The ball was held in a large castle near the Montargis forest populated by large oaks, hornbeams, birches, scots, pine, and beech. Unquestionably, the ball did not have the grandeur of those held in Versailles where the century's greatest musicians hurried to play in front of the gold-decorated ornaments of an excellency court. The Comte de Montargis himself had been there for a few moons already, having left at dawn on a chilly March morning, accompanied with treasures given by the county forgers. Nevertheless, the castle of Montargis' receptions had everything to delight guests who would always respond pleasantly to invitation letters.

This night, various carriages encumbered the jaundiced-looking gravel surrounding the castle. Caretakers were spoiling the road-weary horses, waxing their heels, offering them hay and refreshments while nobles gathered in the building after strolling through open gardens where gardeners and landscapers always strove to give bushes pretty shapes, following elegant and sophisticated aesthetic silhouettes. 

The estate was crowded that evening. Large gold and diamond chandeliers hung from the gilded ceiling. An orchestra was playing in a corner; baroque. Harpsichord, violas, violins, oboes, and bassoons played lively melodies worthy of the greatest Italian musicians. It was acquired, though, music drawn from those of Venice and Florence. And it was effective. Counts, viscounts, barons, and renowned knights were chatting happily over classical pieces. They were more simply dressed than at the royal court, yet women were resplendent, and men in white wigs overflowed with elegance. 

It was a ball initiated by the Countess herself, Geneviève Gisemonde de Montargis, and her eldest son. A convivial evening to maintain good relationships between regions of the country and exchange about the harshness of last winter that had havocked fields. The aforementioned woman, apropos, was a sophisticated semi-century-old with rigid and strict features. Her pretentious smiles gratified each of the guests she addressed with her son, Regulus Henry de Montargis.  She praised, with eyes eager for recognition, the young man's many talents and how his wife, the Count of Anjou's daughter, was flawless. Guests would listen to her, interested in the de Montargis family's evident success.

At the top of a white stone staircase, the middle child, Madeleine Constance de Montargis, watched with scornful eyes this crowd that populated the hall of her castle. Her wedding ring glittered around her finger, like the imposing earrings and brooches her husband, the Marquis de Acy, had gifted her. Her condescending gaze studied every man, not being able to refrain herself from grimacing. Some of them didn't have a great reputation. At all. Nevertheless, she didn't have the right to judge peoples' reputations based on sayings. Especially when the person concerned by the rumors about her own family was standing next to her, her chin resting wearily in the palm of her hand, eyes fixated on the graceful ballroom that seemed to be littered with stars.

"Mesdemoiselles," a count, judging by the affluence visible in his juvenile gaze, stopped in front of them after slowly climbing the stairs, hands behind his back, to whom the two daughters of the Montargis had a pleasure of sharing introductions earlier. He gave a curt bow, his chapeau bras tucked gallantly under his arm, to which Madeleine mirrored. The moody countess beside her, however, remained nonchalant and unaware of the man’s presence.

"You two are splendid this eventide, Mesdemoiselles,” said the approaching middle-aged man.

"How do, Monsieur?" replied the oldest, skeptically looking at the man who resumed to climb the stairs. 

"I'm delighted! Your mother has once and for all, put Versailles into shame with her assemblies," he beamed, revealing teeth yellowed by a cigar which made the youngest countess grimace, chin still resting in her palm. “I was wondering if one of you, Mesdemoiselles, would be so kind as to offer me a dance, and honor me with their presence in the ballroom by dancing the Minuet.”

"Unfortunately, I don't think Monsieur d'Acy would concur with this advance," said Madeleine. The man could not have known that the Marquis was in Versailles for six moons, but the Countess did not intend to do him the honor of accepting this proposal.

"Oh, well, pardon me for this audacious request Mademoiselle Madeleine," he smiled, his glance going from Madeleine to her younger sister. "As for you, Mademoiselle Ambre? Shall I-"

"No," Lady Ambre de Montargis simply answered. Eyes focused on the figures of men and women prancing below them.

The count appeared so surprised at the bluntness that he tried to let out a giggle under the young countess's nonchalant stare, as if unsure of what he just heard, "Pardon, no?"

“You heard me loud and clear, Monsieur. Or perhaps you want me to repeat it twice? Shall I mime the words for you?”

“Ambre,” Madeleine, who was alarmed, gripped the hand of the younger countess to stop her from insulting the noble any further.

“Oh, no, dear. I understand,” the Comte, although abashed, nodded in understanding.

"Please pardon her, Monsieur le Comte," Madeleine hurriedly said. "The Mademoiselle's still young. She is not at all worth pleasing."

"My goodness. I have not been forewarned of such brazen behavior from the youngest of the Montargis. Although, I cannot say I am surprised; Genevieve must have taught you herself, my dear!" The man bowed again, embarrassed whilst maintaining a polite smile. "Very well Mesdemoiselles, I shall take my leave and wish you a pleasant evening." 

Upon saying this, he gave a curt bow and turned his back under the contemptuous glare of the youngest Countess of the Montargis. Then, the older one sighed. "Ambre, my dear Sister, why must you always be a chit?"

"Me, dancing with that head?” Chaewon flitted her fan as she rolled her eyes, resting against the stone staircase ledge. She looked down at a table graciously filled with fruits and liquors. “If Mother sees me with that man, she'll force me to converse with him all throughout the evening." 

Madeleine contained another sigh, side eyeing her little sister, “Please spare some decency, we are not mere commoners, you know?” 

"But we’ve had this conversation before, Sister. I'd rather be hideous than be married to a man whose mouth scampers similar to that of a horse’s gallop." Chaewon glanced at the man again, "Unarguably a spitting image of one too, which I presume, would be a delightful sight in the morning, only if I am blind." She averted her gaze towards the tables, "But alas, I am blessed with a face of the goddess of beauty. Him, I simply shan’t marry, even if he were the last of his creation." 

"Dear Regulus declaims dissimilarly," Madeleine said, turning her head towards the grandiose sight of the beau monde beneath them, eyes remaining unfocused, however, as she fought a yawn in the back of her gloved hand. Her engagement ring nestling beautifully in her dainty fingers.

"He finds delight in vexing me,” Chaewon said out of sheer annoyance, “Sending every noble upon my way—good lord, here comes another.” 

The young Comtesse flitted at her fan as she turned her back with repugnance.

“Dearest Sisters, may I introduce to you, the dandy Monsieur, Fiero de Bourg. An old acquaintance of mine from my stay in Venice.” Their brother, Regulus Henry de Montargis approached them in an easy manner. His perfect teeth showing, defining his handsome features.

“How do, Mademoiselle Madeleine, Mademoiselle Ambre.” The gentleman gave a curt bow to both of them then fixed his gaze that was gleaming in excitement to the youngest Countess. The silver flower ornament in her hair seemed to bedazzle her silhouette in his eyes.

“May I have a dance with you, Mademoiselle Ambre?” He asked without haste upon the opportunity. 

“He’s near handsome, I must say,” Madeleine leaned in to whisper to Chaewon’s ears, which the other replied with a sassy eye roll. 

“Nearly handsome is not what I’m accustomed to, nor are you dearest Madeleine,” she said as she glanced at her brother who was expectantly staring at her. Chaewon said lethargically as she stood up and walked towards them, “But Regulus would suffer from excessive distress if I shan't.” 

“See if he may be with you without fear,” said Regulus to Chaewon as the two figures dissolved in the crowded ballroom.

The orchestra started the Minuet, and so the two dances. Positioned symmetrically to their gender. Chaewon didn’t speak much and barely casted the man a glance, but Fiero watched her move. He was stealing glances of those two dusty black eyes that seemed adept at hiding in the shadows. He was simply hopeful he’d have a close look of her eyes as she tilted her head momentarily in the dance. But alas, such sneaking shan’t work on her.

“You have a pleasant countenance, Mademoiselle Ambre. You have an inexplicable mien of decided fashion,” said Fiero as they were dancing.

“You flatter me, Monsieur. Same to you, I like your chapeau bras,” Chaewon meekly replied, and Fiero chuckled at the lack of enthusiasm.

As the duration of the dance lengthened, he found himself wanting to stand back and just observe from afar. For her movements were languid and flowed with dazzling grace. She was dancing without compliance, as opposed to the traditional dances that require a pair, it showed her strong manner of independence. She did not look at him in the eyes, nor took his hand, and touched any of his apparel. She wasn’t dancing for courtesies; she was simply dancing for herself. It was safe to say she took away every breath of every person in her audience, including Fiero who stopped midway and clapped along. With each stride she made, it became more painfully obvious to him that she is needless of a partner. That this dance was permitted as a little gift to be sent unto him; her purposeful clarity.

He was simply bewitched by a vixen that cannot be tamed.

The dance ended, and everyone erupted in cheers. 

“That was a very lovely dance, Mademoiselle Ambre,” said Fiero to Chaewon’s ears. She nodded, not replying a word. “May I offer a glass of wine?”

Fiero gestured politely and Chaewon nodded curtsying mechanically. 

When Fiero set out to bring their wine, Chaewon stood alone, eyes observing every face on the dancefloor, talking animatedly, immersed in themselves. Most of them were desperate underclassmen. Pitiful looking dresses and faded fabrics and secondhand silk and linen. Officers of the militia charming the village girls, and dissolute men whispering amongst each other humorously.

“And you’d never guess! She lifted her dress in the mud and I saw her ankle!” The man excitedly gossiped to a group who hollered upon hearing it. 

“Godspeed Monsieur!” The rest of the men congratulated him in envy to which the speaker replied boastfully, ‘Indeed!’

Chaewon felt repulsed with what she overheard, however, promises of not causing another commotion held her from intervening. She tried her best to ignore them and yawned at the back of her hand. But there is a limitation to what the Countess’ brittle temper can withstand.

“Upon my word, I’ve never seen such a pretty girl in my life,” a raspy voice said beside Chaewon. 

Her doe eyes looked at him through the slits of her fan and suppressed a gag, “One simply cannot wonder why,” 

“You seem to be very disagreeable, Madame,” The man said, sipping on his glass, condescending as he glanced at her figure. “A Mademoiselle shan’t speak that way, much less to a gentleman. You should speak the tongue of men to deem yourself tolerable in their presence.” 

Chaewon flitted her fan to her palm, refusing to face him, “I speak not the tongues of men and of angels, Monsieur. For speaking it profits me nothing. Now, If I come unto you and speak with tongues, I can only speak bitter truth,” Chaewon declared as she closed her fan, finally facing him. 

The man flashed her a smile, his teeth akin to the color of maize, Chaewon visibly flinched and took a step back when the man inched closer. 

“Mon Dieu,” uttered Chaewon in distaste. “Do me a favor and don’t come closer, you repulse my eyes in the distance, even more so if you decrease the gap, Monsieur.” 

The man stopped advancing and his smile faded, replaced with an expression of revolt, “What utter nonsense! I was blessed with my Mother's favorable looks, as opposed to your nonsensical opinion Madame.” The man stomped his weary leather boots to the ground. His unibrow-- that was already connected before-- was almost an inch length.

“I beg to disagree,” Chaewon scrunched her nose to take a closer look at him then continued, her fan against her face, “Is that a lump of goiter or a wart? Your mother must be blind for I see nothing but a complexion of perfect gallows.”

“You dare insult me?” he raised his voice. 

“Oh, goodness, no, Monsieur, you have gravely mistaken me,” Chaewon feigned. “Please don’t be unhinged, I doubt it was the first time you’ve heard of such delectable compliments. ”

The man’s face turned into an angry scowl, “You are hardly, the most disagreeable, most forbidding woman I have ever had the chance of meeting. I dare say it is a pity for the Montargis, for your manners are not equal to theirs.”

“I say we’re all proud,” declared Chaewon as she opened her fan, facing forward once more. 

The voice of her promise started to fade. Within her psyche she insults Fiyero for dilly-dallying amongst the crowd, for not fetching her quickly from such an abhorrent creature. But Ambre de Montargis was anything but patient, she takes matters into her own pristine hands, gratuitous of the approval of others. Moreover, It was verily insulting that a mere commoner approached her so lightly, so casually, as opposed to the people who recognize her prowess that would make haste at once within her presence. Unknowingly, her brittle temper began to crumble.

The man stood straight beside her and smirked, “I cannot say I am surprised, wherefore by their fruits you shall know the condition of the tree. If there is something wrong with the pup, there is something wrong with the .”

Slash

The officer hadn't even noticed the Countess’ swift yet calculated grip on his sword, he just felt a soft tug and the next thing he knew a man was on the floor, his hairy fatty chest filled with small blots of red liquid apparent for everyone to see. The officer caught his breath in his throat when he realized who seized his sword without permission.

“The maréchaussée will hear about such an assault!” The man whimpered as he pointed his stubby fingers at Chaewon who was basking with delight. There was an uproar and a series of gasps above them, but Ambre was keen on giving the attention he so foolishly wanted.

“And you are handsome,” Chaewon crouched down and raised his chin with the handle of the sword, “See? I can jest too.” 

Those were the last words he heard when a palm slapped his face. The man let out a strangled cry, collected gasps filled the banquet, the orchestra paused, all eyes were on her, seemingly breathless by witnessing another scene of the Countess’ brazen behavior. 

“We run the maréchaussée in this region, asswipe,” she whispered, taking off her glove and throwing it onto the tiled floor. Many eyes refused to meet hers the instant she turned around. When she looked up at the staircase, however, she saw Regulus, an expression on his face solely crafted for his youngest sister. When she finally joined him, the maestros of the orchestra resumed playing.

 -

“Oh, do give him a baguette for the inconvenience,” The matriarch, Mrs. Montargis, exclaimed to the retreating figures of the maids that were sent for the aid of the son of a Baron whose face was still red from Chaewon’s slap, his ruined apparel stained with blood from the scratch her youngest daughter inflicted onto him.                         

“Put it on his nose, would you? Maybe that will make the creature less of a nightmare,” Chaewon commanded.  Crossing her arms across her chest upon hearing a hefty amount of scolding from her Mother once again. 

“Yes, Mademoiselle Ambre,” the maid answered, bowing down before jogging away.

She positioned her neck on the headrest and sprawled the rest of her body to the rest of the couch. She sighed, she did what was befitting, to punish him for insulting her family and the progenitor of the land, and yet she received unjust and further criticisms in return. 

“You’re lucky it was just the son of the Baron from the nearby region, Sister. Otherwise, my cravat will seize my neck for good,” Regulus had his hands on both sides of his waist as he glared at her sister whose body was draped on the couch. Madeleine was situated in the corner of the room, quietly sipping on her tea.

“I knew immediately when he talked to me so casually,” Chaewon stated, “How did he even manage to possess such self-complacency with that ridiculous face of his? Even a mirror would be deterred by such a grotesque figure. He is but an insult to his mother’s womb.” Chaewon rolled her eyes and scoffed, “I did what I must.”

-

The ball ended with Chaewon retreating inside the cold hallways of the castle, the moon blessed her with such luminescence that night as she pranced about, her tired and distressed mother in tow, talking about all the noblemen that asked her admonition with regards to beseeching the difficult Countess of the Montargis, and scolding her endlessly for the commotion she caused. Chaewon endured those grueling last minutes of her Mother's incessant and intolerable rants, until quite ominously, she spotted a body on the floor outside the door of her bedroom.

She could discern vomit on the lacquered tiles and the familiar figure as she approached closer, Chaewon aghast turned to Mrs. Montargis, looking at her apprehensively. Mrs. Montargis, known for her uptight and strict demeanor, her rigidity and merciless reproof, wailed shamelessly in panic that shook the castle that very frightful night.

They were in need of a new maid.

-

If the Montargis castle's luxury was enough to please nobles, the commoners had something to worry about. If the harshness of the last winter was a banal conversation topic for those who governed these provinces, it was the major preoccupation for commoners.

Indeed, the county of Montargis had suffered from it. Good wheat had become practically as rare as gold, while peasants went into debt to revive their fields. Farmers who couldn't afford shelters for their animals found themselves with countless losses, putting them into such poverty that some ceased selling eggs and milk to feed the many mouths of their families. 

Many traders were also struggling to recover from the freezing winter that required a lot of wood and food. Business was generally bad and the town's market, which used to be full of treasures, turned into a gigantic bazaar where all the villagers jostled and stepped on each other in the hope of buying a dozen eggs and fresh bread. The young Tessier was one of them.

Dressed in a simple cloche dress and a brown apron made by her aunt, stained by soot and mud, Jade could hardly find her way between all these relentless people who were not going there with a dead hand. A farmer passed through the crowd, black-haired horses pulling a cart full of hay that some villagers stole.

Jade, nicknamed Minju, found herself trapped between two men whose sweat was mixed with grime, even in the early hours of the morning. Well-mannered, she abstained herself from wincing, just turning her head as much as possible to breathe something different than this stench. When the cart was far away and the complaints evanesced, everyone started rushing from stall to stall again. Luckily, Minju managed to stoop down as a clumsy carpenter scrolled through the crowd, a wooden beam on his shoulder. 

The city market was cacophony. Salesmen were shouting, brandishing fresh fish and flour. Everyone wanted to sell, of course, and fortunately, there was no shortage of customers that day. Minju walked around a few chickens blocking the path, clucking as if the place belonged to them, and the villagers had nothing to do there. She smiled politely at an old weaver who offered bed linen at a fair price and greeted the friendly soap maker with a nod. 

She was well known in the realm; she was the daughter of the town's bookseller. With long coal locks waving behind her back, a lovely and gentle smile, and eyes shining with intelligence and curiosity, the young Tessier was standing out. However, she was exceedingly reserved and somewhat shy, which earned her her nickname as a child. Her cheeks were always pink-tinted. ' Mignonnes Joues' as they said, Min'ju as they wrote. She was tall, gorgeous, and a gentle creature: she had been pretty since she was a child, she had been pretty her whole life, but is greatly humble with her charms.

She traversed a small bridge overhanging Le Loing, a river full of thousands of small fishes, crossed the city's streets. The weather was agreeable that morning, spring temperatures comforting these commoners' hearts after that winter that deprived them of multiple things. Birds were twittering in the sky, dogs were barking in the streets, chickens were clucking, and pigs were grunting. A miserable beggar was lying on the pavement, his sad gaze staring into the void, his weary hand around the neck of a large black dog. His clothes were torn and his skin blackened by the ground. Unfortunately, this wasn't a rare sight in town.

Minju halted without much hesitation, cutting her baguette's crouton and handing it to him with a polite smile. The beggar's eyes gleamed with gratitude, and the girl was delighted. After all, she had been raised like that, generous and pure-hearted.

Finally, she reached the stall of the best egg sellers, the Legros family, and their four blond, convivial sons. The last winter also caused them some troubles. Feeding their chickens had been difficult, but their reputation paid off. The animals were able to spend the cold season in a large henhouse.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one who wanted to buy eggs. Many people were gathered discussing above all the mess the fowls were causing around the stall. Lacroix's son was there. The Dupont sisters and the old lady living in the haunted house were there too. Gislaine and her one-eyed husband as well, carrying full wicker baskets. Ordering was going to take a while, so she stood in line behind the three town's nosy ladies. Seeing them outside together on a market day wasn't surprising, though.

Minju immediately became amused by their conversation. They were talking about the bonne Gislaine and her husband, who was apparently frequenting mère Pâquerette. Besides tittle-tattling about rumors that were none of their business, the mères commères sneered at their silly jokes about the one-eyed man. For them, he was having an affair with mère Pâquerette because he couldn't recognize his own wife with only one eye. Then, their discussion derived to the last Montargis' ball.

"Apparently, a maid died,'' Suzanne, the oldest of the nosy ladies, put her greasy hand on Albertine's arm, the redhead. "That' what I heard from one of th'boys who look after horses."

"Th'Countess stabbed her?" Laughed the stoutest, Rosette, whose arms were encumbered with green vegetables and bread.

"Oh, c'mon, that's what I told myself at first! But they all caught a cold," Suzanne explained.

"Oh Lord," exclaimed Suzanne. "If my daughter were not so stubborn and lazy, I would have sent her to work there."

"It'd take a miracle for Marguerite to go there," Albertine sighed. "That pea-brained can't even cook meat for her husband."

 "By the way, her husband, Albertine?" interrupted Rosette. "He's staying in Paris?"

"Ma foi, I think," Albertine shrugged her shoulders, adjusting her small wicker basket on her forearm. "The bovine wants to go now too! I'm going to do the laundry alone!"

"Well, ladies, I'm glad God gave me two sons," the three tattletales laughed at Rosette’s remark. Indeed, the Duboc sons became handsome men serving in the Royal Guard of Versailles.

Albertine beamed at her friends' words then her bon-vivant gaze fell on Minju who immediately bowed politely. "Ah, the little Jade! How do?"

"I'm doing well, thank you," Minju knew well about the mères commères. After all, how could she not? These three good women were also well known in the town. It was better not to have any secrets when you were part of their entourage, as many rumors going around were from them. Nevertheless, they were far from unpleasant. "And you, Madame Chapard, how are you?"

"Ma foi, I’m fine," The other two women were also smiling, revealing a few teeth in bad condition and wrinkles at the corners of their mouths. "Marguerite was just talking 'bout you earlier."

"What did she say?" Marguerite and Minju used to be good friends. Both had been growing up in the upper part of the town, and they used to hang out to wash clothes together in the laundry behind the old François' house. As they grew up, the two girls took different directions. Eventually, Marguerite married a guard, while Minju preferred other occupations. "And how's she? I haven't seen her since last month's mass."

"She told me that you two hadn't seen each oth'in a while. And well, ma foi, she's doing well," Albertine shrugged her shoulders, encumbered with long salt and pepper hair. "She wants to go to Paris now, I told her, 'Ma foi, go!' I won't hold you back,'. Although I doubt she can even find a way to go there."

 "Oh dear, Marguerite is not a donkey!" chuckled Rosette, cheeks red with delicacies.

"Ma foi, if she's not a donkey, she's a nincompoop!" said the poor girl's mother, provoking a new round of sniggering which Minju joined.  

"What a word, Madame Chapard," she giggled, the image of her naive childhood friend's disoriented gaze in mind. "I'm sure Marguerite would love Paris. She loves prominence, doesn't she?"

"Ah, that she loves! Ma foi, we'll see," she admitted.

Suzanne, who knew the capital well, resumed, "If she wants prominence, all she has to do is go and work at the castle. Especially if they need maids."

"Ma foi," Albertine seemed to have mixed feelings about the idea. "I don't think she competent enough."

"And how about you Jade? Are you thinking about it?" Rosette planted her big green eyes in those of the young girl who shook her head with a little laugh, getting a little closer to them to free up some space in the line that kept growing behind their backs. "Seigneur! Cute as a button, you will surely find a nobleman!"

"I'm not interested," Minju clarified, shaking her head. "Besides, I don't think I could bear being cooped up in a castle all day long."

"The fat Rosette is right, ma foi," Albertine interfered. "Unlike my daughter, you are smart enough to do well there."

The three nosy ladies then nodded their heads, beginning a new discussion about people and castle business, "How many does it pay?"

"For Ambre, at least 20 pieces per season," Suzanne seemed well informed on the subject. She herself had already been employed at the Count's castle to wash the floors after a feast, like many other women in the town. "This one is insufferable, all I’ve ever heard were horrible gossip about her."

"Seigneur, Suzanne, don't speak so loudly," reprimanded Rosette, as if themselves hadn't been barking about Monsieur Carcquier's debts and the husband of Gislaine's adultery.

"Ma foi, it's the older one that bugs me the most," Albertine continued in a low voice. "Since her marriage with the Count of Acy, drunkards from their county have been setting our tavern topsy-turvy."

"And the count is still at Versailles?" After that, Minju quit listening to the conversation, once again immersed in her own little world. The gossiping ladies were entertaining, but it was better not to mingle with them. It would take days or months to escape.

Minju took the opportunity to walk up to the stall full of lightly spotted eggs, a sign of freshness and good health. The Legros' most juvenile son, Benoît, was the one who took her order, and, as usual, he immediately started the conversation.  

"How do, Mademoiselle Minju?" he asked, while Minju was choosing her eggs with precision. 

"Pleasant, how about you, Benoît?" she smiled as she put one of her brown strands behind her ear to be more comfortable. 

"Better than ever," He laughed as he grabbed an egg and handed it to his friend. The Legros were good friends of the Tessier family. When they were little, Minju and Benoît had fun building huts in the woods with other children from the town. Those were the good old days when not all the girls were married, and the boys were busy. "How's the family doing?"

"As usual," she replied, dismissing as quickly as possible the subject she didn't want to dwell on. All eggs collected, she handed over the few coins she had been given for the market and a small tip for her friend. "See you at Sunday mass?"

"As usual!" he imitated with a playful smile and a small wave of his hand.

After greeting the three tattletales one last time, Minju departed from thence and came nigh unto the familiar murky street leading to her aunt’s house.

The family Le Maire’s inn was located in a squalid part of Montargis, where the mud was prominent in every ladies’ stockings, and where everyone was untidy and blowsy. In front of the inn was the pub of Monsieur François where officers of the maréchaussée and some tipplers from the county of Montargis would often brawl over gambling, alcohol overflowing their glasses.

The manager of the inn, Madame Vivienne, was well known among the county of Montargis. She was a skinny woman with a large roman nose and disgracious features. Her wrinkles were apparent and seemingly permanent on her forehead from scowling at every poor customer that would come her way every evening. Even the maréchaussée’ s officers would call her Madame Nasty Piece of Work for her sheer rudeness towards everyone, her charred teeth from the cigars she consumed, her grease-stained clothes that had not been washed for months, and her disrespectful and inconsiderate nature. 

With a foul attitude, such business was bound to go sour. However, for a widow who had inherited her husband’s small fraction of land, with no children to raise and a niece constantly doing labors, the earnings were more than enough to keep the inn open for weary travelers. 

The inn was the least comfortable place to stay, but no other hostel from the countryside was as cheap as le Maire’s, and it was not hard to wonder why.

There were six rooms with no window and a creaking wooden bed with thin sheets. The pillowcases and towels were extremely dirty; they used to be white but vomits stained them with the years. There was no water for a bath, and you could not sleep well because of the constant noise on the nearby streets. The food prepared by Madame Vivienne was barely edible for sup. In fact, only her niece, the young Tessier, could make the place more pleasant with her sweet smiles and kind disposition. Nevertheless, it was better than sleeping in the plaza with flies or in the fields where harsh night winds would seep through clothes.

Minju was lightly hopping amongst the rocks that were littering the stony road. She was humming to herself, exchanging polite greetings with her neighbors, especially the officers who often sauntered purposefully in the street, smiling at the sight of the beautiful girl. Minju offered them a smile and a glance as she walked towards the inn. Outside it this time, however, was a hunchbacked man staring at the faded signboard hanging on the rusty hanger.

“Can I help you, Monsieur?” She called him softly as she tapped her shoes onto the gravel to get rid of the mud. The hunchbacked man turned around. He was one of the mid-mountain peasants who would keep their cows in common and share the proceeds. He had his knapsack on his shoulders, a cudgel in his hand, and a rough and weary expression in his eyes.

“M-my name is Grégoire Baptistine, humble highlander coming from the Vosges, Mademoiselle,” The man stammered as he hurriedly bowed, “I have been looking for a place to stay since I’ve arrived this dawn in the Montargis’ county, however, none of them were willing to offer me a bed for tonight."

"How come, Monsieur?" Minju frowned.

"I assumed that I was far too—" He paused and met Minju’s kind gaze that seemed to usher him to continue, so he finished in a trembling breath, "hideous that it would scare other customers away. So I went into the fields instead, intending to sleep in the open air beneath the sun. But there was no sun, I thought it was going to rain so I re-entered the town to seek a recess of a doorway. Yonder, in the plaza, I meant to sleep on a stone bench until a good woman pointed out your house and told me to knock here."

  

"Do you keep an inn? I have savings. Fifty sous that I earned by my labor. I am far too weary for I walked five miles with nothing but my foot. I do not care about money, I will pay for any service as long as I get to rest and have food, Mademoiselle."

 

"And you will most graciously, Monsieur," Minju gently smiled, eyes sparkling, glad to be able to help, "Come and follow me! I’ll take you to your resting place."

 

Hearing this, the man suddenly looked up at Minju. The expression of his face, which used to be defeated and weary, suddenly illuminated with joy. The highlander’s eyes went glossy as he was gratefully observing Minju’s delicate and soft features that even with the presence of soot’ smudges looked divine with her kind countenance. 

 

He began to rejoice in disbelief, “Really? You will keep me? You do not drive me forth?” 

“No need Monsieur, le Maire’s inn is the cheapest in this side of the county. I assure you. You won’t need to spend much,” Minju opened the door, still smiling, ushering him inside. 

“You are an inn-keeper, are you not? Although you look younger than most, you treat pilgrims well!” The man exclaimed, amused. 

“I’m simply the niece of the innkeeper, but don’t worry, I'll see to it that you’ll have a rest here,” Minju assured as she closed the heavy wooden door behind them. 

“You actually do not want me to go! God bless you!” He cried in glee, depositing his knapsack and his cudgel in a corner. Then, he replaced his passport in his pocket and looked all around the place.

Madam Vivienne gazed mildly at him from the last step of the old stairs whilst pushing a dirty drunkard. Monsieur Grégoire, who expected the inn manager to be as nice as the young lady, beamed at her only to be answered with a scalding scowl. Minju tensed beside him as her aunt mercilessly beat the noisy drunkard with her broom, “And do not come back again you scum!”

“Good lord, who is she?” Grégoire whispered. 

“That’s my aunt, Monsieur,” the young girl smiled gingerly.

The two watched helplessly as Vivienne struggled to close the door to prevent the drunkard from entering again as he was blabbering insults and curses. This was not an unusual scene for drunkards were frequent here, and most of the time, they didn't know how to behave. They would throw glasses on the wall, say inappropriate things, steal food, or leave early in the morning to avoid paying for the services.

Minju discreetly sighed before redirecting her attention to the highlander, flashing him a soft smile. "Sit down, Monsieur, and warm yourself. Food will be ready in a few moments. I'll prepare your bed while you are supping."

"Bless you, Mademoiselle, for your kind heart."

With that, Minju turned around and left the room to enter the kitchen.

The kind Jade Tessier had undoubtedly noticed that this poor traveler had his misfortune too vividly present in his mind. It was so evident. He did not say a word about why he left the Vosges and traveled to the county of Montargis but, she knew that the best thing to do was to at least divert him from it, to make him believe, if only momentarily, that he was a person like any other and a respectable customer. She decided to cook something as recomforting as possible, supposing it was the least she could do as a compensation for her aunt's rough service on every weary pilgrim that would enter their inn.

She unpacked all the things she had bought, placing them carefully in the small kitchen. Spiders were hanging from here and there, and the dishes were yet to be done. This made her sigh, but the Church bells were about to ring, and their few customers would leave their room any time to eat something.

Carrot and leek broth was on the menu that day. It was a simple meal. One that travelers loved to eat to regain their strength after a long day traveling the country's roads. Moreover, the preparation was simple. Minju pulled out a sharp knife and quickly washed her hands in a bucket before cutting the carrots into small bite sized pieces.

Her hair was in a ponytail with a small piece of cloth nicely tied in a knot, and her sleeves were spared, rolled up on her delicate forearms. It was still warm outside, and through the greasy glass window, she could watch the neighbors' children fighting with wooden blocks. It amused her somehow, at last, until the door creaked behind her back.

"Do you have the carrots?" The cold and unsympathetic voice of her aunt sounded even sharper than usual. Minju only shrugged her head, pointing the knife at the vegetables. Obviously, Vivienne was not satisfied. She derided, "Good. Do you think this man will like them?"

“I hope so, for it’s all we have,” she replied in a small voice before wiggling in pain after unwillingly scratching her finger. Being used to it, she only the little bead of blood that had formed on her skin before starting to cut the carrots again.

“You would do me so much favor if you stop sending every poor and limping man in our way,” Vivienne seethed.

“Well, aunt,” Minju started, careful to be calm, not wanting the woman to be more annoyed than she already was. “This man came from a sad place and had been traveling miles on foot. His body is weary and cold. He needs a warm place to sleep and sup to fill his stomach--”

“--And he promises he will pay generously if he takes refuge for the day in our inn," she hurriedly supplied after turning around and seeing her aunt’s eyes twitch, leaving the knife and the carrots. She then argued reasonably, averting her gaze and starting to peel the leek. "Our earnings are quite scarce since winter, so I thought, why not?”

Madame Vivienne spat on the floor, “I have already got heaps of trouble from those drunkards and yet you add another one.”

“He’s-” the girl started but got interrupted by the furious woman.

“He’ll be the last customer I’ll be willful to tuck in, celebrate if you must, ye muck!” She angrily shouted, her voice echoing through the thin wooden walls so Monsieur Grégoire could hear, “Twenty-five sous and no less!”

Minju, who caught a whiff of what her aunt said, stopped peeling the leek and slowly asked, “What do you mean by last customer, aunt?”

“I got you a job at the Montargis' castle,” Vivienne casually announced as she popped another cigar into , exhaled, and smiled to herself. “From what I heard, they were in dire need of a new maid for the youngest Countess.”

To this, Minju couldn’t help but clench her jaw, something unpleasant boiling inside her stomach. She answered back, her voice much clearer. “Is it not lawful for me to do what I want with my own?”

“You already know the answer to what you ask, child,” Madame Vivienne simply stared at her and lifted her brow. She puffed smoke and pointed her finger at Minju as she slowly advanced towards her. “You’ve been a thorn in my sight since you were brought to my doorstep. Acting so smart instead of the poor witless you are!”

“I-” Minju got interrupted, once again.

“Spare me your quibbles.” Her lisp was apparent with every word that was coming out of as she angrily muttered, “For the last ten years, I fed you, I clothed you, I provided a roof over your head-”

“To this, I am grateful for, aunt. Truly. But I haven't remained idle since that very day! I helped with the inn every day and night!” Minju stepped back, alarmed but finding the courage to argue back. She felt her eyes tremble. She slowly gulped, visibly upset and confused. “Do you not need my help anymore?”

Madame Vivienne looked away and puffed a smoke, “Spare me sympathy in that naïve eyes of yours, niece. For the servant of the cook saith I will receive the third sum of your wage if you managed to linger around the Countess. That sounds more gratifying than running this corroding inn for the rest of my life does it not?” Vivienne sneered delightedly at the thought of such early retirement.

“But, I-I, I can’t,” Minju swallowed a sob, biting her cheeks for a court instant. She then whispered under her breath, eyes dropping down to the floor, tears slowly sliding along her rosy cheek. What about her beloved books? Bishop Prévost? Louis? 

“Being cooped up in the castle surrounded by nobles will prohibit me from doing what I desire. I can’t, I really can-”

“But they pay a good amount, no?” Vivienne cackled excitedly at the thought of not waking up early and preparing for the poor drunkards, “You will start on the morrow. The carriage will be in the plaza the first hour in the morning. You better pack your silly things and whatnot. Meanwhile, I will go to Alice to play another round of poker and bear such wonderful news.”

She puffed another smoke, a satisfied look on her face as she left the kitchen, leaving a sniveling and defeated Minju against the wooden table.

-

“Don’t worry. I’ll help unload the carriages with my brother on the morrow so you will see me on your way.” Louis, the town blacksmith’s son, reassured, letting his tough fingers wander on the girl’s skin. He was a tall young man with a tan complexion, toned muscles, and a scar on his right brow. A buff yet gentle guy that had tugged every young girls' heart, especially Minju’s, for his charming smile and goofy demeanor.

“I don’t dislike the thought of harsh labor, but merely being limited of what I desire to do. And nobles aren’t exactly the people that I want to serve.” Minju bit her lip out of frustration as she lay back on the grass.

“I wish I can marry you already and take you from her,” Louis said, eyes full of concern and affection as he gazed at Minju’s troubled face. Slowly, he brought his fingers on her pink cheek, drawing a heart before lightly pecking it. “If you truly want to stay Minju, we can—”

He was interrupted when Minju stared back at him, “And my aunt? As much as you despise her, you know I can’t leave her alone until she leaves the county.”

Louis chuckled then sighed, also laying his back on the grass, “Okay, all right, maybe a year from now then. When her in-laws rescue her from her demise.”

Minju smiled back, dimples apparent in her beautiful face as she intertwined their fingers. “A year from now then.”

“The Great has plans for you. He won’t let you be harmed, mon coeur,” Louis took both of their hands to his mouth and kissed the back of her palms lovingly, “I can’t permit it.”

He smiled and Minju mirrored. She would truly miss the warmth this man constantly offered to her, his love that he would give unconditionally. She would miss how he would never fail to make her heart weep in joy.

The only thought of being away from him for more than a day left a hole in her chest, a hole that filled up again when he cupped her face with his palm, caressing it delicately.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto your own misunderstanding: In all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight,” Louis uttered these words softly in Minju’s lips and sealed the reassurance with a sweet, passionate kiss.

---

Minju let her empty gaze follow the Montargis forest's tall trees that surrounded her as the carriage was driving them to the castle, a few minutes away from the town. Louis hugged her before she left, reminding her how much he loved her and would patiently wait for her to come back anytime soon. However, she and her aunt did not talk at all. Vivienne was nowhere to be found in the inn, and Monsieur Grégoire was the only one to wish her good luck.

That dawn, four women were picked up in the capital. The three commoners were talking animatedly between themselves. Even though they were conversing in relatively low volume, Minju could hear them babble about the "Monster" that resided in the castle walls. That feasts upon anyone who came on her way; the youngest Countess of Montargis.

“Mademoiselle Ambre slashed the man right in the chest, and a lot of blood gushed onto the floor,” declared the tallest. “A friend of my aunt who resides in the castle said they had a hard time cleaning, said it was too critical he had to be sent unto the nearby hospital.”

The girls gasped in unison, believing whatever this woman was saying. Minju knew these were just rumors. In fact, she heard it from the maréchaussée herself; the Countess did stab a man, but he barely bled and made more of a scene while she just walked away, emotionlessly. It was less disreputable, but this didn't make her less scary in Minju’s thoughts.

“She has no mercy, nor sympathy for anyone. She can dispose of anyone if she wants to, I dare say. I do not want to be near someone who is as beastly,” confessed the smallest. “Guess I have no choice.“

“Everyone says she had overworked Madame Magfoile! That the poor woman died out of exhausti--- umf!”

“What serious accusation you said, Lucette!“ The other clamped her hand on . "Magfoile was a little, fat, corpulent, and bustling, old woman anyway. She was brainless and always out of breath,—in the first place, because of her activity, and in the next, because of her asthma."

“Watch your words!” said the other alarmingly then looked around the carriage and seethed through her teeth, "And you must not forget that we are in the presence of Monsieur le Comte’ coachman!”

“Isn’t it the maréchaussée?” whispered the last one.

“That’s even worse!” Their eyes trembled and stopped talking henceforth, fidgeting with their white robes and hats.

Meanwhile, the certain Tessier was touching the silver cross on her pocket as the coach was moving smoothly. Clutched onto her chest was her thin sack containing her clothes, her spare worn-out shoe, and the book the kind and generous Bishop Prévost gave her at the beginning of the month since he knew Minju knew how to read in English, Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales.

When they arrived and were guided inside the residence, the sun was sitting atop proudly, beaming at the estate that beheld before them. Minju’s eyes marveled at the picturesque scenery that unveiled upon her sight. The castle was a genuine seignorial residence. Everything about it had a grand air— the drawing-rooms, the chambers, the principal courtyard -which was very large- with walks encircling it under arcades in the old Florentine fashion. Gardens were full of magnificent trees, and the sculpted dovecote near L’orangerie was worth a painting. In the dining-room, a long and superb gallery was situated on the high luxurious walls.  

M. Henri Montargis had entertained in state, on the 15 Juillet 1516; Antoinette de Mesgrigny, his wife, the Comtesse de Grasse; Philippe Sabran de Montargis; the youngest of the siblings, Abbé Glandève de Lérins; the only daughter of the Montargis, married to a barrister, Jean Forcalquier de Montargis; La Primogéniture, the Count of the region.

The family's portraits and this memorable date, the 15th of July 1516, were engraved in golden letters on a white marble table. Minju gaped at the marvelous sight. She had not ever seen anything quite like this. The place was so lavish that she was instantly enamored by the delicate ceiling carvings, the paintings on the walls, and the expensive decorations surrounding them. It was beyond exquisite. She was fascinated.

Somehow, Louis’ words came back to her mind, and she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding on in the entirety of the trip.

---

The news about the influenza that broke in the Montargis palace has caused many ruckuses. Lady Madeleine was escorted back to the Acy marquisate by a barouche. Regulus went to his wife’s county for the upcoming accouchement that couldn't take place in such conditions. And the death of the bonne Magfoile was in everybody's mouth. 

 

The balls eventually came to a halt, much to Chaewon's relief, but her mother was keen on allowing suitors now and then in their estate. Not like she would spare them even just a minute of her time. Besides that, she had no one to talk to and nothing to do inside her room, aside from staring longingly outside.

 

With her head on her palm, she released a deep sigh as she waited for the beginning of what she calls breakfast drudgery, which consists of eating alone at the dining room and proceeding to Mrs. Emily’s disciplinary and monotonous literary classes. She was beyond bored as she waited, so her tired eyes wandered as she tilted her head back, resting on the headrest of the mahogany chair. They traced the wall then the ceiling, the huge bed, and then unto the massive windows where she discerned something unusual. She squinted her eyes as she saw three ladies standing in the front yard with the housekeeper. 

 

Chaewon had heard about her mother immediately seeking with haste for a new healthy lady's maid in the succession of her deceased one, but she didn’t expect them to arrive so quickly.  Her Mother picked Magfoile, and Chaewon had found her figure detestable right away. She was truly a sight for sore eyes. This time, she reckons, she must choose for her own. 

 

“Let us see,” Chaewon thought as she inched closer to the massive window that oversees the front lawn. Her eyes started to scan the features of every woman, “Definitely not that one, she looks like a toad from afar, what more near—and that one is too fat and stout. That one is too skinny tall and mon Dieu, what an atrocious dress," she scrunched her nose.

 

"And that… one,” she paused. She narrowed her eyes to fixate on the newly arrived maiden, “That one is agreeable, yes she may do."  

 

 

 

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in celebration of chaewon's resurrection era we offer you this meticulously gift wrapped fic that will cater to your handmaiden/portrait of the lady on fire/evelyncelia obsession/needs. this project's been in the works for about a year now and three of us tried so hard to bring our ideas to life and do it justice. we hope as you read, this fic will be able to touch you and help you smile as you go through your everyday struggles. if this fic found you, then congratulations :3 this is for you. have fun reading~