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Eleanor sat quietly in front of the dressing mirror, numbly cradling her jet-black hair and running the comb from root to tip, chanically repeating the action in a monotonous cycle.
She was dressed in an exquisite gown, looking every bit the elegant and noble lady, who, if she appeared at a banquet, would surely be the most radiant point.
And indeed, she was to attend a banquet that very night.
A farewell dinner from the Royal Transcendent Academy for the outgoing students heading to the battlefield to fight against the Demon Clan.
This too was a tradition that had been upheld by the Academy for centuries.
On the night before departure, the won would don their most resplendent dresses and the n their issued military uniforms, after which they would dance together in the ballroom following the end of the buffet.
After all, many among them might fall on the battlefield against the Demon Clan, possibly never to be seen again.
Thus, even after the decline of the Bartleion family, in spite of Eleanor’s distaste for such occasions, she could not defy the Academy’s regulations.
In order to avoid expulsion from the Academy, she no longer had the privilege of being capricious.
"Knock knock knock..."
With a series of knocks at the door, Eleanor was pulled from her reverie back to reality.
After a mont of silence, she frowned and said, "Co in."
Fortunately, upon the door being pushed open, Eleanor saw a freckled, braided Maid Serlin tiptoeing into her room.
Seeing this, she let out a slight sigh of relief, although her eyes remained dull: "Serlin, why is it you?"
Hearing this, the maid put a finger to her lips: "Shush, Miss Eleanor, please speak softly. I ca here secretly behind the Chief Maid’s back."
Then she quickly walked over to Eleanor’s side.
Seeing her mistress’s once delicately adorable face now more gaunt, a trace of distress flickered in Maid Serlin’s eyes.
She gently took the comb from Eleanor’s hand, brushing her hair while whispering, "Miss Eleanor, I have just received word that Viscount Wilson’s family seems willing to offer you asylum. He once served as an aide under the Marquis, and should be quite trustworthy."
"Uncle Wilson?"
Eleanor’s eyes lit up at the ntion of the na.
Given her current strict surveillance by the Mosgla family, with nearly all servants and subordinates around her replaced with new faces, one didn’t need to guess to know it was the doing of those people.
On ordinary days, her actions were hindered at every turn, not at all reminiscent of a nobleman’s daughter, but more like a prisoner without freedom.
Even when she wanted to buy a book, it always had to be inspected by Maria Maid Chief before she could lay her eyes on it.
They were terrified she would connect with so old contacts left by Marquis Bartleion.
Luckily today, her long-unseen personal Maid Serlin had brought her good news.
"Did he... say when?"
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Eleanor subconsciously gripped Maid Serlin’s arm, like a drowning person clutching at the last straw.
Now confined in Bartleion Mansion, her father lying in a coma was the best hostage, keeping her from rash actions.
If Earl Wilson could get her and her father out, then at least the spark for a revival would remain.
Maid Serlin’s expression turned serious: "Tonight, after the Academy’s dinner is over, he will arrange for soone to intercept your carriage on the way."
"As for the Marquis, you needn’t worry, Viscount Wilson says he has made arrangents."
Hearing this, a flicker of excitent passed through Eleanor’s eyes.
Having been imprisoned in the cage woven by the Mosgla family for too long, so long that she’d almost lost sight of the hope for freedom, how could she not be overjoyed when an old acquaintance was now willing to lend a hand?
However, after more than a year of the family’s decline, she had gradually cultivated a certain sagacity.
Secrets best assure success.
With this thought, Eleanor took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
After a mont, when she opened them again, her gaze had returned to being dull, as if the previous conversation had never happened.
"You should go now, be careful, don’t let them discover any flaws."
Half an hour later, Eleanor left her room, all dressed and made-up, to temporarily part ways with Maid Serlin. She was "accompanied" by two unfamiliar maids to the Chief Maid’s room.
It was a master bedroom, much larger and more lavishly decorated than Eleanor’s own room.
It was almost ironic in its opulence.
And as she entered, Maria Maid Chief was already waiting inside.
"You are late," the middle-aged maid with a cold deanor glanced at her pocket watch, "Punctuality is a virtue expected of nobles, yet it seems you lack such cultivation."
"Perhaps the Bartleion household was too lax and thus failed to provide you with adequate training in the past, sothing quite undignified."
"But there is a lot of ti ahead, and I will gradually teach you things like these, to ensure you will never forget."
Saying this, she put away her pocket watch and examined the charmingly beautiful girl with a gaze as if appraising an item.
re Chief Maid though she was, her deanor seed almost condescending.
However, Eleanor appeared as if she heard none of it, standing silently in place.
Seeing her like this, Maria Maid Chief couldn’t help but frown: "Your style leans more towards purity, not the kind of pretentious maturity, so I think your current hairstyle isn’t quite fitting for tonight’s dinner and will reveal the impropriety of the Bartleion family."
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