บท 9: 1st Recursion: Ilya von Bismarck (8)
Thank the heavens, Ilya didn't have to be aware of her suffering for long. She was able to sleep halfway of reminding herself to remain inside of her room.
Her shallow breathing was the sole melody within her small abode.
For some reason, the weather had become a bit warmer in the past week. But the warmth wouldn't last for a while since it's already the winter season. Ilya had to prepare herself, else she'll have to endure a few months within the depths of winter.
It was already an hour after the clock struck at midnight. The main mansion was still lively as it had been four hours earlier. For sure, the celebration would go on for a while more. It was the awaited coming of age of the heir of the Gertrude Dukedom. It was the most honourable of events, so it deserved an entire day for itself.
All the same, half of the servants were given the order to retire from the celebration. There's not much to arrange within the celebration hall. It would be best if there were fewer people to eavesdrop among the discussions of the nobles.
One of the maids was more than grateful that she was a part of those who were allowed to rest. However, rather than going straight to her room, she sat on the stairs right at the back entrance of the Rohonda building -- the building where the servants resided.
Despite how peaceful her surroundings were, the maid was sweating anxiously. She kept on tapping her foot on the ground while biting the nail of her thumb. Also, she carried on glancing at the window of the kitchen for almost half an hour. There were still a few servants who had yet to finish their meals, thus they opted to eat in comfort before sleeping.
'Just when are they going to leave?! How much food are they planning to eat?!' The maid thought as she took a stand.
Thereafter, she started to pace back and forth. She could feel her heart beating rapidly, as if it wanted to escape her ribcage.
'I have to hurry. There's no time for this.'
With a sigh, the maid finally made a decision. No one should know what she was about to do, so she contemplated on delaying her plan. Withal, it wasn't something that she should put off for another day.
The maid opened the door. A creaking sound soon followed, making her flinch. Shortly, she closed the door and made her way towards the basement, glancing at her back occasionally to see if someone was trailing her. As luck would have it, nobody was sprightly enough to do so.
The plight of stairs leading to the basement was dark. As the maid looked at it, she swallowed her nervousness. She had no choice but to continue. Skipping several steps, it took the maid less than ten seconds to arrive at the basement.
At that time in the morning, there was only a single lit torch within the basement and it was hanging by the entrance. She quickly took it off the metal cartridge, and as quietly as she could, she walked towards the room at the far corner.
Once she reached the weather-beaten wooden door, she knocked on it twice. Receiving no answer, she knocked again. However, only the silence was there to welcome her.
"Pardon my rudeness. I'll be entering." The maid said as she put the torch in the ring nailed on the doorway. She then got a hold of the handlebar.
The instant that she pushed the door open, she saw a lady lying soundly on her bed. It was the first time that the maid had seen Ilya. Be that as it may, she was aware of her identity.
How so?
It was because the maid's mother was the personal maid of Hevelia von Bismarck.
The maid knelt beside the bed, put a hand on Ilya's shoulder, and nudged her lightly.
"Miss, please wake up. This is urgent."
To her relief, Ilya awakened. The young lady stared at the maid with confusion in her eyes. Soon, she rose from her position and bowed at the maid. Of course, the maid was flustered at how Ilya had acted.
"Miss, please don't bow your head. I'm only a mere maid but you're a family of the Duke." The maid said all the while waving her hands about.
On the other hand, Ilya didn't seem to understand the maid's words. She tilted her head to the side, trying to comprehend what had just been said to her.
'Family? I'm a family of the Duke?'
No one had ever told her those words, even her nanny when she was young. She didn't know that someone still viewed her as a part of the family of Gertrude. Ilya might've called Horen and the others her siblings, but it didn't mean that she felt like they were family.
Labels exist for the sole reason of simplifying human relationships. It could be devoid of the essentiality of trust and love.
Since the lack of emotion on Ilya's countenance gave the impression that she was offended, the maid immediately went into business.
"Miss, I'm here to tell you about the conversation that I just overheard."
Ilya simply nodded at the maid, urging her to continue.
"The Duchess and the young master, they're planning to incarcerate the entire Bismarck family. I'm sure that you'll be next in line too. After all, if the Bismarck family has no hopes of backing you anymore, you're nothing but a commoner."
Frantic though she might be, the maid did her best to relay the information. She was one of the maids who served tea to the Duchess and Horen earlier. It was difficult for her to show no reaction despite how repulsed she was at the behaviour of the masters of the house.
When it came down to it, the maid's loyalty laid on her mother, who was faithful to the former Duchess. Letting Ilya know of her fate was the only way the maid thought she could help.
"You're going to die!"
Out of all the words that the maid had said, the last one rattled Ilya's being the most. No matter how hurtful the insults hurled at her were, she could ignore them. Withal, death was a different issue.
Against all odds, never did she think of giving up in life. She was willing to see her journey through, whether she was blessed or forsaken.
'They're going to kill me? Didn't I follow every single one of their orders? So why would they kill me? I've been nothing but obedient. Is that how things are going to be?'
Ilya unknowingly scared the maid with the intensity of her gaze. But her mind was elsewhere. The lady clutched her thin blanket ever so tightly. A smile -- one that harboured all of her grievances -- soon appeared on her face.
Her breathing began to hasten, her insides quivering. She couldn't get a grasp of the feeling that rose from the bottommost pit of her being. Ilya closed her eyes in an attempt to clear her head.
The moment that she opened them, a new resolve made itself known in her mind.
'They all should have stayed quiet. If they want to act like that, I won't be able to stop myself from taking what's mine.'
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