A Handmaid’s Guide for Revenge

“It’s windy.”

Serun Victor, who had been wandering the back alleys for an hour now, hunched over and raised the collar of his coat. Every time the wind swept through the alley, it was bone-chillingly cold, but his companion showed no signs of being cold..

“Is it?”

He asked, almost nonchalantly.

Serun sighed. But the answer was what he had expected.

The man in front of him, Ian Repellus, hadn’t been distracted once in all the time they’d been together.

Ian smiled, his brown eyes narrowing as he stared at Serun with weary eyes. The smile that spread across his stern face was like a flower blooming in winter.

But the smile sent shivers down Serun’s spine, and he jerked his head away.

He followed Ian, grumbling to himself, ‘Is that a human being?’ as he wandered hopelessly about in the bitter wind, searching for an unreachable source of information.

“Mute the sound.”

Serun stood against the wall, breathless.

After all, Ian Repellus was a war hero. In a crisis, there was no one more reliable. If you couldn’t trust a man who had led two wars to victory and was hailed as a genius operational officer, who could you trust?

Ian stared out over the wall in silence, then suddenly clicked his tongue in a low voice.

“Sir…?”

“We’ve been spotted. Run.”

Serun began running in the direction Ian was pointing without knowing any reason.

Ian’s expression didn’t change, unlike Serun’s, who was clearly flustered by the newness of the situation, but he was also plotting dozens of routes in his head.

Ian might be able to handle it alone, but with a novice knight like Serun who had just entered the fray, they couldn’t engage the enemy from the front.

“Sir Ian, what shall we do?”

“How many are following us?”

“Six.”

Ian whirled and led Serun into an alley. There was a fork he had memorised from the map.

“I’ll go left, and you go right.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Ian spun around and pulled the trigger. It was a poorly aimed shot, but it was enough to show which of Ian and Serun was the bigger threat.

“Left! Left first!”

The pursuers, unsurprisingly, were far more numerous on Ian’s side.

Ian glanced back to see that four of the six were running to his left. He might not have any real experience with them yet, but he was sure he could handle two of them. Now he just needed to take out his share.

He ran into the alley first, hid behind a wall, and aimed his gun.

Bang–

The first one to jump in took a bullet to the chest and went down.

He hit the second, who was right behind him, and then leapt lightly over the wall.

‘With them down, the others won’t be in easy range.’

Scaling the wall with ease and gaining height, Ian threw his army knife. The enemy, caught off-guard by being in the revolver’s crosshairs, was instantly killed by the knife through the neck.

With only one enemy left, Ian leapt straight down and stabbed him in the back.

“Ah! Please spare me! I, I only do what I’m told…”

“There is no need for long words. Eileen Nova, where is she?”

“E, Eileen…?”

“Brown hair, green eyes. You’ve been ordered to move, haven’t you?”

“Ri, that’s right! Catch the woman with green eyes who shoots a gun…”

“Right, thanks.”

Ian released the pressure on his throat and pulled the trigger, ending his life.

‘Eileen Nova is still alive.’

“I, Sir Ian!”

As he pondered on the newfound knowledge, he heard Serun call out in alarm.

‘I thought you could handle at least two of them.’

Ian clicked his tongue and ran.

As he ran back the way he’d come, he saw Serun surrounded in a dead end street. One of his enemies held a rifle to his head.

“Hold still. Don’t move, Serun.”

“You, I’ll shoot you if you come near!”

They heard Ian take out four of their members, so his enemies became very agitated at the sight of him.

Hostages were being taken. They couldn’t move quickly.

As Ian stopped, one of them started walking toward him, as if to keep him in check.

“Drop the gun!”

Ian slowly bent down and dropped the revolver to the ground. Then one of the men was fully on him, holding a knife to his throat.

“Sir Ian!”

Serun shouted in alarm at the sight of the captured Ian, but Ian laughed unmoved.

He slowly held up his empty hands and said.

“Now, I have lowered my gun, so you too shall lower the muzzle that is pointed at his head.”

“Why would I!”

“Do you realise who you’re pointing it at? If you think you can kill the next Marquis of Viktor and still survive, you can keep it up.”

The man who had heard Ian’s words looked at Serun with trepidation. After a moment’s hesitation, the man lowered the muzzle of his gun from Serun’s head.

At that moment, Ian sprang forward. He swatted the knife at his throat with his left arm and kicked the revolver off the floor with his right foot.

As soon as the revolver was out of the air and in his grasp, he pulled the trigger.

Bang, and in an instant, the man who had threatened Serun’s life fell to the ground.

The last of the men hesitated, then lunged at Ian with a knife in his hand and a terrified look on his face, until he was infamously struck by a dagger thrown by Serun.

“Sir Ian, are you all right?”

Serun rushed to Ian as soon as the last of the men had fallen. Ian’s left arm was cut deeply by a knife, and it was dripping with blood.

Ian held out his hand, telling him not to bother, and relayed what he had learned.

“Eileen Nova is alive.”

“Yeah? And where is she now…?”

“If the pursuit is this intense, it’s likely that Nova has moved to another part of the country. In that case, we have a pre-arranged meeting point in the capital.”

“Then…”

Serun looked at Ian as he retrieved the dagger from the corpse.

Without a groan, Ian tied the sleeve of his left arm, which was dripping with blood, tightly to stop the bleeding.

“We’re going to the capital.”

***

The next morning, dreading the sunrise, Isabel made her way to the Count of Grey.

“I have heard that you are looking for a maid to work during this social period.”

The soldier guarding the front door rolled his eyes at her.

“Enter.”

The soldier obediently opened the gate for her. Isabel bowed and slowly stepped through the gate.

Thirty years ago, as a beggar in the slums, Isabel found work at the mercy of Olga, a maid who took pity on her.

‘But now, I have no references, no contacts, and all I have is 20 years of experience.’

She was a maid who worked her way up through the ranks, starting as a kitchen maid, then a cleaning maid, a reception maid, and finally an exclusive maid.

There’s no telling how much things might have changed in ten years, but the basic hierarchy within the Count of Grey would remain the same.

So it shouldn’t be too difficult to pass the interview, as long as she doesn’t offend the headmaid.

“The headmaid wants you to come down to the basement workshop.”

The footman who escorted Isabel to the mansion’s front door said.

‘The previous headmaid was an older woman, so perhaps she’s been replaced.’

As expected, there was a strange woman in the workroom. Isabel bowed properly, then stood with her hands clasped together.

“I am Marsha Donna, the headmaid of this manor, but you may call me Mrs Donna.”

“Yes, Mrs Donna.”

The maid sat down at her desk and asked without looking up.

“Your name?”

“Belle Allé.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-six.”

There was no telling how old this body actually was, but at least it was the age of her fake identity.

“Have you ever been a maid before?”

“Yes, I worked in a wealthy middle-class mansion for ten years, although I never received a letter of introduction because the mistress died suddenly and the house fell apart.”

Isabel made up the story.

“Ten years?”

Masha finally looked up. She seemed to be interested in Isabel now.

“That’s a long time. Let me ask you a few questions. How do you mix a wood floor polish?”

“A quarter cup of beeswax and a half cup of turpentine.”

“And to make the rim of the hearth shine?”

“If it’s a metal part, put graphite on it.”

“Where is the drink aisle located?”

“It’s in the back on the right side.”

After a series of watery, hesitant answers, Masha nodded.

“Passed. Go find Mary and she’ll tell you what to do.”

With that, Masha turned and walked away.

It was a very short interview, but the questions were sharp enough that Isabel would have been rejected outright if she had been faking her maid career.

She could only answer them with knowledge of both cleaning and hospitality. It was a question that took into account that in a middle-class household, a maid wore many hats.

“Thank you, Mrs Donna.”

“Go out.”

Isabel bowed even more deeply than she had when she entered. She let out a short breath as she left the room.

‘Forget it.’

If she couldn’t work here, it would be very difficult for her to meet her daughter, who was now a countess.

Isabel climbed the stairs and gazed out into the manor’s great hall. The ornate chandeliers, the silk carpet beneath them, the golden candlesticks and the flawless marble balustrade.

Her daughter was the owner of it all.

‘Mom’s home, Rita.’

The maid, returning after a decade, had come to meet the mansion’s new owner.