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Chapter 9

"Even if we assume you weren't fooling around outside, how do you explain what Andy said? The whole mansion has heard about how wild you were together in bed. And that's not all—Heather, Tommy, every single one of them said the same thing."

Heather the stablehand, Tommy the gardener… all men who had confessed to Alexa and been flatly rejected.

The problem was, not a single one of them would admit that they'd been the only one turned down. So they'd all brag even more loudly, layering their own vile sexual fantasies—whether experienced or imagined—onto Alexa.

Alexa felt all the strength drain from her body.

Had all her efforts to defend her reputation, even as she was being fired, been completely useless?

Then what about the money? How was she going to get it right now?

Alexa clutched the small coin purse in her hand.

Maybe three nets at most. Far, far short. She bit and released her lip, looking at the head maid.

She'd rather die than beg someone who hated her for no reason—but right now, this was her last hope.

"Head Maid, surely you don't actually believe that, do you? After doing two or three times the work of everyone else all day, I barely have the strength to move a finger…"

"You know Tommy quit recently because of that kind of disease, don't you?"

Alexa's eyes, which had been about to make one final plea, hardened. She turned to look at Jeanne, who had spoken with such smug satisfaction, and Jeanne flinched.

It felt as if white steam had frozen over in Alexa's mind. With a tingling sensation on her scalp, she brushed back her hair and clenched it tightly.

A sharp voice rang out.

"What exactly are you implying?"

"Just that you might want to consider it—that kind of disease. You know, like venereal disease."

Her voice had shrunk as if cowering, but it was loud enough to hear.

Jeanne had already jumped to the conclusion that Alexa McDonner—the promiscuous woman who'd been linked to the now-afflicted Tommy—must naturally have something wrong with her body.

Did anger like this just leave you helpless? Alexa felt her vision grow hazy. But her voice came out clearer than ever.

"Oh, I see. That's truly a predicament."

As Alexa nodded in apparent agreement, Jeanne raised her voice again, back to her brazen self.

"You should have accepted it from the start. Did you really want me to spell it out? Now that you understand, as the head maid said, you need to leave right now—"

"What a pity. Then Andy must have caught it too."

Alexa tilted her head sympathetically.

Now that she was being fired for being "loose," she had no reason not to drag them both down with her, did she?

Sure enough, the blood drained from Jeanne's face in an instant.

'Just as I thought.'

Jeanne, who fancied Andy, would have thrown herself at him without hesitation.

If Alexa were fired for this, Andy would no longer be able to supply meat to the mansion—and if he retaliated by exposing his own affair with Jeanne, she wouldn't be able to stay here either.

"Th-then you really did sleep with Andy…"

"Enough. This is unpleasant to hear."

As if she were a noble lady, Head Maid Merrill spoke leisurely, with the expression of one who had seized victory.

"You're fired, Alexa McDonner. No letter of recommendation."

---

Everything was spinning. Her heart felt strangely adrift. As if a pleasant feeling was colliding with emotions she'd long suppressed, raw and piercing right through her.

"Ughhh. It's so unfair!"

She hated everything! She wished it would all disappear!

The men who spread those disgusting rumors, the viperous head maid, the rat-like Jeanne clinging to her side, and her idiot brother James McDonner, who gambled everything away—she hated all of them!

"Hah…"

Staggering home, Alexa looked up at the sky. Her breath puffed white in the late winter chill.

The cheap liquor she'd bought for the first time was sweet and sharp like candy. She walked along, precariously holding another bottle in her hand.

She was about to be sold off to some strange man, so why couldn't she have two bottles of one-net liquor? Her brother had lost two hundred nets in one game and still acted so shamelessly!

Clutching the cheap liquor protectively as it kept threatening to slip, she finally arrived home. With just one step left, she stood frozen before the massive gate, as if rooted to the spot.

"How funny."

A weak laugh escaped through her cracked voice.

Who would believe that with a mansion this size, she had nothing left to sell but her own body? Her eyes burned.

She aimlessly kicked at the massive gate with her toes.

"…Should I run away?"

Alexa flinched. She had never once considered such a path in her plans. She had lived each day with the goal of saving James from gambling and drink, turning him back into the kind, dependable brother he used to be.

Bile rose in her throat. She grabbed the gate with one hand, bent over, and vomited the liquor she'd drunk.

Blood rushed to her head, heat flaring behind her eyes, and her stomach ached as if wrung by a fist.

Alexa slumped down on the spot and wiped her mouth.

"My head…"

She pressed her throbbing temple and leaned her head against the gate.

'Run away, run away, run away.'

Once the thought surfaced, it kept circling in her mind.

Hadn't she already considered it? That if she just needed to support herself, she could easily do so by working as a maid—hadn't she once measured that possibility?

She stood up.

The desires she'd hidden deep down began to show themselves, and her heart wavered uncontrollably. She wanted to turn and flee right now.

No—she truly did turn around and start walking away from the mansion.

One step, two steps, three, four, five, and ten.

But what about James?

Clap. Her thin ankle was caught by her one and only older brother.

They might actually tie James up with rope and throw him onto a ship. He'd be worked day and night, never having known real hardship, and if he died, he'd be tossed into the sea without even a prayer for his soul.

"Hah, really…"

Alexa swallowed and swallowed again the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

She couldn't even think about what to do next. Weary and exhausted, she turned her feet around.

Without any light in her eyes, dragged only by the name "James," her body was being pulled toward the dark mansion.

Before the massive gate, she scraped together every ounce of courage she had and opened it.

…I wasn't asking for that much, was I?

At the sight of the overgrown weeds, Alexa caught her breath. Habitually, she pushed through them, trampling and snapping their necks—but then she stopped, feeling as if her soul had left her body.

Just don't die. Even if he gets beaten, that can't be helped. Just make sure he's alive. She steeled herself and opened the gate. And yet—

"I'm going to kill him."

It was as if half her brain had overloaded and shut down entirely.

She'd told him every day: after working hard all day, she didn't have the strength to pull up these weeds. She'd begged him so many times.

"…Was that really too much to ask?"

Alexa stomped hard on the stubborn weed springing up at her feet. Crushed and pulverized, it became a sticky mess on her shoe.

"Hoo…"

What was she going to do now?

The cold outside air chilled her head, but white steam of heated frustration rose from her scalp.

They say cutting off a gambler's fingers doesn't cure the addiction. These weeds—no matter how many times she trampled them, they kept springing back—looked just like someone.

And the aftermath of all of it always fell on Alexa.

"…Weeds."

Alexa lifted her trembling eyes and gazed at the silent mansion. Taking a deep breath, she shouted at the lifeless building as if exploding:

"I told you to pull the weeds! James McDonner!"

Her shrill voice carried her fury, shaking the mansion's windows. Steam puffed from her half-crazed breath.

She wouldn't let this slide. Whatever debt collector might be inside, she didn't care. Even if she was about to be sold off, even if her brother ended up with broken bones—she would make sure this garden got cleared.

She would see that happen if it was the last thing she did!

Stomping heavily, almost running, she approached the front door. In the face of rage, fear was snatched by the hair and hurled away. Alexa yanked the door handle with all her might.

"Come out right now, you bastard!"

Huff, huff.

'……?'

Panting, she blinked in disbelief, doubting her own eyes. Instead of the gaunt gambling addict she'd expected, two tall, well-built men stood by the fireplace like a painting.

"What the—"

Basking in the roaring fire, they looked at Alexa with indifference. The man's natural, casual gaze swept over her as if she were an intruder in his own home. Alexa paused.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

She must have stumbled into the wrong house. Yes, that had to be it. This grand mansion was exactly the kind of place where such refined people belonged—not a maid like Alexa McDonner.

She naturally stepped back to close the door—then stopped.

Wait. She'd just come in through the ruined garden. Where else would there be such a wreck of a garden?

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