MTMT 21
Chapter 21
Resolution
When Diana returned to her room, her face was pale, and she seemed on the verge of collapse. She barely managed to sit down. Her hands were trembling violently.
“Did you see it?”
“For what purpose did you tell me, Giskar?”
Even Giskar himself didn’t fully understand why he had shared it. Was it because pretending to be an adult while being ignorant of a secret known to the entire duke’s household felt petty? Or perhaps he wanted this girl, cornered in reality, to realize the truth of her situation.
“Why aren’t you answering?”
Diana’s voice sounded sharp. Ah—Giskar had momentarily forgotten one of the most petty instincts of humans. People rarely take their anger out on the strong who put them in a predicament—they vent it on the weak instead. Diana’s slave was himself; now it was this girl’s turn to take out her anger on him.
“Say it.”
Under her insistence, Giskar answered carelessly.
“I just thought I should tell you because it seemed you didn’t know anything.”
“…….”
“Everyone in this mansion knows why that woman has taken control, but you seemed to be the only one under the wrong impression.”
A misconception. He could have phrased it more gently, but he spoke bluntly. After all, someone looking to vent anger will be angry no matter what you say.
He expected Diana to recoil immediately. Perhaps he even wanted to see the child behind the polished mask. Since he was twisted too, he wanted her to shout instead of pretending to be noble, to reveal her bottom layer.
A child shouldn’t pretend to be mature.
“Alright.”
“…….”
“Thank you.”
The reply was entirely different from what he expected. Giskar stared at her, wide-eyed.
This girl wasn’t venting at all. Why was she thanking him? Did she even need to say thanks? Or was this really something to be grateful for?
“You’re right. I truly didn’t know. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have even considered it.”
Diana fell into serious thought. Giskar kept staring at her, astonished.
The Duke of Brien stopped coming home often due to work, and Mirva’s reign began. Having obtained permission, Mirva started controlling Diana. Perhaps it was punishment for past defiance. She interfered in everything—Diana’s clothes, her studies, every single detail. Though Diana’s tutors always praised her, Mirva reported to the Duke that Diana was still lacking, prompting even stricter instruction.
Diana had a history of defiance and was the weakest link. Mirva had never forgotten the humiliation of being slapped in front of the servants. She allocated a minimal budget for Diana, and the maids neglected her.
On one occasion, taking advantage of the Duke’s absence, Mirva even withheld Diana’s meals. Diana nearly starved within the Duke’s household.
Who would suspect that even a daughter of the nation’s leading duke could be subjugated beneath someone like her? Mirva was the true mistress of the mansion. No noble daughter could oppose her.
Seeing Diana endure days of hunger without complaint, the maids and the head maid once again obeyed Mirva’s commands without question.
Everyone pitied the noble girl. Perhaps because of that, Diana began smiling brightly at Mirva. There was no reason to—whether she provided cheap clothing, starved her, or neglected to assign maids, Diana smiled nonetheless.
Finally, the victor seemed to be recognized. Mirva, intoxicated by triumph, began giving her tiny rewards.
About a month later, Diana received another invitation from Princess Ionia. This time, Mirva dressed her properly. The Duke had indeed scolded her over the pearl necklace incident and warned her that any repeat would not be forgiven.
Meanwhile, Mirva realized something. She was still confined to the house while Diana, under the pretense of being a noble daughter, was summoned to the royal palace. The social world Diana truly desired was only accessible to her.
“If only I were the Duchess,” Mirva thought bitterly.
No matter her authority within the house, outside, she was nothing. Diana returned from the palace with astonishing news.
“Princess Ionia said she wants me as her maid!”
This little girl was now saying she wanted to leave the house.
Diana watched Giskar wield his sword. He clearly had a talent for it. Though he hadn’t yet learned detailed swordsmanship, his strength, speed, and reflexes with the sword were exceptional.
She glanced at his collar. Sometimes she wanted to release him, searching the room for the key to undo it—but she found none. Perhaps someday there would be a chance.
Giskar shouted and swung the sword with force and precision. Even after only three months, his skill had advanced remarkably. This must have been why he was able to defeat the ferocious dragon so quickly.
That was how he received the succession from the King of Rodbrooke. Diana pondered the fundamental reasons.
Why did the prince of Rodbrooke come to Panborough’s kingdom? Why did Panborough’s king give a slave to the Duke?
She wanted to ask Giskar, but whenever she approached the topic of his origins, he remained silent. Even though she knew about the future, she knew very little. The same went for the relationship between her father and Mirva.
Then, their eyes met. Diana assumed Giskar would return to focusing on his sword, but he lowered it and walked toward her.
“…….”
He looked at her and bowed.
“What brings you here, miss?”
“I heard you were practicing swordsmanship.”
“Yes.”
“I probably won’t be able to visit you often from now on.”
Giskar’s expression stiffened at her words.
“I will be working at the palace from now on. If the Queen permits, I’ll be formally employed immediately.”
“…….”
“You understand the situation, right? There will be more work ahead.”
“You’re… leaving?”
It felt as if she was asking whether he would abandon her. Diana smiled inwardly. Within the house, she could only be repressed.
Diana acknowledged that her father was disappointing. Though sometimes kind, she had always felt a barrier with him. He was self-centered.
Having lived uprightly, she hadn’t imagined her father could form such inappropriate relationships. The Duke was just another foolish man wanting to flaunt women he had slept with, and Diana might have been a victim.
“So please take care of Alexa. Practice your sword diligently.”
“…….”
“I taught you spelling, so memorize it properly. You should be able to write your own name correctly.”
Giskar nodded. Diana watched him with concern. What if the mansion’s people bullied him? Everything they did was for the Brien household, yet the people didn’t understand. She worried quietly.
“Does this mean you are no longer my mistress?”
“No. That’s not it. I must act; I can’t stay idle.”
Giskar said nothing. He looked at her as if wanting to speak, but Diana didn’t wait and moved on.
Everyone would assume Diana was fleeing Mirva’s tyranny. That was true in the past. Her social activities were partly an escape, and her efforts were recognized by her father, allowing her a reprieve from household duties.
But now, Diana decided not to endure helplessly. Fifteen was too late to wait.
“How ridiculous,” she thought.
At that time, Diana had received reports from the maids: Mirva abused the servants, embezzled from the Duke’s private funds, and even indulged in debauchery. Diana had been disgusted and reported Mirva to her father, who had issued a proper judgment to expel her from the mansion.
Yet, in hindsight, it was strange. Why did the servants who had obeyed her betray her? Why did everything proceed according to her will? Now she understood: it was because her father had decided it so.
Once his daughter reached a suitable age, he entrusted the mansion to her and expelled the concubine.
“But Father, I cannot wait until then.”
Diana’s eyes gleamed coldly.
Until now, she believed she could expel Mirva because she was in the right. She had restrained herself to avoid bringing shame to her family. She could not punish her without consequence.
But after witnessing her father’s crimes and enduring days of starvation at Mirva’s hands, Diana abandoned morality for the family. She realized she could do anything.
“The Queen requests your presence.”
Diana stepped into the palace. At twelve, the world had become harsh, but she was already an adult in spirit—the Queen had once rolled around the palace floor like garbage.
She wouldn’t be defeated by mere hardship.
She had decided to live a different life.
