A Story Without The Villains Is Boring

Chapter 48: VIP treatment

A hushed symphony of male and female murmurs filled the air, weaving a conversation that embraced my awakening consciousness. It appeared that I had slumbered within the confines of the carriage.

I rubbed my eyes briefly, clarifying my vision, and in that moment, the absence of Grace became apparent.

"...... Grace?"

Meanwhile, distant mumbles continued to linger in the backdrop.

The rhythm of galloping had ceased, and the sensation of movement dissipated. Evidently, the carriage had come to a standstill.

A diminutive curtain veiled a narrow window on the side, so I drew it aside, exposing myself to the harsh light that seared my eyes.

"Still morning.....?"

I was taken aback, though it was not morning but afternoon. As my eyes adjusted to the sudden brilliance, I spotted Grace in conversation with the coachmen.

Their words exchanged in hushed tones, likely out of consideration for my slumber. I tapped the windowpane to gain their attention, successfully capturing Grace's gaze, which prompted her to approach and unlatch the carriage door.

"Young miss, did we disturb your rest?" Her voice was carrying a genuine concern.

“Yes. What's happening? Why is the carriage stopping?” I inquired of her, then swiftly moved on to another query. The coachmen overheard and stepped forward, poised to elucidate.

"Young Miss of Elsteel, I humbly apologize for the inconvenience. The horses necessitate a reprieve every four hours."

His explanation just made me irritated.

"A horse can stride for up to eight hours. Are you making me dumb?"

At this, the coachmen abruptly descended to his knees, as if imploring for clemency. Grace, caught off guard by this sudden display, mirrored his astonishment.

"I deserve death, young miss! I beseech you, END ME!" He pleaded in desperation.

"W-What the heck are you d-doing? You're scaring me!"

Grace shared in his bewilderment. I hadn't anticipated that the coachman, assigned by my family, would be so unhinged.

What's happening? I was only telling him that I'm not that easy to be fooled and that I need a real explanation regarding the situation with my carriage. Why is he begging me to kill him?

"Please, young lady of Elsteel, end my life!"

In light of this, Grace regarded me with an incredulous expression, a mix of disbelief and shock.

"It's not what you think, Grace!" I interjected, preempting any misconceptions.

"Young miss, I hadn't realized you treated the household staff so harshly..." Grace responded, her features tinted with sympathy.

"I told you, it's not as it seems! This guy is a real weirdo!"

"Young lady, indeed, I am peculiar! Please, permit me to meet my end!"

W-What’s up with him?

My mind was a jumble, transitioning from a household of troubled individuals to yet another quandary. This was becoming a headache.

The coachman continued to beseech for death at the carriage door, and I don't have a mind to kill him since I don't know where my house is or to lead the horses.

"Rise. I won't kill you. If you perish, who will drive us? And if my family learns of my absence, your family might suffer consequences." I rambled, voicing the remnants of my thoughts, which surprisingly seemed to strike a chord.

The coachman stood, then proceeded to unravel the entire scenario. His lengthy explanations were wearing, and Grace too appeared fatigued.

My intuition proved correct. A typical horse can endure eight hours without respite. However, the horses drawing this carriage were a gift from the royal palace, conditioned to navigate precisely and efficiently due to rigorous training.

To prolong their lifespan, a four-hour interval is the maximum permissible.

"So, when might we expect to continue our journey?" I asked, only to receive a sorrowful expression in return.

"... It is already afternoon, young miss of Elsteel. The horses shall rest for three hours. By that time, dusk will pose a danger."

This was growing precarious. Why must my family be so imprudent? Though it feels extravagant to be treated as a VIP with these useless trained horses given from the royals, how can they send me a horse that can only run bare minimum?

"Will another carriage be dispatched by my family?" I gazed at him with desperation. "Surely, they'll send a backup carriage, considering the impending twilight. Won't they? Right?"

My voice reverberated with fear, my words trembling. To my dismay, Grace shook her head in response.

"W-What do you mean, Grace?!"

"Young miss, we discussed this scenario earlier. This location offers us safety to rest until tomorrow."

Grace's response was composed, untroubled. She appeared unworried, which baffled me entirely.

“How can you be so calm! WHAT IF THERE'S DANGER LURKING HERE?!”

I hadn't anticipated such an occurrence. Due to my heightened stress and concerns, I suddenly burst into the carriage and raised my voice at her. Grace visibly startled and took a step back.

At that moment, memories of her past, trembling with fear, rushed back to me, and my conscience was overwhelmed by remorse.

"I'm s-sorry about that." I murmured, my guilt weighing heavily on me.

Grace remained silent, though her stance portrayed strength, I could discern the underlying fear she concealed. This was evident from her downward gaze; she was looking at the ground.

The two of us fell into silence, prompting the coachman to make efforts to placate and reassure me.

"Young miss of Elsteel, I sincerely apologize for the predicament I have caused. However, I pledge to protect you unwaveringly under the banner of the crest etched close to my heart." He declared, exuding confidence...

.....Yet the line felt rather contrived. It was cringe. Nonetheless, his excessively confident demeanor managed to instill some calm within me.

I acknowledged with a subtle nod, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance on my face. "You better do so." I retorted.

With that, I closed the carriage door behind me. Leaning back, I noticed a sensation of heat. The air felt dry, prompting me to retrieve the ornate fan Sherly had gifted me.

Had the fan not been as ornate, I might have declined it. To my astonishment, when I unfurled the fan too abruptly, a small knife emerged from its guard.

For a brief moment, I entertained the thought that Sherly was attempting to assassinate me. However, perhaps this was merely a decorative element.

Was it a reflection of the prevailing fashion in this realm? Or was it intended as a means of defense?

I considered acquiring a similar fan, but with a larger blade concealed within.

As I tried to soothe myself, I failed to realize that my eyes had already closed.