Please Don’t Die, My Lady

Chapter 14

I couldn’t calm the surge of emotions, so I buried my face in my knees for several minutes.

The maid, likely finding my behavior strange, stepped closer and gently shook my shoulder.

I barely managed to ignore her.

There was no way I could face the person who had made me feel this way right now.

“…Excuse me, miss. Are you alright? Should I call the nurse?”

She sounded genuinely concerned now.

It was only when she started speaking to me that I finally raised my head.

If I didn’t, she might actually go fetch someone.

“…No, I’m fine. It’s not because I’m unwell.”

By then, the heat that had risen to my face had subsided. I got to my feet and asked her,

“Other students will be returning soon. Is my room the last one you need to clean?”

“Yes! I was planning to finish here and then take a break.”

“I see… Well, I’m sorry about dirtying the bed earlier. It’s not much of a repayment, but how about staying for a bit? I’ll serve you some tea.”

“Ah, but is that alright?”

It was one of the many compulsions drilled into me as the noble daughter—to repay any favor in kind.

Normally, there wouldn’t have been a need to show such courtesy to a maid, but considering I had fallen from grace and now occupied a position lower than hers, it seemed only right.

“Yes, it’s fine.”

I smiled as I spoke and walked further into the room.

As I moved, the blood trickling down my forehead began to obstruct my vision.

Annoyed, I pressed down on the wound, prodding it with irritation.

The torn flesh throbbed with sharp pain, but oddly enough, the pressure seemed to slow the bleeding.

The fleeting pain didn’t bother me anymore.

At first, I’d hated how much it hurt, but maybe I’d grown numb to it.

The maid flinched at the sight, clearly startled by the gruesome act.

Not a pleasant scene to witness, I suppose.

As I searched through the shelves for something to serve, the maid sat by the table, casting cautious glances my way.

Her curious expression made it obvious she wanted to ask how I’d gotten hurt.

Since there wasn’t much to hide this time, I spoke up.

“I fell down the stairs. That’s how I got these injuries.”

“Oh, I see… Sorry, was I staring too much?”

“Well, it’s hard not to notice when you look so openly.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine. It’s only natural to be curious.”

Reassured by my calm tone, the maid hesitantly asked the question I had dreaded.

“Um… So, does that mean all the other stains on the bed before were also…?”

I froze, my hand momentarily pausing on the shelf.

I resumed quickly, but the awkward gap was undeniable.

I forced out a response as naturally as I could.

“…Yes.”

The maid seemed like she had more to say but clamped her mouth shut.

…So, it was obvious after all.

I guess lying is still too hard for me in this body.

The air grew heavy, with only the faint sound of my hands moving through the shelves breaking the silence.

The weight of the tension was palpable.

The maid fidgeted with her fingers and shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

It was clear that she felt uneasy, too.

I needed to change the subject.

Fortunately, I had a good excuse.

“…Sorry, I don’t seem to have anything to serve you.”

This time, it was true.

I had intended to stock up on refreshments after Sena’s last visit, but things had been too chaotic for me to make it to the store.

My futile rummaging through the shelves had only proven that point.

And yet, I’d offered tea without considering my situation at all.

The shame of my repeated blunders left my head spinning.

Is my memory failing me too? Ugh.

The maid suddenly stood up.

“Oh, in that case, I’ll bring something from the staff supplies! Please wait a moment!”

“You really don’t have to—”

Before I could finish my sentence, she dashed out of the room.

Now this wasn’t me hosting; it was me being hosted.

I stared at the empty doorway where she’d disappeared, then looked down at my outstretched hand in frustration.

I felt a familiar wave of helplessness and shame wash over me.

Nothing ever goes right.

I’d wanted, at the very least, to maintain some semblance of composure in front of a third party.

Then again, maybe that was impossible from the moment she saw me bleeding.

I hugged my knees tightly and buried my face again.

After a while, the maid’s voice broke the silence.

“…Um, I brought something.”

“Oh.”

She was back already.

When I raised my head, I saw her holding a small package.

Her breathing was labored, and beads of sweat dotted her forehead, suggesting she had sprinted.

The sight of her awkwardly offering me the package of tea leaves was oddly heartwarming.

Though I felt the usual sting of pity, her careful, considerate manner soothed me.

I took the package and stood.

“Have a seat. I’ll prepare the tea.”

“Okay!”

Fortunately, I already had a teapot and cups on hand.

I brewed the tea, poured it into two cups, and set them on the table.

There were no snacks to go with it, but for a casual tea time with a maid, this was enough.

It was also the first thing other than water I’d had in four days.

Even if it was just liquid, it felt luxurious.

We lifted our cups and took our first sips in silence.

The hot liquid slid down my throat, warming me from the inside.

Though it stung my empty stomach a little, the discomfort wasn’t unbearable.

The maid seemed to enjoy the tea.

“…This is delicious. You’re really good at making tea.”

“I’ve had plenty of practice. It’s part of basic etiquette, after all.”

For someone of noble standing, mastering the art of hosting, including tea preparation, was mandatory.

The noble daughter, for all her sharp edges, had diligently learned such skills to maintain her image of refinement.

Thanks to her, even I benefited from these habits now.

Perhaps this was the most useful thing she had left behind.

The maid smiled genuinely, her innocent expression undimmed by my modest response.

“Even so, you’re amazing.”

That compliment.

That smile.

That pure sincerity.

It all felt strangely unfamiliar.

Was it because I hadn’t encountered someone like this in years?

Unlike others, she didn’t display overt pity toward me.

Whether it was due to her role as a maid or just her personality, she made a conscious effort not to pry too deeply.

Her attitude embodied the very “status quo” I had always desired—unchanging, neutral, and detached.

Ironically, she was the ideal of what I had longed for from others.

If everyone had been like this maid, my remaining days would have been so much easier.

No one to deeply entangle with.

No one to bear hostility toward.

No one to pity me.

Detached and indifferent, only addressing the immediate reality while maintaining a functional relationship.

It sounded perfect.

No pain, no sorrow.

It wasn’t happiness, but at least life wouldn’t feel unbearable.

What could be more ideal than that?

As I let my thoughts wander, staring blankly, the maid spoke first.

“You’ve had quite an unusual day, huh? I even ended up pointing at a noble lady and got treated to tea.”

“I’m hardly a noble anymore. You don’t have to be so formal—you can speak casually if you’d like.”

The only thing I had over her was this room. No money, no freedom—I was no better than a servant myself.

I didn’t expect her to treat me like a nobility anymore. I wouldn’t care if she spoke informally or acted impolitely.

After all, I let commoners beat me daily. Why draw the line here?

“…No, I couldn’t possibly do that.”

Despite my offer, the maid shook her head with a troubled expression.

Then, after finishing the rest of her tea, she placed a small white cloth on the table.

When I looked at her questioningly, she smiled her usual cheerful smile and explained.

“It’s a clean, sterilized cloth. Use it to dress your wound. I mean… it’s really hard to clean blood off the bed, you know? Please be more careful next time! Hehe.”

“……”

Instead of directly doing something for me, she provided me with the means to do it myself, ensuring her actions didn’t come across as pity. 

By adding that it was a hassle to clean, she cleverly diffused any perception of charity.

She was skilled at handling someone like me.

Unlike with Sena, I didn’t feel the urge to overreact this time.

Maybe it was my hunger for kindness clouding my judgment, but still, I found myself subtly nodding.

“…Yeah. I’ll be more careful.”

“Alright!”

After that, the maid gave a light bow and left my room.

I had told her she could rest here a little longer, but she declined, saying she had work to do back at the staff quarters.

Funny—she’d said earlier she planned to take a break after finishing my room.

Her excuse was as transparent as glass.

Still, it didn’t leave me with any unpleasant feelings.

I glanced around the room, which was now noticeably tidier thanks to her cleaning.

I hadn’t asked for her name or invited her to return.

But her presence lingered in my memory.

“…This is making me itch.”

For no apparent reason, my mind felt restless.

It was as if the space where my brain met my skull was floating uncomfortably.

I scratched at the wound on my forehead again.

A sickening sound, like something tearing, accompanied a sharper pain than before.

Blood trickled down my eyelid, giving me the grotesque sensation of crying tears of blood.

At least the itch was gone.

Good.

Pain was better.

I raised the teacup, now tainted with red from the blood that had dripped into it, and drank.

It tasted metallic, like iron.