The taller figure''s dark suit clung to his form like armor, while the other''s blue-vested attire gleamed faintly in the soft light. Bridget''s smirk widened, and she leaned back slightly, her bottle dangling lazily from her fingertips. "Well, well," she drawled, her tone both amused and challenging. "If it isn''t Ed boy." 【Crouching Maids, Hidden Butler】 Bridget leaned back slightly, her elbow resting lazily on her raised knee as she twirled the whiskey bottle in her hand, the amber liquid sloshing gently. She grinned broadly. "Hey, what''s up with that long face?" she asked, her tone carrying the playful edge of someone who enjoyed poking at others. Edward barely spared her a glance, his expression sharp and bordering on disgust. "Because I stumbled upon a disgusting sight," he retorted, his voice clipped, almost daring. His eyes, however, never lingered on Bridget. Instead, they locked on the door behind her, the one he had been searching for all along. The petite maid, sitting on the dirt path with one leg stretched out and the other bent casually, stopped mid-sip from her flask. Her short hair shifted slightly as she tilted her head upward, her expression filled with curiosity. "Hey, Bridget, who''s this rude person?" she asked, pointing her flask lazily in Edward''s direction. Bridget chuckled, her laugh deep and hearty, almost mocking. She tapped the side of her whiskey bottle as though emphasizing her point. "Oh, remember that Amelia girl I mentioned? He worked in the same mansion as her," she said with a smirk, taking a long swig from her bottle and letting out a satisfied exhale. The mention of Amelia seemed almost an afterthought to her, a casual connection she threw out without much care. "Though," Bridget added with a sly grin, tilting her head to get a better look at feminine butler, "I don''t know who that cutie is with him." Her tone was playful, but her sharp eyes betrayed her intrigue. Edward''s focus didn''t waver. His gaze remained fixed on the door, his sharp features locked in concentration as though mentally mapping his next move. His response was dismissive, almost automatic. "Oh, this sweetie? He''s my best friend, and he''s a boy," he said, pointing toward the feminine butler beside him without turning his head. Bridget raised an eyebrow at Edward''s remark, her smirk deepening as she turned her attention to Ren. "This cutie''s your best friend?" she repeated, her tone dripping with amusement. "Well, well, I didn''t think you''d have a friend this pretty, Ed-boy... or that matter making friend." Ren blinked, his elegant composure faltering slightly as Edward''s words registered. His sharp gaze flicked to Edward, a mixture of confusion and disbelief crossing his refined features responding to what just Edward said. His posture stiffened, and his lips parted for a brief moment, as if he were about to protest, but he quickly caught himself. His eyes narrowed slightly, silently questioning Edward''s sanity while his shoulders tensed. Though he said nothing. Cecilia, perched elegantly halfway up the staircase, raised her whiskey glass with deliberate grace. The motion was fluid, her every movement exuding control. She took a slow sip, her lips curling into a playful smirk as she eyed the pair. "Oh my," she purred, her voice dripping with amused sensuality. "A hard, muscular man and a pretty boy. This is not bad at all." She licked the rim of her glass slowly, a deliberate, teasing motion that added weight to her words. Ren stepped forward, his composure snapping back into place like a blade returning to its sheath. He offered a polite smile, the picture of refined dignity. "Ehmm, my apologies, ladies," he began, his voice steady and measured. He clenched his right fist and placed his left palm over it at chest height, his posture impeccable. With a subtle bow, he continued, "My family name is Jianyu, symbolizing purity; my given name, Ren, signifies the lotus, a flower of resilience and grace. I am a loyal servant of Lady You Mei Xuan of Huaxia. Please, you may call me Ren." Edward snorted audibly, his lips curling in disdain. His piercing gaze shifted briefly to Ren, filled with open disappointment. "Ladies..." he muttered under his breath, the word dripping with sarcasm, as though the very notion offended him. Cecilia''s smirk widened, her amusement barely contained. She tilted her head slightly, the golden light catching the edges of her glasses as she regarded Ren with a mix of intrigue and approval. "My, what a charming introduction," she said smoothly. Raising her glass in a mock toast, she added, "The name''s Cecilia Vaughn." Her voice carried a sultry undertone, and her gaze lingered just long enough to make Ren uncomfortable. "And that fun-sized maid down there is Felicity Wade." "Say short if you don''t want to use petite!" Felicity snapped, her cheeks puffing out indignantly as she glared up at Cecilia. Despite her tone, she didn''t bother to adjust her lounging position, one hand still idly swirling whiskey into her flask. Cecilia giggled softly, the sound light but pointed, as though she enjoyed Felicity''s irritation. The edges of her smirk remained firmly in place. "And Bridget Helvig," Bridget announced, her voice booming with pride.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. She rose slightly, raising her whiskey bottle like a trophy. "Servant to Her Royal Highness Dorothea Alexandra Evangeline Caerwysg, Student Council President of Saint Aelric''s Academy." Her tone was laced with smugness, the kind of confidence that dared anyone to challenge her. Edward''s expression froze, his sharp features betraying a flicker of recognition at the mention of Dorothea''s name. His jaw tightened briefly, but he said nothing, his focus still torn between the maids and the door he so desperately wanted to investigate. Cecilia leaned further into her palm, her whiskey glass now held lazily in her other hand. Her smirk deepened as she turned her attention to Edward, her eyes glinting with mischievous curiosity. "And you, handsome, what''s your name?" she asked, her tone playful but with a deliberate edge designed to unsettle. Edward''s response was immediate and deadpan. "Excalibur Explosion the Thirteenth," he said, his tone so serious. Cecilia''s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, her elegant facade cracking under the weight of her own confusion. Her brow furrowed slightly, and the corners of her lips twitched as she tried to process whether Edward was joking or serious. "Excalibur Explosion...?" she repeated under her breath, the words rolling awkwardly off her tongue. Bridget threw her head back, laughing uproariously. Her hearty guffaws echoed through the quiet space, her entire frame shaking with amusement. She slammed her whiskey bottle lightly against the ground, barely managing to keep her balance as she laughed harder. Ren''s composed expression returned, though his eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of exhaustion. His sharp features remained perfectly arranged, but the slight droop of his shoulders and the resigned sigh he suppressed were clear indicators of his inner turmoil. His thoughts screamed louder than words ever could, his gaze fixed on Edward as if silently asking, Why are you like this? Felicity, on the other hand, sat up straighter, her expression lighting up with genuine awe. "That''s your name?!" she exclaimed, her tone filled with childlike wonder. Her short hair bounced slightly as she leaned forward, her eyes wide and sparkling. "So COOL!" she added, clapping her hands together in delight. Bridget leaned back, her whiskey bottle tilted lazily in her hand as she let out a hearty laugh. "Don''t believe him, Felicity. His name''s Edward. A plain name, even for his appearance, right?" she teased, her grin wide and mocking. Edward''s jaw tightened, his annoyance barely concealed. His teeth ground together audibly, and his narrowed eyes darted toward Bridget, silently promising retribution for insulting his name. "Ugh, bummer." Felicity sighed, her shoulders slumping as she returned to snacking. "Then why lie?" she muttered, clearly disappointed. Bridget chuckled, shaking her head. "That''s just him," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "He never gives his name when asked. Rude, right? What kind of butler acts like that?" Edward straightened, placing a hand on his chest with exaggerated pride. "My name is for me, not for others to use as they please," he declared. "It was given to me by my lady, and I''ll share it with no one." Ren blinked in confusion written plainly on his face. "That''s... not how names work," he said hesitantly. "Strange way of thinking," Felicity added, quirking an eyebrow as she popped another bizarre snack into her mouth. Cecilia adjusted her glasses with two fingers, her sharp gaze glinting as a smirk tugged at her lips. "So," she began slyly, "what was your name before?" Before Edward could respond to Cecilia''s probing question about his name, Bridget''s voice boomed, cutting through the conversation with deliberate force. "So, you''re the butler of that ambassador family from Cathay," she exclaimed, her tone loud and sudden, as though eager to steer the topic elsewhere. Her grin was sharp, but her eyes flickered briefly toward Edward, betraying a glimmer of something deeperperhaps a desire to divert the conversation away from dangerous territory. Cecilia''s knowing expression didn''t falter. She closed her eyes and leaned back slightly, letting Bridget''s interruption slide without comment. Ren, ever poised, caught the shift immediately. His smile widened as he took Bridget''s cue, smoothly brushing past his own curiosity about what happen. "Yes, Ms. Helvig," he said, bowing slightly. "Our house has been entrusted by the Emperor with the task of leading a trade mission to your kingdom. It''s not just about bringing goods from Huaxia but also representing the entire Silk Road region and the greater lands of Cathay." Cathaya term commonly used by western continent for the distant eastern landswas a relic of old maps and fragmented tales brought back by merchants. Though Huaxia and its neighboring kingdoms had their own names for their realms, the word had endured in Avilon, carried a sense of wonder and exoticism, conjuring images of silks, spices, and mythical creatures. For Ren, it was a convenient term, one that bridged the gap between two vastly different worlds. Edward took a step closer to Ren, sidestepping cautiously like a crab. Lowering his voice slightlybut not enough to avoid being overheardhe muttered, "Listen, buddy, keep them talking." Ren''s brow furrowed slightly, his composure faltering just enough to reveal his confusion. "Buddy?" he echoed under his breath, clearly baffled. Just moments ago, Edward had mockingly called him ''sweetie'', a pointed jab at his delicate features. Now, this sudden shift to "buddy" left him wondering when their relationship had supposedly evolved. Edward pressed on, undeterred. "Focus on the boorish oneshe''s the alpha... of this pack of animals." "Oi! I heard that!" Bridget barked, her whiskey bottle slamming lightly against the step. Her smirk widened, though her eyes flashed with mock irritation. "Ha! Apparently, we''re pack animals now," Felicity giggled, clearly amused. Cecilia tilted her head, her smirk turning wicked. "Well, if I''m an animal, I wouldn''t mind devouring you boys... slowly," she said, her voice dripping with sensual mischief as she traced the rim of her glass with one finger. Ren, unfazed, raised an eyebrow. "What for?" he asked, genuinely curious. Edward ignored Cecilia''s comment and leaned in closer to Ren, his tone more conspiratorial. "Can''t you see? Their behavior is more outrageous than mine for walking on the grass. They''re drinking in broad daylight, on school grounds, during working hours." Ren blinked, his refined composure faltering for a moment as realization dawned. He straightened, his gaze flicking between the maids. "That... does seem improper." "Oi! What are you whispering about?" Bridget called, narrowing her eyes. Edward quickly shifted the subject, glancing at Felicity with a sly grin. "Hey, buddy," he said to Ren, "I hear your people can ride dragons on their heads." Felicity''s flask slipped from her hands, spilling its contents onto the dirt as her eyes widened in shock. She gasped, her mouth falling open. "Y-you actually ride dragons? How? Why on the top of the head? Do you need a saddle or something?" she blurted, her voice a mixture of awe and frantic curiosity. Edward smirked, a flicker of satisfaction in his expression. His plan was clearly working. Even Cecilia and Bridget, who had initially been indifferent, now seemed intrigued. Cecilia adjusted her glasses, the faintest glint of interest sparking in her sharp eyes, while Bridget tilted her head, her smirk fading into genuine curiosity. Ren, ever composed, offered a calm and measured explanation. "No, we don''t ride them in the conventional sense. We simply stand motionless on their heads and let them fly. It''s said that if your mind is clear and free of impurities, you can communicate with the dragon and guide it where you want to go." Felicity''s head snapped toward Cecilia, her face lighting up like excited child. "Talk to dragons?! Is that even possible?" she asked, her voice rising in excitement as she leaned forward. Cecilia, maintaining her composed demeanor, gave a thoughtful answer. "Well, fishermen communicate with dolphins using signs to ask for directions to a herd of whales. It''s not entirely impossible." Her lips curved into a faint smirk as she added, "But dragons? They''re not exactly known for their intelligence. They''d probably try to devour you before holding a conversation." Bridget snorted. "Yeah, dragons are dumb. Just stay out of their line of sight, and they think you''ve vanished." "Shut up, Bridget," Felicity snapped. "You know nothing about dragonsor anything, for that matter!" Bridget''s grin turned feral. "Huh? I punched a dragon in the face once." "That wasn''t a dragon! That was a wyvern!" Felicity shot back, exasperated. Bridget folded her arms, looking smug. "Wyvern, dragon juvenilesame thing." "Just shut up, you muscle head!" Felicity groaned. "You wouldn''t understand the romance of riding a dragon!" Felicity turned back to Ren, her excitement reignited. "If you can talk to dragons, can you ask them to put a saddle on their backs near their wings?" Ren chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You seem to have the wrong image of dragons from my homeland, Ms. Wade. Our dragons are serpentine, like great flying snakes. They swim through the air as if it were water. Imagine several Plownonida trams in a row, and you''re standing on the very front." "That''s... bigger than any dragon I''ve ever heard of," Felicity breathed in awe, her eyes wide as her imagination raced. "Fascinating." Cecilia adjusted her glasses, her gaze sharpening with curiosity. "How does something that enormous, and without wings, manage to take to the skies?" she asked, her tone deliberate, as though dissecting a puzzle she couldn''t quite piece together. "Definitely not by sneaking, right, Ed-boy?" Bridget''s voice cut through the air, sharp, carrying the weight of her presence. It wasn''t just her words that froze everyoneit was the sound that followed. A faint clink of chains broke the stillness, subtle yet chilling, as if the links themselves had moved before she did. The loose chains dangling from the shackles she wore as accessories swayed briefly, their metallic whisper carrying an unspoken warning. Before anyone could react, her hand shot out with unerring precision, gripping Edward''s ankle like a steel trap. Her words and actions struck simultaneously, cutting through the moment like a whip. Everyone turned, their gazes following hers, only to see Edward halfway through opening the door behind them. His hand hovered over the handle, his body angled as though he was seconds away from slipping inside unnoticed. "Eh?!" Felicity yelped, dropping her flask again. Even Cecilia raised an eyebrow, visibly startled. "When did he?" Ren''s refined composure faltered. His dark eyes darted between Bridget''s unyielding grip and Edward''s halted escape. The clink of the chain lingered faintly in his ears, a sound both deliberate and eerie. As if she had moved with the inevitability of a spring-loaded mechanism, Ren couldn''t help but feel a flicker of respect mixed with disbelief. Edward clicked his tongue in irritation, his sharp features tightening in a mix of annoyance and resignation. He didn''t try to pull away; he knew better. "Tch. Figured you''d notice," he muttered under his breath, clearly disgruntled but not surprised. 【Three Maids and a Butler】 "So, Ed-boy... where are you going?" Bridget leaned lazily, her casual tone masking the menace in her posture. "To my lady, of course," Edward replied without hesitation, his voice steady as he adjusted his gloves. "As expected, it''s always about your lady." Bridget''s lips curled into a sly grin. "To be frank, it''d be foolish of me to think you''d show up here without her." "Now you understand," Edward said with a faint smirk. "You''ll let me go, won''t you?" Bridget let out a low chuckle, shaking her head slowly. "But it seems you still don''t understand why I''m standing here, blocking the only exit from this building." Edward sighed, his smirk fading into a look of irritation. "No, I know exactly why you''re here. I just don''t care about that drill-haired woman''s problems." Bridget''s grin vanished instantly, her eyes narrowing as her voice dropped into a growl. "Dare to insult my master?!" Before Edward could react, Bridget lunged at him, her hand snapping toward his ankle like a whip. Her grip was solid and unyielding, her strength radiating through the air. Edward, however, was quicker. Sensing the slight shift in her stance, he dropped his body suddenly, twisting like a coiled spring. The unexpected motion forced Bridget''s grip to falter for just an instantlong enough for him to kick the whiskey bottle lying beside her. The bottle spun through the air in a perfect arc toward Ren, who caught it with a single fluid motion. His sharp reflexes made the catch look effortless, though his expression betrayed mild annoyance at being dragged into the chaos. The maneuver gave Edward the chance he needed. Twisting free, he leaped back, landing smoothly on the ground below the staircase. The sudden movement put a wide distance between him and Bridget. "Confiscate that, buddy," Edward called out to Ren with a wry grin. "Don''t feed this animal any more." Ren caught Edward''s words with a faint tilt of his head, his sharp black eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at the whiskey bottle in his hand. He didn''t reply immediately, but the flicker of annoyance in his expression was hard to miss. Bridget barely glanced at the bottle, her focus laser-sharp on Edward. "Clever," she muttered, her voice tinged with annoyance. "You''re both trying to split my attention. But I don''t care about the whiskey. My friends still have plenty." Ren, standing silently with the bottle, raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze back to Bridget. As if on cue, Felicity tipped back her bottle, draining it with a loud gulp. She lowered it with a satisfied sigh, then slipped a polished flask from her sleeve. With a quick glance to ensure no one was watching too closely, she casually poured the last few drops from the bottle into the flask and sealed it with a practiced twist. Tucking the flask into her pocket, she flashed a sly grin. "Sorry, mate," she said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I''d share, but mine''s already gone." At the same time, Cecilia, who always carried herself with refined elegance, lifted her bottle to her lipsbut this time, she tilted it back and gulped hurriedly, the liquid sloshing audibly as she drank. Her movements were frantic, almost desperate, a sharp contrast to her usual composed demeanor. When the bottle was finally empty, she lowered it with a gasp, her cheeks flushed. Without hesitation, she wiped her mouth with her long sleeve in a graceful motion, her expression shifting immediately into one of serene poise. Folding her hands delicately, she let out a soft sigh, as if nothing had happened. "Oh my, such a fine drink," she remarked, her voice calm and elegant, as if she hadn''t just drained the bottle like a parched sailor. "You don''t even realize it''s gone until it''s too late." Bridget''s head snapped toward her friends, irritation flaring in her eyes. "Why didn''t either of you share it with me?!" Cecilia snapped back, her tone sharp. "Don''t be ridiculous. You hogged most of the bottle already, and now you want our share too?" "Yup," Felicity chimed in, lazily pointing at Ren. "And now that''s the last one. Over there." Bridget''s eyes shifted to Ren, her expression darkening as she approached him with a menacing aura. "Now, Cathay boy, be a good lad and hand it over." She extended her hand, palm up, in a mockingly polite gesture. "Don''t falter, buddy. You keep thatyou''re doing a noble job by confiscating that drink," Edward said with a smirk. Ren raised an eyebrow, his grip on the bottle tightening slightly. "This behavior is entirely unbecoming of servants representing noble masters," he said, his voice calm but laced with a sharp undertone of disapproval. It was as if he were weighing whether to scold them further or simply extricate himself from the scene. With a measured glance at the bottle, he added, "I''ll keep this out of reach, ladies." Bridget''s eyes shifted to Ren, her expression darkening as her attention locked onto him. The air seemed to grow heavier as she took a deliberate step forward, her movements slow but brimming with quiet menace. Ren''s sharp black eyes flicked to her, his grip on the bottle tightening ever so slightly. He wasn''t one to flinch, but the shift in Bridget''s stance and the weight of her intent made one thing clear: this was trouble best avoided. Without a word, Ren''s figure seemed to blur at the edges, like a shadow dissolving into the light. By the time Bridget''s step closed the gap further, he was gone, leaving only an unsettling stillness where he had stood. "What the" Felicity and Cecilia muttered, blinking in disbelief. Edward groaned audibly, throwing his hands up. "You bastard! The plan was to lure her away, not disappear like that!" Bridget''s grin widened, though it lacked any real warmth. Her eyes narrowed like a predator locking onto prey. "Looks like it''s just you and me now, Ed-boy," she said, her tone dripping with dangerous amusement. "Why don''t you just grab your drink and let us deal with him?" Felicity asked, her voice calm but her eyes focused on Edward. "You can''t beat him," Bridget said flatly, her tone unusually serious. "At best, the two of you could hold him off for a while." "Then let''s chase after the pretty boy," Cecilia suggested, though her tone wavered slightly. "You fools," Bridget snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "This year''s students bring things you''ve never dealt with before. That Cathay boy could easily cripple you if you''re not careful." Cecilia adjusted her glasses nervously, and Felicity''s usual grin faltered. Neither spoke, but the warning in Bridget''s tone was enough to unsettle them both. Bridget cracked her knuckles, her gaze shifting back to Edward. "Forget the Cathay boy and the whiskey. Focus on Ed-boy. He''s trying to sneak insidethat''s already a red flag," she barked, her tone brooking no argument. Edward sighed, straightening up and rolling his shoulders. "If you''re that desperate to waste my time," he muttered, his tone sharpening, "then let''s get this over with." Bridget''s stance shifted subtly, her muscles coiling with purpose. Her smirk faded, replaced by a sharp focus as she adjusted her footing. The floor beneath her creaked faintly as she pushed off, her body a blur of motion. With explosive force, Bridget lunged at Edward, her body twisting mid-air as she delivered a powerful right jab aimed directly at him. The sheer speed of her attack left Edward momentarily caught off guard. Instinctively, he crossed his arms defensively, forming a tight guard near the left side of his face. Her fist collided with his forearm with a resounding impact, sending a sharp vibration up his arm. His left hand absorbed most of the blow, while his right hand braced against his left wrist, reinforcing the block against the immense pressure Bridget unleashed. Edward''s feet dug into the ground as he leaned slightly to his right, stabilizing himself against her overwhelming force. Bridget''s strike didn''t falter, her eyes narrowing as her punch pressed harder against Edward''s improvised guard. The clash between her raw strength and his quick reflexes held for a fleeting moment before she pushed off, her body coiling to strike again. Bridget''s right jab smashed into Edward''s crossed arms with an audible thud, the force rippling through his frame. Her momentum kept her in mid-air, her body twisting with the sheer power of her attack. Edward grunted under the impact, his left arm absorbing the brunt of the strike while his right hand braced firmly against the pressure. But Edward wasn''t done yet. Seizing the split-second opening, he twisted his hips sharply, his body coiling like a spring. His right leg swung upward in a swift, controlled arc, targeting Bridget''s exposed left side. The impact landed with a dull thud, driving into her ribs with enough force to shift her mid-air trajectory. Bridget''s eyes widened slightly, her smirk faltering as the unexpected counter sent her hurtling sideways. Her body collided with the stone wall behind her, the echo reverberating through the quiet space. Yet, despite the impact, she landed on her feet with a controlled thud. Her fierce grin returned almost instantly, a spark of challenge blazing in her eyes. Edward adjusted his stance, steadying himself for whatever came next. Bridget rolled her shoulders, the sound of joints popping echoing faintly in the tense air. She clenched her fists tightly, her knuckles cracking with deliberate menace, daring Edward to make a move. Tilting her head left and right, she loosened her neck muscles with a sharp motion, her smirk widening into something more feral.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Girls..." she said, her tone calm but brimming with challenge. "Looks like guarding this door wasn''t a waste after all. We''ve found the problem we need to stopfor our masters." Edward''s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. He stood firm, his voice cutting through the air like steel. "All of your masters can roll over and die for all I care," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "I just need to be by my lady''s sidenow." "Ho ho, now that''s something a bad guy would say," Bridget retorted, her stance shifting as she prepared to strike again. "Girls... ready to restrain him." Cecilia adjusted her glasses with a flick of her fingers, a knowing smirk curving her lips. Without a word, her hand dipped gracefully into her cleavage, disappearing into the folds of her uniform. A moment later, she tugged sharply, and a vivid red rope began to emergeits diameter thick, about half an inch, with a polished texture that gleamed faintly in the light. At each end of the rope, small steel hooks gleamed wickedly, their curved tips polished to a mirror shine. The hooks swayed slightly as the rope continued to unravel, their faint clinking adding a metallic rhythm to the spectacle. The rope kept coming, as though she were pulling an endless coil from a hidden abyss. Each movement was smooth, deliberate, and oddly mesmerizing, the contrast of the bright red rope and the glinting hooks against her dark uniform only adding to the absurdity. By the time the rope was fully drawn, coiled neatly in her hands, Cecilia lifted it with an air of casual triumph. The hooks dangled menacingly, catching the light as she gave the rope a testing flick. "Dare to threaten my lady''s safety, huh?" she said with a sly wink, spinning one end of the rope effortlessly. Her smirk deepened as the sharp hooks danced ominously. "Now, what binding suits you?" At the same time, Felicity leaned back slightly, her expression unbothered as she casually reached down and lifted the hem of her skirt. The motion was entirely shameless, revealing the dark sheen of her black pantyhose and the compact leather harness strapped securely to her upper thigh. Beneath the thin, translucent fabric, a faint glimpse of her white and blue striped panties peeked through, adding an unintended yet unmistakable layer of brazenness to the scene. Felicity, however, remained utterly indifferent, her demeanor as casual as if she were tying her shoes. The snug holster cradled a folding baton, its polished surface catching the light in a brief glint. With a practiced motion, she reached for it and unclipped the baton with a faint click, sliding it free in one smooth movement. The baton extended with a satisfying metallic snap as she tested its weight with a slight twirl. "Haaah, I thought I''d get some leisure today," Felicity sighed, flipping her skirt back down without ceremony. She tilted her head slightly, her tone carrying an air of playful exasperation. "Well, I guess this beats listening to my master drone on about etiquette." Edward''s gaze hardened, his brows knitting briefly before smoothing out into a calm, calculating glare. Edward''s muscles tensed as the three opponents moved in unison, their intent clear. Felicity was the first to act, darting forward with her baton aimed low, targeting his legs. At the same time, Cecilia''s rope snaked through the air, the hook glinting as it swung in a wide arc toward his side. Bridget hung back for a moment, her sharp gaze locked on Edward, her body poised like a coiled spring, ready to strike. Edward sprang into action. He sidestepped Felicity''s swift lunge, her baton striking the floor with a metallic crack. Spinning on his heel, he narrowly evaded Cecilia''s rope, the hooked end slicing through the air where his ribs had been a moment before. But before he could fully recover, Bridget launched herself forward. Bridget''s fist came crashing toward him, a powerful right jab that carried the force of a battering ram. Edward crossed his arms just in time, forming a tight guard as her punch connected. The impact reverberated through his entire body, forcing his feet to dig into the ground to absorb the blow. The sheer force left his arms trembling, but he held firm. Before he could counter, Cecilia''s rope lashed out again. Edward twisted his body to dodge, but the second hook snagged the edge of his sleeve, jerking him slightly off balance. Felicity seized the opportunity, her baton striking toward his exposed ribs. Edward dropped low at the last second, rolling out of the way as the baton sliced through the air above him. Edward''s roll ended just as Bridget lunged again. This time, her fists swung in wide arcs, forcing him to duck and weave to avoid the crushing blows. Each swing carried enough power to leave cracks in the stone floor when they missed, a stark reminder of what would happen if they connected. Cecilia''s rope coiled and struck like a viper, forcing Edward to leap back to avoid being ensnared. The hooks clinked faintly as the rope whipped past him, their sharp tips grazing his jacket. Edward grabbed a nearby wooden chair and swung it into the path of the rope, tangling it briefly. Cecilia pulled sharply, snapping the chair apart, but the momentary delay gave Edward just enough time to reposition himself. Felicity darted in again, her small frame a blur as she aimed a quick series of strikes at Edward''s knees and torso. Edward blocked one strike with his forearm but winced as the baton''s stored energy discharged on impact, sending a jolt through his arm. His expression tightened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face as he deflected her follow-up strike with a sharp kick. The three attackers pressed on, their movements chaotic yet coordinated enough to keep Edward on the defensive. Bridget threw another punch, the sheer force of her strike causing the air to ripple. Edward sidestepped, using her momentum to angle her toward Cecilia. The rope wielder pivoted gracefully, avoiding collision, and lashed out with another precise attack. Edward ducked, grabbing the edge of a nearby table to swing it into Bridget''s path. The heavy wood splintered under her next punch, fragments flying as she brushed the obstacle aside. The ferocity of the assault made it clearEdward couldn''t keep this up forever. He needed to break their rhythm. Edward shifted his stance, his breathing steady despite the relentless attacks from the trio. His sharp gaze darted between them, taking in the way they moved. Felicity''s strikes were precise and fast, but she relied on angles and mobility. Cecilia''s rope was an extension of her, controlled with an almost unnatural fluidity. And Bridget, the powerhouse, simply relied on brute force, closing distance like a human wrecking ball. He decided to disrupt their rhythm. Bridget charged first, her fists swinging wide in an attempt to pin him down. Edward sidestepped, her punch grazing his arm but still carrying enough force to send a jolt up his shoulder. He pivoted sharply, his footwork smooth, and aimed a sharp right hook at her exposed side. His fist connected with a solid thud, but Bridget didn''t flinch. Instead, she grinned, stepping forward as if the blow had only fueled her. "Nice try," she growled, her voice steady despite the faint tightness in her breath. Edward''s eyes narrowed, noting the subtle tension in her stance. She wasn''t invulnerable, even if she acted like it. Before Bridget could follow up, Felicity darted in from the side, her baton whirling in tight arcs. Edward spun to meet her, his fist lashing out in a sharp jab. It caught her shoulder, the impact sending her skidding back with a surprised grunt. "Damn!" she hissed, rolling her shoulder to shake off the sting. Her eyes narrowed, and she adjusted her grip on the baton, her movements more calculated now. Edward didn''t have time to press the advantage. Cecilia''s rope lashed out, the hooks spinning in a deadly arc toward his torso. He ducked low, letting the rope pass over his head, and surged forward to close the gap. His fist shot out, a quick, precise strike aimed at Cecilia''s midsection. The blow landed, forcing a sharp gasp from her as she stumbled back, clutching her side. "You''ve got a nasty punch," she muttered, her usual composure faltering for a split second. But she quickly regained her balance, her eyes sharpening as she began to circle him more cautiously, her rope spinning defensively around her. Bridget didn''t give him a moment to recover. She came in hard, her fists swinging with unrelenting force. Edward raised his guard, blocking each strike, but the sheer weight of her punches drove him back. His arms ached from the impact, but he used the momentum to his advantage, shifting his weight and delivering a swift kick to her ribs. The kick landed cleanly, but Bridget barely reacted, stepping into his range with a smirk. "Is that all you''ve got?" she taunted, her tone mocking but tinged with a hint of strain. Edward noticed the faint flush on her cheeks, the telltale sign of her endurance starting to wane. Felicity and Cecilia regrouped, their earlier confidence replaced with caution. Felicity darted in again, her baton swinging in a blur of tight arcs. Edward deflected most of them, his movements precise, but the baton''s stored energy made each block more taxing. One strike grazed his ribs, sending a sharp jolt through his side. Edward gritted his teeth, retaliating with a swift roundhouse kick. The blow connected with Felicity''s thigh, causing her to stagger back with a sharp intake of breath. "Okay, that one hurt," she muttered, her voice tinged with annoyance. But she didn''t charge back in immediately, instead circling cautiously, her baton spinning idly in her hand as she recalibrated. Edward''s gaze flicked between the three of them. Bridget''s endurance was impressive, but the repeated hits were starting to take their toll. Felicity was faster than him but clearly wary after tasting his strength. And Cecilia, though precise, was keeping her distance, using her rope more defensively now. "They''re adapting," Edward thought, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Great. More wasted time." Edward shifted his stance, his sharp eyes locking onto Felicity. His movements turned deliberate, focused. He pivoted to avoid Bridget''s punch, the air rippling from her missed swing. The stone cracked beneath her fist, but Edward didn''t let her brute strength intimidate him. Instead, he darted around her, drawing her into motion and forcing her to adjust constantly. Bridget''s frustration began to show, her heavy attacks missing by inches as Edward kept moving, leading her in wide arcs. Her gritted teeth and flaring nostrils betrayed her mounting irritation, but Edward stayed just out of reach, his calm and calculated demeanor unchanged. His attention shifted to Felicity, who darted forward with her baton, swinging in a blur of tight arcs. Edward sidestepped her first strike, the baton narrowly missing his ribs, and followed with a sharp jab aimed at her shoulder. Felicity twisted away, her movements fluid and evasive, before retaliating with a quick, low strike toward his knees. Edward jumped back, his boots skidding slightly against the floor, but Felicity pressed on. Her baton came down in a vertical swing, forcing Edward to raise his arm to block. The impact jolted through his muscles, the energy within the baton humming faintly with each strike it absorbed. They exchanged blows in a rapid rhythmFelicity''s baton lashing out like a viper, Edward dodging and countering with precise, calculated punches. Her weapon clipped his forearm once, the faint hum growing louder, but he barely flinched, his focus narrowing as he gauged her movements. Cecilia''s rope flicked toward him, the hook glinting as it curved through the air. Edward twisted sharply, avoiding the rope as it snapped back toward Cecilia''s hand. Bridget closed in with a wide punch aimed at his head, but Edward ducked, using her missed swing as cover to pivot back toward Felicity. He stepped into her range, his fist snapping out to meet her baton mid-swing. The collision was deafening. The baton discharged all its stored energy in an explosive crack, the force sending a shockwave through Felicity''s arm. She cried out, stumbling back as her grip faltered, clutching her hand against her chest. "That hurt," Felicity hissed under her breath, her voice strained. She tried to mask her pain, but Edward''s keen eyes caught the subtle tremor in her grip. He knew she was trying to hide her injury, adopting a more defensive stance. "He''s focusing on Feli," Cecilia muttered, her voice low but audible enough for Bridget to catch. Her tone carried a mix of realization and irritation, her sharp eyes tracking Edward''s movements. Cecilia''s rope lashed out, the hooks spinning in a deadly arc toward his torso. Edward leapt sideways, dodging one end, only to have the second hook loop around toward him. He twisted sharply, the hook missing his arm by a hair''s breadth. But Cecilia''s precise strikes forced him to break his focus on Felicity, keeping him from pressing his advantage. Bridget roared, her fists swinging in relentless succession. The increase in her speed was undeniable, her blows now coming in tighter, faster arcs. Edward deflected one with a raised arm and sidestepped another, but the force of her attacks was driving him into narrower spaces. Her endurance might be waning, but her sheer power and Cecilia''s coordination were putting him under constant pressure. Edward shifted tactics, aiming to control the fight''s tempo. He feinted toward Bridget, drawing her into another missed punch, then lunged at Felicity again. His quick jab targeted her weakened side, striking just below her shoulder. Felicity gasped, stumbling back as her baton slipped from her grip momentarily before she caught it again. "Not giving me a break, are you?" she muttered through gritted teeth, her movements now slower and more cautious. Edward kept his expression neutral, but the satisfaction of disrupting her rhythm was evident in his precise footwork and the confident way he repositioned. He turned his attention briefly to Cecilia, whose rope spun in tight defensive patterns. She was keeping her distance, her strikes calculated and ready to punish any overextension. He noted her controlled breathing and sharp focus, a stark contrast to Bridget''s relentless aggression. Bridget charged again, her fists a blur of motion. Edward ducked under one swing, countering with a sharp uppercut to her ribs. The impact made her pause, but only for a moment. She grinned through the strain, stepping back into his range without hesitation. "As usual still tough," Edward muttered to himself, his frustration growing. He glanced at Felicity, who was still recovering, and at Cecilia, who was preparing to strike again. Bridget''s fists came faster now, her frustration evident in the ferocity of her attacks. Edward dodged and deflected, but the combined efforts of Cecilia''s rope keeping him contained and Bridget''s relentless assault made the fight unsustainable. He needed a new plan. Edward leapt backward, his movements fluid as he gained distance. Bridget hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she realized his intention. Cecilia''s rope snapped toward him, but he twisted midair, avoiding it with a hair''s breadth of space. The three maids regrouped, their movements slower but deliberate as they watched Edward land smoothly on his feet. While their breathing wasn''t heavy, the strain of the fight was evidentCecilia adjusted her glasses with precision, Felicity flexed her baton hand as if testing her grip, and Bridget rolled her shoulders with an exaggerated motion, her fierce grin faltering for just a moment. Edward steadied himself, his gaze sharp and unwavering. For a moment, no one moved. It was a brief but necessary pause, the combatants taking stock of the damage and recalibrating their strategies. Edward''s arm throbbed from the earlier impacts, but he ignored the pain. His sharp eyes swept over his opponents, noting Felicity''s subtle wince, Bridget''s constant adjustments to her stance, and Cecilia''s rope coiled tightly in her hands, ready to lash out at a moment''s notice. The silence stretched for a beat longer, tension crackling in the air like static. Edward exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking toward the door behind them. The fight wasn''t over, but he knew continuing here was no longer advantageous. 【Three Maids and a Maid】 A carriage rattled along the cobblestone street, its wheels clattering softly against the uneven stones. The carriage was pulled by two sturdy horses, their sleek coats glinting in the morning sunlight. Its construction, though simple in design, carried an understated elegance. The black wood frame and iron bindings were polished to perfection, the craftsmanship subtle yet unmistakably noble. Large enough to accommodate twelve passengerssix on either sidethe carriage resembled an open wagon without a roof. At the back, a small staircase allowed for easy boarding and disembarking. The occupants of the carriage were a dozen young maids, each dressed in identical uniforms with matching bandanas tied neatly around their hair. The only distinctions between them lay in their faces and heights, subtle traits that set them apart in an otherwise uniform appearance. The morning sun, just past nine o''clock, bathed the surroundings in a gentle glow. The mansion''s modest front garden lay beyond an iron gate, with a circular pathway around a small fountain. The garden was functional rather than grand, designed for carriages to turn around efficiently. Positioned within a noble mansion complex, the street outside was largely empty save for the occasional passing of a noble family''s carriage. By the gate stood Ann, her arms crossed and her expression a mix of boredom and neutrality. She had been waiting for some time, her gaze occasionally flicking toward the street. Beside her, Ophelia stood poised, her perfect posture a picture of professionalism. While Ann''s presence seemed casual, almost begrudging, Ophelia exuded the serene authority of a seasoned head maid. The carriage came to a gentle stop on the street just outside the gate. Three maids descended, their polished shoes clicking softly against the ground. They lined up from shortest to tallest, though the tallest was only marginally taller than Ann herself. Bowing in unison, they greeted, "Good morning, Madam Ophelia." Ophelia inclined her head gracefully, her hands resting lightly on her abdomen. "Good morning," she replied, her tone polite yet detached. Ann straightened her posture in response, her earlier nonchalance replaced by a semblance of propriety. She echoed the gesture without words, a subtle deference to Ophelia''s lead. Without further exchange, Ophelia turned toward the mansion, her movements precise and measured. Ann followed suit, the three maids trailing quietly behind them. The mansion loomed ahead, its pale stone facade gleaming under the sunlight. Intricate carvings framed the large windows, and the symmetrical design conveyed an air of quiet grandeur. As they walked through the garden toward the front door, the sound of their footsteps mingled with the soft gurgling of the fountain. The heavy front doors opened to reveal a grand interior. The foyer was dominated by a sweeping staircase of pristine white marble, its polished steps curving upward in an elegant arc. Golden railings adorned the staircase, their intricate designs catching the light from the chandelier abovea sparkling cascade of crystals that bathed the space in a warm, inviting glow. The polished floors reflected the light, adding to the opulent atmosphere. Ophelia came to a stop at the base of the staircase, turning to address Ann. "Continue cleaning the second floor and guide them as needed," she instructed, her tone even. "Yes, ma''am," Ann replied without hesitation. Her demeanor shifted entirely, her stance now embodying the disciplined air of a professional servant. Ophelia''s gaze shifted to the three maids. "And you, girlslisten to Ann. Proceed as usual. I will be in my study if needed." "Yes, Madam Ophelia," the maids responded in unison, their voices tinged with a mix of deference and nervous energy. With that, Ophelia ascended the staircase, her movements as graceful as ever. Once she disappeared from view, Ann motioned for the three maids to follow her. They climbed to the second floor in silence, their footsteps muffled against the carpeted steps. Ann led them to a room. Stolen story; please report. Ann pushed the door open, revealing Lady Beatrice''s study room. It was a cozy yet cluttered space, resembling a miniature library. Shelves packed with books lined the walls, some volumes half-open or stacked haphazardly on the floor. A study table sat by a wide window that overlooked the back garden, where vibrant flowers framed a small patio often used by Lady Beatrice for breakfast and tea. The morning sunlight filtered through the glass, casting a warm glow over the scattered papers and books. Cleaning supplies were already neatly arranged in one corner, ready for use. Ann stepped inside, holding the door open for the others, her voice calm yet firm. "We start with Lady Beatrice''s study room." The three rookie maids filed in after her, their eyes briefly scanning the room before settling on their respective tasks. As soon as Ann shut the door behind them, the atmosphere shifted. "Fuuueeeeh," the bubbly rookie sighed, her shoulders slumping dramatically as she let out a deep breath of relief. The cheeky rookie stretched her arms high above her head, twisting side to side with exaggerated motions. "Eghhhhh. This feels great," she said, her tone unashamedly carefree. "Hey! Don''t get too comfortable!" the serious of the three hissed, her voice sharp but kept to a whisper. Her posture was stiff, her expression a mix of disapproval and urgency. "Okay, okay," the bubbly and cheeky maids replied in unison, their tone laced with mock reluctance as they picked up their cleaning kits. The three maids began to disperse around the room. The bubbly rookie, ever energetic, moved to pick up the scattered books while the cheeky one grabbed a duster and focused on the shelves. The serious maid, who often assumed the role of an unspoken leader, started wiping down the tall windows with deliberate, precise movements. Despite her firm tone earlier, her exasperation melted into quiet focus as they settled into their tasks. Meanwhile, Ann wandered to the study couch and casually plucked a newspaper off the table. Without bothering to join the cleaning, she sank into the cushions, unfolded the paper, and began flipping through the pages with an air of practiced laziness. The cheeky rookie began humming softly as she worked, her tune light and aimless as she stacked books neatly on the shelves. "Relaxing is fine, but don''t start humming," the serious maid muttered without turning from the window she was polishing. "Ahh... sorry. I just got too comfortable," the cheeky maid replied with a sheepish grin, though her hum trailed off into silence. The serious maid sighed, shaking her head as she continued wiping the glass. "You two are always too careless. Don''t forgetwe''re working in Lady Beatrice''s mansion." "Ehh, I''m not humming," the bubbly maid interjected, her hands busy dusting an ornate figurine on the table. Ann, still lounging on the couch with the newspaper, chimed in without looking up. "It''s fine. Just don''t start singing something stupid." The serious maid let out another sigh, clearly resigned. She said nothing more, but as the minutes passed, a faint tune escaped her lips as wellsoft and almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless. The cheeky maid noticed immediately and exchanged a knowing glance with the bubbly one, both stifling quiet giggles as they resumed their work. The room settled into a rhythm of light conversation and diligent, albeit casual, cleaning. The cheeky maid, dusting a table lamp near Ann''s couch, couldn''t help but glance at the newspaper in Ann''s hands, her curiosity piqued. "What''re you reading, Big Sis Ann?" she asked, leaning slightly closer. "Boring stuff," Ann replied without lifting her eyes from the page, her tone flat. "Boring?" The cheeky maid tilted her head. "Like what? Tell me more." "Murdered politician," Ann answered curtly, flipping to another section of the paper. The serious maid, wiping down the tall windows, paused mid-swipe. "Eh, that''s boring?" she asked, her tone skeptical. Ann let out a small sigh, her gaze still fixed on the article. "Because that Sherlock guy isn''t mentioned in it." "Ahaha, yeah," the cheeky maid laughed. "A newspaper without Mr. Holmes? What''s even the point?" "Last month''s criminal section was more interesting," Ann said, settling further into the couch as she scanned the next page. The serious maid nodded in recollection, her voice thoughtful. "You mean the off-duty King''s Guard murdered near Northam Estate?" "Yeah," Ann replied, a small smile creeping onto her face. "That week was really interesting." "I followed that case too," the cheeky maid chimed in eagerly, dusting with one hand while the other gestured animatedly. "I didn''t expect the murderer to be the hansom cab''s coachman!" Ann chuckled softly. "The best part was how the week-long, complicated investigation led straight back to the most obvious suspect." The serious maid''s tone turned contemplative. "It got even bigger because a nobleman from the Northam Family was questioned. A family that prestigious showing up in the crime section is already a huge dealeven without Mr. Holmes." The bubbly maid, cleaning a nearby figurine, scrunched her face. "Ehhh, stop talking about scary stuff." "But we''re talking about the King''s Guard," the cheeky maid teased, turning her attention toward the bubbly one. "Didn''t you dream of marrying one?" "Not if he''s cheating and in debt like that victim!" the bubbly maid shot back, her voice indignant. "I don''t want to marry that kind of person." Ann turned a page, her expression unchanged as she added casually, "Here''s something different: a whale and a leviathan fought in the Atlantic Ocean. Traders reported seeing it." "Where? Where?" The bubbly maid abandoned her figurine and darted toward the couch, leaning over Ann''s shoulder. "Hey, I''m still reading," Ann said, her tone more annoyed than forceful. The bubbly maid groaned in disappointment. "Ehhh, no photo?" The cheeky maid snickered, placing her duster on her hip. "You think giant sea monsters will wait for a cameraman to set up a shot?" "At least put in an illustration!" the bubbly maid huffed, crossing her arms. "I read they''re working on small, easy-to-carry cameras," Ann said, her voice calm as ever. "Maybe next time, someone will actually capture one." "Hey, back to work!" the serious maid snapped, her exasperation cutting through their chatter. "Eeeehhh..." The bubbly and cheeky maids along with Ann groaned in synchronized disappointment. The serious maid blinked, then hastily added, "I-I mean not Big Sis Ann!" "Good," Ann replied simply, resuming her newspaper reading. The cheeky maid, stealing one last glance at the paper before returning to her cleaning, caught sight of another headline. "Oh! The King''s Guard will be present again at Saint Aelric Academy''s freshman hunting tournament!" she exclaimed. "Really?" The bubbly maid''s eyes lit up with excitement. "Are we off duty that day? I want to see them!" The serious maid, now polishing an ornamental mirror, added, "I think we get the day off two weeks from now." "Lady Dorothea must be there, too," the bubbly maid said, her enthusiasm spilling over. "She''s the student council president after all." Ann, still absorbed in the paper, muttered dryly, "I thought it was because Lady Beatrice is a freshman at that academy." "Eeeeehh?!" The trio froze, the realization dawning on them like thunder. They covered their mouths, their voices dropping to frantic whispers. The serious maid, now visibly flustered, said, "Now that you mention it, Big Sis Ann, I didn''t see Lady Beatrice in the garden this morning..." "Is Lady Beatrice going to be fine?!" the bubbly and cheeky maids asked in unison, their tones filled with genuine concern. Ann glanced up briefly. "I think... Edward''s with her. And if not, Edward''s to blame." The cheeky maid hesitated, then asked nervously, "Wait, if Lady Beatrice is going to school, does that mean Big Sis Ann will go with her?" "Eventually," Ann replied with a slight shrug, a small but eager smile creeping onto her lips. "For now, Madam Ophelia said Edward will accompany her until she gets used to school life." The cheeky maid''s eyes widened in panic. "That means when we''re on duty at Lady Beatrice''s mansion again, there''s a chance Big Sis Ann won''t be with us!" "That''s for sure," Ann said, her tone as matter-of-fact as ever. "Madam Ophelia will likely oversee all of you." "Haah, our sanctuary will be gone..." the cheeky maid groaned dramatically. "And if not, Big Sis Ann won''t be able to relax," the bubbly maid added, her tone mournful. "Hey, that''s our usual job. Don''t complain," the serious maid scolded, her voice stern. Ann smirked faintly behind the newspaper. "It''s fine. Madam Ophelia''s always busy. If I''m with Lady Beatrice at school, Edward will probably oversee all of you." The trio''s expressions turned grim at the mention of Edward will probably in charge of them. Their reaction spoke volumes, their unease practically radiating as memories of their encounters with him surfaced. Their silence filled the room, broken only by the soft rustling of Ann turning another page.