Investigation

Sakuya sighed inwardly with resignation. Whenever the Second Young Mistress was around Yukishiro Haruka, she was like a cautious little hedgehog that had shed all its protective spines, exposing her soft, vulnerable belly. It was a privilege that, until now, only Sakuya herself had ever enjoyed. The fact that Haruka now shared it left a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth.

So, when Haruka asked for the pliers she was holding, Sakuya really didn’t want to give them to him. But he was the young master. Even as the Second Young Mistress’s most trusted personal maid, she had to obey. She reluctantly handed over the heavy, rusted tool, a tiny seed of resentment taking root in her heart.

The Second Young Mistress remained silent, a faint, lovely blush occasionally appearing on her cheeks. It was impossible to know what she was thinking, lost in her own world of giddy excitement.

Haruka took the pliers. They were as long and thick as his forearm, shockingly heavy in his hand, and carried the strong, metallic scent of rust and old violence. He heard Kiyohime ask in a small, breathless voice, “What… what are you going to do with those?”

Haruka didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he smiled, a calm, disarming expression that was completely at odds with the gruesome scene. “What horrible things did this servant say about you, Onee-san?”

Kiyohime froze, thinking he was about to plead for the servant’s sake. Her voice became even smaller, laced with a defensive pout. “Well… it wasn’t that bad… she just said I wasn’t my mother’s biological daughter…”

Even though the surrounding servants had already heard this once, hearing it again from the Second Young Mistress’s own lips was still shocking. They all stared at the maid with the ruined mouth, thinking she must be insane to dare say such a thing. Didn’t she understand the consequences? And so, seeing her miserable state, none of them felt any pity, only a sense of grim, detached satisfaction that she had brought this upon herself.

Sakuya, too, felt a surge of righteous anger. The Second Young Mistress had been complaining recently that Lady Murasaki didn’t dote on her, and Sakuya couldn’t help but worry. For someone to be spreading such a vicious rumor at a time like this… how could she not be furious?

“I’m going to pull out one of her teeth myself,” Haruka announced, his voice steady.

“You’re going to let… wait, you’re going to pull her tooth?” Kiyohime’s eyes widened, a flicker of pure, unadulterated joy in their depths. She had been about to say that, for her brother’s sake, she could let the servant off, though the thought left her feeling dejected. Does he really think less of me than a servant? But now, hearing that he was going to pull the tooth himself, that he was taking her side… she was ecstatic.

“Is that okay?” Haruka asked, turning to her.

“Yes! I’ll leave her to you,” Kiyohime said, completely, blissfully entrusting the matter to him.

Haruka walked over to the maid. She was held fast by the two brawny bodyguards, blood seeping from her mangled mouth, her eyes dull and lifeless.

I only just figured it out myself, Haruka thought, his mind racing with cold clarity, that I might be Lady Murasaki’s son, and Kiyohime might be my mother’s daughter. How do these servants seem to know my innermost thoughts? The moment I find out, they start spreading rumors. Someone must be behind this.

Haruka stepped forward. “Can you still speak?”

The two bodyguards, like a pair of large brown bears, gave the maid a rough shake, as if trying to dislodge a beehive from a tree. The maid was shaken so violently she could barely speak. “Yeth…” she slurred, her voice thick with blood and fear.

“These things you said,” Haruka asked, his voice low and intense, “did you make them up yourself, or… did someone tell you to say them?”

Seeing the sharp, intelligent glint in Haruka’s eyes, the maid began to struggle wildly. She didn’t speak, only let out two guttural, animalistic cries before her eyes rolled back in their sockets and she fainted.

But from her deliberate, theatrical reaction, Haruka already knew. Someone had instructed her to say those things. A grim, sorrowful thought settled in his heart. Even the servants in this house are capable of such intricate, cruel schemes.

Kiyohime, however, was still giddy with the thought that Haruka was on her side. She thought he was hesitating. “Haruka, do you need my help?”

A ruthless resolve hardened Haruka’s heart. “No, I can do it myself.”

The two bodyguards held the maid up by her armpits. With their free hands, they pried her mouth open as if stretching a rubber band, revealing yellowed teeth and red, bleeding gums. The maid’s eyelid fluttered open—she was only pretending to be unconscious. After a few ragged breaths, she feigned waking up and began to struggle again.

Haruka had a natural sympathy for the lower classes, but now he had to pull out a tooth himself to give both sides a way out of this situation. He wouldn’t be soft. He saw a rotten, blackened tooth in the maid’s mouth and decided on that one. If I hadn’t intervened, he thought, her teeth would have likely all been pulled out. By pulling one myself, I can put an end to it.

Haruka lifted the heavy pliers, gripping a handle in each hand. He aimed for the rotten tooth and pulled with all his might. A scream tore from the maid’s throat, but the tooth remained firmly in her mouth.

Haruka was surprised. He didn’t realize how deeply rooted teeth were. Even a grown man might not be able to pull one out on the first try, let alone a slender boy like him. Kiyohime had also failed several times, and she had chosen one of the most fragile incisors, only managing to snap it in half.

He tried again, his muscles straining, but still failed.

Sakuya, who already disliked him, felt a sense of contempt. She laughed secretly to herself and stepped forward. “Young Master, perhaps you should let me do it.”

“There’s no need.”

Haruka suddenly felt Sakuya’s hand, light as a feather, rest on his wrist. “This kind of rough work is best left to us servants,” she said, her voice dripping with false, saccharine deference.

Haruka tried to pull his hand away, but he found her grip was impossibly strong, heavier than the iron pliers in his hand. He struggled a few times, but couldn’t move an inch. He was shocked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Sakuya, because of her fierce loyalty to the Second Young Mistress, disliked him and intended to make him suffer a small, humiliating loss. To an outsider, Sakuya, with her pale, delicate skin, was a refined, beautiful young woman. Her slender arms didn’t look like they held much strength at all.

Kiyohime, standing closest, didn’t notice anything amiss. She only felt a strange sensation seeing her “sister” and “brother” so close together, a confusing little knot in her chest.

Sakuya felt Haruka struggling. Just as she was about to let go and let him stumble backward, she heard a voice, as cold and clear as winter ice. “Sakuya, why are you holding the Young Master’s hand?”

Sakuya was startled and immediately loosened her grip. Haruka took the opportunity to pull his hand back. He looked to his left and saw Momozawa Ai standing there, perfectly poised, with Ryo following a few paces behind her. The sound of her high heels was sharp and clear in the now-silent courtyard. She was tall and curvaceous, yet she moved with an uncommon, almost predatory grace.

All eyes were drawn to her. A chorus of “Good day, Head Butler” followed her as she walked across the courtyard, parting the crowd like a ship through water.

Momozawa Ai stopped between them and gave Sakuya a single, cold glance. Sakuya immediately looked down, like a child who had been caught misbehaving.

“Have you been spending so much time with the Second Young Mistress,” Momozawa Ai said in a low, cutting voice that was meant only for Sakuya but was heard by all, “that you’ve forgotten all the etiquette I’ve taught you?”