A Story Without The Villains Is Boring

Chapter 49: There's someone else out here with us.

I opened my eyes to a stifling heat and drenched in sweat. Shifting my head, a twinge of muscle pain shot through my neck. Suppressing a groan, I shifted and realized my entire body ached due to a prolonged, terrible posture while I slept.

The interior of the carriage lay in complete darkness, thanks to the heavy curtains. Odd, to be in such agony while enveloped in pitch blackness. I reached out in search of something touchable, my hands encountering a textured, soft fabric. My fingers gripped it firmly, aware that- Ack!

The fabric was surprisingly thick, but the light streaming in through the window was a jarring mix of harsh yellow and orange. Two silhouettes materialized.

"Is that a campfire or some sort of camping equipment?" I marveled. Despite the enclosed space, the crackling of wood and the dancing flames were unmistakable - a bonfire.

Which probably explained why I was drenched in sweat.

Two figures emerged, one stoking the fire, the other tending to a campfire with a cauldron and utensils. The cook must be Grace, while the man feeding the bonfire seemed to be the coachman. A thought crossed my mind - wasn't fueling the fire excessively attracting unnecessary attention?

But then, I wasn't exactly someone marked by ill intentions, so who was I to judge?

I decided to leave the carriage, but the door's mechanism confounded me. I wrestled with it, failing to open it with the ease Grace displayed earlier. How did she do it again?

This old-fashioned carriage was my first, and it lacked a visible doorknob. Or did it even have one?

Frustrated, I resorted to kicking the door with all my might, only to embarrassingly achieve nothing.

Was it my weakness, or was the door really that sturdy?

A minute passed, the coachman finally recognizing the carriage's commotion. He opened the door, discovering me disheveled and sweating profusely.

"Salary deduction," I muttered irritably, annoyed at his surprised expression. He must have been shocked to find me on the carriage floor.

Without a moment's hesitation, he shouted for Grace. "The young miss of Elsteel is in distress! Help!"

Grace abandoned her tasks and hurried to my side, concerned.

"Young miss, what happened? Let me assist you out of there first."

With gentle urgency, Grace helped me to my feet, bombing me with questions. I assured her I was fine and that both the coachman and she would face salary deductions.

"Don't jest, young miss! I'm genuinely worried about you," Grace protested, her worry palpable.

"I'm really okay! The carriage was poorly ventilated, and the forest air outside is refreshing and cool. The heat inside was simply unbearable."

Grace and the coachman visibly exhaled in relief after hearing my explanation. But my mission wasn't complete yet.

"I wasn't joking, though. You both will indeed face salary deductions."

To my surprise, their reaction was less of dismay and more of puzzled acceptance.

"Salary? What does that mean? Why are you deducting it?" Grace asked innocently, unaware of the concept.

Did they lack education or knowledge of such terms? I couldn't comprehend how "salary" was foreign to them when "chit chat" existed.

"It means I'm reducing your pay due to neglecting your duties," I explained, receiving a mere nod in return. Strangely, it was my disappointment that deepened, not theirs.