9

Freya

"Freya." A voice I detested appeared above my head.

My fingers were on the piano keys, but I didn't press down for a long time.

Tracy's face didn't have the fake sisterly smile she wore with me last night. Now it was another kind - the kind she used when she felt she didn't need to hide, contemptuous, condescending, with a hint of genuine anger.

Tracy was followed by two female companions I didn't recognize, but judging by their dress and posture, they were the type accustomed to adding fuel to the fire for their master.

I was working and didn't want direct conflict with her. I stood up, lifted my skirt hem, and curtsied politely: "Tracy, I need to play piano. Please don't disturb me."

Unfortunately, she didn't seem to plan on letting me go. Ignoring my explanation, she suddenly slammed the piano lid shut.

The lid made an extremely loud noise. Fortunately I withdrew my hands quickly, or I couldn't imagine - I was certain my knuckles would have been broken by her action.

"I never expected," Tracy began, her voice not raised high but loud enough for several surrounding tables to hear, "that you would actually come to this kind of place to play piano for people."

I didn't speak immediately. The sounds in the hall didn't stop - the clinking of cutlery continued, the whispers continued, but I knew several tables had turned their ears our way.

After all, this was clearly Tracy looking for trouble.

"Laura had something urgent come up," I explained flatly, "I'm covering her shift."

"Covering her shift," Tracy repeated, the inflection in her tone carrying obvious mockery, as if repeating something that sounded ridiculous, "I already told you not to associate with that low-class inferior person. See, I said she would teach you to be equally inferior. Oh right, you were already quite inferior to begin with."

"But before you do anything that lowers your value, could you think about your status?" She poked my shoulder with her finger, using enough force as if she wanted to pierce through.

The pain made me frown slightly, and I heard her continue lecturing: "You're part of the Fergus family. Although your status at home isn't high, coming to a restaurant to play piano - Freya, do you know how this makes you look—"

"Tracy," I knew Tracy was about to say something even more ridiculous and quickly interrupted her, "This is a business establishment, and moreover, the people who frequent here are all of extraordinary status. I advise you to be careful with your words."

Tracy's expression changed - that familiar moment of being stunned after being contradicted, then anger quickly filled in, exceeding the dignity she originally wanted to maintain.

I was just kindly reminding her. After all, Leopold was here - someone even Kelan wanted to curry favor with. If she said something offensive, it would be disastrous.

She stepped forward, her voice rising a notch: "You're covering a shift for a poor friend - is this your friendship? What is she to deserve your help? Being with this kind of person will only lower your own class, though you're already quite low-class. But as long as you're in the Fergus family for one day, I have the right to discipline you!"

Laura is not a poor wretch!

Laura is someone who earned a high-paying part-time job at this kind of restaurant through her own skills. She has ability and manners, never extending her hand to ask anyone for anything.

Why should birth determine Laura's worth? I felt something tightening in my chest, about to burst forth, but reason still prevailed.

"Laura is my friend," I suppressed my anger but wasn't willing to back down, "She's sick today, so I'm covering her shift. This is normal between friends. You calling her a poor wretch - I don't accept that. I want you to apologize."

Tracy's face darkened. The two companions beside her exchanged glances, one secretly stepping back half a step.

"What use is your non-acceptance," Tracy's voice became low - that kind of low that suppressed something before losing control, "Freya, your wings have grown hard, haven't they? Last night's incident wasn't enough, today you want to continue opposing me?"

"I'm just stating facts."

"You're stating facts," Tracy sneered, then stepped aside and signaled to the two companions, "Hold her."

The nerves in my back immediately tensed.

Two people came over, one on each side, gripping my wrists and pressing down with considerable force - the kind of prepared strength. I tried to pull my hands free but was held down, my other hand twisted behind my back.

The sounds in the hall stopped - really stopped, even the clinking of cutlery ceased.

Tracy stood in front of me, taking out a thin, long... thing from her purse. I stared at it for a second and realized it was some kind of decorative metal rod, jewelry, but hard enough and solid enough in hand to cause injury.

"I hate this attitude of yours the most," Tracy said in a low voice, with a kind of calm, genuine hatred, "Since childhood you've always been pretending - pretending to be weak, pretending to be pitiful, pretending to be more well-behaved than anyone, yet doing everything outside, seducing my father, seducing Field—"

"I didn't!" I knew Tracy was crazy, and I had to defend myself.

Moreover, how innocent was I? I dreamed of escaping Kelan. If I had any feelings for him, it would only be hatred!

"Shut up."

Tracy leaned forward, staring at my hand, her gaze fixed on it. That look made my stomach plummet - she wasn't going to hit me, she was going to hit my hands!

"I'll make you play piano again," Tracy roared in a low voice, enunciating clearly, "Today I'll smash your hands so you'll never be able to touch piano keys again in your lifetime. Let's see what you'll use to help your poor friend."

No, I couldn't let my hands be ruined. I loved piano - it was what my mother left me after she departed, something that belonged to me that no one else could take away!

Tracy raised her hand.

My body instinctively shrank back but was held by the people behind me. I couldn't move. Something rushed up my throat. I wanted to speak, while simultaneously thinking - if I screamed, everyone here would see, and Laura's job would be finished. The restaurant wouldn't want a pianist who brought trouble. But if I didn't scream, I didn't know what would happen to my hands...

Tracy's hand was still falling.

Then, another hand arrived first.

Not mine, not Tracy's.

It was a man's hand. His wrist wrapped around the inside of Tracy's raised arm. Without much force, just a gentle twist, Tracy's movement stopped. That angle locked her entire arm - if she tried to force forward, it would only hurt more. She gasped, and the thing in her hand fell to the floor with a crisp sound.

The hall was completely silent.

I raised my eyes.

Leopold stood between Tracy and me, sideways to me, facing Tracy directly. His face showed no anger, no disgust, only that extremely restrained, cold expression, as if everything was within his control.

Leopold's gaze fell on Tracy's two other friends. He said only one sentence, his voice not loud, even calm, but sufficiently oppressive: "Let go of her."

The two hands holding me released in that second.