Rewriting the Trash Ending - Chapter 55

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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55.

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“…Did you hear about that?”
“Huh?”
A young maid trimming vegetables in the Kitchen looked up.
“Britta was executed after all, they say.”
Clink, clink.
The bustle of work stopped abruptly.
“…It’s all her own doing. Who told her to conspire with the Count’s wife in the first place? I don’t feel sorry for her one bit.”
And on top of everything, she’d destroyed the Warehouse, making life miserable for all the Kitchen staff.
Moreover, the Grand Duchess had even collapsed because of it, so sympathy was simply impossible.
“She came and did nothing but make extra work for us—we complained so much about that. And it turns out she was doing it on someone’s orders. It’s chilling.”
“You’re right. When you think about it, it wasn’t the Grand Duchess’s fault at all.”
All this time, prejudice against Imperials and ugly rumors.
Despite the colored glasses through which she’d been viewed, at yesterday’s tea gathering she’d protected an attendant who was nearly accused of theft.
Noble houses often sacrificed their servants to cover up scandals, but was there a more reliable mistress than this?
“But do you really think something like a Curse exists?”
The younger maids couldn’t quite grasp it, unlike the older ones.
It had already been twenty-eight years since the previous Grand Duchess passed away.
For the younger maids, it was a distant past that had happened before they were even born.
“Well, women who die in childbirth aren’t exactly rare, are they?”
“I suppose not…”
Just as the chatter was beginning to fade.
Hanna, who had been quietly listening through the gap in the open door, made her presence known and stepped inside.
“Hanna? What brings you to the Kitchen at this hour?”
“The Grand Duchess still isn’t asleep, so I thought I’d bring her something light to eat.”
“Just a moment—this was baked earlier and it’s still soft!”
The maid eagerly prepared bread and jam for her.
Once, the moment the Grand Duchess was mentioned, these girls would have been watching for signs of disapproval.
But now they smiled easily and lent a hand.
Hanna felt oddly satisfied by that small change.
‘…Thank goodness.’
How much had the unfounded rumors about the Grand Duchess troubled her?
No matter how many times she insisted that the Grand Duchess wasn’t a terrible person, no one believed her—until gradually, their attitudes began to shift, and her heart found ease.
After finishing her preparations in the Tea Room, Hanna returned with noticeably lighter steps.
“Your Highness, wouldn’t it be good to have something light to eat? I thought you might be hungry, so I brought a little something.”
“I was getting peckish, actually—good timing.”
“But if you stay up too late, won’t the Grand Duke be worried about you?”
“I’ll sleep after I finish this. Since I’ve set out to do it, I might as well do it properly.”
She had been reviewing the Grand Duke’s Estate’s relief records.
Aid goods distributed to villages during harsh winters, quarterly grants sent to nearby Welfare Institutions—all of it.
To prevent the Charitable Fund’s resources and the Grand Duke’s Estate’s budget from being spent in the same places, she needed to understand the existing relief efforts.
“Perhaps you should rest now.”
At the voice that suddenly reached her ears, she rose from her seat in haste.
“Oh, when did you arrive?”
“Just now.”
“You could’ve made some noise when you came in.”
Lumiere grumbled lightly.
“There’s no need to rush.”
“I’m sorry?”
His gaze shifted to the scattered documents on the table.
“The Charitable Fund. Use as much budget and manpower as you need—however you see fit. If anything’s lacking, simply fill it.”
He bent down to gather the papers.
Once he’d finished arranging the disordered documents, he spoke again, his voice low.
“So don’t lose sleep over things like this.”
His gaze tracing slowly over her face, his voice deep and quiet.
Even the scent that drifted from him.
Her heart felt constricted by a nervousness she couldn’t explain.
She turned away to hide her flushed cheeks and spoke.
“…Thank you, but I want to do this myself. I don’t want to be careless about it.”
Setting aside the fact that this was her first real chance to do something for the people, one misstep and she’d be accused of wielding authority beyond her station.
“Will you sleep here again tonight?”
“I cannot have the Grand Duchess sleeping on such a hard place. I’m accustomed to the floor anyway, so please don’t concern yourself.”
Though he’d suggested they take turns using the bed amicably.
‘Such a stubborn man…….’
Knowing his stubbornness couldn’t be overcome, she arranged the space and lay down on the bed.
…….
She drew the blanket close and gazed at Axid.
A peace washed over her—something she’d never felt in the imperial palace or in her former life.
Being in the same room, in this darkness, with him beside her.
Just that one fact alone was enough to set her heart at ease.
‘How strange…….’
Perhaps it was because the image of him in his past life—walking a long, lonely path—remained etched on her retina, impossible to erase.
His back was broad and solid, as if it could bear anything, yet whenever she saw him, she still felt the urge to embrace him.
“…Sleep well.”
In the darkness, she traced his back with her gaze, then quietly closed her eyes.

The quiet breath of dawn seeped through the gap in the window.
The chill was quickly buried beneath a gentle warmth.
Ever since a Kitchen maid had pilfered the firewood and his Grand Duchess had suffered a severe cold, he’d been particularly attentive to the heating.
…….
Around the time her breathing deepened into a low, steady rhythm, Axid raised his upper body.
In eyes now accustomed to the darkness, the Grand Duchess’s delicate silhouette came into sharp relief.
Her small back, her snow-white feet jutting out from beneath the blanket.
Unaware of the world, she slept like a child—defenseless.
Even as they shared a chamber, seeing her remain unconscious of his presence as a man still drew a hollow laugh from him.
Should he be grateful that she didn’t see him that way?
Or thank her for trusting him?
Or perhaps reprove her for being so careless?
Even knowing he should be grateful simply that she remained at his side, watching her sleep so unselfconsciously stirred an occasional ache in him—a strangeness he didn’t recognize in himself.
Though he’d reminded himself countless times that to want more would be greed.
He let out a soft laugh and moved toward the bed to draw the blanket over her.
Exhaustion was written plainly across his wife’s face.
She’d taken on the work of the Charitable Fund not long after settling the internal affairs and recovering her strength.
She could simply rest in comfort at his side, yet here she was, burdening this small frame with so much.
His gaze, which had been tracing her face, soon fell upon her white feet protruding from the blanket.
…….
Those snow-white feet that had caught at the corner of his vision all this while.
He reached his hand toward them.
He opened his palm gently in the empty air, unable to actually grasp them.
‘…Why are they so small?’
Compared to his own brutishly large and ungainly hand, they were far too small and pale.
It seemed almost unreal.
How did a person walk around on feet so tiny?
He’d known her face, her hands, her entire frame were much smaller than his own.
But this was the first time he’d examined her bare feet so closely, and he found himself unable to look away.
They were so small and delicate it was almost strange that she could walk without stumbling.
Suddenly, the urge rose to hold her pale skin entirely in his grasp.
Feet so small they’d fit in his palm.
Her slender ankles.
If he were to trace upward in one motion along her smooth calf to her thigh…….
He wanted to know what it would feel like in his hands, how her face would come undone.
But he drew his hand back and clenched it into a fist.
…….
Damned if her season wasn’t still weeks away, and here he was like this.
He drew the blanket gently over her feet, then smiled to himself without a sound.
He knew better than anyone that he could not hide behind the excuse of a Curse.
This impulse had arisen entirely from within himself.
How much longer could he stand watch over the Grand Duchess while she lay defenseless?
Night after night, he gazed at his sleeping mistress with shameful intent, all the while maintaining the pretense of selfless devotion—the absurdity of it made him want to laugh.
He lay down with a quiet, bitter chuckle at his own duplicity.

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