The Maid Dreams Of The Sunset - Chapter 32

Isaac rose from his seat, covered his red cheek and bowed his head with a melancholic face.

“I forgot my position and crossed the line. The Little Duke’s anger… it’s fully understandable. Please forgive my foolishness.”

A voice that was mixed with trembling and sincerity was delivered across to remaining astonished people that were seated at the table slowly. Instead of confusion, pity gradually began to settle on the faces of the vassals that were looking at him.

“Sergeant Eufgenschult, raise your head.”

Count Newett, who was supporting Gehern, spoke on behalf of the vassals.

“You’re not to blame. It’s because we all know that you’ve never rendered assistance with an ulterior motive. So there’s no need for you to apologise.”

“I appreciate your words, but I know that no matter what I do, the blood that flows in my veins would never be accepted. So let’s stop.”

“Isaac.”

Gehern shook off the count’s hand and approached Isaac. The blue eyes that were similar to Isaac, but with wrinkles around the corner of his eyes, were looking at his son with a sorrowful gaze.

“It was Max who committed violence, so why are you apologising? The Count is right. You’re not to blame.”

“…Your Grace.”

“Why, are the Sirs not of the same opinion as I?”

Gehern smiled and looked backwards at the vassals like he was urging them to answer. At that, Count Newett stepped forward and added strength to the encouragement, as if he had been waiting for this moment.

“Your Grace’s words are our will. Isaac, you have provided countless suggestions for Helman and its next successor. I personally hope that you’ll formally bear the role of aide before the retainers.”

Count Newett observed the faces of the vassals calmly. He wasn’t the person that defeated the Viscount Oubric, who’s the Duke’s right arm, at a young age for nothing, and was overflowing with dignity.

Isaac closed his eyes slowly and opened his eyes again at an even slower pace.

He couldn’t help but be reminded of the past at the bloody taste of iron from his busted lip. As he reenacted the unhappy memories with his entire body, Isaac wore the mask of a pitiful illegitimate child that was engrossed in deep thought over what he should do next.

Unlike Viscount Oubric, who has an ideology of authoritarianism, Count Newett was an emerging aristocrat that prioritised competence over position. And just as expected, he had high praises for Isaac’s ability and claimed the position of his patron.

Under the absence of obstruction, Isaac, who held the duke’s favour and the vassals’ support, flew infinitely high. Isaac only held a single worry in the future he pictured carelessly.

How greedy should he be?

Isaac had proposed to postpone the meeting that was supposed to be held in March to April, after Max’s graduation.

He had three objectives.

Firstly, he could use this method to provoke Max and win the vassal’s favour by playing the part of a pitiful second son. He guessed that based on Max’s personality, he would easily fall for even the slightest hint of provocation, and it eventually went as he predicted.

Secondly, he wanted to extinguish the vassal’s suspicion that an illegitimate son would dare to covet the position of duke, and finally to solidify his own position.

Isaac lifted his gaze stealthily and scanned the gazes on him. While the gazes containing pity without even a hint of doubt were as he intended, he felt somewhat regrettable.

Isaac slowly raised his head and reached a hand onto his swollen right cheek.

“If this lowly personage is capable of adding a sliver of light to the family’s glory, I’ll persevere through the humiliation.”

Unlike his sorrowful voice, the black eyes that were looking at the floor contained a sparkling gleam.

“While the Little Duke provokes me, I won’t turn away from the blood of Eufgenschult that flows within me. I will always do my best so that my loyalty will always reach the Little Duke.”

As he calmly concluded his words, he turned his reddened gaze to Gehern, Count Newett, and Viscount Dittern one by one.

As expected, those three people and the vassals that were seated around the table looked at Isaac with moved faces. As the count choked up and was unable to speak, let out a heavy sigh and spoke up to the audience.

“Everyone, I think that it’s needless for further explanation on how much Sergeant Eufgenschult had accomplished during this period by His Grace’s side. As such, may I be bold as to suggest giving him a Wolf’s Fang?”

It wasn’t just the vassals that were shocked by his excessive remark. Isaac shook his head first and rejected him hastily.

“No, I can’t accept such an important thing.”

“I think you are deserving of the decision-making power of a Eufgenschult.”

“No, the Little Duke will doubt my loyalty if I accept that. I didn’t say that for this.”

A Wolf’s Fang of all things. It meant that they were recognizing Isaac as someone with Eufgenschult’s blood and, at the same time, empowering him with the right to participate in the family’s decision-making. While it’s an empty show of honour, its symbolism can never be described as something light.

However, what Isaac wanted wasn’t that kind of vain decision-making power.

The atmosphere had been heightened at last, but the vassals’ gazes was once again filled with suspicion due to that stupid count. Isaac bit his lip and shook his head, giving a flat refusal.

“Please rescind your suggestion. I don’t want much. All I want is… Something very small.”

“Something small?”

As he continued to speak in a small voice, Gehern placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder and nodded like he was urging him to speak. Isaac, who was looking at the floor, raised his head and a dreamy look appeared on his face.

“One day… until I have to leave the mansion. I’d like to have at least one personal maidservant to attend to me. And if a small desk could be placed in the mansion… there’s nothing more I can ask for.”

Both a personal maidservant and an office within the mansion were refused by him, saying it was annoying, but Isaac spoke contradictorily and smiled pitifully, like a child that had been deprived of candy.

The buzzing slowly waned and they kept exchanging glances through the silence. Someone clicked their tongue and spoke.

“Even if Sergeant Eufgenschult isn’t a legitimate child, to not even have a single personal maidservant…this concerns the Duchy’s honour.”

“There have been rumours that they are reluctant to let him enter and exit the mansion, and it’s understandable from the looks of Little Duke’s attitude. It wasn’t simply just a rumour…”

“Isn’t this too much? Does that mean that all this time, he’d been locked up in the annex by himself…”

Reproachful voices spread like a song on repeat. Contemptuous gazes turned towards Gehern.

Gehern closed his eyes with a stormy face and cut off the words of the family vassals with a dignified tone.

“I thought you had refused as you disliked it, but did you refuse as you were sensitive to the atmosphere?”

“…….”

“You can do whatever you want. There’s no need for you to put up with things anymore. As for Max… I’ll tell him not to treat you carelessly anymore.”

A profound gaze containing sincerity was directed at Isaac. He nodded, and Gehern let out a sigh and concluded.

“Be confident from now on.”

Gehern reached out his hand bitterly, asking for a handshake. Isaac glanced at the vassals carefully before bowing his head, and grasping Gehern’s hand.

Though it wasn’t that big of a deal, the family vassals were busy appreciating the affectionate appearance of the two rich men with emotional faces.

He didn’t know which part of it tugged their heartstrings, but Isaac maintained the mask of a poor lamb that pioneered his way while unfolding the battle of the chessboard in his mind.

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A desolate atmosphere descended in the mansion’s drawing room.

The area that was cleaned by maids would frequently be inspected by senior maids in the area. While they were oftentimes ordered to redo it, Dahlia was an exception. She was a commonly acknowledged elite when it came to cleaning.

However, today’s atmosphere was not good for some reason.

“It’s not too bad… Hm. Look for me as soon as you’re finished.”

Thelma scanned the cleanliness condition with her eyes and strode out to the hallway with crossed arms. Dahlia held a rag and observed the mood perplexedly while in a somewhat serious atmosphere.

‘What? Is something wrong?’

Edina, who was in the midst of organising the sofa cover, stealthily craned her neck and glanced at Thelma. “It seems like it’s quite serious,” said Edina, which caused Dahlia to frown while shaking her head.

When she first arrived at the mansion, she had continuously made mistakes as she was unfamiliar with the mansion, but ever since then, Dahlia had always performed brilliantly in her work, to the point where others wondered if she would make any mistakes for an entire year. She couldn’t think of anything even after careful consideration, so Dahlia finished cleaning the rest of the room with an uncomfortable mindset.

Edina pushed her on the back, saying she would finish the rest. Dahlia approached Thelma, who was waiting for her at the end of the corridor, unwillingly.

“I’m finished with cleaning. Is there something wrong?”

“It isn’t a big deal… For now, let’s go.”

Thelma turned toward the main building without any further explanation.

Dahlia thought that she was trying to find fault with her cleaning, but became a little relieved as it didn’t seem to be the case. Well, Thelma wasn’t the type to nitpick one by one, but to be angry all at once.

Dahlia followed her thinking that there must be some task for her in the main building, but only realised where Thelma’s destination when she reached the corridor leading towards the office

after passing by the main building.

“It’s been a while.”

They arrived at the office of the head maid, Mrs. Prada.

The stern face that Mrs. Prada had while handing out admonishments in the morning had disappeared without a trace, as Mrs. Prada greeted Dahlia with a benevolent face.

Dahlia looked between Thelma and Mrs. Prada awkwardly. There was only one thing that was important enough that required Mrs. Prada to deliver directly.

A promotion to the position of senior maid.

Unlike the saying that she’d be promoted as soon as the vassals’ conference ended, it had been three days since, and Mrs. Prada and Thelma had been refraining from talking about the promotion.

She thought that it was delayed as they were too busy, but that didn’t seem to be the case, from the looks of Mrs. Prada’s serious expression.

“Erm, the reason you’ve called for me… was it because you’ll be cancelling the promotion?”

She pressed on her pounding chest and carefully started her conversation. As such, Mrs. Prada looked at her puzzlement.

“Promotion… Promotion…?”

“Why, erm… there’s talk that I’ll be promoted to a senior maid.”

“Ahh, that’s right. Such talk did appear, but it’s not a cancellation.”

Mrs. Prada gave Thelma a glance and urged her to continue talking instead. At that, Thelma, who was standing next to her with an easygoing face, let out a short sigh and answered.

“Your promotion to a senior maid is cancelled.”

Dahlia’s eyes widened, and her face quickly turned pale.

Realising the impact of the word ‘cancelled’ upon seeing her face, Thelma shook her head in a rare scene of embarrassment.

“Instead of a senior maid! The Young Master has given you the position of his personal maidservant. Dahlia, you’re now a dedicated maidservant under the direct control of the Young Master.”

She couldn’t understand the meaning of those words, so Dahlia blinked and looked upwards at Thelma.

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