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171 This Isn't Right
"Haah..."
Even though she was being careful, a heavy sigh escaped her.
Ortansia was currently fighting a solitary battle, having once again been ordered by Marguerite to do the laundry.
"Ngh..."
Every time she moved her arms, the places where she had been struck with the whip throbbed painfully.
This was lowering her work efficiency. If Ortansia's work fell behind, Marguerite would torment her further, calling it punishment.
...She'd entered an unpleasant vicious cycle.
‘What should I have done...?’
Until now, she had thought to devote herself to them, to make up for having stolen Marguerite's place, Gérard's peaceful happiness.
But even if Ortansia continued to remain here, she couldn't possibly believe the situation would improve.
Rather, Ortansia's very existence might be disturbing the peaceful Vérité ducal household.
‘I wasn't needed in this world.’
Her thoughts sank deeper and deeper.
‘It would have been better if I'd never existed from the start…’
Perhaps everyone could live more happily that way.
The moment she thought this, the sadness she'd been suppressing, the loneliness, welled up from deep in her chest.
Before she knew it, tears had spilt down her cheeks.
It was at that moment.
"Hey."
Hearing a voice from behind, Ortansia reflexively turned round.
When had he arrived? Standing there was Gérard.
‘In a place like this again...!’
Gérard, who had been about to say something, widened his eyes in surprise upon seeing Ortansia's face.
Only then did Ortansia realise she was crying.
"Um, this is..."
Before she could hastily wipe away her tears, Gérard grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
The instant he did, a sharp pain shot through her arm, and Ortansia let out a small scream.
"That hurts..."
"...You're injured somewhere"
Ortansia frantically tried to hide it.
If he saw the scars, there would be no way to cover it up anymore.
But Gérard was faster.
"Stop..."
Before Ortansia could stop him, he had rolled up the sleeve of her clothing.
"What the..."
Seeing the multiple scars that appeared there, Gérard was rendered speechless.
Ortansia felt so wretched, wanting to disappear so badly, that her tears wouldn't stop.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Not even knowing what to do herself, all she could do was continue apologising whilst sobbing.
Gérard gazed at Ortansia with an expression as if enduring something.
"...Come."
"I can't, I still have work"
"Just come!"
Saying this in an unusually rough tone, Gérard effortlessly lifted Ortansia's body as she tried to stand her ground.
"Ahhh!?"
Reflexively, Ortansia clung to Gérard to avoid falling.
Gérard began walking briskly whilst carrying Ortansia in his arms.
The servants they passed stopped and stared at them in surprise.
...This isn't right.
Gérard was the heir to the ducal house, and Ortansia was merely a servant.
They absolutely had to avoid actions that would invite unwanted misunderstandings...
‘It's warm... The same as... Brother…’
In the original world too, Gérard had lifted Ortansia like this countless times.
She remembered how, right up until just before fate changed, he had overprotectively carried her, saying "You're still recovering, so I can't let you overexert yourself."
‘Brother…’
The Gérard before her wasn't her stepbrother Gérard.
Yes, she understood that in her head.
Yet the strength of the arms lifting her, his body warmth transmitted through the points where they touched,
These inevitably called forth nostalgia.
For Ortansia, who had been driven to her limits, there was no way she could choose to pull away.
Eventually they arrived at Gérard's private chambers.
Still carrying Ortansia, Gérard stepped into the room without hesitation.
And then, he gently lowered Ortansia onto the sofa.
"Show me the wounds."
Saying this, he rolled up her sleeve again without waiting for Ortansia's consent.
Multiple red scars on white skin.
Confronted with this sight, Gérard bit his lip in frustration.
He opened his mouth as if to say something... then closed it once, as if swallowing his words.
"...I'm going to give you first aid. All right?"
"Yes..."
When Ortansia nodded slightly, he took out bandages and disinfectant from a nearby shelf.
As a knight who often embarked on dangerous missions, he probably sometimes tended to his own wounds.
Ortansia had done the bare minimum of first aid to prevent her wounds from worsening, but today Marguerite had ordered her to work immediately after inflicting new injuries.
Blood was still seeping from the fresh wounds.
"It'll sting a bit, but bear with it."
"Ngh..."
The disinfectant soaked into the wounds, and sharp pain shot through her.
The tears that welled up physiologically, combined with the wretchedness of making her employer Gérard do something like this, caused droplets to fall ceaselessly down her cheeks.
"...If you're going to cry this much, why did you stay silent until now?"
Having finished the treatment, Gérard asked this quietly.
...He was right.
Gérard had noticed Ortansia's distress many times and tried to reach out to her.
It was Ortansia who had pushed him away.
At the time, she had thought it was the right decision.
But now... she no longer knew.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
"I'm not telling you to apologise."
Though the words were cold, she couldn't help but feel a certain kindness in his tone.
As if drawn out by such consideration from Gérard, Ortansia confessed what was in her heart.
"I didn't want to destroy... the happiness of the Vérité ducal family..."
The happiness of Gérard that she'd finally found.
This world where he had grown up properly without freezing his heart, living harmoniously with his family.
She hadn't wanted to do anything that would destroy such happiness with her own hands.
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