Janet sat in the empty room, sorting through Celine's clothes, which the maid had washed and brought in. As her nanny, she was worried that Celine and Diana, whom she had raised since infancy, were now adults, engaged, and about to marry someone. While it was a source of both anxiety and excitement, it was also a source of renewed emotion.
“If my daughter were alive, she would be married and have beautiful children by now.”
Janet muttered to herself. The radio was playing a message about additional policy decisions made during negotiations with Frogen after the ceasefire. Ambassador Belford, aware that this was a near-fatal defeat, recited the message in a calm, restrained voice.
Outside the window, bathed in afternoon sunlight, battleships and naval forces were seen returning to the harbor. It seemed that all but the warships left in territorial waters were returning. Janet felt certain that the war would not end here. It had been a long time since she arrived here. She had long since forgotten her hometown.
She was originally named Grita Evergreen, a member of the Frogen Security Service. Long ago, the Evergreen Baronial House was wiped out in a purge orchestrated by the mad Emperor of Frogen. Her mother, a Belford native, and her father, a local official, were the first to be taken away and executed. Next, her husband and daughter were next.
Having survived alone with the help of Duke Noel Rotsilt, Noah's father, she left for Belford, her mother's hometown, to help him, her savior, and to save her life.
Janet recalled the winter she first met Countess Claire and Celine. Ordered to keep watch over Admiral Claire, who was about to return, she rented a small house near his mansion and watched the surroundings every night. It was during this time that she witnessed Countess Claire emerge barefoot, holding a baby.
Although her clothes were luxurious, her hair was disheveled, and her face was pale and haggard, as if she hadn't eaten properly for several days, making her look like a dead person.
Where was she going with a baby in her arms at this hour of the night? Feeling uneasy, Janet decided to follow her secretly. At first glance, the woman, trudging barefoot along the snow-covered road, seemed distraught.
Her usually quite gentle, dull green eyes seemed focused solely on despair. After walking for a while, she reached the tall bell tower of a Gothic cathedral.
Janet followed Mrs. Claire cautiously, feeling an inexplicable sense of unease. The baby, wrapped in a quilted blanket, didn't cry in the sudden cold.
It seemed like she'd given her a cough medicine containing cannabis and opium, the kind used to put babies to sleep. With each step up the arched, cold stone steps, Janet's suspicion grew closer to certainty. She shivered, as if she could already see the shape of her anxiety. Only when she reached the top of the bell tower did she realize her uneasy intuition was right, and she cried out in a panic.
“Madam, why have you come here?”
She was already perched high on the large window ledge. The bitter midwinter wind whipped her platinum hair with a chilling roar, as if it were about to rip her hair off. Dressed in a white dressing gown, her long hair fluttering in the wind, she looked like the eerie apparition of a bell tower.
The wind was strong. Occasionally, she felt like she was going to lose her balance. Countess Claire, standing on the edge of a cliff, opened her mouth, her lips swollen and chapped.
"We're abandoned. We don't even feel the biting cold, nor the pain in our torn feet from walking all this way."
“Oh my god, ma’am.”
Janet took off the shawl she had wrapped around her head and came closer, making a pitiful sound.
“For the sake of the child, don’t think like that. She’s just like you, a true angel.”
"A child? I carried her alone for ten months, and even after she was born, I held vain hopes. I thought once the child was born, I'd see how beautiful my child was and change my mind."
Mrs. Claire's green eyes grew even more cloudy. It was a day when even tears would freeze, but they continued to drip, thawing her mangled, bare feet.
"My husband didn't come to see me even after the baby was born. He recently filed for divorce in writing, claiming he never loved me. He said he fell in love with another woman and that she had a child!"
Although Janet already knew of the admiral's atrocities, seeing the Countess's miserable appearance right before her eyes filled her with unbearable anger and pity.
“Madam, forget about that son of a bitch. We can start over.”
"Again? What else can I do? I'm left with nothing but anger, despair, and depression."
She smiled bitterly, her face tinged with despair. Even with her husband by her side, postpartum depression is bound to set in, and yet he's demanding a divorce because of an affair. What a cruel man he is. The hem of the Countess's skirt swayed, revealing her slender ankles. Beneath them, blood trickled from her bare feet, which were swollen and torn, crimson and red.
"Madam, if you can't tell your parents, come to my house. It won't be as comfortable as before, but I'm earning money and can help you care for the children. Don't try to kill yourself because of a man like that. Get revenge instead."
Janet continued to persuade her.
The Countess's eyes widened at the word "revenge." She stood precariously on the edge of life and death, as if ready to throw herself into the river of the underworld at any moment. She managed to suppress her emotions and smiled.
“I see. What is your name?”
“...This is Janet Evergreen.”
Janet gave her the pseudonym she uses here.
"You have a beautiful surname, meaning evergreen, evergreen. My daughter's name is Celine, and I..."
The woman's voice suddenly cut off, and a short scream was heard. Her platinum hair, bathed in moonlight, blew wildly, and her white skirt swayed up and down. The sight of her sliding down seemed fleeting, yet incredibly slow. Janet's eyes widened, and she looked down urgently.
A skinny hand, its knuckles protruding and white, held onto the railing with all its might, supporting herself and the baby. Janet tried to pull the Countess up with both hands, but it was too much. She could barely hold on, barely enough to keep from falling.
“Take the baby!”
The Countess cried out urgently. Her ability to cling to the railing with one hand was nothing short of superhuman.
“Is there anyone there? Please help me!”
Janet screamed for help, but there was no way anyone would be around at this hour.
“One, two, three, and I’ll pick up the baby, so pick up the baby first!”
“Ah! Madam! Just hold the baby a little. Then I’ll somehow pull it up!”
She cried out, "One, two, three." Janet recalls her voice as a desperate cry, as if pouring out her last breath. She handed over the baby, as if pouring out her last strength, and then, as if exhausted, she let go of Janet's hand, sagging.
"Ma'am!"
A smile of relief crossed Countess Claire's face as she saw the child safely cradled before the fall. Janet watched the poor woman plummet from life. Her fluttering dress and dazzling platinum hair made her look like a canary soaring into the winter night.
Ugh...
The baby in her arms awoke from her slumber and began to wail, a sound that seemed to tear apart. Perhaps aware of her mother's death, or perhaps mourning it, the round, beautiful child wept bitterly.
“Perhaps the three of us could have lived happily ever after. Even if it wasn't abundant, it was something small... If only I had spoken to you sooner. If only I had.”
Janet rubbed her cheek against the baby's cold, icy cheek, tears streaming down her face. Soon, like a child, she too burst into tears. The moment she'd lost her entire family came back to her, painfully. Janet longed to take the baby in and raise her, reminding her of her own deceased daughter. But, fearing she might be accused of murder or arouse suspicion, she decided to return her to the mansion.
“Poor baby, I will make sure you are loved.”
She went downstairs carrying the child, closed the woman's eyes, took her cold hand, and prayed for her.
“God, please allow her poor soul to reach the gates of heaven.”
Soon, news arrived that the admiral had returned from his stay at Medea. Concerned about Celine, Janet headed to the mansion upon hearing the news that a nanny was needed, and she was accepted as a nanny. The admiral's decision was made after seeing Celine, who had been weeping and feverish for days, stop crying and smile brightly upon seeing him.
One day, a year later, the admiral brought a baby with black hair from the St. Polmania Church orphanage. Janet discovered the baby's identity and reported it to the authorities, but the Duke and Duchess of Rotsilt had already passed away. As time passed, when Diana was seventeen, word arrived that their son, the Duke of Rotsilt, had completed preparations to retrieve her. They also requested that the Duke keep her identity completely confidential.
"Lady Diana, wouldn't you like to go out with me today? I'll buy you some pretty clothes."
Janet tried to persuade Diana to go outside with her, sneaking bread to her, but her hands were shaking, and her face was utterly fearful. She muttered palely.
“Nanny, if you do that, Father won’t stay still. You might even get scolded...”
"It's okay, Miss. What if you could leave this mansion and live happily ever after? You'd have plenty of delicious food, wear beautiful silk dresses, and live in a palace-like home."
"But I won't leave. My family is here. My sister, my father. And my nanny."
“Don’t you hate being treated like that?”
"...I don't really know what good treatment is. Nor the happiness Nanny spoke of. If I hate even my family, I'll have nothing left. This is the only place I can stay. Nanny, thank you for being so kind to me so far."
Tears of sorrow trickled from her large, hazy, gray-green eyes. Her gaze was one of utter resignation, a stare that belied such happiness as this. The poor woman had become subject to contempt and discrimination, conditioned to conformity, clinging to the bonds of family, even if they were a tenuous one, seeping through the narrow cracks. From her desperate perspective, that was all she had left to cling to.
Diana developed a pathological fear of disobeying the Admiral. She was so devoid of self-esteem that she accepted the subhuman treatment she felt, which included being forbidden from going outside and being denied proper food. All of this was the result of years of neglect and emotional abuse.
“I should have hidden the clothes my nanny bought me last time, but they got caught, and the maids tore them to pieces. I’m sorry.”
To Diana, happiness was like a pretty dress torn to shreds. It would eventually fall apart. It was empty and fleeting. Janet, seeing those eyes that held no hope, felt like crying. Even if she had told her that she was a Princess, she might have gone to the admiral to tell him. Janet, at a loss, could only stamp her feet.
Ultimately, Noah hatched a plan to kidnap Celine and exchange her for Diana. Janet felt sorry for Diana and desperately wanted to free her from this hell. In exchange for her cooperation, she made a request of Noah.
"I will protect the Princess well, so please do not harm Celine. Please provide her with a warm meal and a place to sleep until the day of the hostage exchange. She is like a daughter to me."
One day, with the plan's execution date just around the corner, Janet saw Diana with a cynical look on her face that she had never seen before.
She sat proudly on the hallway stool, arms crossed, legs crossed, and toes tapping. At first glance, she seemed bored. Janet, startled, hid behind the passageway and heard her coldly muttering to herself.
"There's not a single sane person in this trashy corner of the house. Wouldn't it be right for everyone, including the family and servants, to die?"
“If my daughter were alive, she would be married and have beautiful children by now.”
Janet muttered to herself. The radio was playing a message about additional policy decisions made during negotiations with Frogen after the ceasefire. Ambassador Belford, aware that this was a near-fatal defeat, recited the message in a calm, restrained voice.
Outside the window, bathed in afternoon sunlight, battleships and naval forces were seen returning to the harbor. It seemed that all but the warships left in territorial waters were returning. Janet felt certain that the war would not end here. It had been a long time since she arrived here. She had long since forgotten her hometown.
She was originally named Grita Evergreen, a member of the Frogen Security Service. Long ago, the Evergreen Baronial House was wiped out in a purge orchestrated by the mad Emperor of Frogen. Her mother, a Belford native, and her father, a local official, were the first to be taken away and executed. Next, her husband and daughter were next.
Having survived alone with the help of Duke Noel Rotsilt, Noah's father, she left for Belford, her mother's hometown, to help him, her savior, and to save her life.
Janet recalled the winter she first met Countess Claire and Celine. Ordered to keep watch over Admiral Claire, who was about to return, she rented a small house near his mansion and watched the surroundings every night. It was during this time that she witnessed Countess Claire emerge barefoot, holding a baby.
Although her clothes were luxurious, her hair was disheveled, and her face was pale and haggard, as if she hadn't eaten properly for several days, making her look like a dead person.
Where was she going with a baby in her arms at this hour of the night? Feeling uneasy, Janet decided to follow her secretly. At first glance, the woman, trudging barefoot along the snow-covered road, seemed distraught.
Her usually quite gentle, dull green eyes seemed focused solely on despair. After walking for a while, she reached the tall bell tower of a Gothic cathedral.
Janet followed Mrs. Claire cautiously, feeling an inexplicable sense of unease. The baby, wrapped in a quilted blanket, didn't cry in the sudden cold.
It seemed like she'd given her a cough medicine containing cannabis and opium, the kind used to put babies to sleep. With each step up the arched, cold stone steps, Janet's suspicion grew closer to certainty. She shivered, as if she could already see the shape of her anxiety. Only when she reached the top of the bell tower did she realize her uneasy intuition was right, and she cried out in a panic.
“Madam, why have you come here?”
She was already perched high on the large window ledge. The bitter midwinter wind whipped her platinum hair with a chilling roar, as if it were about to rip her hair off. Dressed in a white dressing gown, her long hair fluttering in the wind, she looked like the eerie apparition of a bell tower.
The wind was strong. Occasionally, she felt like she was going to lose her balance. Countess Claire, standing on the edge of a cliff, opened her mouth, her lips swollen and chapped.
"We're abandoned. We don't even feel the biting cold, nor the pain in our torn feet from walking all this way."
“Oh my god, ma’am.”
Janet took off the shawl she had wrapped around her head and came closer, making a pitiful sound.
“For the sake of the child, don’t think like that. She’s just like you, a true angel.”
"A child? I carried her alone for ten months, and even after she was born, I held vain hopes. I thought once the child was born, I'd see how beautiful my child was and change my mind."
Mrs. Claire's green eyes grew even more cloudy. It was a day when even tears would freeze, but they continued to drip, thawing her mangled, bare feet.
"My husband didn't come to see me even after the baby was born. He recently filed for divorce in writing, claiming he never loved me. He said he fell in love with another woman and that she had a child!"
Although Janet already knew of the admiral's atrocities, seeing the Countess's miserable appearance right before her eyes filled her with unbearable anger and pity.
“Madam, forget about that son of a bitch. We can start over.”
"Again? What else can I do? I'm left with nothing but anger, despair, and depression."
She smiled bitterly, her face tinged with despair. Even with her husband by her side, postpartum depression is bound to set in, and yet he's demanding a divorce because of an affair. What a cruel man he is. The hem of the Countess's skirt swayed, revealing her slender ankles. Beneath them, blood trickled from her bare feet, which were swollen and torn, crimson and red.
"Madam, if you can't tell your parents, come to my house. It won't be as comfortable as before, but I'm earning money and can help you care for the children. Don't try to kill yourself because of a man like that. Get revenge instead."
Janet continued to persuade her.
The Countess's eyes widened at the word "revenge." She stood precariously on the edge of life and death, as if ready to throw herself into the river of the underworld at any moment. She managed to suppress her emotions and smiled.
“I see. What is your name?”
“...This is Janet Evergreen.”
Janet gave her the pseudonym she uses here.
"You have a beautiful surname, meaning evergreen, evergreen. My daughter's name is Celine, and I..."
The woman's voice suddenly cut off, and a short scream was heard. Her platinum hair, bathed in moonlight, blew wildly, and her white skirt swayed up and down. The sight of her sliding down seemed fleeting, yet incredibly slow. Janet's eyes widened, and she looked down urgently.
A skinny hand, its knuckles protruding and white, held onto the railing with all its might, supporting herself and the baby. Janet tried to pull the Countess up with both hands, but it was too much. She could barely hold on, barely enough to keep from falling.
“Take the baby!”
The Countess cried out urgently. Her ability to cling to the railing with one hand was nothing short of superhuman.
“Is there anyone there? Please help me!”
Janet screamed for help, but there was no way anyone would be around at this hour.
“One, two, three, and I’ll pick up the baby, so pick up the baby first!”
“Ah! Madam! Just hold the baby a little. Then I’ll somehow pull it up!”
She cried out, "One, two, three." Janet recalls her voice as a desperate cry, as if pouring out her last breath. She handed over the baby, as if pouring out her last strength, and then, as if exhausted, she let go of Janet's hand, sagging.
"Ma'am!"
A smile of relief crossed Countess Claire's face as she saw the child safely cradled before the fall. Janet watched the poor woman plummet from life. Her fluttering dress and dazzling platinum hair made her look like a canary soaring into the winter night.
Ugh...
The baby in her arms awoke from her slumber and began to wail, a sound that seemed to tear apart. Perhaps aware of her mother's death, or perhaps mourning it, the round, beautiful child wept bitterly.
“Perhaps the three of us could have lived happily ever after. Even if it wasn't abundant, it was something small... If only I had spoken to you sooner. If only I had.”
Janet rubbed her cheek against the baby's cold, icy cheek, tears streaming down her face. Soon, like a child, she too burst into tears. The moment she'd lost her entire family came back to her, painfully. Janet longed to take the baby in and raise her, reminding her of her own deceased daughter. But, fearing she might be accused of murder or arouse suspicion, she decided to return her to the mansion.
“Poor baby, I will make sure you are loved.”
She went downstairs carrying the child, closed the woman's eyes, took her cold hand, and prayed for her.
“God, please allow her poor soul to reach the gates of heaven.”
Soon, news arrived that the admiral had returned from his stay at Medea. Concerned about Celine, Janet headed to the mansion upon hearing the news that a nanny was needed, and she was accepted as a nanny. The admiral's decision was made after seeing Celine, who had been weeping and feverish for days, stop crying and smile brightly upon seeing him.
One day, a year later, the admiral brought a baby with black hair from the St. Polmania Church orphanage. Janet discovered the baby's identity and reported it to the authorities, but the Duke and Duchess of Rotsilt had already passed away. As time passed, when Diana was seventeen, word arrived that their son, the Duke of Rotsilt, had completed preparations to retrieve her. They also requested that the Duke keep her identity completely confidential.
"Lady Diana, wouldn't you like to go out with me today? I'll buy you some pretty clothes."
Janet tried to persuade Diana to go outside with her, sneaking bread to her, but her hands were shaking, and her face was utterly fearful. She muttered palely.
“Nanny, if you do that, Father won’t stay still. You might even get scolded...”
"It's okay, Miss. What if you could leave this mansion and live happily ever after? You'd have plenty of delicious food, wear beautiful silk dresses, and live in a palace-like home."
"But I won't leave. My family is here. My sister, my father. And my nanny."
“Don’t you hate being treated like that?”
"...I don't really know what good treatment is. Nor the happiness Nanny spoke of. If I hate even my family, I'll have nothing left. This is the only place I can stay. Nanny, thank you for being so kind to me so far."
Tears of sorrow trickled from her large, hazy, gray-green eyes. Her gaze was one of utter resignation, a stare that belied such happiness as this. The poor woman had become subject to contempt and discrimination, conditioned to conformity, clinging to the bonds of family, even if they were a tenuous one, seeping through the narrow cracks. From her desperate perspective, that was all she had left to cling to.
Diana developed a pathological fear of disobeying the Admiral. She was so devoid of self-esteem that she accepted the subhuman treatment she felt, which included being forbidden from going outside and being denied proper food. All of this was the result of years of neglect and emotional abuse.
“I should have hidden the clothes my nanny bought me last time, but they got caught, and the maids tore them to pieces. I’m sorry.”
To Diana, happiness was like a pretty dress torn to shreds. It would eventually fall apart. It was empty and fleeting. Janet, seeing those eyes that held no hope, felt like crying. Even if she had told her that she was a Princess, she might have gone to the admiral to tell him. Janet, at a loss, could only stamp her feet.
Ultimately, Noah hatched a plan to kidnap Celine and exchange her for Diana. Janet felt sorry for Diana and desperately wanted to free her from this hell. In exchange for her cooperation, she made a request of Noah.
"I will protect the Princess well, so please do not harm Celine. Please provide her with a warm meal and a place to sleep until the day of the hostage exchange. She is like a daughter to me."
One day, with the plan's execution date just around the corner, Janet saw Diana with a cynical look on her face that she had never seen before.
She sat proudly on the hallway stool, arms crossed, legs crossed, and toes tapping. At first glance, she seemed bored. Janet, startled, hid behind the passageway and heard her coldly muttering to herself.
"There's not a single sane person in this trashy corner of the house. Wouldn't it be right for everyone, including the family and servants, to die?"
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