Inside the carriage returning to the mansion.
Wendy was trembling, unable to tell if it was the carriage shaking or her own body.
‘I messed up… I really messed up!’
Wendy had accompanied Tristan to the Izakhel Duchy. It was a task typically meant for a head butler or maid. But for some reason, Tristan had chosen Wendy, the youngest servant in the mansion.
No, no. The important thing now was not why she was chosen, but that she had made a mistake. Wendy, who was prone to mistakes, had really outdone herself today.
She had spilled tea in front of Lady Bella Izakhel, a blunder of a lifetime.
‘Oh no! You fool, you idiot…! How could you have done that!’
Wendy reproached herself. Thankfully, Lady Bella was very kind. She not only forgave Wendy but even offered to pay for the spilled tea.
The problem was Tristan. Even if Lady Bella forgave her, Tristan would not.
He would surely punish her.
Wendy braced herself for it, her hands tightening on her lap.
‘But…’
Despite her certainty of impending doom, Wendy remembered something from earlier that day.
-Are you okay? Not hurt, are you?
That kind word. Something the usual Tristan would never say.
‘If only it had been a ghost…’
Wendy feared Tristan more than ghosts. A ghost who looked just like Tristan but was kind.
If only it was the ghost punishing her, maybe it would be better. Maybe, just maybe, she could escape punishment.
Wendy mustered up the courage to hope.
“Sir, sir…”
“Wendy.”
“I’m s-sorry! Please, punish me!”
But it was as expected.
As soon as Tristan called her name, Wendy realized it. His voice had its usual arrogance and anger. It was undoubtedly the tyrannical Count Tristan she served.
Wendy had preemptively offered to accept punishment, the best she could do.
“…Punishment, you say.”
Muttering to himself, Tristan pulled something out of his pocket. It was a short whip, used for beating servants. Wendy braced herself.
“……?”
But, no matter how long she waited, the whipping never came. Only Tristan’s murmurs were heard.
“It does not satisfy me.”
“?!”
The next moment, Wendy couldn’t believe her eyes. Tristan threw the whip out of the carriage. He then looked down at the bewildered Wendy and said,
“It seems whipping you is no longer of any use.”
“What…?”
Wendy became anxious.
Raising her head, she saw Tristan’s cold eyes looking down at her.
Eyes that seemed to know all her thoughts.
‘Could it be…?’
Wendy bowed her head, her forehead brushing against the carriage floor.
“Hit me, scold me, slap me, but please… please don’t throw me out. Don’t send me back home…”
Wendy pleaded.
Tristan must have known. What she feared the most.
Tristan spoke in a chillingly cold voice.
“I don’t like you.”
Wendy’s shoulders twitched.
“You’re always crying, sickly, skinny, and weak.”
Wendy could only tremble, overwhelmed by Tristan’s silent fury.
“Tell me. What use could I possibly have for you?”
Tristan hadn’t changed.
In fact, he had become more cruel.
Now he was holding her heart in his grasp.
“I have a family… please, Count… let me continue to work…”
“That’s not my concern.”
“I’ll do anything you ask…”
“Anything?”
He scoffed at her words.
“Amusing. What can you do? Break dishes? Fall clumsily? Or spill expensive tea like today?”
“…….”
“Wendy. Answer me.”
“Sob… I’ll do my best, whatever you ask…”
Wendy’s face was a mess of tears and snot.
Every second with her head bowed felt like an eternity.
Tristan remained silent until the carriage stopped at the destination. He then slowly stood up.
“I’ve decided.”
“Hic?!”
“Your punishment.”
Wendy looked up to see Tristan preparing to step out of the carriage, as if to leave her behind.
‘Please don’t leave me behind…’
Just as Wendy was about to beg again,
“Please….”
“You will become my personal maid.”
“Me? But!”
“If you can’t, I’ll throw you out.”
“Eek! I-I’ll do it!”
Wendy quickly shook her head. Overnight, she went from the lowest servant to the master’s personal maid. She couldn’t believe if it was a dream or reality.
‘But why?’
Wendy couldn’t understand.
Tristan had already stepped out of the carriage.
“Hurry up and get out.”
“Yes, right away!”
She clumsily got out to find that night had fallen. Tristan’s dark shadow loomed in
the dim light of the Ruelberta mansion. Tentatively, Wendy asked,
“Count… why did you choose me as your personal maid?”
“It’s simple.”
“Yes?”
“It’s easier to torment you that way.”
Tristan turned his head, his lips curling into a smirk.
Like a boy who found a fun toy.
“You’ll be right beside me, easy to torment.”
It was the beginning of Wendy’s trials.
*
Ever since I became immersed in this game, I’ve constantly thought about how to survive here as Tristan, a character despised and hated by all.
Use magic in this fantasy world? I wish I could. But alas…
Unfortunately, Tristan is cursed and unable to use magic, a curse passed down in his family for generations.
The Ruelberta family, long ago, was a noble house stricken with poverty. The head of the house, detesting their impoverished state, made a deal with a demon. The deal was to make the Ruelberta family the richest in the nation.
The demon fulfilled the greedy lord’s wish. The Ruelberta lands prospered, and every business venture was a success.
But the cost of the contract was severe. Every descendant of the Ruelberta line was cursed to be born without magical powers.
Thus, the Ruelberta family became rich, but every generation was cursed with magiclessness.
When my brother Sora told me about this setup, I thought it was hilarious. Now, I’m the one without magic. Self-inflicted, I guess. Almost makes me grateful to my sister.
And it’s not like this body has exceptional physical abilities. It’s lazy and overweight, sweating even when doing nothing.
Essentially, a character abandoned by the writer. Surviving is one thing, but then there’s the players’ invasion to contend with. I know how ruthless and merciless they can be.
Survival seems nearly impossible unless I somehow rewrite the setup.
That’s right.
There’s only one way.
“Count, we have arrived.”
“Hmm.”
Have we arrived?
Stumbling out of the carriage, the first thing I sense is the thick aroma of grass. Before me stands a vast forest.
‘It’s like a fortress.’
The endless row of towering trees looks like giants wielding spears.
“You have arrived, Count.”
Turning, I see Bella.
She still retains her beauty from the original work, gazing at me.
“Yes.”
“Are you here alone?”
Bella glances at the carriage, obviously looking for someone. I can guess who. She can’t resist anything cute.
“I left the servant behind. She still needs training.”
“Hmm… I wasn’t really curious. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t mistreating that child. Anyway… You said you were ill, but you look quite healthy to me.”
“Serious illnesses often don’t show outwardly.”
“Is that so?”
Bella’s dismissive gesture suggests her disinterest.
“This place is the heart of the Izakhel Duchy. Not just anyone is allowed here. Especially not a villain like you. It’s a sacred place.”
Well, I would expect that.
Even a magicless person like me can tell. This place is unusual.
‘She’s cautious of me.’
The wind from the depths of the forest is sharp, as if warning me not to tread carelessly. Bella seems to feel it too.
“Count, it’s not too late to turn back. If something happens here, you might end up in a sanatorium for the rest of your life.”
She’s warning me on behalf of the owner of this paradise. That this place is truly dangerous for ‘someone like me.’ I speak up.
“Bella.”
“Yes?”
“Do you still hate me?”
“Yes. I hate you.”
Her answer is immediate.
As straight and sharp as a spear.
I don’t shy away from her feelings and ask again.
“Do you hate me enough to want me dead?”
“……”
Bella hesitates.
Hatred and resentment towards me flash in her mind. Then, she shakes her head.
“No. If that were the case, I would have thrown you into this forest already. I’m not like you.”
Her eyes are incredibly clear and beautiful as she says this. So, I’m certain. Bella of this era doesn’t intend to kill me.
“I warned you. Whatever happens here is your responsibility. But… you won’t die here.”
She promises me.
She hates me, but she won’t kill me.
“I, Bella Izakhel, guarantee it.”
Bella takes a deep breath and declares with power in her voice.
“I, Bella Izakhel, acknowledge you as a visitor to Eden.”
The forest trembles as if stretching to welcome an uninvited guest.
“Welcome to paradise, Count.”
Bella smiles at me.
“I welcome you, though I can’t say the same for this place.”
I seem to be an unwelcome guest in many ways.
