The Maid of the Cursed Princess

If asked which country is the most powerful on this continent, one would give the same answer every time. Orléans, the country where the sun never sets.

To the extent that even the expressions ‘Emperor’ and ‘Empire’ that no one else on the continent dared to use were slowly being adopted without any backlash, the might of Orléans was overwhelming.

So it was no surprise that Hyperion, the capital of Orléans, was the greatest metropolis on the continent.

El Dorado, the City of Gold – the nickname given by some explorer who discovered the city while traveling an unknown continent had now become Hyperion’s nickname. The nobles of the city boasted that there was no city more deserving of the nickname ‘City of Gold’ in this world than Hyperion.

But the brighter the light, the bigger the shadow. For the slum rats hiding in the shadows where the sun didn’t shine, this city was still the City of Gold.

Among those slum rats hiding in the shadows cast by the City of Gold, there was one man.

In the northwestern part of Hyperion, there was a slum district. All the poor who had migrated to the city to make a living, unable to withstand the exploitation of the feudal lords or for other reasons, were crammed into the northwestern quarter of the city.

Why the northwest? The reason was simple yet utterly childish. According to the royal family who claimed descent from the sun and the central nobles who followed them, the lowly poor weren’t worthy of receiving the grace of the sun.

Thus, the slums were located in the northwest, where the sun shone the least, by the standards of those arrogant humans who claimed to know the will of the sun.

“…”

Walking down the streets of the slum district, the man took out a cigarette and lit it, to fill his lungs with just a little more of the acrid, pungent smoke.

His destination was a place filled with the stench of all sorts of potent chemicals, stronger than the foul stench of this filthy slum. If he didn’t smoke beforehand, he might lose his mind from that potent smell.

11 Sangsong Street. The address of the destination designated long ago by the now meaningless Hyperion City Hall. A three-story building that appears when turning right from the main street into an alley, then right again.

The man nonchalantly opened the dilapidated, practically useless door and entered, sliding an old cabinet to reveal a basement staircase that an ordinary person would never dare to descend.

After descending three and a half spiral staircases, he arrived at his destination.

“What is it, couldn’t hold back from crawling in again?”

The one who greeted him with a voice mixed with boredom and welcome in a 9:1 ratio was a girl who did or didn’t seem to fit in with this slum, at least in appearance.

“Half a day. It’s only been half a day since you received your payment for the last request. What did you do to forget that much money so quickly?”

The man was a so-called fixer who took on requests and resolved issues. Of course, while called a fixer, he was closer to an errand boy who took on all sorts of odd jobs.

And this girl in a witch’s disguise, known as the Witch by the slum residents, was the middleman who arranged requests for him in Orléans.

“Gambling.”

“…I see.”

Alcohol, tobacco, gambling. The reasons his wallet was always starving, despite his never meager earnings.

“Couldn’t you do just one or two, or hell, even skip the gambling? You blow through money so fast that’s why it runs out immediately.”

The witch didn’t like the man’s ways. His pattern of blowing through all his money shortly after completing a request, becoming broke, and then coming back to ask for another request annoyed her greatly.

“Request.”

“Alright, alright. As it happens, a request perfectly suited for you just came in.”

Thus, the witch had been waiting for an opportunity – an opportunity to be rid of the man.

“What was the longest outstanding request you’ve had before?”

“Two weeks.”

A request with a long deadline meant the man wouldn’t be a nuisance for that period.

“This one could take at least a few years. Does that matter?”

Hence, the witch silently prayed that the man would accept this request.

“Payment?”

“Incomparable to any request you’ve done before. Enough for three generations to live off of. The client said they’ll cover all expenses incurred during the request.”

“Fine.”

Fortunately for the witch, the man readily accepted the request. For a man whose biggest concern was money, there was no better justification to act than a massive reward.

“The target and target’s location are-“

“Calm down, there’s something to do first.”

But this time was different.

“From now on.”

This request was one that would give even a man as money-crazed as him pause.

“You’ll have to become a maid.”

An insane-

“…What?”

No, a special request.

“A maid… the kind I’m thinking of?”

Normally when one thinks of a maid, the image is of a female servant in uniform attending to a noble.

“You don’t really look the maid type, even if you put on the outfit.”

“Who would have a maid that looks like an uncouth brute like you?”

But as a man, he couldn’t be a maid. Even if he looked delicate like a woman or was young, let alone his height being a palm taller than most people.

“So you’re to drink this.”

The witch was not unaware of what even the not-so-bright man knew.

“What is this?”

“A potion to turn you into a woman.”

Thus, the witch had prepared the most crucial element for this request.

“…Become a woman just for one request?”

“Don’t want to?”

Seeing the man show his displeasure, the witch chuckled.

“A down payment of 4 million louvres.”

“I’ve always wanted to live as a woman for once.”

For the witch knew his weakness all too well.

“First drink it while I tell you what needs to be done.”

The man, silently alternating his gaze between the witch whose laughter showed no signs of fading and the ominous potion vial, briefly hesitated.

“…”

But soon drank the potion without further ado.

* * *

The King of Orléans, Charles XIII, officially acknowledges only three children.

Though in reality he has far more children, he has only three legitimate children with the Queen – two sons and one daughter.

-Please protect the youngest Princess of Orléans.

A request had come in to guard Sibylla Thérèse d’Orléans, the youngest of those three siblings.

-But doesn’t the royal palace have a royal guard?

The man couldn’t understand the request, for the Hyperion palace already had a royal guard formed solely to protect the royal family.

-If the royal guard could completely free the Orléans royals from the threat of assassination, they wouldn’t be so constantly anxious.

However, the royal guard pledges allegiance only to the royal family and the King, not to each individual member of the royal family.

-The client is asking you to become part of the Princess’s inner circle. The current Princess has not a single attendant, let alone a vassal.

Within the royal family, the Princess’s standing is lower than even the King’s illegitimate children, so much so that she can scarcely find any attendants.

-But why? She is a Princess acknowledged by the King as his child, not a bastard.

Even children born with disabilities or violent tendencies would have at least one or two attendants if they had the legitimate royal bloodline. What is the issue?

-Have you heard of the curse afflicting the Orléans royal family?

To the man showing confusion, the witch explained the ancient tale passed down through the mouths and songs of wandering bards.

-You already know the story that the first wife of Jason, the founder of the Orléans Kingdom, was a witch.

The story of how Jason rose from a common sailor to become a sovereign ruler has been famous since long ago. Equally famous was his utterly licentious relationships with women.

The heroic Jason sailed around the world achieving great deeds, meeting and parting with countless women along the way. Among them was the witch Medea, who wielded magic.

-Medea truly loved Jason, but Jason abandoned Medea.

Despite Medea’s help throughout his journey, in the end Jason discarded Medea who had devoted herself to him so.

Why did Jason abandon Medea? Some say it was due to ambition, others that he grew tired of her cruel nature.

But whatever the reason, it meant nothing to Medea. In the end, what mattered was that she had been abandoned.

-Resenting Jason who abandoned her, Medea cursed his bloodline with a rotting curse.

Since then until now, the curse has been passed down through Jason’s bloodline, the Orléans royal family, manifesting in the youngest surviving member of the lineage.

When the cursed one dies, it passes to the next youngest of the lineage, and when that bloodline dies, to the next youngest.

-And this time, the one cursed is that Princess.

The man finally realized why the Princess had no attendants.

-It’s like being a leper, isn’t it?

No one willingly approaches a disfigured, foul-smelling patient out of an unconscious fear of contracting the disease.

Yet they couldn’t simply leave a member of the royal bloodline to suffer and die, so they must have sought an attendant from outside – which is how a mere commoner like him got the chance to attend the Princess.

“Halt, this is sacred royal ground. Without proof of your status, we cannot admit you.”

Ah, how pitiful.

“Here is my letter of recommendation.”

“A new servant? The post assigned to you is… the High Tower?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“…You’ll have a hard time then. You may enter.”

“Thank you.”

Receiving an escort from the guard who turned kindly upon seeing the words ‘High Tower’ on his letter of recommendation, the man, no, the maid, slowly advanced forward.

Toward a journey longer than any request so far.

–…So the name, are you really going with that?

-Yeah, it’s simple and nice. Doesn’t really stand out either.

-Well, do as you please. It’s the name you’ll be using after all. My little bird, no…

…Dorothy Gale.