Opting to ignore me? Yikes.
I lie on the floor, left to hold the pointy edge of the door.
With a push, I slam it shut.
Good riddance! Count your days, gal, you'll be first on my hit list.
The pain vanished all at once. Not only that, but my body became clean, as if I had taken a good shower. Whatever happened to me didn't clean the dress or fix my messy hair, though.
I rise from the floor to change clothes. The frilled blue gown slips off easily, gathering in a heap around my feet.
The closet I approach stands neatly in the corner of the room. As I open it, I'm met with a disappointingly poor collection: just six dresses are inside.
I should get used to such discoveries at this point. I take the pink one and dress myself in it.
It was fun while it lasted, but the act of a spoiled brat must come to an end now.
So, redemption. How am I going to achieve it? In fact, all of the necessary conditions are there.
Imagine this: a wayward maiden suffers yet another bout of mistreatment. Consequently, she has a miraculous stroke of epiphany, changes her ways, and suddenly everyone gravitates toward her newfound charm. The story resolves itself. That's how I envision it.
"Lady Aeliana, housekeeping."
A voice I haven't heard before pulls me out of my thoughts.
I open the door.
"Oh."
Standing before me is a maid. She's the one who, based on my observations, didn't engage in recent group bullying.
"You changed by yourself. A rare sight to witness. Well then, let me take your dirty clothes."
She still doesn't adhere to the basic 'master-servant' subordination like the others. Nevertheless, this particular maid isn't eager to pick fights with me. Just how low has the bar fallen?
Anywho, to me, she's a perfect starting point.
I hand her the wrinkled blue dress as politely as I can, and with an innocent "Uhm," I enact my plan.
"Could I have your name, please?"
"Hm? Sure. My name is Eliza. Eliza Dounkaun."
"Well, Eliza Dounkaun, I have a favor to ask," I seize her attention. "After everything I've gone through, I've realized something. It was all for my own good. I promise to act more sensibly from now on."
As I utter this with puppy eyes, her expression gradually shifts from surprise to outright confusion.
"W-well, what is it you want to request from me?"
"Spread the word. Inform others that I'll try my best to be a worthy lady from now on. It's all I need."
"O-of course, I'll heed your words," she stammers, clutching my rumpled dress before hurrying away.
I'll let the word of mouth do the heavy lifting.
---
How did it go? The short answer is that I don't know.
The long answer is that over the past two days, maids tried to mop the floor with my face again. But instead of screaming and cursing, I politely asked them to stop and said that I have changed.
The split-second confusion froze the entire mob before they resumed the belittling. But. Something felt off in the way they carried it out after hearing what I had to say. I don't have the right words to describe it, but was it that their lashings became slower? Softer? Or even careful?
I like to think that this is the result of Eliza's admonitions to her peers. Maybe a moment of clarity struck their brains, reminding them that the subject of abuse that fed their sadistic needs was a child of nobility. And that this child of nobility tolerated their 'disciplinary measures' only because she needed a catalyst for change. And now, when the catalyst has exhausted itself, the 'disciplinary measures' have become obsolete.
Right now, I am in my room, waiting for that healer gal.
*Knock knock.*
"Lady Aeliana, healing."
A familiar sweet voice calls me. She enters and starts to unpack as she did before.
"I- I apologize."
"Hm?"
Her gaze shifts from that wide-open toolbox of hers to me.
"I apologize for my brash words I said to you. Your job is clearly important for my sustenance, and I was insensible for even questioning it. I'll try to do better than that."
"Hmpf." Her lips curl upward.
Validation is her everything, apparently.
"Well, well, well. How the turntables. Is it the Marquess' daughter herself saying sorry to me? The one who uses profanity every time a needle enters her? The one who calls me names?"
"And I'm sorry for that."
"How will you convince me?"
"I will try not to budge while you perform the procedure. I will try to stay silent. All for your convenience."
After thoughtfully rubbing her chin for a bit, she lights up with "Alright, let's see."
Positioning herself on top of me as usual, she started the injections. Of course, they hurt. But not a whimper will escape from my lips today. My face is a stone. A poker face.
Gradually, she increases the pressure applied to the tip of each needle, which makes it even more painful.
My temples expand, sweat starts to form on my forehead, but it doesn't go beyond that.
Finally, she takes the largest needle, holds it with both hands, and presses harder than necessary, watching for any reaction.
Nuh-uh, not happening.
After witnessing how it completely disappears into my body, I look at the healer.
She is flabbergasted. A forceful smile, a twitching eye.
"Splendid," she notes, totally neutrally. "Truly. Now that's an attitude I expect from my patients, well done~e~e! I hope you'll continue to act docile from now on."
She gathers her toolbox and promptly leaves. Not without kindly closing the door after herself this time. Whatever bats she has in the bellfry, I don't care. Just don't pick on me anymore.
I think I'm done with the healer and the maids; now I need to make sure the overall aggression recedes.