Chapter 3
It was a peaceful morning.
That is—if not for Theodore, who was thrashing about, insisting he would kill her.
“I was told the butter knife went missing at dinner. So it ended up here.”
Claire tightened her grip around Theodore’s wrist, forcing the knife from his hand before casually nudging it away with her foot.
“I’ve brought your meal.”
“Get lost! Eat it yourself!”
“No. This is your portion, Young Master.”
Claire wasn’t uncouth enough to covet the meal of a scrawny raccoon.
“It’s a mushroom sandwich. I heard it also has minced venison in it.”
Sounds good. Taking it outright would be a bit much… but eating the leftovers should be fine, right?
Unknowingly drooling, Claire caught Theodore’s hand just as he tried to gouge out her eyes.
“I would appreciate it if you held the sandwich instead of my eyeballs.”
This raccoon really requires a lot of handling.
Claire effortlessly lifted Theodore and set him back into his seat. Immediately, he snatched up the metal kettle from the table and swung it at her head.
“Oh dear, excuse me.”
With a blank expression, Claire caught the kettle mid-swing with one hand, sat him down again, and glanced at it.
Just yesterday, the ceramic teapot had been replaced with a crude, unbreakable metal kettle—because Theodore kept smashing the former to use as a weapon.
“It’s not appropriate to use a kettle to strike people.”
As she spoke, Claire gripped the kettle with both hands and applied pressure.
Creak.
The iron kettle crumpled like paper, liquid inside spilling through her fingers.
Setting the flattened remains back onto the table, Claire gave a faint smile.
“Shall we eat?”
Theodore’s gaze trembled as he stared at what used to be a kettle.
After hesitating for a moment, he slowly picked up the sandwich. Claire quietly let out a sigh of relief.
‘Breakfast duty: complete.’
There was one thing Claire had learned while dealing with wild animals in the mountains:
‘Once they feel fear—fear that they cannot win—they submit on their own.’
So madness could simply be met with greater madness.
She slipped the crushed kettle into her apron pocket.
‘I’ll just say the Young Master broke it.’
After finishing her duties, Claire pushed the trolley down the hallway.
‘Still, he ate quite a bit today.’
More than half of the sandwich was gone—the most Theodore had eaten in a single meal over the past week.
As Claire looked down at the dishes with quiet satisfaction, someone suddenly blocked her path.
“You there.”
A bold voice reached her ears. Claire lifted her gaze.
A young girl, about nine years old. She had red hair, blue eyes, and wore a pink dress that suited her well.
Those familiar eyes reminded Claire of someone.
‘The youngest of the Voltier family… Isabella, was it?’
The tension in her eyes and brow made her resemblance to Theodore unmistakable.
‘Must be siblings. Even their expressions are similar.’
Claire bowed politely, but Isabella simply stared at her with a displeased expression.
‘Should I say something first?’
Claire considered it briefly but couldn’t think of anything in particular.
‘Better to stay quiet.’
After a short silence, Isabella finally spoke.
“You’re my brother’s new maid, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“How are you still in one piece?”
The result of repeated dominance training.
The words rose to Claire’s throat, but she swallowed them, recalling Angela.
“The Young Master is very merciful.”
“My brother?”
Her gaze was thick with disbelief. Claire didn’t respond and waited.
Isabella glanced at the plate, still bearing traces of food, before continuing.
“None of the previous attendants lasted more than three days.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“You’ve lasted over a week, but I doubt you’ll be any different.”
Claire looked down calmly at Isabella, who barely reached her chest.
Honestly, it was a little amusing how such a small child tried to sound intimidating.
‘Even the sharp attitude is the same.’
In truth, Isabella’s fierce glare felt far less threatening than Theodore’s. Though she acted tough, it was obvious she was trembling.
‘This one’s like a hissing red baby raccoon.’
Why humans resembled young animals so much, Claire couldn’t understand.
If Theodore was the type to bare his teeth without knowing fear, this one seemed to act fierce precisely because she was so afraid.
‘Still, just raccoons.’
No matter how much they puffed up, it was nothing more than a cute display in front of a large brown bear.
“If you’re just planning to slack off and collect money, leave now. Otherwise, you’ll regret it. And don’t even think about living off scraps from my brother.”
Not scraps—fair wages.
A mix of unease and irritation rose in Claire’s chest.
‘Wait… this isn’t a dismissal, is it?’
Thinking about it, even if she was just a child, Isabella was still a member of the household.
At this rate, Claire might lose her comfortable first job. Growing anxious, she quickly spoke.
“I have no intention of leaving. What I want isn’t scraps—I simply wish to properly attend to Young Master Theodore.”
If she handled the ferocious raccoon well and kept him fed, she could earn enough to live on for years. Claire had no intention of wasting this opportunity.
But Isabella’s expression shifted strangely.
Her blue eyes held a mixture of resignation and something like hope.
“…I’ll be watching to see if that’s true.”
Fortunately, she wasn’t dismissed on the spot. At Isabella’s curt reply, Claire’s expression softened.
After bowing as Isabella turned and walked away, Claire straightened up.
‘That startled me. I really thought I was getting fired.’
But as she lifted her head in relief, something about Isabella’s gait caught her eye.
‘Hm? Is she limping?’
It wasn’t obvious at first glance, but upon closer inspection, her steps were uneven, like someone enduring pain.
“Ah.”
Realizing the cause, Claire’s gaze dropped to Isabella’s shoes.
They were too large—each step causing the back of the shoes to rub against her delicate skin, leaving wounds.
‘That must hurt.’
Feeling a pang of concern, Claire called out and caught up to her.
“My lady.”
Isabella stopped and turned. Claire approached and crouched down.
“Your feet are being injured. It must hurt, doesn’t it?”
“W-what are you—”
Startled, Isabella stammered before quickly masking her emotions with a cold tone.
“It doesn’t hurt at all.”
“But your walk looks uncomfortable.”
Isabella bit her lip.
“So what if it is? If it amuses you, just move along.”
“Huh? I just wanted to help. It looks uncomfortable to walk.”
At Claire’s simple words, Isabella’s expression momentarily softened.
Beneath the sharp façade, her gentle, round eyes became visible.
Almost absentmindedly, Isabella let Claire guide her to lean against the wall. She only snapped back to her senses when Claire lifted her foot onto her knee.
“You—!”
“Just a moment.”
Tearing a strip from her apron, Claire removed Isabella’s shoe and carefully wrapped her foot.
“There’s no medicine, but this should help for now. The shoes seem too big—you should change them soon.”
After finishing the other foot as well, Claire stood up.
“There, all done.”
The cloth stuck out awkwardly from the shoes, but the pain was gone. Isabella stared down at her feet, her face flushing bright red.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, then gave up. Turning abruptly, she fled down the corridor, leaving Claire behind.
“Hm, I guess it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Watching her go with satisfaction, Claire’s expression slowly stiffened.
“…That’s strange.”
A prestigious count’s family with ample wealth—even enough to pay a mere maid generously.
‘And yet their daughter is wearing shoes that don’t even fit?’
Even Claire, who had spent her entire life in the mountains, could tell something was off.
‘Whatever. Too much trouble.’
That was as far as her thoughts went.
She would leave once she had saved enough money. Getting involved any further would only bring unnecessary complications.
Claire placed her hands back on the trolley.
There was still work to do in the afternoon.
