Resetting Lady - Chapter 22

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Though he felt a bit sorry for his daughter who had turned pale, he was filled with a mixture of disappointment and anger. He couldn’t understand Isella, who was now concerned with such trivial matters. What did it matter? Whether a maid disappeared or not. Verdick had far too much to do.

“Instead of wasting time on that, prepare to make a better impression on Lord Raymond. Don’t act like you know everything when you’re just a girl. No one likes that kind of woman.”

“Father, I was trying to help you…”

“Enough, you talk too much. Sometimes I regret giving you such excessive education. There’s no need to be angry that Lord Raymond has his eye on Karen Hyer. Lord Raymond isn’t a fool either – breaking the engagement would be scandalous for him too, so he’ll likely marry you anyway. Do you understand?”

“…Yes.”

“You still don’t seem to understand. I said ‘likely.’ You mustn’t give him any excuse to find fault. Moderate refinement makes for good conversation, but the useless knowledge you’ve accumulated only makes you arrogant.”

“Do you… dislike that I studied?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. It’s not that, you’re just…”

Verdick felt no need to say more to his daughter, who was now on the verge of tears. Any further advice would fall on deaf ears and only be dismissed as something meant to torment her.

Thud.

Isella came out into the corridor to return to her room. The east corridor on the fourth floor of the manor was lined with similar guest rooms. The succession of characterless, identical rooms didn’t suit Isella’s taste. They all used the same white or off-white fabric and were decorated with similar carpets and identical furniture. So Isella counted again to find her room.

One, two, three. Stumbling into the third room, it was Isella’s room. Isella opened her wardrobe. Thirty-seven luxurious dresses greeted Isella as if to comfort her. Isella embraced the clothes. She liked the soft, comforting texture.

“Sniff…”

Still, the sobbing was hard to suppress. Last night, she had even heard strange sounds from her room. To be tormented by auditory hallucinations. All night, Isella had to cover her ears. She was scared, but couldn’t tell what she was scared of. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Whether the dead moved among the living or not. Isella needed to maintain at least minimal charm for Raymond, enough charm as a partner to not break their engagement, but even that was too difficult. As she embraced each dress one by one to calm her heart, she opened her eyes in discomfort.

“What is this?”

It was rough fabric that shouldn’t have been in her wardrobe. Isella frowned and pulled out the garment, throwing it aside.

“Who put such clothes… Ah.”

That day, when she had old clothes brought while searching for her necklace. The clothes she wore then must have been laundered and mistakenly put away. Isella frowned and threw the garment in the trash.

“Really, how unlucky.”

That time, she had given Karen the clothes soiled with menstrual blood and changed. To put such clothes in my wardrobe – the maids here are really useless. When I become the mistress, I’ll have to replace the laundry maids first. Then Isella frowned, something bothering her.

‘What is it?’

The maid’s clothes had been soiled with menstrual blood that time. Isella’s body had become sensitive, so… Wait.

“Was that… really my blood that got on it?”

The next day, Isella had lain in bed all day with menstrual cramps. But no matter how she thought about it, it was strange. That time, Isella had changed her skirt but not her undergarments.

‘Wait, huh? That doesn’t make sense?’

Certainly the skirt had been soaked with blood. Enough that she frowned at Karen, telling her to change before leaving. But no matter how she thought about it, Isella hadn’t borrowed undergarments that day.

That meant the blood that got on the clothes wasn’t Isella’s blood.

‘Ah.’

Isella spread out the skirt. It had already been cleaned thoroughly with nothing left on it. Too much time had already passed.

And that fact wasn’t particularly important anyway. Yes, that’s right. Isella glared at the clothes.

‘Whether a maid lives or dies is none of my concern.’

She clenched her teeth tightly. It wasn’t her concern. Forget it. Forget it. Don’t think about it.

But that night, Isella couldn’t sleep well again due to the faint crying sounds she heard once more.

“Excuse me.”

Cursing inwardly, Isella knocked on Dulan’s door. Dulan, who had been preparing for dawn mass, opened the door and immediately contorted his face mercilessly. I don’t want to be here either, you know? Isella suppressed her nausea. If this guy had been attractive, Karen would have married him right away and there wouldn’t have been such problems between herself and Raymond.

“I’ve been… lately… having trouble sleeping.”

“…Yes.”

Dulan frowned but sat down and took notes. Even his handwriting was terrible.

“Every night I seem to hear someone crying… I see strange things, I’m not crazy.”

Suppressing the urge to stab the man’s eyes that seemed to look down on her, Isella continued speaking.

“Lately I’ve been getting strangely angrier.”

“Pr-prayer or meditation would be more helpful. Especially for someone like you.”

What is he saying? Isella had to restrain herself from cursing. Like a lady. Isella reminded herself.

“Just give me some medicine that helps with stability.”

Dulan moved his lips, then finally opened a drawer and took out something, handing a bundle to Isella.

“Taking this before bed should help.”

Isella stared blankly at the medicine he gave her, saying it would help her find stability. It was the dried purple flowers that Karen always put in her tea.

“This is what Karen drinks every day.”

“…Yes. It has a calming effect.”

“She was always calm, so why does she drink this?”

Isella couldn’t understand. Karen was always gentle and never raised her voice. She had even made jokes when she was carried in after being stabbed.

“What?”

Seeing Dulan’s face harden, Isella felt something was strange.

“…To be more calm.”

“I know you’re not good at speaking, but how about speaking more clearly?”

Dulan blushed, then put down his pen and stood up. Isella was startled by his unexpectedly tall height. Dulan pointed to the door with his finger and said:

“Miss Evans, don’t concern yourself with unnecessary matters.”

It was a firm, unwavering voice.

* * *

Karen looked at the corpse that wouldn’t disappear and rummaged through it with an “as expected” feeling. It was starting to smell a little. The clock she had left in the room hadn’t disappeared either, and it didn’t differ from the other clock she had brought. Even if minor things like emotions changed, physical laws like this weren’t ignored. During the dozen or so hours that Nancy had been gone, this corpse hadn’t disappeared.

Karen concluded that the lord had lied for her sake. Was it due to obvious denial? For Karen, who had secretly hoped for the miracle appearing before her eyes, this was somewhat deflating.

“Good work. Was it hard?”

Tom, who was trembling, hadn’t disappeared either. And the inflammation had subsided considerably. Karen touched the child’s skin, feeling that she was alive and that this was reality touching her skin. Since she couldn’t trust her own senses, she needed someone else to witness with her, and Tom was suitable.

“Thank you. I was scared you might disappear too.”

Karen gathered medicines to help Tom. Karen felt faint sympathy. Nine years old. Terribly young. An age she couldn’t even remember from long ago.

While Karen lived comfortably under the lord’s care, chatting with Isella and Dulan, and meeting Raymond and the countess, this boy had lived a life rolling at the bottom of the town. And now, in about a month’s time, this small boy would die as various illnesses worsened.

That’s all the more reason why she had to kill him. Setting aside sympathy.

If she didn’t kill out of sympathy, she couldn’t do anything. Nancy didn’t die because she was guilty. The people in the theater didn’t die simply because they were unlucky. Even Thomas and Hans, this boy’s father, wouldn’t have died if Karen hadn’t walked there.

So Karen had to become fair. What moved her should be merely possibility and interest. Karen defined herself as an obligatory pleasure killer. For her, pleasure was duty. If there was no pleasure even in this life, Karen would have nothing to hold onto.

She kills because she can kill.

And Tom was too good a target to kill.

Karen had a knife, rope, and pistol, but the gun was out of the question from the start. It would make noise. Karen tried to make Tom unconscious with medicine but soon realized her mistake.

“Ah… damn, I forgot the syringe.”

If he opened his mouth, he would scream, so she had no choice but to use a syringe. But the syringe she used last time had already rusted. After thinking briefly, Karen placed her hand on Tom’s neck. She could feel the pulsing vein in his frail young neck.

People don’t die easily. Thomas had already been processed by the undertaker who drained his blood, but to properly handle blood in this basement, she would have to cut the vein and hang him all day.

“Ah, he’s going to die anyway, so what do I…”

Karen clicked her tongue. What did a rusty syringe matter? She tapped his neck and put the drug into the rusty syringe. To inject a lethal dose, she would have to do it in parts.

“Ugh, calm down… something.”

Hearing her muttering, Tom shook his body violently. The bottle containing the drug fell.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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