Later that night, crickets outside the garden of the Drachenstein Mansion had settled into a steady hum when Rin, now clad in her nightdress, quietly slipped into the dimly lit living room.
Her wings twitched slightly from the night's chill as she spotted Laya and Lyndis seated at the low table, sorting through a stack of linen cloths and scribbled lists.
She cleared her throat lightly.
"Um… excuse me, Miss Lyndis, Miss Laya…"
Both women turned. Lyndis gave a short nod while Laya offered a warm smile and gestured for her to come in.
Rin stepped forward, fingers nervously fidgeting.
"Miss Laya, Miss Lyndis… I heard you talking earlier. Can you tell me who the VIP that Sir Mannerheim mentioned is? Do we know them? And about his orders—are they really that urgent? They won't be coming until winter, right?"
Lyndis replied, flipping a page on her clipboard.
"It was the Duke."
Laya sighed, folding a cloth with practiced ease.
"Winter's exactly why it's urgent. Dried produce, oil, salt, soap blocks… things like that will skyrocket in price once the cold sets in. Worse, most of them won't be available at all if we wait too long. And with the Duke and his guests coming, we'll need to stock up while we still can."
Rin tilted her head. "But Miss Laya, isn't winter still months away?"
Laya nodded. "It is—six, maybe eight. But the Duke's journey takes time. He'll be crossing the ocean from the Empire to the colony with a full entourage."
Lyndis added, "The ports are slow this time of year, and the sea routes aren't always kind. At best, he'll arrive by the tail end of winter—maybe early spring.
"And I'm not buying overpriced moldy garlic just because the merchant knows we're desperate," Lyndis added flatly.
"Oh…" Rin murmured. "I see."
A brief silence followed before Laya glanced at her again. Her voice dropped slightly.
"You still don't remember him, do you?"
Rin blinked. "Remember who?"
"Sir Gavriel—the Duke," Lyndis said, her eyes still on her notes. "You met him, years ago."
"I… did, I-I—can't remember?"
"He's the one who pulled you out of that wretched slave house in Isabel," Laya said gently.
"Back then, you'd been drugged for days and were barely conscious when he pulled you out."
Rin's breath caught up. Images flickered in her mind—fuzzy, like smoke, but not quite gone. A pale-haired man with a calm voice. A warm hand. The absence of pain.
"…I thought that was a dream."
"It wasn't," Lyndis said simply. "He brought you out himself and left you in my care. Told me to make you a proper maid. You've come a long way since then."
Rin looked down at her hands. "So… that was real…"
"He didn't say much," Laya added. "But he looked furious when he saw the brand about to be burned onto you. He stopped them before they could touch you."
The flicker of memory made Rin's wings droop slightly.
"I didn't think he would do that…"
"He did," Lyndis said, finally setting her quill down. "And he trusted you to us. That means something."
A soft silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant chirr of insects and the slow, peaceful breath of the sleeping Archus in the next room.
Laya looked toward the thin partition that separated them.
"He's still asleep?"
"Yes," Rin whispered. "He didn't even move when I left."
Laya's gaze lingered. Then, quietly, she said,
"…That's good. If only he could stay asleep as well when we go to the market."
"Why, Miss Laya?" Rin asked.
Laya hesitated, her hand pausing mid-fold.
"…And I'd rather go now than when the market gets busier," she murmured. "Lately… people have been looking more. Especially at me."
Rin tilted her head. "Looking?"
Laya lowered her gaze, fingers tightening slightly around the cloth she was folding.
"Not just quick glances, Rin. Stares. Like they're more interested in how I look… or what I'm not wearing."
Her voice stayed calm, but there was tension in her hands.
Lyndis said nothing, though her eyes flicked up—sharp and knowing—before returning to the list.
Rin, flustered, tried to shift the mood.
"…Then we'll make the mansion spotless for him!" she declared, her wings giving a determined flick. "I'll help! I'll carry the rice, the oil jars, even the soaps—"
"You'll be lucky if you don't trip over your own feet carrying a sack of potatoes," Laya teased, laughing softly.
"I won't!" Rin protested. "I can carry at least one bag. Maybe a small one…"
"We'll test that tomorrow," Lyndis said, standing. "We leave before sunrise. No complaints."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Rin gave a determined nod, and as she turned to head back to her room, Laya called softly,
"Rin."
She paused.
"…You're part of this household too. Don't forget that."
Rin blinked. A small smile touched her lips.
"I won't."
She turned, smiled, and walked softly back down the hall—her steps just a little lighter than before.
--—--
As Rin disappeared down the hall, her footsteps fading into the hush of the mansion, Laya remained seated, her eyes lingering on the spot where the girl had stood.
"She's come a long way," she said softly, more to herself than to anyone else.
Lyndis set down her clipboard and gave a faint nod. "She has."
There was a pause as both women sat in the quiet hum of the night, the steady rhythm of insects outside mixing with the occasional creak of the old wooden beams.
"…Still clumsy," Lyndis smirked faintly.
Laya chuckled under her breath. "But her heart's in the right place."
The two shared a knowing look before Laya rose, brushing the last of the cloths into the basket.
"We should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day."
Lyndis stood as well, stretching lightly. "We leave before sunrise. This isn't like our usual market run—this is for the Duke."
They extinguished the last of the lamps, the room falling into soft darkness.
And in the quiet hush of the Drachenstein Mansion, only the night remained—deep, still, and waiting for the dawn.