Chapter 5 : Chapter 5
Chapter 5: The Birth of a Little Maid
Ryan stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed on Cosette’s face now that all the grime had been washed away. It was far too delicate, far too pale, and far too fragile.
He remained stunned for several full seconds. That face, paired with the loose old shirt hanging off her body and her dripping wet hair, was simply too much of a shock.
He blinked hard, as if trying to shake off that utterly inappropriate moment of daze, then let out a long sigh of resignation. In the quiet room, the sound was especially clear.
There was no need to question it anymore. This little thing really was the Witch of Envy from his memories.
He started walking toward Cosette, who was still standing rigidly in the middle of the room.
The moment she saw him approach, her tiny body visibly tensed.
She bit down hard on her lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. The fear in those beautiful hazel eyes was so intense it was almost tangible.
She squeezed her eyes shut, and her long lashes trembled violently like butterfly wings bracing for a storm. Fragments of those horrible stories she had heard flashed uncontrollably through her mind, and her heart hammered wildly in her chest.
Forget it…
She told herself silently, hoping… that the first time would not hurt too much.
But the rough touch and tearing pain she had imagined never came.
Instead, she felt one of the sleeves of her oversized shirt being gently rolled up by a warm hand, all the way to her upper arm. The cool air touched her skin, raising a fine layer of goosebumps.
Then something cool and slightly sticky was smeared across her exposed arm.
There were several clear red welts there from being jabbed and struck with the wooden stick earlier. Some places had even broken skin and were still seeping faint traces of blood.
The moment the ointment touched the wounds, a sharp stinging pain flared up, making her suck in a breath with a hiss as her body flinched.
Then, after that initial sting, a cool sensation slowly seeped in, soothing the burning pain in her wounds.
Cosette opened her eyes in confusion.
What she saw was Ryan’s face in profile, close at hand and expressionless.
He was looking down intently at her arm, his long fingers stained with a greenish ointment that carried a faint herbal scent, carefully applying it over her injuries little by little.
His movements were not especially gentle. In fact, they were a little clumsy. But there was no unnecessary contact, and there was none of the violation she had been terrified of.
He… was applying medicine to her wounds?
The nauseating thoughts from a moment ago vanished like mist in sunlight, leaving behind only a wave of shame so fierce that her ears instantly burned.
What on earth had she been thinking just now?!
She had actually assumed…!
Ryan finished applying ointment to the obvious injuries on both of her arms, then lifted his head and looked at her with his gray-blue eyes.
“Turn around. Lie down.”
“Ah…?” Cosette had not yet recovered from the enormous emotional whiplash and let out a vague sound instinctively.
“Your back.” Ryan frowned faintly, as though even explaining further was unnecessary. “Weren’t you covering your head while they beat you?”
Cosette’s face flushed bright red. This time, it was not from fear, but from embarrassment.
She nodded awkwardly, barely daring to meet Ryan’s eyes. Then she clambered onto the bed with both hands and feet, clumsy and obedient, and lay down on her stomach. She buried her face in the pillow, which carried a strange scent of sunlight.
Because of the way she lay down, the oversized old shirt naturally rode up, exposing most of her back.
Ryan’s gaze fell on it.
What he saw was not remotely suggestive.
The girl’s back was shockingly thin. The joints of her spine stood out clearly, like a string of silent prayer beads buried beneath skin that was far too pale.
Years of severe malnutrition had left her with none of the curves a girl her age ought to have. There was only a fragility that looked as though it would snap with the slightest bend.
And across that thin “canvas” were injuries even worse than the ones on her arms—broad patches of bruising and swelling, with several places where the skin had broken and bled. Against her pale skin, they looked especially vicious.
Ryan pressed his lips into a straight line.
Silently, he twisted open the jar of beginner-grade healing ointment in his hand. This was a common magical-world medical item: an external salve made from alchemical materials, slower to take effect than oral potions, but longer-lasting and specifically meant for treating wounds.
He scooped out more of the green ointment with his fingers and bent down again.
The moment the cool salve touched the worst injury on her back, Cosette’s whole body shuddered violently. A breath tinged with a sob escaped from the pillow.
Her shoulders were drawn tight, and her fingers clenched the bedsheet beneath her with all their strength.
Ryan paused for a moment. Then he lightened his touch, applying the ointment more gently and more slowly.
He could feel clearly beneath his fingertips how soft the girl’s skin was. He could also feel the jagged bones beneath that thin layer of flesh, and the tiny tremors caused by pain and tension.
The room was very quiet. There was only the faint sound of ointment being spread, and the occasional muffled sniffle the girl could not quite suppress.
When he finished, he straightened up and gently pulled the shirt hem back down over her, covering that scarred, wounded back once more.
“That’s enough.”
Cosette slowly and cautiously sat up.
The ointment had already begun to work. The burning pain on her back was being covered by a cool, soothing sensation, and she felt much better. She kept her head lowered, her hands resting neatly on her knees. The redness at her ears had not completely faded, and there was still a faint blush on her face—partly from the pain, but even more from the embarrassment that still lingered.
She was embarrassed by the awful things she had imagined before, and by having her body seen like this, her wounds even touched.
Ryan’s gaze swept over her, then finally settled on her bare calves and feet.
Those legs were far too thin, their skin just as pale. Fortunately, there were no fresh wounds there.
The little feet that had been caked in grime just moments ago were now washed completely clean. Her toes were round, the tops of her feet pale, and there were surprisingly few of the thick calluses one would expect from someone who had long worn ill-fitting broken shoes and walked across rough ground. They looked oddly delicate.
Cosette shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Her toes curled instinctively, and she tried to hide her feet beneath the shirt hem.
After the medicine had been applied, the awkward silence in the room began to spread once more.
Ryan looked away and cleared his throat unnaturally, breaking the silence.
“Ahem… All right, the medicine’s done.” He seemed to be organizing his thoughts, and his voice returned to its previous calm tone. “Now let’s talk about something important.”
Cosette, who had been keeping her head lowered, looked up immediately. Her hazel eyes turned toward him, still carrying traces of redness and moisture.
Something important?
Those words made the heart she had only just managed to steady jump again.
She looked at Ryan’s side profile, sharply defined in the lamplight and even rather handsome. She remembered the clumsy but focused expression he had worn while applying medicine to her wounds. It almost felt as though the coolness of the ointment still lingered on her skin, along with the warmth of his fingers brushing her by accident…
Her cheeks began to burn again, and her heart started beating faster in her thin chest.
Could it be that… he still intended to…?
Though somehow… it did not feel entirely unacceptable anymore…
Just as her thoughts began running off in the wrong direction yet again, Ryan’s voice interrupted them.
“Tell me what you plan to do next.” Ryan’s gaze returned to her face, and his gray-blue eyes looked especially clear in the lamplight. “I told you to follow me, and you did. At the very least, that means you’re willing to trust me a little for now. Right?”
Cosette grew slightly flustered under his gaze and nodded gently, so faintly that it was almost imperceptible.
“Good.” Ryan seemed to relax a little. “I’m a student at Saint Roland Magic Academy, and I’ll be reporting there soon to begin classes.”
He paused slightly, watching Cosette’s reaction.
Her eyes widened a little, revealing a touch of surprise and confusion. Clearly, a magic academy was another distant and unreachable world to her.
“Since you chose to follow me,” Ryan continued, “then you need an identity that reasonably explains why you’re staying by my side. The academy doesn’t allow students to bring in random people of unknown origin at will, especially someone like me… whose reputation isn’t exactly very good to begin with.”
He curled his lips in brief self-mockery, but quickly turned serious again.
“So, if you want to continue following me and stay somewhere I can keep an eye on you, instead of being thrown back onto the street…” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto Cosette’s eyes as he asked, word by word:
“Are you willing to become my personal maid?”
“Personal… maid?” Cosette repeated the words softly, her mind struggling to keep up.
That term was just as unfamiliar and distant to her, but it sounded much better than the dark possibilities she had imagined.
At the very least… it sounded like a proper identity.
Ryan watched the confusion in her eyes, along with the faint budding hope behind it, and the uncertainty in his own heart eased a little.
He explained, “You’d be responsible for a few simple personal matters for me, like tidying the room and preparing daily necessities. If you come with me to the academy, there will be designated living quarters for attendants. The conditions might be average, but they’ll definitely be better than the streets. And… as my maid, I can at least guarantee your three meals a day and your basic safety.”
He spoke practically.
Saint Roland Magic Academy claimed to admit students purely on merit, but in reality its sky-high fees—thirty gold coins in tuition per year, enough to crush an ordinary family—meant that it was essentially a gilded institution for the children of nobles and wealthy merchants.
Because of that, the academy tacitly allowed each student to bring one personal attendant or close servant to care for their daily needs. After all, expecting these young masters and young ladies to wash their own clothes, clean their own rooms, and manage their own expenses was unrealistic.
The original “Ryan Velt” had always left that slot empty.
For one thing, although the Velt family still bore the title of viscount, they were already stretched to the limit behind the scenes. Supporting even the tuition alone was a painful burden, and taking on the added expense of a servant was no easy matter.
For another, the original owner had an awful relationship with his father. The servants at home were used to taking their cues from their masters, and naturally treated this ill-favored young master with his terrible temper in a perfunctory manner.
Bring a servant to the academy who might harbor ulterior motives, or even act as his father’s spy? Even the original Ryan had not been foolish enough to do that.
And now, that long-vacant position had become the most convenient and reasonable excuse for settling the trouble in front of him.
All of this flashed quickly through Ryan’s mind, though he said none of it out loud. He simply watched Cosette calmly and waited for her reaction.
A flood of images appeared instantly in Cosette’s mind.
A place to stay. No more sleeping in drafty corners or under bridges.
Food to eat. Every day. Not scavenged from refuse bins by luck.
Safety. No more fear of being kicked awake in the middle of the night or having even her one ragged blanket stolen away.
And she could also… stay by his side.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. It felt as though something had lodged in her throat.
She was terrified that everything before her was only a hallucination brought on by hunger. Terrified that if she responded even a second too slowly, this bubble called “opportunity,” which had fallen from the sky, would burst with a pop.
So she could only nod with all her strength, her little chin almost striking her chest, the motion as rapid as a chick pecking grain.
Her eyes began to sting again, and her nose turned sour. But this time it was not from pain or fear. It was from a kind of emotion she had never experienced before—something so hot and overwhelming that it made her heart tremble.
Watching her nod so hard she looked ready to shake her head off, Ryan finally let out a breath of relief inwardly.
What truly changed his mind from “this is nothing but a burden,” however, was the translucent panel that appeared above Cosette’s head almost at the exact moment she nodded, then quickly vanished again:
【Action: Bring target individual “Cosette” under direct protection】
【Result: Estimated survival probability in the face of future internal family conflict and hostile actions from “Viscount William Velt” increases by: 30% (20% → 50%)】
Thirty percent!
A cold sharpness flashed through Ryan’s gray-blue eyes.
He had originally assumed that the conflict between the original owner and that bastard of a father amounted to nothing more than the usual noble-family tensions: father and son despising each other, perhaps with a bit of squeezing over money and marriage value at worst.
But the words on that panel—“hostile actions” and “survival probability”…
That wording was far too blunt. Far too dangerous.
That old bastard wanted to kill him?
And the success rate was not even low. If there had been no intervention from him, then apparently his chance of survival would have been only twenty percent.
But why?
The original owner was the only known legitimate heir of the Velt family at present. No matter how much the viscount disliked this son, if he got rid of his only bloodline, then who exactly would inherit the already crumbling title and the pitiful scraps of family property?
Unless…
Ryan’s heart sank.
Unless the old bastard had another option outside the family.
An illegitimate child? An adopted collateral heir? Or had he simply planned to use some extraordinary method to seize everything directly after Ryan’s death and start over on his own?
Given the cold-blooded greed of the viscount father in his memories, this was hardly impossible.
The original owner’s talent had been wasted, his personality deliberately indulged or twisted into this state. Thinking it over carefully, perhaps there had always been some intention behind ruining him from the start.
A ridiculous transmigration. A terrible identity. And now an additional mortal threat from his own flesh and blood?
Ryan could feel the vein at his temple throbbing faintly.
Had the game’s difficulty secretly been adjusted to “Hell+”?
Information like that would not appear on the panel for no reason.
Keeping Cosette by his side could significantly increase his survival odds against this kind of threat. Was it because of her future potential as the Witch of Envy? Or because her insight into value might become unexpectedly useful at a critical moment?
Whatever the reason, this was no longer just a troublesome girl he had picked up in a moment of softness.
She was now… perhaps an investment worth making, a form of insurance.
At the very least, he now had a reasonable and regulation-compliant way to place her somewhere. And from the looks of it, this arrangement might be even more necessary than he had first imagined.
As for money…
He instinctively weighed the remaining gold coins in his pocket and frowned slightly.
One step at a time. If staying alive was already a problem, then money was a secondary concern.
“Then it’s settled.” He straightened up. “Remember your position. Talk less, work more, and don’t cause me trouble.”