Chapter 39

“You’re telling us to help with the household chores?”

It was the following morning.

Irene—who had forgotten her role as a cover for Lucas’s inspection long enough to enjoy a hearty meal and a thorough pillow fight with Elma—widened her feline eyes at the words she had just been told the moment she finished dressing.

“Oh, heavens no, not ‘help.’ I simply wish for you to demonstrate those maid skills you’ve supposedly polished at the Royal Castle to the inadequate servants of my mansion. Think of it as ‘guidance.’”

The one who had barged into a guest’s room first thing in the morning was none other than Deborah.

The moment she sensed Lucas had galloped off on his horse early that morning, she tossed aside even the thin veil of friendliness she had been maintaining and raided Irene’s room.

A spiteful smile spread across Deborah’s bloated face as she continued.

“Now, this is for your own sake as well, you know? After all, no matter how much of a playboy His Highness may be, staying overnight with an unmarried girl is a bit scandalous, don’t you think? Oh, and having that four-eyes with you won’t serve as much of an excuse. If people see you working properly as a maid here, everyone will be reassured. They’ll think, ‘Oh, I see, he simply brought her along as a servant.’ In short, it’s a camouflage.”

In reality, the setting of Lucas and Irene as lovers was the actual camouflage, but she obviously couldn’t explain that.

Irene hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to react, and Deborah took her silence as a sign of flinching, pulling her lips into an even deeper smirk.

“You see, I’ve put a lot of thought into this. For you girls—maids from the Royal Capital—I’m sure tasks like these will be child’s play. Here.”

With that, she thrust forward a single sheet of paper titled “Request List.”

It was packed with tasks like sorting beans, doing laundry, and scrubbing floors—the kind of labor one would never dream of asking of a guest.

Irene swept her gaze over the list, then looked up and glared straight at Deborah.

“I refuse. While I’d like to return the favor for the lodging, this is beyond excessive. We have plans to head out to the Harvest Festival market after this. If you insist, please take it up with His Highness.”

It was a firm stance, typical of her strong-willed nature.

However, Deborah—the type to act high and mighty toward those she perceived as social inferiors—retorted with a dismissive snort.

“My! To the market? I suppose you’re planning a date with His Highness? While ignoring a modest request from the daughter of the Lord who is lending you a room? I suppose that is the attitude of modern maids from the Capital—or rather, the daughter of a mere Baron.”

“This has nothing to do with the Capital or my family—”

“It has everything to do with it! I see, so the daughter of the House of Baron Neumann looks down upon the daughter of the Margrave of Frenzel!”

“No, that’s not what—”

As Irene tried her best to argue calmly, Deborah cut her off with arrogant, grandiose rhetoric.

Just as Elma, who was standing by, leaned forward to intervene against Deborah’s use of social rank, one of Deborah’s own maids leaned in and whispered to Elma first.

“I’m so sorry. Our young lady is just jealous because your companion is so beautiful.”

“Jealous, is she?”

“Yes. Well, look at her, right? She knows she’s plain—well, ugly—and yet her pride is twice as high as anyone else’s. She’s always picking fights with or bullying pretty girls. Because of that, all the young, cute servants have quit.”

Well, it’s peak harvest season now, so I’m sure their families are glad to have the extra help at home, the maid muttered. She looked to be around the same age as Elma’s mother.

Given that she was the daughter’s personal attendant, she was likely a leader among the staff, yet the fact that she bluntly called her own mistress “ugly” suggested that the employer-employee relationship in this mansion was thoroughly broken.

“The more you resist, the worse it gets, and she’s got a bit of a mean streak when it comes to low cunning. It’s for your own good to just obey quietly. I’d love to help, but I’m sorry, we’re honestly short-handed ourselves. Just pass the time doing it halfway; that’ll be enough.”

The maid spoke familiarly, perhaps assuming Elma was from a similar commoner background.

Even so, she had no intention of lending a hand. Her face, which looked naturally kind, was clouded with a cold expression of someone who had completely given up on her master.

In front of them, Deborah’s flabby chin trembled as she finally raised her voice to berate Irene.

“Oh, how disgusting. Truly disgusting. I don’t know what the House of Baron Neumann is like, but I can imagine, given they raised such a loose daughter. Just because you serve as a maid in the Royal Castle, you think you can act so superior? In this frontier land, you can’t even be bothered to show off your skills for the sake of a poor girl your own age?”

“I told you—!”

“Very well. We accept.”

Just as Irene was about to snap back with visible irritation, a dignified voice rang out like a splash of cold water.

It was a voice that was slightly low for a girl, with a pleasant resonance.

It was Elma.

The girl who was supposed to be a plain, bespectacled maid stood with an exceptionally beautiful posture as she addressed Deborah.

“If I may be so bold. Lady Deborah, you mentioned just now, ‘You girls, maids from the Royal Capital.’ In other words, this is not an act of harassment toward Irene, but rather a desire to see the daily work ethic of us both—myself and Irene.”

“…H-humph. That’s what I’ve been saying from the start.”

Naturally, Deborah hadn’t even factored the “four-eyes” into her plan, but she was pressured by the intensity Elma radiated and nodded just to keep her story consistent.

“Of course, I intend to ask this of both of you. Though, if anything, I don’t really care what you do—”

“Then, Irene and I shall set to work immediately.”

“Huh?”

Deborah shot a suspicious look at Elma, who had spoken with humble yet absolute finality.

“What did you say?”

“Therefore, once we have finished sorting the beans, scrubbing the floors, doing the laundry, replacing the flowers in the vases, peeling the vegetables, making the beds, refilling the cosmetic bottles, changing the water pitchers, cleaning the soot from the lamps, polishing the silver, and organizing the closets, we shall then head out to the market.”

Having the massive list of tasks recited back to her without Elma even glancing at the notes made Deborah’s dark-circled eyes widen.

“What?”

“Oh, please don’t let it concern you. I don’t believe it will take much time. To repay the debt of lodging with labor is a very ‘normal’ occurrence often depicted in classics and fairy tales, after all.”

“What?”

Deborah was bewildered by the flatly delivered statement.

However, she eventually let out a snort, likely interpreting it as mere bravado.

“Oh, is that so? As expected of maids from the Royal Capital. I look forward to seeing how much you actually finish by the end of the day.”

And then, adding a final spiteful jab:

“By the way, a famous troupe of street performers is scheduled to arrive today to commemorate the start of the market. Well, I’m sure they’ll be finished by noon, so it won’t concern any of you.”

She spat those words out before turning on her heel.

Deborah’s maid shot a secret, apologetic shrug toward the pair before scurrying after her mistress.

Left behind were Elma and the still-fuming Irene.

Irene sharpened her feline gaze and threw her arms up in exasperation.

“I cannot believe she’s the daughter of an honorable Margrave! Honestly, Elma! Why did you accept such an unreasonable command?! Even you must have realized that was pure harassment!”

It seemed her irritation wasn’t directed solely at Deborah, but also at Elma for complying so easily.

As her colleague bristled with indignation, Elma tilted her head curiously.

“Well, you were somewhat like that yourself when we first met, Irene.”

“Urgh.”

“Besides, the request was too trivial to be called ‘unreasonable.’ It’s not worth getting angry over. I believe I can settle this matter alone in a few dozen minutes.”

“What?”

Irene’s face was a busy map of emotions: stiffening at the reminder of her own past behavior one moment, and recoiling in shock at her friend’s overwhelming competence the next.

After a moment of inner turmoil, Irene spoke to Elma with a slight pout.

“…Look, I truly think your high level of capability and your strangely vast tolerance are amazing, but I’m also a little worried.”

“Worried?”

“Yes. No matter how much of a non-issue it is for you, if it’s objectively unreasonable, you should get angry. If you just dodge it, the other person might be caught off balance and it might be easier for you, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re being exploited. You have to get properly mad and resist that kind of thing.”

Get mad and resist.

As Elma repeated the words with a look of wonder, Irene reached out and gave her cheek a firm pinch.

“What good is it if you quietly accept a fight that was picked with me? I’m happy you tried to protect me, but in that case, get angry with me. Come on, repeat after me! ‘I’m fuming!’”

“I’m fuming.”

When Elma followed the command obediently despite her pinched cheek, Irene finally let go.

“I’ll let you off with that for today. …Thank you, Elma.”

It was typical of her to add that last part while averting her eyes.

Irene exhaled a short breath to reset her mood and briskly changed out of her street clothes—she had been wearing a rare set of casual wear for their trip to town—and back into her maid uniform.

“Elma, sorry, but could you really help me? Let’s split the tasks between us.”

She scanned the room and spotted the vase by the window.

She reached out to change the flowers first, and as she did, her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I know.”

She pulled out several autumn blooms and skillfully wove them into rings.

In no time at all, she had produced two flower crowns.

“What are these…?”

“They’re flower crowns girls wear during the Harvest Festival. Actually, there’s a specific flower used for them, but these will do.”

As Irene announced this cheerfully, Elma stared intently at the crowns.

“They don’t appear to be items that increase one’s defensive power. Are they a tool to identify the ‘King’ of the festival? Or perhaps they possess a psychotropic effect to stimulate the wearer’s excitement?”

“…I suppose the last one is the closest. By wearing flowers—the symbol of the Goddess of Fertility—in your hair or as a crown, you get yourself into the festival spirit.”

“I see.”

Elma nodded with seemingly little interest, but Irene added:

“Close friends make crowns from the same flowers like this. It’s like a symbol of their friendship.”

At that, Elma looked up slightly.

“——Is that so.”

With unexpectedly careful movements, she stroked the crown Irene was holding.

She went as far as to sniff it cautiously before murmuring softly, almost shyly:

“It has a lovely scent.”

“…Well, we can’t exactly wear flower crowns while we work, so let’s just leave them on this shelf for now.”

Feeling a bit embarrassed by Elma’s reaction, Irene hurried to place the crowns on the shelf—next to her folded street clothes—and gave her shoulders a resolute roll.

“Right, let’s work fast. We’re leaving by noon! First, I’ll scrub the floor in this room—whoa!”

The moment she declared her intent, a sudden gust of wind whipped up, making her scream.

Protecting her face instinctively, Irene slowly lowered her arms to find the floor in front of her polished to a mirror-like shine.

“…!?”

“How is this for a start?”

The culprit behind the miniature gale was standing there with a mop she had produced from somewhere, pushing up the bridge of her glasses.

The thick lenses and the smoothly polished floor both glinted under the morning sun.

“I put a bit of spirit into it and gave it a varnish finish.”

“What does that even mean?!”

Stunned by a level of work that far exceeded the expected speed and quality from the very beginning, Irene’s eyes went wide.

Since their shifts rarely overlapped—mostly because Elma handled her duties solo—Irene had only heard rumors about her colleague’s speed.

Having heard those rumors frequently, Irene thought she understood Elma’s versatility well enough over the past few months.

Or so she thought—but she now realized the shock of seeing it in person was on a completely different level from hearing it second-hand.

“Th-that’s impressive… Okay, then I’ll go take the linens to be washed—”

“Oh, I’ve already finished them with fabric softener. Would you prefer them dried outdoors or indoors?”

“When did you?! Fine, then I’ll help with peeling the vegetables—”

“I secretly used the leftover skins to make some fried chips. Would you like a taste?”

“I said when?! So fast! And so tasty!”

In the blink of an eye, every task was completed to a standard that transcended perfection, leaving Irene with nothing to do.

As she stood there dazed, Elma said matter-of-factly:

“Actually, I woke up a little early, so I took the liberty of helping out while you were still asleep.”

Irene frantically scanned the list Deborah had left behind, trying to secure at least one mission she could handle.

“H-hey, let me do something at least!”

She dashed out of the room to finish replacing the flowers throughout the mansion. When she next crossed paths with Elma in the hallway, her colleague had already completed nearly ten more tasks.

“I’ve finished replacing the flowers. How about you, Elma?”

“Thanks to your help, I have finished sorting the beans, making the beds, refilling the cosmetic bottles, cleaning the lamp soot, polishing the silver, and organizing the closets.”

“At this point, you’re practically a god…!”

“While I was at it, I noticed insects breeding in the pond, so I dredged it.”

“Definitely a god!”

Irene’s composure broke under the weight of her bewilderment.

Looking around, the mansion—which had been as gloomy as its owners—was now sparkling beautifully in every corner, right down to the garden pond.

“It’s blinding…!”

“I am honored.”

Elma remained perfectly stoic.

With that, their sudden assignments were successfully completed.

Irene wanted to grab her colleague by the shoulders and demand to know what kind of miracle allowed her to work so fast, but she calmly realized she wouldn’t be able to replicate it even if she were taught.

She consciously shifted her mood once more and returned to the room with Elma.

“Thanks, Elma. Now that we’ve finished all this, even Lady Deborah won’t be able to complain about us going out—”

She placed her hand on the doorknob with a triumphant smile, but then:

“…What is this?”

Irene was struck speechless.

The vase she had just replaced by the window was knocked over, its shattered remains scattered across the floor.