Chapter 1
“Huff… hm.”
I swept the front entrance.
In the faint early morning light, just before dawn fully broke, my first task as a maid was to clean the entrance spotless.
Only about three people ever came and went, so it was always clean anyway, but it still had to be swept every single day.
Because that’s what a maid does.
“Huff!”
After dusting, the next task was to water the small flowerpots placed neatly along each step of the stairs.
Technically, that was the gardener’s job, but in this mansion, job titles didn’t really matter.
In the Weatherwoods household, everyone cleaned together, took care of the garden together, and cooked together.
The reason was simple.
The master’s wallet was in a very sorry state.
“Hufff…”
While watering the pots, I glanced toward the iron gate beyond the desolate little garden.
Some guy had been clearing his throat loudly for a while now. Including the men who looked like his subordinates, there were four of them in total.
When our eyes met, he made an extremely arrogant face. It was obvious he wanted me to go talk to him.
But there was no need for me to step in.
The head maid had already come out of the mansion and crossed the garden to meet him.
“You’ve come again?”
“Again? That’s a bit rude to say.”
“As I told you last time, and the time before that, and the time before that—we have no intention of selling this mansion. Please leave.”
A real estate agent, I guess.
I turned my head and continued watering the seeds I had bought cheaply from the market.
I didn’t even know what flowers they would grow into. I just bought the cheapest packet with the most seeds.
“That’s not why I’m here today. I must meet the new Baron Weatherwoods. Please guide me inside.”
“I’m sorry, but the master is currently away.”
“I’ve heard that three times already this month!”
“I apologize, but the master is very busy.”
His voice rose in frustration.
“Busy? At this point, I can’t help but question this. Is there really a new Baron Weatherwoods in this mansion? It’s been over a week, and the only people who’ve come out are three servants. Everyone’s saying this is a ghost mansion with no owner! And what’s with this gloomy exterior? It’s ruining the street’s appearance!”
“That is not our concern—”
“Not your concern? Move aside! I’ve had enough!”
When I looked up, the man shoved the head maid aside and walked through the gate.
He scanned the barren garden and muttered with a disgusted expression.
“Tsk. To leave such a once-beautiful mansion in this miserable state… Hey, maid!”
Was he calling me?
“What are you staring at? Get over here!”
Since he called, I went. Crossing his arms arrogantly, he asked:
“How long has it been since the new Baron Weatherwoods left this mansion? Two years? Three?”
I thought of the Baron, currently sleeping peacefully in his bedroom, and answered:
“He hasn’t left.”
“What?”
“I said he hasn’t left.”
The man glared at me, then forced patience onto his face and asked again.
“That tone… never mind. Is the new Baron perhaps gravely ill? So ill that he can’t even move once a week?”
I thought of the Baron, who hadn’t moved for ten days straight but still had skin as smooth as a boiled egg.
“He’s healthy.”
“Hah. You’ve got quite the attitude. Do you know who I am? Then again, a maid in a place like this wouldn’t. I am Baron Pedegail, a close friend of your late master.”
…So what?
He probably expected me to be shocked and beg or something. There was only one mildly surprising thing.
A baron coming here three times a month demanding the mansion be sold.
“…Before he died, your former master left me a request. He asked me to help the new Baron Weatherwoods settle in this city. So don’t worry and tell me honestly. Is something wrong with the Baron? Is there truly nothing I should help with?”
“There isn’t.”
Moved by my kind reply, the baron’s eyes widened.
“I see! Your insolence confirms it. There is no new Baron Weatherwoods here! This is just an empty mansion with a couple of maids hired for appearances. If the Baron truly lived here, a mere maid wouldn’t dare speak like that!”
I was certain of something too.
This man was a swindler after the Weatherwoods family’s inheritance.
What a vile bastard. The kind that would squeeze blood from a flea. What was he even trying to take from a household that had already sold off all its silverware?
Bang!
Acting nothing like a guest, the baron flung open the door and shoved me inside.
The head maid hurried after us, her face tense.
“What do you think you’re doing, Baron Pedegail?!”
He scoffed.
“You—stand outside and make sure no one enters. You—search the mansion and bring me something to beat them with. Perfect timing. I’ve been curious how long the head maid of Weatherwoods would keep her mouth shut. Time to teach you your place.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Understood.”
At his command, one subordinate closed the door and stood guard outside, another disappeared down the hallway, and the last blocked the space between me and the head maid.
The baron slowly scanned the interior, then fixed his gaze on a portrait hanging above the stairs.
It was the previous Baron Weatherwoods.
“A face I miss. If my dear friend saw this mansion in such ruin, how heartbroken he’d be. It’s been four years since he died in the magic war, hasn’t it? Time flies.”
The magic war.
Explaining it would take too long, so let’s skip it. Just know it was a horrific war that lasted nearly ten years.
The baron smirked greedily as he looked around.
“For the sake of my friend who gave his life for the nation, I must help the new Baron Weatherwoods. That’s the only way to honor him. Yes, indeed.”
It was a short sentence.
But my heart began to pound, and hot blood surged through my body.
Even if I glossed over the war, I couldn’t ignore the countless sacrifices within it.
Those who died did so protecting their loved ones.
And now he was using that noble sacrifice as an excuse for his filthy greed.
As someone who had witnessed ten years of devastation firsthand, I couldn’t let that pass.
There’s something called basic decency.
And his duty, as a supposed friend, was to honor that sacrifice—not covet the estate.
But his actions proved otherwise.
Which meant one thing.
He was no friend of the Baron.
And since someone who wasn’t the master’s friend had forcibly entered the mansion—
He was a thief.
That was my conclusion.
“Baron, I brought it.”
“Good. Looks sturdy.”
The baron took a shovel from his subordinate and approached me.
So he planned to beat me with that.
The head maid’s face hardened.
“Stop this at once, Baron Pedegail. You must not touch that child. If anything, punish me instead—”
“Oh, head maid. How admirable of you to protect your subordinate. Very well, I’ll give you one last chance. Tell me the Baron’s whereabouts. Then I promise no harm will come to anyone in this mansion. I mean it.”
“The one giving the chance is not you, but me. Please, for your own safety, keep your composure—”
“Hah, still not understanding? If you don’t speak by the count of three, I’ll start beating her. And you won’t have any way to protest. I’ll just sell this girl off as a slave in the East. Now then—one.”
So he dealt in slaves too?
A thief with no sense of decency—and a slaver on top of that?
As a loyal maid of Weatherwoods, the proper response was obvious.
The head maid called my name tensely.
“Daisy.”
That’s me, by the way.
The baron grinned and raised two fingers.
“Two.”
“Please endure it for now.”
I nodded obediently, like a proper maid.
“Yes.”
And then I swung my right hand.
“Th—ree… guh!”
All I did was swing my neatly dressed arm sideways—
And the large baron flew like a rock and slammed into the wall.
Silence fell instantly.
His subordinates stared blankly before rushing to him.
“Baron!”
The head maid called me sharply.
“Daisy!”
“Yes.”
“I told you to endure it. Why didn’t you listen? You know that if you use your strength, that sickly raccoon’s life will be in danger.”
“I am enduring it.”
“You call this enduring?”
“My right hand says it can’t endure. Look.”
I slapped the two men trying to lift the baron.
“Ghk.”
“Ugh.”
The two large men collapsed right on top of him.
Such a harmonious master-servant relationship.
“My right hand is quite uncontrollable. I’ll scold it properly after this.”
The head maid glared at me again, but it couldn’t be helped.
Sometimes my right hand followed my heart instead of my head.
And when that happened, even I couldn’t control it properly.
“…What the—”
I finished off the third subordinate who foolishly entered, then asked the head maid:
“Should I bury them?”
She glared at me.
“Don’t say such horrifying things. Where did ‘Lu’ go?”
At the unpleasant name, I frowned.
“To buy groceries.”
“Don’t speak so curtly. Sigh… It can’t be helped. We’ll place them in front of the mansion—”
“Should I cut off their heads and hang them?”
“We will seat them there. Normally.”
“If we send them back, it’ll be troublesome later.”
“And hanging their heads would make it simple? I’m amazed you can call that rational. While their actions were wrong, it’s not a crime deserving… burial. Sending them back is the right choice. This was self-defense, after all. We can resolve it appropriately. Trust in the Weatherwoods family. This place will protect us to the end.”
Knowing the truth about the Baron, I found that hard to believe.
But a maid follows orders.
So I carried the fully grown men outside—like princesses—and laid them in a row on the paved road.
I quietly hoped they’d get trampled by passing horses.
They say another name for a maid is hardship.
And hardship never ends.
