The morning after I handed over the keys, Mylene set off for the market, an iron ring dangling from her waist.
Pantry, oil cellar, utility closet—the keys that had been cluttering my desk until yesterday now jingled at the white-haired maid’s hip, sounding like a natural extension of the manor. Mylene herself still seemed uneasy with them; every time she walked, she would reach down to quiet the small clinking sound with her fingers, only to pull her hand away as if remembering her new station.
Her white bobbed hair caught the morning light, shimmering faintly, and the collar of her worn uniform was pinned more neatly than it had been the day before. Her features remained striking. She had such a clear, refined face that it was hard to imagine she had been worked to exhaustion at her previous post. However, her gray eyes still flickered with anxiety whenever we entered a crowd.
"Master, are you certain I should be the one choosing the goods? I have only just received the pantry keys; it feels premature to entrust me with the shopping as well."
"Do you think I can tell a fresh fish from a rotten one?"
"...I suspect you do not look at fish very often, Master."
"Exactly. I’m making you do what I cannot. That is why I hired you. A pretty face alone won't fill the larder."
Mylene lowered her eyebrows, looking troubled. She likely still couldn't tell if I was praising her or teasing her. Still, she was doing better than before, if only because she wasn't completely paralyzed by fear.
The market was alive with morning sounds and smells: the briny scent of dried fish, the aroma of toasted wheat flour, mud-flecked vegetables, and the sweat of draft horses. Had I still been the man I was back at the ducal manor, I would never have needed to set foot in such a place. But my house was short-staffed. My life of leisure was still a distant dream. A young head of a house wandering the morning market with a beautiful maid in tow—it was a pathetic sight, really.
However, it wasn't as bad as I'd expected.
Mylene had an eye for value. She avoided bruised greens, rubbed dried beans between her fingertips, and inspected the edges of dried meat to verify the salt penetration. She still had a habit of favoring her injured right hand, but her movements while working were meticulous.
"Master, this wheat is cheap, but there is moisture at the bottom of the sack. It would be fine for boiling immediately, but if we intend to store it, the shop further back would be better. Two bags of beans will suffice. Meat is expensive, so if we take these bony scraps for a stew today, we can stretch our stores for three days."
"I don't like the idea of my dining table being nothing but bones, but the manor's funds are still thin. I'll leave it to you."
"I will serve the meatier portions on your plate, Master. I will make do with the broth and beans—"
"Eat from the same pot. It would be a problem if you collapsed from sipping thin broth. Also, do not skimp on your own meals in front of me. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth."
Mylene went silent. Then, she gave a very slight nod.
"...I understand. Then I shall prepare them in the same pot."
The keys clinked. Though it was a small sound, for some reason, it lingered in my ears more clearly than her reply. The shopkeepers stiffened when they saw me, and their expressions grew even stranger when they looked at Mylene. The young head of House Razugrim was letting a young, white-haired maid handle the purchasing. That alone was enough to sow the seeds of rumors.
Well, they could say whatever they liked.
Having a reputation actually made people flinch more when I negotiated prices.
◇
Just as we received the package of dried meat, an unpleasant voice called out from behind us.
"Well, look at that. You really were picked up by House Razugrim, weren't you? White-haired Mylene."
Mylene’s fingers froze.
When I turned toward the voice, I saw two older women standing under the eaves of a cloth shop. I didn't recognize them, but Mylene’s complexion changed in an instant. The blood drained from her face, and the hand she had begun to reach toward the key ring at her hip stopped dead in its tracks.
Acquaintances?
And apparently, not the good kind.
"Those keys... did the young master actually give them to you? My, how you’ve come up in the world. To think a girl suspected of stealing a silver plate at her last house is now the keyholder of a pantry. The world truly is a strange place."
Mylene pressed her lips together. She didn't argue back. Her face was that of someone raised to never speak up for herself. The sounds of the market seemed to recede. The surrounding merchants began to watch us with eyes looking for entertainment.
I didn't interject immediately.
Part of me wanted to see how Mylene would handle it. But more than that, I knew that if I roared at them first, she would blame herself for the scene. She was that kind of woman. If left to her own devices, she would apologize to people for poking her own wounds.
The older maid stepped closer, looked at the keys at Mylene’s waist, and scoffed.
"Say, young master. This girl has the looks, doesn't she? Her white hair is rare, so she might be well-received by gentlemen. But you should reconsider letting her hold the keys. Even at her previous manor, whenever something went missing, this girl was always nearby."
Mylene’s shoulders trembled.
At that, I placed the package of dried meat back on the shop counter.
"What did you just say about a member of my household?"
I didn't raise my voice. However, the smiles on the two women's faces vanished instantly. My silver hair and villainous features were useful only at times like this. Just by curling the corners of my mouth slightly, I could watch the blood drain from their faces.
"N-No, young master. We were merely offering advice—"
"Advice? A strange word for it. To me, it sounded like you were appraising someone I hired in the middle of a public market, spreading stale rumors, and laughing at my judgment for entrusting her with my keys."
One woman’s throat hitched.
Mylene started to grab my sleeve but stopped her hand halfway. Since her hand was just wavering in midair, I deliberately ignored it. She was scared enough of me stepping forward that she had tried to physically stop me, yet she didn't believe she had the right to do so. A troublesome scar to heal.
"Mylene."
"Y-Yes."
"When was it that you were accused of stealing a silver plate at your previous manor?"
Her face went pale.
"Master, that story is..."
"I'm asking. Answer me. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth not knowing what the person I entrust my keys to was forced to carry."
Mylene took a deep breath. It was a cruel thing to ask her to answer while the market's gaze was fixed upon her. But if she kept running, these women would continue to stain her name as they pleased.
"It was the autumn of two years ago. A silver plate went missing from the drawing room, and I had been tasked with cleaning that room. When the Madam questioned me, I... I could not find the words to tell her it wasn't me."
"Why?"
"Because at that time, the Madam's personal maid insisted that I was the one who had taken it."
I turned my eyes toward the older woman.
The woman started to open her mouth, then clamped it shut. The other woman tried to quietly back away. I didn't miss it.
"Don't run. You two are from the manor where Mylene worked, aren't you? Then you should know. Did the silver plate just vanish into thin air without a hand to carry it?"
"W-We don't know the details."
"How can someone so ignorant of the details be so bold as to stain another's name in public? You have quite the loose tongue. Did you use that tongue to pin crimes on others at your previous manor as well?"
The woman’s face turned a mottled red.
"Young master! No matter how you look at it, such a way of speaking is—"
"I didn't come here to learn etiquette. I came to protect my supplies and the people of my manor."
When I said that, a murmur rippled through the crowd.
The word "protect" felt a bit off even to me. It wasn't that I wanted to protect Mylene out of some noble urge; I simply detested seeing an asset I had entrusted with my keys treated like damaged goods. If the keyholder’s reputation was trashed, her inventory logs would be doubted next. That meant more work for me. It meant a loss for me.
This was purely about mitigating risk. Not kindness.
"Mylene is entrusted with the pantry keys at my manor. She keeps meticulous records. She noted the knots on the bags, the cracks in the sealing wax, and even the volume of beans remaining. She is, at the very least, more useful than you. I use those who are useful. I do not use those who are useless and also go about staining the names of others. That is all."
The older woman bit her lip in frustration.
"...Don't come crying to us when that girl betrays you one day."
"I'll be the one to punish her then. This is my house's business. I don't care what she did under her previous master, and I suggest you keep your nose out of it."
As I stated this coldly, the two women were silenced. The surrounding merchants quickly began to look away. It must have looked like the ill-favored young head had lost his temper. In fact, that was fine by me.
I picked up the dried meat again and handed it to Mylene.
"Let's go. We're in the middle of shopping. It's a waste of time to let people like this steal our day."
Mylene took the package.
Her hands were still trembling. But she didn't try to hide the ring of keys.
◇
On the slope leading back to the manor, Mylene remained silent.
The load was split between us, though I carried the heavier share. It was pathetic for a noble, but if I made a maid whose hand had just healed carry a heavy sack of wheat and she aggravated the injury, it would cost me more in apothecary fees. It was to avoid loss. It was strictly not kindness.
"Master."
Halfway up the hill, Mylene stopped.
Her white hair swayed in the breeze, and her gray eyes turned toward me. The fear from the market still lingered, but beneath it was something else. It was the same look she had when she first accepted the keys—the look of someone who, despite being afraid, had decided not to let go.
"I did not steal the silver plate."
"I know."
"...Why do you believe that?"
"If you were truly a woman who stole, you wouldn't have reported the crack in the pantry's sealing wax to me. Those who pilfer for themselves don't go looking for evidence of tampering. Besides, a thief who can stomach a silver plate wouldn't have their hands trembling over a single package of dried meat."
Mylene lowered her eyes.
"At that time, I couldn't deny it. I thought if I said it wasn't me, things would only get worse... Since then, there have been days when I myself became unsure of what was true."
I exhaled.
Good grief, what a pain.
This is how people are broken. Framed, unable to deny it, and forced to apologize over and over until they start to doubt their own reality. I had seen people like that in my previous life as well. Those who are constantly blamed for failures eventually come to believe they are the problem. It’s a convenient state for the person using them, but it’s the worst state for a long-term employee.
"In that case, keep it on paper here. The time the lock was opened, what was taken, what remained. When you aren't in the wrong, the paper will say so. Even if your voice trembles, the ink won't."
Mylene touched the ring of keys.
"Do you trust paper more than my words, Master?"
"No. If you rely only on a person's word, people like you end up suffering. It’s a nuisance for me to watch that happen."
"...So, it is a 'nuisance' again."
"Yes. I hate nuisances."
Mylene gave a small smile then. It was a thin smile that still carried the tremors of the market, but it was much better than a crying face. Looking at it, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction.
The manor gate came into view.
It was still a dilapidated place, short on staff. The pantry was sparse, the territorial ledgers were untouched, and I was far from the idle life I desired. Even so, the sight of the white-haired maid with keys at her waist passing through the gate was a bit more dignified than before.
"Mylene."
"Yes, Master?"
"Use the meat we bought today for the servants' meal. You're to eat the same stew as everyone else. Since you had to listen to such nonsense at the market, put something proper in your stomach."
"Yes... I shall eat so that I do not collapse, for the sake of your leisure, Master."
Her loyalty was taking a strange turn again.
However, I didn't feel like correcting her.
The sound of keys rang out as she opened the gate. Listening to that clinking, I thought for a moment. The bad rumors would surely increase today. The young head of House Razugrim had threatened women at the market; he kept a white-haired maid by his side and even entrusted her with his keys. Let them say what they liked.
At the very least, within my manor, no one would call Mylene a silver plate thief.
That was enough for now.