Chapter 43
Riana rolled her eyes and looked around.
As always, the hall was filled with busy mages moving about.
Not a single one of them paid attention to the maid carrying boxes.
That meant… she should be fine.
Quietly, Riana gathered mana in her forearms.
Thanks to practicing the night before, controlling it wasn’t too difficult now.
Phew, that’s better.
Using mana eased the strain on her body a little.
She quickened her pace to finish her errand quickly, but still kept an eye on her surroundings. She had to watch out for Allen.
Mages couldn’t sense mana density, but a mana-user could detect it without trying.
The problem was, she couldn’t see clearly over the stack of boxes piled up to her eye level.
Feeling uneasy, she suddenly heard a man’s voice.
“Miss Riana?”
Oh no… Allen?
Startled, she hurriedly dispersed the mana in her arms.
That was when the strength in her arms gave out.
The neatly stacked boxes wobbled dangerously. Riana almost screamed—only to realize she still had the croissant in her mouth, so she bit down instead.
“Mmmph?!”
But before the boxes could topple on her head, they froze in midair—held up by a large hand.
Riana tilted her head up to see who it belonged to.
Against the clear autumn sky, past the scent of warm buttery croissant, she saw the man who never missed a chance to meddle—Killian.
Well, at least it’s not Allen.
She had scared herself for nothing.
The one who had called her name was actually Bastian, who was walking with Killian. Kim was there too, looking a little surprised.
No wonder—they had just caught their valuable employee doing work no one had assigned to her.
Still, Riana was glad she hadn’t spilled food or alcohol everywhere, and she felt a little grateful to Killian for preventing disaster.
“Mmmph, mmmphhh…”
“What?”
Killian asked while taking the boxes from her. Immediately, Kim and Bastian took them off his hands—because apparently, they couldn’t stand to see the Duke holding something as lowly as a box.
“Mmm, mmph-mmm.”
Riana freed one hand and held up her fingers in a gesture.
Killian narrowed his eyes, trying to interpret it.
She kept flashing 2 and 9 in turn—it didn’t seem like a star rating this time. Going from 1.4 to 2.9 stars was too big of a jump anyway.
In the end, he gave up and pulled the croissant from her mouth.
Only then did she speak.
“Rotten Tomato score—29% freshness.”
Not exactly high praise.
If this were an actual movie, it’d have that squashed green tomato symbol next to the title.
Of course, Killian had no idea what kind of review site she was referencing, but that didn’t matter.
What mattered was—
“Is that 9% face bonus again?”
“Give me back my croissant.”
When Riana vaguely nodded, Killian started calculating in his head. Rotten Tomato percentage into a five-star rating…
“It went up, didn’t it?”
Killian liked seeing results when he made an effort. She had told him to try harder, and the score had indeed gone up. That was satisfying.
As he smiled, Riana frowned. She quickly added an excuse for the higher rating.
“It’s just the weather—today’s lighting flatters you.”
She knew every move of his was calculated, so she wasn’t going to act any nicer than necessary.
Still, she wasn’t lying. She had to admit, in his neat ceremonial uniform after the knighting ceremony, he looked pretty good.
Riana asked Kim and Bastian to restack the boxes for her.
Before putting the croissant back in her mouth, she muttered,
“You match well with the sunlight. Almost made you look handsome for a second.”
Killian forgot to breathe for a moment.
He didn’t know why that simple line pushed everything else out of his mind.
The prosperity of Droche, the honor of the ducal family, the big project he was researching—these were the thoughts that normally filled his head.
But her words shoved them all aside like a cuckoo bird pushing eggs out of a nest.
Do I really look good in sunlight?
Did I just look handsome to her?
For a moment, that felt like the most important question in the world.
Riana gave a polite nod, took back her boxes, and marched off.
Killian stayed frozen in place. The bright look on his face faded into something darker.
He had a bad feeling.
I’ll be reliving this moment again…
Sleepless nights, distracted work—he could already see it coming.
He knew it wasn’t her fault, but still, he couldn’t help resenting her for stealing his peace of mind.
If only her eyes could look at him with the softness of someone in love—that would be enough.
The sun was already sinking low.
The knights’ celebration party had been going on for hours and still showed no sign of ending.
In that time, they had eaten and drunk enough for two armies. Their appetites were incredible.
And it was Mrs. Baker who kept them fed.
“Mrs. Baker, do you get overtime pay for this?”
Riana, sneaking snacks from the kitchen, asked curiously. She was impressed the woman showed no sign of exhaustion after cooking for hours.
“Overtime? Ha! Seeing our fine knights happy—that’s all the reward I need!”
So, no pay then.
Well, this wasn’t an official order from the Duke or the knights anyway. “Knights’ Aunts” was a volunteer maid group.
Still, Mrs. Baker was known to love money. Guess this was love in another form.
“…As long as you’re happy.”
At least it was nice to have something you could pour your passion into.
“Enough chatter! Take this over, and stop stealing my ingredients!”
“What, again? The Duke will be heading to the Isolation Tower soon—”
“You’ve got hours before that. Now go!”
Riana pouted as Mrs. Baker shoved a snack box into her hands.
“I don’t suppose I get overtime either?”
“You’ve already eaten enough to feed three people!”
“…Fine.”
She glanced at her full stomach and gave in.
If Killian was the money source in this estate, Mrs. Baker was the food source—couldn’t upset either of them.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m going.”
“And don’t snack on the way!”
No promises.
She hurried down the hall.
The Droche estate sure has good jerky.
Chomp, chomp.
Nibbling on some snacks from the box, Riana arrived at the knights’ camp behind the training grounds.
Wooden stumps served as seats, but most knights were gathered near the campfire—singing, dancing, and making noise.
Some were still off to the side working out, even at a party.
Well, alcohol does ruin muscle gains.
One of the less-drunk knights spotted her and ran over.
“Miss Maid! You carried this all the way? You should’ve called us!”
Riana automatically repeated the line Mrs. Baker had drilled into her.
“You knights should just enjoy yourselves.”
“At least have a drink before you go.”
She tried to hand off the box and leave, but when she looked around, she noticed other maids had also been “captured” by partying knights.
So that’s why Mrs. Baker had to rope me into helping.
She felt a grudge toward the “Knights’ Aunts” members who weren’t here working.
Still smiling politely, she said,
“I’m still on duty.”
“Oh right, you’re the new Isolation Tower maid!”
Apparently even the knights knew of her now—the pink-haired psycho maid. Quite the reputation.
Riana was about to leave when the knight stopped her again.
“Then at least take this! We really appreciate the maids’ help.”
He handed her a marshmallow roasted over the fire.
Her feet froze on the spot.
She couldn’t refuse a marshmallow.
“…Then just one.”
She peeled off the burnt shell to reveal the soft, white inside, and popped it into her mouth. The hot, sweet flavor hit instantly.
This is it.
Plop.
She sat on a stump and stayed for another. Then another. Then another.
Just ten more minutes, she told herself.
Twenty minutes later—
A commotion broke out on the other side of the campfire.
In the middle of it stood a familiar silhouette.
…Gray?
It was the star of the celebration—Gray.
