The cold wetness covered her face, sticky and dripping down her neck. Olessia gasped softly, using her trembling hands to wipe it off. When she finally looked up, her breath caught.
Standing before her was a tall, striking woman with fiery red hair. Her beauty was loud and deliberate, the kind that demanded attention. But what truly set her apart was her posture... graceful, proud, and intimidating.
This woman didn't look like a maid or servant. Her gown, her jewels, her confidence... everything about her screamed wealth and power. Olessia instantly knew she was royalty.
"Oh my world, Lady Eirene! I'll get it cleaned right away!" a young maid exclaimed, rushing toward Olessia with panic in her voice.
Olessia stood frozen, and speechless, her heart pounding. Lady Eirene. The name alone carried power, but what stunned her more was the woman's cruelty.
She had just emptied her drink all over Olessia... for what? For bumping into her by mistake? No, that wasn't even true, because they had both collided.
Yet, the blame landed squarely on Olessia. She could only stare, soaked and humiliated, while the maid frantically tried to wipe the juice from her ruined dress.
"Don't bother, Zalia," Lady Eirene said coldly. "Let the black-haired wench do it herself. She caused it. Perhaps her eyes don't work as well as her mouth, since she seems to have forgotten to apologize." Her tone dripped with venom as her piercing green eyes locked onto Olessia's wide brown ones.
Olessia's chest tightened, heat rising to her cheeks. She wanted to defend herself, to tell the woman they had both bumped into each other. But the words caught in her throat. The arrogance radiating from Lady Eirene's stance left her utterly speechless.
Olessia knew she had suffered enough punishments under Kaive's iron hand, but this time she didn't care if another awaited her. Pride burned hotter than fear in her chest. She wasn't about to apologize for something she didn't do.
Lady Eirene's behavior was nothing short of childish, spoiled even... and Olessia refused to bow to that. The woman's arrogance, her sharp tongue, and that smug tilt of her chin only fueled Olessia's resolve.
She'd rather face Kaive's wrath a hundred times than lower her head to someone who treated others like dirt beneath her jeweled shoes.
"We both bumped into each other, Lady Eirene," Olessia said firmly, her voice steady despite the tension crackling between them. "Don't be ridiculous... asking me to apologize when you emptied the drink on my face." Her words came strong.
For a heartbeat, silence stretched... then Lady Eirene's face twisted. Her lips curled, revealing a cruel smile, and her nostrils flared as if she'd caught a foul scent.
Her perfectly manicured fingers clenched around the jeweled cup she held, trembling slightly with rage. The muscles in her jaw tightened as she stepped closer.
"How dare you," she hissed, her voice low with suppressed anger, as though Olessia's defiance was the greatest insult she'd ever received in her pampered life.
"Please, miss… just do what Lady Eirene asks," Zalia stated urgently, her voice trembling but insistent. There was something in her tone... obedience laced with warning.
Olessia caught it instantly, it wasn't just fear but loyalty. The maid wasn't pleading for peace... she was protecting her lady's pride.
Olessia turned slightly, meeting Zalia's gaze, and saw the quiet submission in her eyes. She realized then that Zalia would always take Eirene's side, no matter what. The girl's posture, her lowered head, even her clenched fists spoke of servitude born from devotion.
"She emptied the cup on me. Why should I be the one apologizing, huh?" Olessia said to Zalia, her expression unyielding. "When she's the one who should be saying sorry to me," she added, folding her arms across her chest.
Lady Eirene's eyes widened in disbelief . Never had anyone dared to talk to her in such a tone... especially not some dark-haired stranger. The air thickened between them, pride clashing with pride, and for the first time, Lady Eirene felt her authority tremble.
No one had ever dared to speak to Lady Eirene that way. Not even the highest nobles, not even the king's advisors. After all, she was the ruler's beloved... the woman everyone bowed to.
And yet, this ordinary girl, this outsider, had looked her dead in the eyes and spoken without fear. Rage burned through her veins. How dare she? Before her mind could even process it, her hand shot up, ready to slap Olessia across the face for her insolence... but before the strike landed, a strong hand caught her wrist midair, stopping her cold.
Both women turned at once, stunned. The one who stopped her was none other than Kaive. His grip was firm as he lowered Lady Eirene's hand. The tension in the room shifted instantly.
Eirene's expression flickered from shock to anger, but Kaive didn't spare her a glance. His piercing golden eyes were fixed solely on Olessia.
"Wait for me in my room," he said, his tone low and commanding, leaving no space for argument. Olessia's stomach tightened, knowing exactly what that meant.
"Kaive… look at what she did to me. She ruined my dress and won't even say sorry. I want you to punish her." Lady Eirene's voice slid into a sugary, injured tone, each syllable staged like a performance.
She stamped a delicate foot, as if tantrum and entitlement could summon justice. Olessia stood soaked and silent, her eyes filled with hurt and anger. Lady Eirene bathed in the attention, playing the wronged lady perfectly, waiting for Kaive to punish her now.
Kaive turned his gaze to Olessia, his expression unreadable, a mask of cold neutrality. The room seemed to hold its breath. Olessia swallowed and tried to explain, but the words tasted like ash.
"She poured a drink on me," she managed, voice confident despite the tremor. "And I'm supposed to apologize? She's pathetic." The insult slipped out before she could stop it.
Lady Eirene's eyes widened in fake hurt, then narrowed into calculating fury. Nearby servants shifted, sensing the rising storm.
"Look at how she speaks to me, Kaive. Punish her this instant, or I will see to it personally," Lady Eirene snapped, her voice tight with faux dignity.
She turned to Zalia. "Go and fetch Dino. I want him to flog this black-haired wench across her bare back while I count the strokes."