The morning sun, pale and thin, filtered through the gaps in the heavy curtains. Anastasia lay still, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, where the plaster was cracked in a pattern that reminded her of a tangled web.
The medicine she had taken the night before left a bitter, metallic tang on her tongue. It was a taste she had grown accustomed to—the taste of her own survival, bought at the price of complete, unyielding obedience.
"Are you awake?"
The voice was soft, yet it carried the weight of a command. Anastasia turned her head slowly. The young maid assigned to her stood by the door, holding a tray with a bowl of thin porridge.
"Yes," Anastasia replied, her voice raspy.
"The Count has requested your presence in the study after you finish your meal," the maid said, her eyes avoiding Anastasia’s.
Anastasia felt a cold shiver trace her spine. Mikhail. The name alone was enough to make her breath hitch.
"Did he say why?"
The maid shook her head, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "He did not specify. He only said that your recovery has progressed enough for you to be useful again."
Useful. The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Anastasia looked at the porridge, the steam rising in lazy curls. She knew what being 'useful' meant in this house. It meant being a shadow, a tool, a possession to be displayed or discarded at his whim.
"I understand," she whispered.
As the maid turned to leave, Anastasia sat up, the movement sending a sharp, familiar ache through her ribs. She reached for the spoon, her fingers trembling slightly. She had to eat. She had to be strong enough to face him. To show weakness was to invite his displeasure, and she had learned, through countless painful lessons, that Mikhail’s displeasure was a storm from which there was no shelter.
She forced herself to swallow the bland, lukewarm porridge, each bite a reminder of her dependence. Outside, the sounds of the manor began to stir—the distant clatter of dishes, the muffled footsteps of servants, the occasional sharp bark of a dog. It was a world that moved on without her, a world she was no longer a part of, yet remained trapped within.
When the bowl was empty, she wiped her mouth with a cloth and stood up, smoothing her simple, worn dress. She caught her reflection in the small, clouded mirror on the wall. Her face was pale, her eyes hollowed by exhaustion and fear, but there was a flicker of something else deep within them—a desperate, flickering ember of defiance that she dared not let anyone see.
She walked to the door, her steps silent on the polished floorboards. The hallway was dim, the air thick with the scent of floor wax and old wood. She made her way toward the study, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She reached the heavy oak door and paused, her hand hovering over the brass handle. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.
"Come in."
Mikhail’s voice came from behind the door, calm and authoritative. He had known she was there before she even knocked.
Anastasia pushed the door open and stepped inside. The study was filled with the scent of tobacco and leather. Mikhail sat behind a large mahogany desk, his back to the window, his face obscured by the shadows.
"You are late," he said, not looking up from the papers spread before him.
"I apologize," Anastasia murmured, bowing her head.
Mikhail finally looked up, his eyes cold and piercing. "Apologies are for those who have the luxury of making mistakes, Anastasia. You do not."
Anastasia’s heart sank at Mikhail’s voice. Fear piled upon fear. A man was in her room right now. At night, no less. Anastasia couldn't even breathe. To make matters worse, he had even caught her pretending to be asleep. Just as she was on the verge of a panic attack at the sheer impossibility of the situation, Mikhail spoke again.
"I am well aware that intruding at this hour is a grave discourtesy. But I knocked and received no answer... I simply intended to leave this and go."
*This?* Anastasia opened her mouth and took a deep, ragged breath. His quiet tone, the fact that his footsteps no longer approached, and the mention of an item he meant to leave behind helped her regain her composure, bit by bit.
"What is...?"
Anastasia slowly pushed herself up, then quickly scrambled off the bed to hide on the other side. Though she didn't see it, Mikhail’s face stiffened for a moment at her reaction. However, he soon returned to his usual expression and placed what he was holding onto the table nearby.
"I had requested to see you at dinner today, along with the others, to apologize for the rudeness you were subjected to last time, but you did not come."
She had never heard of such a thing. No, more than that—an invitation to dinner? That she would dine with the people of Lauderdale? The mere thought made cold sweat break out on Anastasia’s skin. How could she ever dare to receive such an honor?
"I had no choice but to keep it since I couldn't give it to you, and as I must leave early tomorrow morning... I thought about leaving it in the hallway, but I didn't know what might happen to it, so I intended to leave it inside."
"You are... leaving at dawn?"
At Mikhail’s words, the question slipped out before Anastasia could stop herself. When she answered, Mikhail let out a short breath, as if slightly relieved. Even then, his footsteps remained rooted to the spot. Anastasia felt a sense of relief at that fact. Mikhail was not like them. Mikhail did not... intrude as he pleased.
"That is how things have turned out. I apologize for startling you. Goodnight."
As if his business were finished, Mikhail turned to leave. Anastasia was reminded once again of what the maids had said. That he would never return to Edenhurst. And so, Anastasia felt a pang of regret. She wished this man would stay in one place, just like Edenhurst itself. If only he were a rock or a tree. Then, as long as she remained here, she would be able to see him.
Mikhail was already out in the hallway. Anastasia pulled herself up. If this was the end... she wanted to see him just a little longer. She frantically thought of a way to call him back. Then, she remembered something she wanted to know.
"U-um, excuse me!"
Her voice came out louder than she expected, and Anastasia hurriedly clamped a hand over her mouth. She cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. She had barely spoken since arriving in this room, so her voice didn't flow smoothly.
"How... did you know... I didn't take my medicine?"
In truth, that was what she was curious about. The medicine Igor had given her was a powder, kept in a bowl. He had told her to take a spoonful after her meal and swallow it with water. How could Mikhail have known without even looking inside the bowl?
"The medicine Igor prepared contains a sedative. I knew you hadn't taken it because you were awake."
"Pardon...?"
She knew that a sedative was medicine to make one sleep. But why would they feed her something like that?
"Please do not misunderstand. Igor is an excellent doctor. He said that you were in a state of extreme nervous exhaustion. He judged that in such a case, getting more sleep than usual would be better for your recovery, so he told the Countess and prescribed a somewhat strong sedative."
The Countess had permitted it because she thought it was better for Anastasia to be lying down than wandering around uselessly, but there was no way Anastasia could have known that.
Having finished his explanation, Mikhail asked her in return.
"Why did you not take the medicine? Was it too bitter? Or was there something else that was uncomfortable?"
"No... I didn't eat... and I was told to take it after finishing my meal..."
"You didn't eat?"
Mikhail’s gaze shifted to the table. There, for anyone to see, was the food that had been left unfinished. Mikhail looked back and forth between the plate and her.
"I really didn't eat it... that was the maids..."
Anastasia started to say that the maids in the room had eaten it, but she shut her mouth. Then she thought: *Why can't I just say it?*
*...Because it wouldn't matter to him anyway.*
What would change if she told him the maids had eaten it? Everyone at Edenhurst would just ask her back: *What is the problem with that?*
Anastasia felt the same way. What was the problem if a maid ate the food that had been served for her? Weren't they all proud members of this land who had received the name of Edenhurst?
Anastasia suddenly remembered how she used to envy Elizabeth. What would it have been like if it were Elizabeth in this room instead of her? They would have served her with the utmost respect. There would have been no way they would dare touch Elizabeth’s meal, nor would they have brought in other maids to sit and lounge in her room as if it were their own.
Anastasia stood still for a moment, saying nothing. It was the first time she had ever thought such a thing. To dare to wonder what it would be like if it were Elizabeth in her place. It was presumptuous. How could she dare to compare herself to a lady of Lauderdale?
"The maids?"
When Anastasia remained silent, Mikhail caught the end of her sentence. Anastasia looked at him, still standing there. A stranger, not a person of Edenhurst. Would this person think differently? Anastasia gathered her courage and spoke cautiously.
"...The maids ate it."
"You mean to say the maids ate your meal?"
"...Yes."
What would he say? Would he say the maids wouldn't do such a thing and think she was lying? Or would he call the maids in to interrogate them about their behavior? The moment she thought of the latter possibility, Anastasia realized what she had done.
If Mikhail called the maids who had been in her room right now to interrogate them about whether what she said was true, what would happen? The maids would naturally deny it. And he was leaving at dawn. Then, the only ones left here would be the maids and herself. At that thought, Anastasia’s face turned deathly pale.
"No, no. I ate it. I just didn't take the medicine..."
She tried to fix what she had blurted out, but her words came out in a jumble because she didn't know what to do.
"I'll take it now. I'm sorry. I lied. I'll take it now. I..."
"Anastasia."
At the low voice calling her name, Anastasia fell silent. She felt a terrible regret for the words she had spat out in a fit of foolish bravado. She wished God would turn back time just a little. If she had just said she hadn't taken the medicine, it would have been fine, so why did she bring up the maids...
"Can you wait for a moment?"
"Pardon?"
"I will be right back."
Before Anastasia could say anything, Mikhail walked out. The room fell silent again, and Anastasia was left alone. The sky had turned completely dark, the sounds of night birds drifted in from the window, and only the light of the lamp the maids had left behind flickered in the room. In the sudden silence, Anastasia wondered if she had been dreaming.
Anastasia, who had been hiding beside the bed, moved slowly toward the table. There, as if to prove the situation from moments ago wasn't a dream, sat the box Mikhail had left behind. Anastasia reached out and touched the box. The soft velvet covering the paper traced the marks of her fingers.
To think he would give her something so fine. Anastasia touched the box again and again, as if bewitched.
*What could be inside?*
Was it possible there was nothing inside at all? Anastasia remembered the pranks Catherine often played on her. She would tell her she had picked out clothes for her and make her open a bag. Often, it contained nothing but hideous-looking frogs or bugs. Since those were things she saw often in the basement room where she used to stay, she wasn't scared, but Anastasia would pretend to be surprised anyway. Then Catherine would giggle as if it were great fun. On days like that, she seemed to be in a good mood and would give her one more of her belongings. So, perhaps Mikhail was playing a similar prank.
Just as Anastasia was hesitating, unable to open the box, she heard footsteps in the hallway again. *Knock, knock.* Along with the sound of knocking, Mikhail’s voice could be heard.
"May I come in?"
A polite request, different from before. The situation of someone asking for her permission was, to Anastasia, simply wondrous.
"...Yes."
She knew there must be a way to say it elegantly, but since she didn't know how, she could only speak briefly. The door opened quietly, and Mikhail entered. He was holding a plate in his hand. He placed the plate on the table. On it were fresh bread, cheese, and ham.
"Eat. You have to take your medicine afterward."
"......"
But Anastasia remained still, staring at the food he had brought. It wasn't that she didn't want to eat. She was simply grateful for the fact that he had listened to her and acted on her behalf.
*I don't want to eat it.*
She didn't want to eat this meal. This was the first time someone had brought her food out of concern for her.
Her eyes grew hot, and her throat tightened. This man was kind. He was good. Not only to the people of Lauderdale, but he even looked after her like this.
*Thank goodness.*
Anastasia thanked God. Just as she had prayed, the person who would become the new master of Edenhurst was someone who knew how to show mercy even to her.
When Anastasia remained still, Mikhail moved his hands. He picked up a piece of the bread he had brought, tore it into a bite-sized piece, and used a butter knife to spread plenty of butter on it. Then, he held the piece of bread toward Anastasia’s mouth and said:
"Open your mouth."
Under normal circumstances, even being this close would have been impossible. Anastasia had always been terrified of other people. Especially if they were men. But now, she felt no fear. This was a person who took care of her. Therefore… this person was not scary.
Anastasia opened her mouth just as he instructed.
"Open wider."
Mikhail’s voice came again, and this time, too, Anastasia obeyed. A blue flame flickered briefly in the darkness. The next moment, Anastasia’s mouth was filled with exactly what she had wanted.
"……!"
Before she could even fully register the soft piece of bread and the savory scent of butter filling her mouth, Anastasia realized that something else had entered along with the bread. Mikhail’s long fingers had slipped into her mouth, pushing the piece of bread deep inside. Startled by the sensation of something reaching deep into her throat, Anastasia let out a choked, gasping sound. From above her head, Mikhail spoke in a voice that sounded almost pitying.
"See? I told you it wouldn't all fit."
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