The Villain Protects the Lady!

‘…I slept perfectly.’

 

She sat up and slowly closed her eyes. She had slept like a log, without any dreams. 

 

‘Oh, what time is it? Let me see.’

 

Hermia rubbed her eyes and looked out the window.

 

The sun was up, so maybe it was time for lunch?

 

‘People can sleep in at this hour,’

she thought.

 

No, they should be asleep.

 

But she didn’t think that would be the case for her before.

 

It was a five-hour round trip between work and home, so she had to be up and ready at least by 5 a.m. to make sure she wouldn’t be late.

 

She had to get ready for work and eat breakfast.

 

Neither her brother nor her father would eat unless it was freshly cooked rice and freshly boiled soup.

 

Since she became Hermia, she was forced to wake up for dawn prayers.

 “…….” 

She blinked lazily at the sunlight streaming in through the window.

 

It’s warm and nice.

 

So this is what it’s like to be free.

 

As my stomach, which had been starving all day, began to strike, other needs began to creep in.

 “I want to take a shower.” 

As soon as she felt safe, her body began to ache.

 

Hermia spent all day yesterday locked in a filthy attic, and by the end of the day she was covered in dirt from blowing up a mansion.

 

She even fell asleep last night without washing her face!

 

‘Shower, no, at least wash my face.’

 

She sat up carefully so as not to wake Belloa, who was still fast asleep.

 “Let me see.” “What do I have to do to call the maid? “Is this it? Is it this one? Oh, it’s this!’ “You rang?” 

She rang the bell on the table, and soon the maid who had guided her yesterday knocked at the door.

 “I would like to wash, both for Belloa and myself. May I ask that the water be warm? Oh, and a change of clothes.” 

‘I can’t wear this anymore.’

 

Hermia rolled on the dusty floor.

 

The dress, which had been a pale cream when she stole it from her half-sister’s wardrobe, had turned gray.

 “Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

Her tone was a bit cold, but she was very kind.

 “Well, it’s the Grand Duchy of Leandro, with their nursery mistress, Belloa.” 

Only good people.

 

Well, there are a few oddballs mixed in, but that’s something she can weed out now.

 “While I’m here, I’d better clean up the place and make sure neither Belloa nor Grand Duke Leandro have any problems.” 

The closer Belloa and Grand Duke Leandro’s relationship is to the original, the less traumatic it will be for her when she leaves.

 “Belloa.” 

She shook her, still sound asleep.

 “It’s time to wake up. The sun is high in the sky. Let’s get up, wash and eat.” 

Hermia shook Belloa a few times, but she didn’t move.

 

‘What was wrong?’

 

It was too strange to say that she was in a deep sleep.

 

If she shook her like that, she’d stir a little.

 

No way.

 

Her heart was about to drop.

 “Huh?” 

Belloa looked at her, one eye barely open.

 “Ugh.” 

She shook her head, burying her face in the pillow as if not to wake her.

 “Huh.” 

Thank God. She wasn’t sick.

 “Belloa.” 

She shook her again. Part of her wanted to let her sleep wherever she felt comfortable until she was exhausted.

 “You must bathe and eat.” 

Neither she nor Belloa had eaten much yesterday.

 

At best, it was a loaf of bread she’d packed and half a cookie from Grand Duke Leandro.

 “Let’s get up. Let’s get up, wash up, and eat. I’ll ask for some of those cookies you ate yesterday.” “Ooh.” 

Only after Hermia shook Belloa again and again did she open her eyes groggily. She was barely awake, but she looked like she’d go back to sleep if her head touched anything.

 “Oh, you’re awake.” 

She was about to give Belloa an infinite amount of praise to keep her from falling back asleep.

 *Knock, knock, knock*. “Excuse me. I brought the laundry you asked for and a change of clothes.” 

The maid entered the room, pushing a silver trolley.

 

The silver cart contained two porcelain bowls that looked like sinks, a kettle, two changes of clothes, and towels.

 “Is this enough water?” 

Hermia stared at the kettle and then opened her mouth.

 “The kettle looks like it doesn’t have enough water, is that okay?” “It’s fine. It needs more than it looks.” “But…” “Is the water temperature okay?” 

Before she could say anything else, the maid pushed the face washer over to her.

 

What a steaming sensation.

 “Look at that. It’s not too hot for you.” 

She was right. It was a little lukewarm for me, an adult, but just right for three-year-old Belloa.

 “Yes, it’s just right, thank you.” “Of course.” 

The smiling maid began to prepare the rest of the laundry.

 

Meanwhile, Hermia went over to Belloa, who was still fussing in bed.

 

‘Ugh, her head is heavy.’

 “Come on, Belloa, let’s wash up. Uh-uh-uh. Sister told you the other day, didn’t she?” “Uh-huh…” 

Belloa shook her head, her eyes half closed. Hermia picked her up and placed her in front of the basin.

 “Now, what was the first thing I told you to do?” “Yiyi.” 

Belloa eagerly rolled up her sleeves, just as Hermia had taught her. But it didn’t work and her small face crinkled.

 

Many minutes had passed like this.

 “Hah!” 

Belloa rolled up her sleeves and raised her arms in a boastful gesture.

 “Mmm.” 

‘That will drip back down as soon as she lowers her arms.’

 “Good job!” 

Hermia quickly tidied her sleeves and secured them with a hair tie.

 

The sleeves were too big for her, even though she had deliberately bought smaller clothes for herself because she was so much thinner than her age.

 “What did I say you were going to do next?” “Pooh-pooh.” 

Belloa rubbed her bare face as if she was washing it.

 

Good, good, she remembered correctly.

 “Now, let’s do it,”

Hermia said, pushing the water towards her.

“Pooh-pooh, can you do it?” “Mmm!”

Belloa nodded. Her eyes were shining, as if she had already mastered washing her face.

 “Okay, now try to wash your face.” “Ugh.” 

As Hermia stood in front of the sink and rolled up her sleeves, Belloa suddenly tugged at the hem of her skirt.

 “Ooh.” 

Her pinky pointed to the floor. Hermia followed her gaze down and realized when she’d let go. The hair tie holding up her sleeve fell to the floor.

 “No, no, no.” “Ah!” 

She bent down to pick it up and heard a scream.

 

‘What the hell?’

 

She looked up quickly and saw.

 “No.” 

The maid stiffened in confusion.

 “Ugh.” 

Belloa was curled up in a ball, clutching her hand. Her tiny body shook uncontrollably.

 “Belloa, what’s wrong?” 

Hermia quickly checked her condition. Her little hand, which had been perfectly fine until now, was red.

 

As if it had been burned.

 “Burned.” 

As soon as she said the word, she immediately dipped her hand under the sink.

 “……!” 

It was hot.

 

The water was so boiling hot that even she, an adult, was surprised and immediately pulled her hand out.

 

This was not the water she had just checked.

 “W-why is it there?” 

A cart appeared behind the stuttering maid.

 

It contained two jars.

 

And one more, cleverly hidden among the towels and change of clothes.

 “Ah!” “Cold water first.” 

She scanned her surroundings quickly. A vase on the mantel caught her eye.

 

Hermia rushed to it, plucked the flowers, and slipped Belloa’s hand into the vase.

 

It was a temporary fix.

 “Help!” 

Hermia barely had time to tug on the rope.

 “Is there anyone out there?!” 

She raised her voice. It’s midday in a mansion this big, surely there’s a person or two wandering the halls.

 “What the… oh my God!” 

She was right. And then she got lucky. Opening the door was Mrs. Doyle, the same woman who had greeted her and Belloa yesterday.

 “Madam,”

I said,

“I’m sorry about Belloa, she has a big burn on her hand!” “Yes, yes!” 

Hermia handed Belloa to her, and she nodded quickly and left.

 

She’ll go to the manor’s doctor.

 

With a sigh of relief she slowly, very slowly, closed the door.

 

The click, click, click of the latch was unusually loud.

 

‘So it’s just you and me in this room now?’

 

Hermia looked at the maid and smirked.