Dark Fairy Tale: Tyrant, Conquered Cinderella at the Beginning

Chapter 5 A Different Cinderella

The first light of dawn illuminated the castle as Richard opened his eyes. The girl in his arms was still fast asleep, her disheveled bangs seemed to tell of the blood and brutality of the battlefield. Richard got out of bed and pulled open the curtains.

The sunlight poured into the room like freed sprites, landing gently on Cinderella’s body. Her skin glowed faintly with a golden hue in the light.

Richard, standing by the window, turned his head to look at this scene and couldn’t help but be amazed. The sight in front of him was as magical as a fairy tale.

Could it be because she is the protagonist of a fairy tale world, that she is different from other women?

Reflecting on the battle of the previous night, the battlefield commander Richard nodded to himself.

Yes, she’s indeed different!

Perhaps awakened by the sound of the curtains or the change in the temperature on her skin from the sunlight, Cinderella’s eyes fluttered open. Even though she had experienced close contact the night before, her cheeks instantly turned as red as a sun-ripened peach at the sight before her. She forced herself to stay calm, sat up, and gave Richard a slight nod as a gesture of respect.

Richard smiled lightly and said in a calm voice, “From today on, you are the head maid of Long Eagle Castle. Stay here and serve me.”

“Yes, my lord!” Cinderella blinked and bowed her head to accept the position.

“But Rella is not familiar with the castle, and I have never served as a head maid before. I worry whether I can fulfill the role properly!”

Richard stepped forward, took a piece of clothing from the bedpost, and draped it casually over her shoulders. That simple gesture made Cinderella feel wrapped in a great sense of security, prompting her to nod immediately, “Thank you, my lord. Please rest assured, Rella will do her utmost to learn and serve you well!”

Richard was about to offer some words of encouragement but was pleasantly surprised by her determination. He felt it saved him a lot of effort. He was genuinely satisfied with Cinderella; her presence as the head maid could at least bring him a sense of pleasantness. Given his understanding of her character, her reactions matched his expectations perfectly.

Someone capable of adapting quickly to changes, facing different environments with positivity and courage. Someone not just a pretty face, but a person who could actually get things done. Perhaps, she would be one of the few intelligent and capable people among the castle staff.

“Well then, I hope you won’t disappoint me!”

“I will not let you down, my lord!” Cinderella was becoming more natural in her interaction with Richard.

Richard turned back to the window, basking in the sunlight. He had no worries about keeping Cinderella by his side or her background. Even in the story, Cinderella’s father was only a title-holding count and was already dead. Even if he were alive, as a count gained through commerce, he was merely a nominal count.

As a man with actual land and power, like himself—a viscount—those honorary titles were nothing to be concerned about. A noble title acquired through business connections was not in the same league as a title backed by real authority.

If Cinderella’s father were still alive and saw his daughter becoming the head maid at a viscount’s estate, he would probably be pleased. What Richard truly worried about was whether her family might take this chance to get closer to him, as he wasn’t too fond of them. If the opportunity arose, he might even consider eliminating them altogether.

…

Outside the castle, more and more people from the territory began gathering. They wore coarse linen clothes, their hair was dry and unkempt, and they were generally filthy. Some people even had chicken droppings on their heads, but no one seemed to care because it was common for those who raised chickens to live with them in the same house.

There were those scratching their heads as they talked to one another, shaking out their hair to get rid of fleas. Some even let their children relieve themselves in public, with no one minding the smell. It seemed everyone was so accustomed to the filth around them that they didn’t notice it anymore.

If Richard were to judge, they would certainly look like a band of refugees. Yet, despite their condition, these people still considered themselves “city folk,” at least in comparison to those living in the remote countryside.

Happiness, in many cases, comes from comparison.

These people dared not compare themselves to those above them, so they unified by looking down on those even worse off. Even Richard himself was subject to this principle; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so disdainful of this world with his memories from his previous life.

As time passed, more people gathered in the square. They formed small groups, chatting with acquaintances or strangers, their expressions mixed with anxiety. One thing they all had in common was the look of worry in their eyes.

“What do you think the lord has gathered us here for? To show authority or to raise taxes?”

“Showing authority is fine as long as we don’t become examples. But if it’s to raise taxes…”

“Sigh! We’re already paying so much in taxes. If they increase it, how will we survive?”

“May the elves bless us! Let’s hope things go in a positive direction!”

“It doesn’t matter who blesses us; if the lords need to ensure their luxurious lives, how can they not squeeze us even harder? And think about it, our lord is young, he probably wants to enjoy life even more, who knows what will happen!”

“What should we do then?”

The people engaged in a heated discussion, all filled with anxiety. It seemed like they would have been content to keep discussing indefinitely, with no one particularly eager for the lord’s appearance.

People often hope that bad news will come as late as possible, even if they know it is inevitable.

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