On the walk back to the estate, Mylene never strayed from her position half a step behind me.
From the employment agency to the mansion, we had no choice but to go on foot. We had no coachman. I had kicked out every servant capable of driving a carriage yesterday. Even if it was by my own doing, there was something pathetic about the young head of the house returning home on foot with a newly hired maid in tow. My dream of a life of decadence felt like it was still a long way off.
She wasn't beside me, but half a step behind. She wasn't facing me, nor was she directly at my side. The white-haired girl walked with small steps to match my pace, clutching the contract with both hands. Her white bobbed hair brushed her cheeks, and her gray eyes remained fixed on the paper. She didn't look at my face once. Her attitude suggested she believed that if she did, the contract might be rescinded then and there.
—Well, I suppose I can't blame her...
House Razugrim had a terrible reputation within the territory. Taxes had been heavy since my father's time, the mansion's staff were arrogant bullies, and I had the silver hair and face of a born villain. On top of that, I had just finished firing every servant who had been there since my father's generation. It was only natural for a maid hired by such a man to be terrified.
However, being too terrified was a nuisance.
Frightened servants hide their failures. Hidden failures rot. And rotten failures eventually end up on the master’s desk. I had seen that more times than I cared to count at my job in my previous life. The subordinates couldn't speak up, the superiors claimed they didn't know, and in the end, the only people who were actually working properly were the ones who got crushed. I’d be damned if I let that cycle repeat in this mansion.
"Mylene."
"Yes, Master!"
Her response was fast. Too fast. Though her voice was trembling, the reflex had clearly been beaten into her.
"Your room is on the east side of the second floor. It’s small, but it has a window. I don’t care what they made you do in your previous house, but in mine, you are not to sleep in a corner of the kitchen or a storehouse. If you sleep in a damp place, you'll get sick. If you get sick, it causes me trouble."
Mylene tightened her grip on the contract.
"...Am I truly allowed to have a room with a window?"
"Don't make such a big deal over a window. If I let you sleep in a room where you can't tell if morning has come, it'll just increase the effort I have to spend waking you up. I don't want to go searching for people first thing in the morning."
It was a harsh way to put it. In fact, it was cruel. But it was also my honest feeling. If the maid who was supposed to brew my morning tea was collapsed in some dark room, my day would be ruined. I needed to avoid such losses.
Mylene opened her mouth slightly, appearing as if she were about to say something, then stopped. She might have wanted to thank me. However, she looked like someone for whom the gift received was so great that words couldn't possibly catch up.
This was a problem.
I was merely arranging the personnel required to make my life easy.
◇
Upon arriving at the mansion, Mylene immediately began working. At first, I simply showed her the locations of her room and the kitchen, telling her she only needed to boil water for tea and dust off the bed for the day. Instead, she began washing the tea sets, wiping down the cupboards, and even polishing the floor of the great hall. Seeing her with her white hair tied back loosely, carrying a water bucket with her slender arms, wasn't a bad sight. My decision to choose her based on her looks hadn't been wrong.
However, she was overworking herself.
"Hey, Mylene. Who told you to polish the great hall?"
"I thought I should at least prepare the path where you walk before you retire for the night, Master..."
"I told you tea and the bed. Don't increase the workload on your own. If you collapse, who’s going to brew tomorrow’s tea?"
Still clutching her cloth, Mylene bowed her head apologetically.
"I am terribly sorry. I will finish this immediately."
"I didn't tell you to finish it. I told you to stop."
It seemed she didn't grasp the difference. Mylene's shoulders slumped like a scolded dog. In her previous mansion, she was likely scolded if she didn't work, scolded if she worked on her own initiative, and scolded no matter what she did. People like that convince themselves that their job isn't the amount they were ordered to do, but rather to work until they physically break.
What a pain.
If she were a maid who only had a pretty face, I could just use her as an ornament, but someone who works like this will truly break if left to her own devices. If she broke, I'd have to go back to the agency and search for another maid who was pretty, honest, and well-mannered. It was too much effort.
"Go to bed for the night. It’s the east room. If the straw in the bedding is old, I’ll have it replaced tomorrow."
"I still need to fill the oil lamps—"
"If it's dark and I trip, I’m blaming you."
When I said that, Mylene gasped and put down her cloth. Using threats was a bit underhanded, but it seemed that telling her it would cause me trouble was more effective than telling her to rest.
◇
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of tea.
I stared at the ceiling for a while from my bed. Not bad. In fact, it was quite good. In my previous life, my stomach would start knotting with pain before the morning bell even rang as I remembered my supervisor’s face. Not now. The morning sun was shining through the thin blanket, and there was steaming tea waiting outside the door.
This was it.
This was what I was looking for. Making others work while I woke up in bed at my leisure. I felt like my life as an exploiter had finally begun.
But the moment I opened the door, that mood soured slightly.
The hallway was noticeably tidier than yesterday. The soot on the candlesticks had been cleaned, and there was less dust on the floor. When I headed to the dining room, I found toasted bread, thin slices of meat, and hot water infused with herbs prepared on the table. Mylene stood beside it, her complexion looking a bit worse than yesterday.
"...Since when have you been awake?"
"Since before dawn, Master. I wanted to have the kitchen ready for use before you woke up."
"Before dawn?"
My voice grew low. Mylene's shoulders shook. She probably thought she was about to be scolded. In fact, I was angry. But for a different reason. It would be a problem if she added to her workload without orders, exhausted herself, and then collapsed.
I sat in the chair and took a sip of the tea. It was much better than yesterday's watery swill. Frustratingly, she was skilled.
"The tea isn't bad. The bread is more edible than yesterday's, too."
Mylene's eyes widened just a fraction.
She looked like someone who wasn't at all used to being praised.
"Thank you very much. If it is to your liking, Master, then nothing could make me happier."
"That doesn't mean you should do everything before dawn. The mansion isn't going anywhere. Dust doesn't kill people in a single day."
"But, since I have only just been hired, I must make myself useful as soon as—"
At that moment, a red drop fell from her hand.
A small splatter of blood hit the floor.
Mylene reflexively hid her hand behind her back. The movement was so fast and so practiced that it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Show me your hand."
"No, it is not a serious injury. I will press a cloth to it immediately. I can return to work, so..."
"I said show me your hand."
Still pale, Mylene slowly held out her right hand. The base of her slender white finger was sliced. It wasn't deep, but it was clearly a blade wound. She had probably cut it on a rusty knife or a chipped plate. There were marks where she had already tried to press a cloth against it. In other words, she had been hiding it for a while.
I felt a surge of irritation.
Not so much at her, but at the previous household that had made her think this behavior was normal. However, if I said that now, I’d come off as some kind of kind-hearted master. I couldn't have that. I am not a good person. I simply didn't like the hands supporting my lifestyle being damaged without my permission.
"What do you think you're doing? Treat it this instant."
"I am terribly sorry. However, if I am to seek treatment, the cost of an apothecary... please, deduct it from my wages."
"Are you an idiot?"
Mylene caught her breath.
I pulled back my chair and stood up. I lifted only the edge of her sleeve so as not to grab her bare wrist and inspected the wound. Blood was still seeping out, and some dirt had gotten in. If left alone, it would swell. If it swelled, she wouldn't be able to do chores involving water. If she couldn't do that, my tea, meals, and bed would all stop.
"This is an injury sustained while working for the estate. Of course the house will cover the treatment costs. Why would I deduct it from your wages? If your pay decreases on top of being injured, your motivation will plummet."
Mylene looked as if she didn't understand a word I’d said. Her gray eyes wavered, and her lips trembled. She had prepared herself for a lashing, but she looked like she’d been struck from a completely unexpected direction.
"Am I... not being scolded?"
"I am scolding you. I’m telling you not to hide your injuries. Don't touch my cup with a bleeding hand. If the wound gets worse, you'll have to rest. If you rest, my morning will be disrupted... In other words, you’re being a nuisance."
"Yes... I am sorry."
Her apology was still aimed at the wrong thing. She still thought being injured was her crime. I pressed my hand to my forehead. What a pain. To use a person properly, it seemed I had to fix their mindset before their work.
"No. Don't apologize for getting injured; apologize for hiding it. A person's hand isn't a tool that fixes itself. Your hands are necessary for running this mansion. Don't treat them so poorly."
Mylene's face looked like it was about to crumple. However, she didn't cry. Seeing her hold back even her tears made her even more difficult to deal with.
I went to ring the bell, then remembered I had no servants. That’s right. I was the one who had cleared them all out. Resigned, I grabbed my coat and jerked my chin toward Mylene.
"We're going to the apothecary. You can walk, right?"
"Master, are you... taking me yourself?"
"Who else is there? I don't have a coachman. Until I hire the next one, I’m stuck walking. Honestly, there's a serious lack of manpower for an exploiter."
As I headed for the door grumbling, Mylene followed, holding her injured hand to her chest. Her steps were still hesitant, but they were different from yesterday. It wasn't just fear anymore. It was the walk of someone who wanted to believe in something, yet was terrified of being betrayed.
◇
I had the apothecary wash the wound, apply medicine, and wrap it in bandages. When I went to pay the silver coin, Mylene looked like she wanted to protest again, so I glared at her first. The silver hair and villainous face were useful at times like this. She shut her mouth.
Upon returning to the mansion, I forbade Mylene from both making tea and cleaning.
"Don't do any work with water today. Don't get the bandage wet. Stay out of the kitchen."
"But then, Master's meals..."
"I won't die from yesterday's hard bread. Unless you're planning to starve me to death, that is."
"I would never do such a thing...!"
"Then rest. That is an order."
If I called it an order, she would obey. I should have done that from the start. For someone who couldn't rest when told to, I simply had to command them to rest. I had gained another piece of wisdom for my life of exploitation.
Mylene stopped in front of the east room. It was a small room with a window. The morning light poured in, illuminating an old bed and a simple wooden desk. It wasn't luxurious by any means, but she stood there for a long time, staring at it.
"Master."
"What? Is the room too big now?"
"No... I think, here, I can actually report it when I get injured."
Her words were quiet.
But they lingered in my ears far more deeply than her clutching the contract yesterday.
I wasn't sure how to respond. I hadn't done anything worth thanking. I treated her because it would trouble me if she hid her injuries. I let her rest because she’d be useful for longer if she recovered. That was all. And yet, Mylene stood there with her white hair swaying, holding her bandaged hand dearly to her chest.
As if her hand had become her own for the very first time.
"Don't get the wrong idea. If you become unable to work, I’m the one who ends up having to do it. That’s the only thing I'm trying to avoid."
"Yes. So that you may enjoy your ease, Master, I will recover quickly."
"...As long as you understand."
I felt like my message was being interpreted in a slightly different way than intended.
Before entering her room, Mylene looked back once. There was still anxiety in her gray eyes, but deep within them, a small light had been lit.
"Master. Tomorrow morning, I can brew tea even with one hand."
"Don't. I'll just increase my orders."
At that, she smiled, just a little.
It was a truly tiny smile, so faint it would have been easy to miss. But her face was entirely different from the girl who had been staring at the floor of the employment agency yesterday.
I watched the door close and was left alone in the hallway. My dream of a life of decadence was still far off. I was supposed to have hired a beautiful maid to wait on me, but on the first day, instead of making her serve me, I had her injury treated and ordered her to take a nap.
Exploiting people was more work than I thought.
But, well... I was looking forward to tomorrow's tea just a little bit.