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209. Ksenia Side Story

– Clatter

At the Zauer Marquis’s mansion, a match was in progress for distinguished individuals.

Since it was a matter that Lord Brian Zauer took special care of, the handmaidens serving were all neatly composed. Chosen for their finesse, they spoke sweetly and walked gracefully with their hands clasped.

However, the actual participants of the match, after exchanging a few words, failed to find any substantial topic. Each was busy poking at the food in front of them, not due to a lack of subjects to discuss but rather a lack of will to continue the conversation.

Tenderly cooked lamb chuck flap tail.

A precious cut that would yield hardly a palm’s worth even if an entire animal were slaughtered, but Ksenia, quickly growing bored, set her utensils down. She carefully wiped her lips, painted in vermilion, with a napkin before turning her head away.

The man she was matched with, Toton Tatian, did the same. In the silence, they surveyed Lord Zauer’s lavish (yet somewhat gaudy) mansion. After sharing a bit of tea and snacks, Ksenia accepted the customary escort offered by Toton and stepped outside.

“I had a lovely time today.”

“Me too.”

A farewell that was as insincere as it was shameless. Ksenia smiled bitterly. Funny enough, she felt envy watching Toton Tatian board his carriage with a knight by his side.

Men have it easy.

If she were to bring her own escort into the carriage, it would become a scandal. But there wasn’t anyone she felt strongly enough about to act irrationally.

Ksenia returned home. When her father asked how it went, she replied that she wouldn’t see him again.

“How many times has this been? Gilbert Forte turned you down too. You think there’re better suitors than Toton Tatian or Gilbert?”

“What can I do if I dislike them?”

It was she who wanted to sigh, yet it was her father who exhaled heavily. Then he fixed a sharp gaze on her and said:

“This time it’s not negotiable. I’ll arrange another meeting. The discussions with Marquis Benard Tatian have concluded.”

“…Who decided that?”

Ksenia Peter crossed her arms defiantly. Normally, it wouldn’t be easy for a young lady to oppose her head of the family, but Ksenia, who resembled her mother, Edlyn Peter, was quite free-spirited.

Speaking of her mother, Edlyn Peter loved the arts. She painted and sang herself.

Though her skills were far from exceptional, her eye for talent led her to discover aspiring artists who would eventually rise to prominence. She supported theater troupes and even provided shelter to bards that had long since gone extinct.

Edlyn could indulge in her hobbies because she was the sole heir of the House of Count Peter. Her husband, Count Gustave Peter, had no authority to criticize her spending habits.

Growing up watching such a mother, Ksenia realized she too would inevitably become like her.

Ksenia was well aware of her worth. As the only daughter of Count Peter, unless Count Gustave Peter were to adopt a son, she would inherit the title of Countess. Furthermore, she would also inherit her family estate in the Conrad Kingdom and the House of Baron Monarch.

However, her father had no intention to adopt a son. This was deeply rooted in his past, and Ksenia was well aware of that. She knew her father had an obsession with pure bloodlines.

Thus he seeks to connect me with heirs of prestigious families like the Forte and Tatian families.

Ha!

She understood his mindset well.

She had heard stories of how her father grew up under the shadow of the tumultuous relationship between his aunt and grandfather (they were half-siblings). Her grandfather was a bastard child cast away by the family, and as a result, her father, barely adopted, bore a compulsive insecurity about his bloodline.

However, such fixation of her father’s was difficult for Ksenia to empathize with. She had been noble from birth, and her young mother had declared she would have no more children.

The only daughter of the House of Count Peter destined to be a noble lady. Since she was born, she was bathed in purified milk to cleanse her afterbirth. There could be no flustered hands from the handmaidens who held her.

Ksenia stated firmly:

“I will choose my own husband. And honestly, I don’t care if I get married at all.”

“Here we go again. I cannot allow that. What do you intend to do, an adult lady won’t marry? Do you think loafing around is what a noble lady does? You should be finding a good husband and supporting your family!”

“Marriage isn’t a necessity. I’ll become the Countess. Although I’m a woman, I can lead the family well enough.”

“And your heirs?”

“….”

Just adopt a son. ─ If she had dared utter that, it would have been a disaster.

Ksenia hesitated to stir her father’s wrath, and Count Gustave Peter frowned. Finally, he declared, “I’ll set another date,” pushing Ksenia toward a cliff.

How would she explain this to her mother?

In truth, Gustave Peter’s proposal had no unjust angle. It was natural for a noble lady to marry for her family, and due to her unique status as an only daughter, her value was indeed high.

If the only noble lady marries and bears multiple children (traditionally sons), those sons would inherit from both their father and mother’s families.

Yet, nobles, able to rise or fall on a whim, constantly seek strong alliances, and there could be no stronger bond than siblings sharing the same parents, thus extending family ties to grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

This is the value Ksenia possesses. Ksenia grit her teeth and muttered, “I’m sick of this.”

So what am I?

Am I simply a tool to marry into a suitable family chosen by my father and bear (two sons) for a man I don’t love?

No way. I can’t do that.

Returning to her room, Ksenia made a decision. She told her personal handmaiden:

“I’ll be moving to another wing.”

And right after her move was complete, she hung marigolds at her doorway.

With their flower language meaning “sad story” yet “happiness will surely come,” hanging marigolds on her door was a gentle request for time to contemplate; she would soon leave.

Standing in front of the vanity, Ksenia first removed her earrings. Oh right, I almost forgot. She asked her handmaiden to fetch some washing water to cleanse her makeup, then looked at herself in the mirror once more.

Her upper brow had a pronounced round curve. It gradually softened to create a sharp gaze, and on her bridge of her nose, there was a little mole slightly leaning to the left.

Ksenia’s heart raced.

Her clear-faced, unadorned self was unfamiliar; pressing her face close to the mirror, she scrunched her nose, biting her beautifully shaped lips, and contorting her face with exaggerated expressions.

This is me.

On a whim, Ksenia also shed her frilly dress. She calmly explored her reflection, affirming her identity.

Ultimately dressed in the cheapest plain clothes she could find, Ksenia was ready to embark on an adventure. She climbed over to the first floor window of the new wing, glanced around, and then clutched onto the high wall.

– Thud

Eh?

The handhold on the wall crumbled, spilling dirt, but Ksenia smiled. After a couple of rough tumbles, she quickly got the hang of it and was soon perched on top of the wall. The wind whipped by.

Goodbye.

Glancing back at the mansion, she snickered and boldly leaped down… then reconsidered. After landing awkwardly, she dusted off her clothes, soon realizing there was no need to.

Behind the mansion, the alley revealed the dismal world of commoners before Ksenia’s eyes.

People draped in dull fabrics, unpaved dirt roads, and faces dripping with grime as if they hadn’t washed in ages… it was completely different from her view from the carriage.

As her eye level equalized with the crowd, what had once been invisible now stood apparent, and most importantly, no one was paying her any mind.

People passed by nonchalantly.

In their indifference, Ksenia felt a strange sense of liberation. There was no need to maintain the noble lady’s genteel walk, so she lifted her legs higher and walked recklessly, skirts fluttering.

Oh my. I might have gone a little mad. ─ she thought, but nobody was watching. Ksenia burst out laughing in the middle of the street.

She could be anything. The nobility bestowed upon her from birth wasn’t something she had built or desired.

Freedom.

At 17, a noble young lady melted into the bustling crowd of commoners. Leaving everything she had been given behind, Ksenia felt no regret.

*

“I’m sorry, but please check elsewhere. We don’t have the luxury to hire someone inexperienced.”

But was the world so kind? On her second day of searching for a job, Ksenia found herself in a bind.

She didn’t have any skills.

The only thing she brought from home was a handful of silver coins, and even that had all gone to lodging expenses. Had she found cheaper accommodation, she might have lasted a bit longer, but with her high standards, heading to a decent inn had been a mistake.

What to do now?

Nevertheless, Ksenia still carried an air of nonchalance.

A baseless confidence.

Though she had no desire to return to the Count’s household, she chuckled at the reality she faced. She was on the brink of homelessness, yet this body? It felt incredibly amusing.

Haha. Just how far can I fall? How far could I go?

Yet she wasn’t foolish enough to willingly shove herself into a gutter. Ksenia pondered and soon hit upon an idea of something she could do.

Theater.

Having frequently accompanied her mother to the “Arille Theater,” she thought that might work.

As one accustomed to putting on masks depending on the occasion, being a noble wouldn’t make acting seem difficult. With her mastery of etiquette, she had the potential to become a truly rare actress.

Etiquette was the privilege of the nobility. However, it wasn’t entirely absent among commoners.

Certain professions, like stewards and grand officers, required a thorough understanding of etiquette, and even maidens serving nobles had received minimum training. Knights, too, maintained enough decorum to not undermine their stature.

All were roles that interacted with the nobility. Yet there were occupations where knowing etiquette was beneficial without being directly tied to nobility, namely, actors.

Since many characters appearing in plays were nobles or royals, any actor aspiring for a lead role tended to invest time and money into learning etiquette.

Under such circumstances, Ksenia was a prepared leading lady. Mastering etiquette was easier than breathing, and acting as a noble was not acting to her at all.

Alright then!

Surely, one wouldn’t end up dead. Ksenia thought and headed straight to the Arille Theater.

She wasn’t worried about being recognized; nobles rarely visited theaters meant for commoners anyway. Would her mother come to see the performance she sponsored? She wouldn’t mind being caught by her mother.

Seeing her transformed into an actress would surely have her mother in stitches. Unlike her father, who feared the rumors of his unmarriageable daughter leaving home, her mother was an entirely different person.

However, Ksenia would soon realize just how mistaken she was.

Having quickly landed a role at the Arille Theater was all good and well, but the parts given to her were lifeless things like a tree, a rock, or perhaps a quiet maid without dialogue. There was little room for her talents to shine, and theater turned out to be far more complex than she’d thought.

An art that meticulously crafts actions to evoke audience reactions.

Gradually, Ksenia became engrossed in the charm of the theater. Even if her role involved scuttling about in a black shroud as one of the Demon King’s minions, she poured her heart into it, and thanks to her six months of hard work, her chance finally arrived.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Bretin. The thing is…”

The owner of a recently established theater named “Orangie Theater,” which hadn’t even been around for a full decade, came to find her. He was luring her in with promises of good roles.

It was a decent offer.

The prestigious Arille Theater attracted so many aspiring actors that Ksenia, already stuck in supporting roles, found herself struggling to secure a slot, prompting her transfer to Orangie Theater. There, she was able to further hone her talents.

But Orangie Theater had a strange atmosphere. Once a brothel, the theater still housed former prostitutes living on the third floor.

Of course, this reality didn’t bother Ksenia much.

Just plain commoners.

Regardless of their pasts, they were still just unfortunate commoners. For Ksenia, the people themselves mattered more than their history or background, and she lived alongside them, laughing and sharing her help.

For now, she could keep on living this way.

Now that her life had found its footing, Ksenia felt no greed. She could be anyone as an actress, and her earnings weren’t bad. As long as she could live like this, she felt a sense of emptiness, yet she ventured out for her morning exercise like an industrious squirrel.

Was it the pleasantly cool weather in the hot summer that made her feel good?

Ksenia ran further north than usual, all the way to the northern gate. However, on the way back, she went tumbling down!

She collided with a young boy who was lost in thought, staring intently at a small cup of water. The cup was nearly overflowing, and all of it soaked Ksenia.

The boy who caused the mishap stammered out:

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

He reached out, glancing dumbfoundedly at the victim he had just doused. Then, with his hands clasped, he suddenly confessed:

“I think I love you.”

“What?”

“So please help me.”

Only then did she realize he was in ragged clothing. No, this young boy was undoubtedly a beggar.

Yet he gazed at her with burning eyes, and Ksenia swallowed her laughter that was about to escape. This man was genuinely confessing to her.

With eyes that saw only her and the audacity of a beggar, Ksenia’s heart raced. She found the person himself appealing, and the fact that he was a beggar felt almost fateful.

What would happen if she accepted? How far could she fall?

A desire to rebel against her father pushed her forward. A small spark of affection was fanned into a flame, and Ksenia found herself promising to help him.