"I don't know. But now that things have come to this, who will she blame? As long as it doesn't sound like an excuse, she'll be lucky."
"This is serious. Even if she is the Marquess's personal maid, she's gone too far. Judging from the Marquess's reaction, he won't let it slide. She'll either be thrown out, or else…"
One maid trailed off, unable to finish. Yet everyone present understood the unspoken words buried in silence.
"What on earth happened so suddenly?"
All predicted Anna's downfall. From afar, watching their gossip, Rose smiled triumphantly. Everything was going exactly as she intended. If Anna were cast out like this, the master would once again turn his thoughts to black magic research. Her red, glossy lips curved into a smooth arc.
***
"What on earth were you thinking? His Excellency is furious."
At Butler Barrett's warning, Anna closed her eyes with the feeling that what was bound to come had finally arrived. She hadn't expected it to turn out this way, but she wasn't surprised.
Was this what Svanhild had aimed for? To tell her he wanted her as a mother, then drive her out of Rothbart's favor. Anna let out a bitter laugh.
"Still, if you explain yourself well to the Marquess, he won't reprimand you too harshly… Please, be careful with his temper. Do you understand?"
The butler added cautiously, watching Anna's face. For a mere maid—one who had even incurred the Marquess's anger—it was treatment too generous.
Together with the butler, Anna arrived at the Marquess's room. He knocked firmly on the closed mahogany door and announced.
"Master, it is Barrett. I have brought the maid you requested."
"Send her in."
At Rothbart's permission, Butler Barrett opened the door. Only Anna was allowed in. Barrett gave her a look filled with worry and concern.
Anna stepped into Rothbart's study. The same crushing pressure as the first time she had entered weighed down on her.
Rothbart, dressed as he had been when he left, stood slanted by the window behind his desk. He sneered as he looked at Anna hesitating at the threshold.
"While I was away, you did as you pleased. What is it? Did you think yourself the Marchioness?"
"…That was never my intention. I'm sorry."
Anna immediately offered her apology. She didn't add the excuse that Svanhild had ordered her to cut them to decorate his father's study. Whatever the case, Svanhild was Rothbart's own son. Using him as an excuse would only fuel Rothbart's rage.
"If you wanted flowers so badly, you should have spoken when I was here yesterday. But to go cut them the moment I turned my back, what were you intending? Hm? Did you want to give them to some man out of my sight?"
"..."
"That man from the Eastern Continent? Or another one I don't know of?"
At the Marquess's biting words, Anna's head hung lower. Whatever decision he made, it would be apart from her excuses. The more she explained, the more he would seize on her words to drag her into a mire like an antlion's pit. By now, she knew his pattern of speech well.
Anna chose silence. After all, she had known this might happen, yet still cut the flowers herself.
Rothbart glared at Anna with eyes that looked ready to devour her, then at last shouted in a voice barely reined in.
"How dare you cut those flowers… Bring them here. Right now!"
"..."
"What? You can't? Afraid I'll harm the man who received them, once I find out?"
The Marquess's lips twisted into a sneer. His exposed teeth glinted with an unsettling shine. With such teeth, he truly looked as if he could kill.
At this point, it was impossible to tell whether he really believed Anna had given the flower to another man, or if he was merely mocking her in derision.
Suppressing a sigh, Anna slowly moved her feet. She headed toward the bedroom connected to Rothbart's study.
Rothbart, not knowing why Anna was going there, raised his eyebrows. Something was not as he expected. The corners of his lips stiffened.
Before long, Anna came out from the bedroom holding a vase. In her arms were bright red roses arranged within it. Rothbart's eyes widened in disbelief as he looked at Anna holding the vase to her chest.
Anna, her eyes cast only to the floor, didn't notice his expression. Bowing her head, she once again begged forgiveness.
"I'm sorry. It will never happen again."
Bowing her head without protest when accused of something not her fault, that was one of the first things she had become accustomed to in this world.
"…Wait."
Rothbart muttered slowly. His voice sounded oddly hesitant.
"So, those flowers…"
"I only thought to decorate your bedroom with them since you seemed to like flowers. You even lent me ointment yesterday… I didn't know I wasn't supposed to cut them. I'll be more careful next time."
"..."
While Anna repeated her apology like a parrot, Rothbart couldn't bring himself to speak further. At the continuing silence, Anna at last felt something strange and timidly lifted her head.
And what she met was confusion shading his iron mask of a face. The face that had always watched the world with leisure from a step away was, for the first time, filled with turmoil. At his unexpected reaction, Anna slowly blinked.
The wildfire of confusion spread to Anna. Had she made some mistake? She faltered backward without realizing. Perhaps from the tension, her legs wobbled and her body tilted. Just as she tried to steady herself, her hand slipped.
Crash!
A sharp shatter pierced her ears. The vase scattered into shards, roses spilled in disarray across the floor. The fine carpet was soaked with water.
She had done it. Anna's face turned ashen. The wet flowers drooped pathetically. Not only had she cut the flowers Rothbart cherished, she had now flung them to the floor. Though unintentional, it might well look to Rothbart like defiance.
Desperate to avoid his wrath, even if only a little, Anna hurriedly dropped to her knees and tried to gather the flowers.
"I'm sorry. I'll clean it up right away."
Before her birch-white slender fingers could touch the shards, Rothbart strode over and swept her up in his arms.
"Kya!"
Under his polished shoes, the petals he had cherished so dearly were crushed. Anna's dazed eyes looked past his shoulder to the ruined remains of the flowers scattered across the floor. She couldn't understand what was happening.
Carrying her just as she was, Rothbart brought Anna into his bedroom and set her down on the bed. Until now, the bed had been a forbidden domain. Shocked, Anna tried to spring back up the instant she touched it, but Rothbart's hand pressed her shoulder down, seating her again.
Immediately, Rothbart left the room. Through the gap of the not-fully-closed door, Anna heard his voice summoning the butler and giving some instructions.
Before long, Rothbart returned. He closed the door and stood there, looking at Anna. The anger from before had vanished, replaced by an expression that seemed at a loss. The furrow of his brows contained emotions starkly different from earlier.
Rothbart's lips, dry as if parched inside, parted and closed again and again, his tongue wetting them. At last, after a long while, he stammered out.
"Why didn't you say it? If you had only told me you had placed them in my bedroom…"
"Would that… have mattered?" Anna asked back in bewilderment.
Was cutting the flowers not the problem? Had his words about another man not been mere mockery? Her thoughts tangled in confusion.
Then Rothbart strode up to her. His large hand gripped her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. His red eyes bloomed like roses in full.
"It matters."