Duchess Mecklen’s Elegant Revolt - Chapter 4 Part 2

The line of people waiting to receive soup showed no signs of ending. One after another, people emerged from the narrow alleyways, all carrying chipped wooden bowls.

“How much longer do we have to do this?” Brianna grumbled in frustration as she noticed that nearly half of the soup in the large pot was gone, yet the number of people hadn’t decreased. Her arm was starting to ache from repeating the same motion over and over again, and at this rate, they wouldn’t be able to move a step until all the soup was gone.

But would there be enough soup for everyone? Eleanor’s expression grew somber as she realized the food would be far from sufficient.

“Th-thank you,” stammered a child, whose height barely reached Eleanor’s waist.

“Eat plenty,” Eleanor said, looking down at the child with a kind gaze.

It seemed the child had no parents. Just as the child, who had received the food alone without any guardian, turned to leave—

“Agh!”

“Oh no!”

A cry of distress rang out. The child had tripped over a stone, sending the bowl of soup flying through the air, spilling its contents onto the ground. Instantly, the attention of those around was drawn to the scene, their eyes filled with sympathy.

“Such a waste…”

“What a shame.”

“That was probably his first meal.”

Those who were in the same situation as the child knew how precious a bowl of soup was. Even Eleanor and Brianna were taken aback, watching the child. The child’s knees were scraped and bleeding, but the child seemed more devastated by the loss of the food. Tears quickly welled up in the dirt-streaked face.

“Um…”

The child, now clutching the empty bowl, approached Eleanor. She hesitated as she ladled out soup to the next person, then looked down at the child.

Though unsure of what to do, the child spoke timidly. “I-I’m sorry… Could I please have some more…?”

“No,” came a sharp voice, cutting between Eleanor and the child. It was a middle-aged man, who had been about to receive his own portion from Eleanor. “It was your fault the soup was spilled. Why should you get more?”

“S-sorry… I know it’s my fault…” The child shrank under the man’s angry outburst, the tears that had been welling up finally spilling over.

Stammering, the child continued to plead, “P-please… I haven’t eaten in days… I know I was wrong, so wrong, but please, just this once, could you help me? I’m so hungry…”

“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you? Get lost!” the man snapped, seeming ready to kick the child.

“Stop,” Eleanor intervened, worried the man might actually harm the child. The child was terrified but didn’t back down easily. As the commotion drew attention, more people began watching Eleanor and the child.

“Are you really going to give that child more soup?” Brianna, who had been observing the situation, asked Eleanor. It was the first time she had spoken to her all day.

Eleanor didn’t respond immediately, instead looking down at the child.

“Please…” the child begged, the desperation evident in the tear-streaked face beneath those dark eyes.

Eleanor’s heart ached for a moment. Was this how she had looked when pleading with the Empress Dowager?

‘But there’s not enough food…’

If she gave this child more soup, someone else would undoubtedly go without. The amount they had was already woefully inadequate for the people in line. It would be tragic for one person to sacrifice their meal for the child.

“What’s going on here?”

At that moment, the priest, Gran, returned. Eleanor, now visibly relieved, turned to him with a question.

“Is there any more food to distribute?”

“I’m afraid this is all we have,” Gran replied with a shake of his head.

The child’s face, which had been filled with a glimmer of hope, quickly fell into disappointment. The child’s head drooped, a clear sign of giving up.

Eleanor noticed the child’s arms hanging limply at their sides.

“Excuse me, Priest,” Eleanor said.

“Yes, Madam?”

“Would you be so kind as to assist with the distribution in my place?” Eleanor respectfully handed over the ladle.

Gran smiled without asking for a reason. “Where are you headed?”

“I need to step away for a moment,” Eleanor replied, reaching out to take the child’s hand.

The child flinched in surprise at the gentle touch of the Duchess’s hand.

Eleanor smiled softly. “Don’t give up.”

“Ah…”

“If you give up, you won’t be able to do anything from that point on.”

Eleanor thought of her past, before she had returned to this time. She remembered how she had given up on everything and walked to the guillotine, thinking of all she had lost along the way. But now, by some miracle, she had returned to this world.

Holding the child’s hand, Eleanor led them towards the people who had yet to finish their meals. Those eating their soup were startled and set down their spoons as they saw Eleanor approaching.

“Hello, is the food to your taste?” Eleanor asked.

“Y-yes, it is…”

The Duchess, who had approached with a dirty child by her side, was even more beautiful up close than she had appeared from afar. As she made eye contact with each person and greeted them, her grace and elegance were evident. She seemed like someone from an entirely different world.

The people, surprised and somewhat intimidated, grew quiet.

Eleanor continued in a polite tone. “I must apologize. This child made a mistake.”

“……?”

“The child received soup but tripped, spilling all of it on the ground.”

Eleanor gently pulled the child, who was standing awkwardly beside her, forward and encouraged them to bow. Following her lead, the child bowed deeply.

Eleanor then took the empty bowl from the child. “To those who have already received food, or are about to, I ask for a favor. Just one spoonful. Please give this child just one spoonful.”

“……!”

“One spoonful may seem insignificant to each of you, but when many spoonfuls come together, it will be a full bowl for this child.”

The eyes of everyone, including the child, widened at her request. She was asking them to share their food. One spoonful might seem like nothing, as she said, but among the poor, there were those who begrudged even giving up that small amount.

Sensing this, Eleanor added, “I am not asking anyone to go without.”

“……”

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I don’t want to use my position to take away what’s precious to you.”

This was something that had to be done voluntarily to hold any meaning.

One man, who had been hesitating, slowly raised his hand. “So, you’re saying… we don’t have to give if we don’t want to?”

The elderly man clutched his bowl protectively, wary of the noblewoman, yet also fearful of losing what little he had. Eleanor felt a pang of empathy.

“I don’t want to use my status to take away something precious from you,” she said softly.

She knew too well how painful it was to have something taken away unjustly. The words she couldn’t speak aloud lingered in her heart. Through Eleanor’s repeated reassurances, the people gradually began to understand her intent.

But still, no one stepped forward to help the child. The child, disappointed, pulled the bowl back into their arms. Eleanor, feeling a deep sadness, gently patted the child’s head.

“I’ll give a spoonful,” said a woman who had been sitting at the far end, just as Eleanor was about to turn away. She slowly stood up, revealing a limp in her step. Beside her was a young daughter.

The woman carefully scraped the remaining soup from her bowl and poured it into the child’s bowl. It was the first spoonful.

Though it was just enough to wet the bottom of the bowl, the child’s feelings were far from ordinary.

Plop.

Tears quickly welled up and blurred the child’s vision.

“Th-thank you…” the child said in a trembling voice, bowing deeply in gratitude.

***

In the end, the child’s bowl was not fully filled. The people hesitated to lift their spoons, and the soup in the bowl barely reached halfway.

As the distribution came to an end, Eleanor returned to her spot and bid farewell to the departing child. Though still hungry, the child’s eyes now shone with a newfound brightness.

Watching Eleanor, who couldn’t take her eyes off the child until they disappeared, Brianna muttered, “Why did you have to get involved?”

If she had stayed quiet like Brianna, she wouldn’t have had to endure such humiliation. Bowing to commoners like that—it was beneath her. Annoyed, Brianna ripped off the gloves she was wearing and tossed them aside.

‘How disgraceful for a noble.’

She had never liked Eleanor to begin with. Recalling the incident in the dining hall, Brianna’s face alternated between pale and flushed. After that apology, Brianna had to deal with the repercussions of the rumors that followed. Her mother had been furious upon hearing that Brianna had been completely outshone by the princess of Hartmann. Unable to tell the truth about what had happened, Brianna had excused herself by claiming the princess had behaved terribly, but deep down, a sense of resentment lingered in her heart.

“I’ll be leaving first.”

“Lady, you’ve done well today,” Gran said, bowing to Brianna as she climbed into the carriage.

Brianna ignored his greeting, clutching the hem of her now dirtied dress in frustration.

Eleanor, on the other hand, expressed her apology to Gran. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help much since I left in the middle of the work.”

“Not at all,” Gran replied with a gentle smile, having already surmised what had happened.

Eleanor glanced back at the alley with a wistful expression. The place was unfamiliar, yet for some reason, it kept drawing her gaze.

‘There must be other slums like this somewhere in the Empire,’ she thought, feeling a brief pang of sorrow.

After carefully scanning her surroundings one last time, Eleanor took a step forward to board the carriage.

“Madam!”

A voice called out urgently, making Eleanor turn her head. The child who had just left came running back toward her, panting heavily.

“Huff, huff, I wanted to give this to you!”

The child seemed relieved that the Duchess hadn’t left yet. Instead of the worn-out wooden bowl, the child held a flower. The petals were a unique blend of purple and violet, swirling together in a way that even Eleanor, with her knowledge of plants, had never seen before.

“I picked it for you, Madam.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said, gently patting the child’s head.

Though the child must still be hungry, they had set aside their hunger and hurried back to give her this flower. Eleanor was deeply touched by the child’s thoughtfulness.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Lennoch!”

“…Lennoch?”

Eleanor’s face changed subtly at the mention of the name. As soon as she heard “Lennoch,” someone immediately came to mind. The memory of Lennoch, who had once handed her a flower while wearing a black mask, overlapped with the image of this child looking up at her with a smudged face.

Eleanor stifled a laugh and nodded. “That’s a good name.”

“Thank you!”

“I am the Duchess of– no, I’m Eleanor,” she replied, her voice tinged with a slight difficulty as she introduced herself. It was still challenging for her to refer to herself as the Duchess.

After hastily concluding their conversation with a promise to meet again, Eleanor carefully tucked the flower away and stood up. It was truly time to leave. As she climbed into the carriage and it started to move, the child, Lennoch, stood in place, waving vigorously. Eleanor also waved back, her hand raised through the window until the child was out of sight.