The Opposite of Indifference - Chapter 2

Millicent hesitated for a moment.

Lately, things had been confusing. When she first set foot in the royal palace, she was an assassin disguised as a maid. But now, after being worked to exhaustion with menial tasks, she felt like she had forgotten how to kill.

“You do know your own name, don’t you?”

As her silence stretched, the man playfully asked again.

“Of course I do.”

Millicent snapped her eyes open.

No, she was still an assassin disguised as a maid. Hastily, she clung to the fading remnants of her identity.

That’s why she hesitated. She was an assassin, after all—should she really be scattering her presence so freely?

But then again, while she was stuck in the palace as a maid, she would inevitably run into suppliers who delivered goods to the royal court. Establishing some relationships might not be a bad idea. If she got close to people, she might overhear useful rumors.

“Millicent.”

In the end, she chose to offer a small introduction.

“Surname?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a surname?”

There was no reason to explain.

“If you need one, just make something up. Hmm, how about Smith? Millicent Smith.”

Since it was made up on the spot, it was predictably awful.

“…Make something up?”

The hunter looked dumbfounded. His sharp and cold impression softened for the first time.

“Well, fine. Millicent, is it?”

He quietly repeated her name.

“It’s a nice name, but I feel like another one would suit you better.”

“What?”

The man tilted his head, and as he did, his black hair fell gracefully to one side.

“…Something like Anne would suit you more.”

For a brief moment, Millicent felt caught off guard.

But she didn’t waver. There was no need to overthink it. He was just making idle conversation, not uncovering her identity.

“And do you have a perfectly fitting name?”

Annoyed at being teased, Millicent raised an eyebrow.

“Freddie,” he answered. “Though no one actually calls me that, it is my name.”

“Maybe it doesn’t suit you, and that’s why no one calls you that.”

His tone had been somewhat meaningful, but Millicent was too focused on her retort to pay it any mind.

“It’s too friendly a name for such a menacing face.”

“That’s harsh.”

The hunter laughed again, just as he had before, as if he found her words amusing.

“No one’s ever said that about my face before. Everyone just… says I look good.”

It seemed he was humbly skirting around the fact that he knew he was handsome.

Millicent scoffed. “Oh? So did people just faint at the sight of your face or something?”

Surprisingly, he didn’t deny it—he simply smiled. And yet, it didn’t come off as arrogant or conceited. Rather, it felt like a natural reaction befitting someone with sculpted marble-like features.

“Good thing, then. Plenty of people to faint in my place.”

“In your place?”

“Yes. Because something like that doesn’t faze me in the slightest.”

Millicent deliberately provoked him.

“Next time we meet, make sure to show up looking even better. Maybe then I’ll actually be impressed.”

“We’ll meet again?” The man chuckled. “Glad to hear you think so, too.”

His whispered response carried an oddly meaningful tone.

“What’s there to be glad about?”

Millicent took it literally.

“Why do I have to manage the palace’s storage? And run errands like this? It’s exhausting and annoying.”

Grumbling, she grabbed the cart’s handle.

“If you pity me, just keep bringing fresh meat. I don’t want to get scolded by the head maid.”

She turned away, pulling the cart loaded with deer.

“…Millicent.”

But the man called out to her.

“Ugh, what now?”

“Make sure you remember.”

“Remember what?”

Millicent was growing irritated—why was he holding her up just to say pointless things?

“My face.”

The man wasn’t fazed by her curt response.

“If you want to compare whether I show up looking even better next time, you have to remember.”

His tone was strangely ambiguous. He spoke as if it were a wish—yet at the same time, she got the odd feeling that this wasn’t the wish he truly wanted to make.

“Fine, just make sure to actually improve your looks.”

But Millicent, oblivious as ever, brushed it off without a second thought.

“I have high standards, you know.”

She spun on her heel. Her nape prickled with the feeling of being watched, but the man didn’t call out to her again. And Millicent didn’t look back.

Yet, something about this errand felt off. The moment she returned with the meat cart, the old maid Tracy practically jumped.

“Why did you bring deer? And only two of them?”

“Why?”

“You were supposed to bring larks! They’re the main dish for the banquet!”

Millicent tilted her head in confusion. “There were only deer.”

“Wait, what is this? These weren’t even shot with arrows. They look like they just… died naturally. How are we supposed to prepare them like this?!”

Tracy, far more experienced in handling meat, examined the carcasses and gasped in horror.

“Give me the receipt.”

Only then did Millicent realize what she had forgotten.

“I lost it.”

Tracy’s eyes widened in shock.

“Then I’ll have to deduct the cost from your wages.”

She was about to argue, but then she realized that the wages she earned from maid work were mere pennies. That wasn’t where Millicent’s real money came from.

“Fine. It can’t be helped.”

Despite her calm acceptance, Tracy fumed.

“People are desperate for the honor of supplying goods to the royal palace, yet that man has the audacity to pull this nonsense!”

She clenched her apron tightly.

“I’ll call him back myself and give him a piece of my mind. I should take this chance to rip out that disgusting mustache of his.”

“What mustache?”

Without answering, Tracy stormed off.

Left alone, Millicent found herself in a baffling mystery, recalling the hunter’s face—smooth, without a trace of a mustache.

It was time to explain why Millicent insisted on calling herself an assassin.

Night had fallen. Under the guise of running an errand from the kitchen, Millicent headed toward the Queen’s Palace. At this late hour, all of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting had retired, leaving only a single maid bustling about, preparing a warming pan for the bed.

“So, how is playing the role of a maid?”

Parting the luxurious curtains, a woman appeared.

Her reddish-gold hair spilled out from beneath a headdress embroidered with pearls. Her pale face was sharply defined with light brown eyes, a pointed nose, and thin lips. A yellow gown cinched tightly at the bodice accentuated her exceptionally slender waist.

“Your Majesty, the Queen.”

Millicent stopped swinging her legs, which she had been shaking impatiently. She hesitated before attempting a curtsy, which turned into an unsteady, wobbly motion, bordering on the clumsy sway of a drunkard.

“Still amusing, I see.”

The Queen observed the display with cool wit.

She was undoubtedly beautiful, yet there was something androgynous about her appearance. Her eyes, especially, held that quality—a deep, dreamy air tinged with cynicism. They were fierce, almost rebellious, entirely at odds with her delicate frame.

She didn’t seem like a queen at all.

“But I didn’t hire you for entertainment,” she added coldly.

Indeed, the Queen of the Holy Kingdom of Kintland, Jadalin, was the one who had hired the assassin Millicent.

“Well, I’ve had plenty of time to realize that this disguise is the worst undercover job I’ve ever taken.”

Millicent, who was bluntly unfriendly to everyone—whether royalty or employer—responded curtly.

“And what exactly has been so difficult?”

Queen Jadalin did not seem particularly offended.

Millicent replied, “The endless piles of laundry are dreadful. Managing the kitchen’s storage is even worse.”

Just the other day, she had been so disgusted after hauling out bucketfuls of rotting ingredients that had spoiled before they could even be dried or pickled.

“Maid work in the palace is nothing extraordinary.”

Unconcerned, Queen Jadalin waved a hand dismissively.

“What were you expecting?”

“To straighten Your Majesty’s gown, do some sewing for the poor… Isn’t that what palace maids usually do?” Millicent grumbled.

“That is the work of ladies-in-waiting from noble families.”

Jadalin’s eyes glinted coldly as she continued, “The very women you are meant to kill.”

“Indeed. I have five women to eliminate,” Millicent muttered indifferently. “But I’ve been so busy washing about a hundred shirts a day that I haven’t even started.”

“You need a proper excuse to approach my ladies-in-waiting.”

Jadalin mused for a moment.

“Do you have any special skills?”

“I know a lot about herbs.”

“Anything more suited to charming idle young women?”

“I can read fortunes with cards.”

Millicent considered what pastimes might appeal to noblewomen with no real concerns.

“I can also do some basic astrology.”

“Perfect.” Jadalin nodded. “I’ll spread rumors that you double as an apothecary and fortune teller while scrubbing bed sheets. Once people start talking, you’ll be no different from a court jester.”

“If I attract too much attention, it’ll be problematic,” Millicent protested reluctantly.

“Foolish girl.” Jadalin scoffed. “Court ladies pay no mind to what goes unnoticed. If you remain invisible, you’ll never get close enough to poison them.”

Millicent had a general sense of how the palace’s social circles worked—the pursuit of vanity and pleasure dominated the court. This job was getting even more complicated. Instead of acting from the shadows, she would have to kill while standing in the light.

“Can you do it?” Jadalin asked pointedly.

“Yes. Somehow.”

Millicent, therefore, had to answer just as plainly.

“When Cardinal Mullery first introduced me to Your Majesty, I simply accepted the request…”

Cautiously, she steered the conversation in a different direction.

“But why do you want your ladies-in-waiting dead?”

She had agreed to the job without hesitation, not bothering to ask the reason. However, it occurred to her that the more she knew about her employer, the better.

“Are you hungry, by any chance?”

Jadalin gestured toward the table, where white bread, a block of cheese, and biscuits thickly coated in chocolate sat.

It was clearly a sign that this conversation would be a long one.