The maids of House Rosette had learned not to see many things.
They did not see it when the young lady threw a vase.
They did not see it when young noblemen came to visit, then left with stiff faces.
They did not see it when the young lady’s name was missing from high-society invitations.
And they did not see the letter hidden deep inside a desk drawer.
If you did not see, you lived longer.
At least, that was how it was in this estate.
"You really didn’t see it?"
Rina, the youngest maid, asked cautiously.
Marie, a senior maid, frowned as she polished a silver tray.
"See what?"
"That letter. The final letter from House Berhardt."
Marie’s hand stopped.
Her pale face was reflected in the silver tray.
"I didn’t see it."
"Then how do you know it was the final letter?"
"Rina."
Marie lowered her voice.
"That isn’t something you ask around here."
Rina closed her mouth.
She had only joined House Rosette a month ago.
She had yet to learn all the rules of this household.
There were many rules.
Do not meet the young lady’s eyes when she is holding a sword.
Be even more careful when the young lady smiles.
Be most careful when the young lady is quiet.
And on days when the young lady was hurt, do not see anything at all.
That night was one of those days.
Lady Eveline was alone in the study.
Light leaked through the gap beneath the door.
Now and then, they heard the sound of paper crumpling.
At one point, something fell to the floor.
Rina reflexively tried to rush over.
Marie caught her by the wrist.
"Don’t go."
"But the young lady..."
"She didn’t call for us."
"What if she’s hurt?"
Marie did not answer for a moment.
Then she said very quietly,
"This time, it’s not her hand. It’s her heart."
Rina did not understand what that meant.
If someone’s heart was hurt, should she bring medicine?
Should she wrap it in bandages?
Or should she serve warm tea?
While she was considering it, Eveline’s voice drifted out from the study.
"Three lines."
Rina stopped breathing.
That was not the young lady’s usual voice.
It was neither an angry voice nor a commanding one.
It sounded like someone had pierced her heart with a tiny, sharp needle, and only afterward had she seen the blood.
Only then did Rina understand.
Even without a blade, a letter could stab someone.
The next morning, the estate felt strange.
As always, the expensive decorations were in their places, the hallway carpets were red, and the air before the young lady’s room was heavy.
But it was different from yesterday.
The shards of the teacup the young lady had broken were gone.
Everyone knew who had cleaned them up.
Though no one said it aloud.
"Did the young lady really clean it up herself?"
Rina whispered.
Marie covered her mouth with a hand.
"The walls mustn’t hear words like that."
"The walls can hear?"
"Every wall in this house hears."
And sometimes swords got embedded in them, too.
She did not say that part.
Soon, a commotion rose from the entrance.
Teacher Leon Cart had arrived.
Rina had been disappointed when she first saw him.
Hearing that there was a new teacher, she had imagined some remarkable noble knight or a silver-haired sage.
Instead, a perfectly ordinary commoner man had appeared.
His coat was worn, and no one could call his shoes expensive.
More than anything, there was something strange about his air.
He was as calm as someone who had come seeking the place where he would die, yet as shameless as someone with absolutely no intention of dying.
He bowed his head before the young lady, but he did not kneel.
Even Rina knew by now how dangerous that was.
"Will he make it out alive today?"
Rina asked.
Marie set down the silver tray.
"You said the same thing yesterday."
"Yesterday was a miracle."
"What if today is a miracle too?"
"Then wouldn’t that be skill rather than a miracle?"
Marie looked at Rina for a moment.
For the youngest maid, she occasionally said things that were pointlessly accurate.
Voices came from the study.
This time, there was no shouting.
Leon Cart’s calm voice.
Lady Eveline’s sharp reply.
And then a long silence.
Rina wanted to get closer to the door.
Marie grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her away.
"No."
"Just a little."
"Maids aren’t walls."
"But you said the walls listen."
"That’s why walls don’t get paid."
Rina accepted that.
Wages were important.
After a long while, the study door opened.
Leon Cart came out first.
He was alive.
A miracle had happened twice.
Or perhaps it really was skill.
Behind him, Lady Eveline came into view.
The young lady was seated at her desk.
Her expression was still frightening.
But there was no sword in her hand.
There was a letter instead.
A letter that had not been torn apart.
A letter that had not been burned.
And strangely, the young lady was folding that letter again.
Rina could not take her eyes off the sight.
Lady Eveline of House Rosette generally handled things in one of two ways.
She threw them.
Or she broke them.
But now, she was folding something.
Slowly.
Awkwardly.
But unmistakably.
Beside her, Marie let out a quiet breath.
"Did you see that?"
"Yes."
"You didn’t."
"What?"
Marie gave Rina’s head the gentlest little push.
"What you just saw, you didn’t see. Understand?"
Rina nodded.
But inwardly, she thought,
There were different kinds of moments one had to pretend not to see.
Moments when someone got hurt.
Moments when someone nearly cried.
And moments when someone was trying, just a little, to change.
Even if she had to pretend not to see the last kind, it felt like she should not forget it.
That afternoon, a strange rumor spread through the maids’ quarters.
The young lady had not burned the letter.
The young lady had not killed Leon Cart.
The young lady had folded something.
The rumors soon grew exaggerated.
They said the young lady had read a book.
They said the young lady had picked up a pen instead of a sword.
They said the young lady had thanked her teacher.
The final rumor was an obvious lie.
When Marie heard it, she said firmly,
"Not yet."
"Not yet?"
Rina asked.
Marie thought for a moment before replying.
"Yes. Not yet."
The words not yet were strange.
They were a little warmer than saying never.
That night, Rina lay in bed and recalled the light from the study.
Three lines.
The words the young lady had been given in that letter amounted to only three lines.
But what the people of the estate had seen today was a little more than that.
Evidence that someone had cleaned up the shards of a teacup.
A letter folded again.
A teacher who had walked out alive.
And a possibility no one could bring themselves to voice.
The young lady might change.
Of course, Rina did not say it aloud.
The maids had learned not to see many things.
But not seeing and not knowing were different things.
The next day, an invitation arrived from House Berhardt.
It was excessively elegant paper, bordered in gold.
As Rina set the invitation atop a silver tray, she thought very quietly,
If letters could be blades,
then invitations could probably be dueling grounds.
And this time,
it did not seem that the young lady would enter that dueling ground alone.
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