The Emperor’s Robe Maid

It was unmistakable mockery.

Proof that she, who had wept and screamed for him to stop, had ultimately surrendered and lost her purity to Hector.

Chloe almost felt it would be easier to be treated like a criminal instead.

The next day, Hector returned to the palace earlier than scheduled.

Unlike previous years, when he would remain until the final day of the hunting festival, indulging himself to the fullest, he changed course.

The two of them boarded the imperial carriage together.

Chloe had not wished to accompany him, but she had no choice.

She was under suspicion for murdering her former husband, Philip Larouge.

With so many eyes watching, escape was impossible.

Her fate now rested entirely in Hector’s hands.

Her weakness firmly grasped, she had no option but to follow obediently to the palace.

Belmont Palace was as lavish as she remembered.

The vast scenery felt scarcely of the human world.

White marble evoked the heavens themselves.

Gardens so immaculate that not a single leaf lay out of place formed a living work of art.

Inside, even the smallest ornament was trimmed in gold.

As she sipped tea fragrant as though fresh flowers had only just been steeped and removed, a chill crept along the back of her neck.

The mere presence of Hector staring at her shattered the fragile peace of tea time.

“Does the tea suit your taste.”

An inexplicable coldness layered his words.

He was not a man inclined to such courtesy.

“It is very fragrant.”

She sat with her hands folded politely before her, but her thoughts churned like a trough of slop filled with scraps.

No sooner had she left the hunting grounds than she changed out of her riding attire into a modest dress.

He had slashed her garments apart with a blade in the cave.

In contrast, he wore the same clothes as yesterday.

She sensed ill intent.

Why else would he keep his cloak on even indoors, if not to unsettle her.

Though she had followed him helplessly all the way to the palace, she had to regain her senses and devise a plan.

Once the teacup emptied, he might head straight for the bedroom.

One night together could be dismissed as impulsive.

Two or three would make her irrevocably the Emperor’s mistress.

Chloe forced her mind to race until her scalp felt warm.

Her lashes cast quiet shadows over the tea, even as she waged a private battle.

“Your Majesty, forgive me, but I am terribly fatigued. May I request a guest chamber.”

She arranged her expression into one of utmost pitifulness, hoping to stir his sympathy.

Hector lounged diagonally against the sofa.

His inscrutable gaze fixed on her as his elbow rested upon the backrest.

The fingers that dangled lazily twitched with faint displeasure.

“A guest chamber.”

To assert herself in such an atmosphere felt like walking upon a blade.

“Yes. A small room will suffice. Even among the maids’ quarters.”

He let out a derisive snort, seeing through her instantly.

The expression of a man rejected was terrifying.

After staring at her as though to tear her apart, he spat out bluntly,

“Only one who performs a maid’s duties earns a maid’s lodging.”

He straightened and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fixing her with a direct stare.

“If you insist on behaving in this manner, I shall treat you accordingly.”

“I had no intention of offending Your Majesty’s temper—”

“You will serve as my robe maid.”

Suddenly rising, he circled the tea table.

With swift hands, he pulled her to her feet.

A short cry escaped before she was hoisted over his shoulder like baggage.

Perched high against his broad frame, Chloe struggled to adjust to the dizzying height.

An arm like forged steel clamped around her waist.

Any further resistance would likely bring harsher punishment.

She let her arms drape over his wide back and remained still.

After tugging the cord to summon attendants, he strode from the drawing room.

The chief steward waiting nearby bowed deeply.

Without breaking stride, Hector spoke in a dry tone.

“Appoint Countess Larouge as my robe maid. See that she begins her duties at once.”

The words were unbelievable.

Yet Hector headed straight toward the maids’ waiting chamber at the end of the corridor without hesitation.

“My robe maid, Your Majesty.”

The steward followed in visible alarm, repeating the words as though to confirm he had heard correctly.

The robe maid was a low-ranking position, also called a robe attendant.

She handled not only garments but bed-making and carpet cleaning.

Though she entered the Emperor’s private chambers, she was meant to work swiftly and withdraw unseen while they were vacant.

The Emperor’s direct personal attendant was a male noble servant who assisted with dressing.

Thus the robe maid was usually of common birth.

Assigning such work to Chloe, a countess, was a grave humiliation.

Hector climbed the stairs without pause and kicked open the maids’ chamber door.

The door flew wide.

Several lower maids working inside startled and bowed at once.

With a sharp motion, Chloe was tossed onto a pile of bedding.

His cold gaze pierced her like an icicle.

“I wish to bathe. I shall be attended by the new maid.”

Disregarding all etiquette, he issued the command and turned away.

Chloe pushed herself upright from the layered sheets.

Her brow furrowed.

To turn her into a maid and have her serve him.

It felt like revenge through humiliation.

Of course, compared to her childhood at the very bottom of society, folding clothes and arranging wardrobes was nothing.

She felt no shame in such labor.

But she now bore the title of countess through a change of status.

She had to react accordingly, lest Hector uncover her wretched past.

The chief steward quickly summarized matters.

“By His Majesty’s command, you shall serve as robe maid. These women perform the same duties. I will summon the head maid so you may receive instruction.”

He had accompanied the Emperor since the hunting grounds and thus knew what had transpired yesterday.

His attention toward Chloe was notably careful.

After finishing, he hurried off to rejoin Hector.

Left alone in the maids’ chamber, Chloe found herself in an awkward position.

She introduced herself first to the lower maids who stood stiffly in a corner.

They seemed to regard her not as a colleague but as someone to be served.

They offered her a seat and refrained from assigning tasks.

After all, they had only just seen the Emperor.

And the countess who had arrived draped over his shoulder was now to work among them.

Caution was natural.

Pressing a hand to her throbbing forehead, Chloe fell deep in thought.

An enraged Hector had ordered her to assist with his bath.

She could not predict what would follow.

“May I ask something. When His Majesty bathes, what is my role.”

She directed the question to a maid smoothing wrinkles from bedding.

The maid paused respectfully to answer.

“You must prepare the garments His Majesty will change into. We wait in the antechamber and pass them to the attendant.”

“I see. So we may only enter as far as the antechamber.”

“Yes. However, His Majesty often chooses his attire personally from the dressing room. At times he refuses assistance. When such variables occur, we must be alert for new orders.”

It seemed the robe maid’s task was to serve in unseen corners outside the bedchamber.

Yet one detail unsettled her.

Hector had clearly said he would be attended by her.

He had not meant for her to work invisibly like an ordinary robe maid.

Would she carry water basins.

Or stand by holding towels.

The thought of serving amid other attendants while enduring humiliation made her head pound.

She had believed there was nothing left capable of shaming her.

Yet now, faced with reality, she felt lost.