The merchant tavern in the territorial capital had been bustling with voices since before noon.
There were grain merchants, salt brokers, wagon owners, and men who looked like minor officials. Most were peering into ledgers rather than tilting their cups. It was in places like this that raw rumors circulated before they ever reached a noble’s hall. I had learned one thing from yesterday's mountain of paperwork: if I tried to read it all myself, I’d lose. The solution was simple—find someone else to read it for me.
A proper scribe was expensive. Former officials were also expensive. Merchant house bookkeepers were the worst—the more I needed them, the more they’d try to squeeze me for every copper. Besides, House Razugrim’s reputation preceded it. I could already see them hiking up their rates before I even finished the job offer. If that was the case, I had to find someone with a reason to be hired cheaply. Someone currently out of work. Someone with talent but no buyers. Someone whom respectable houses wouldn't touch because of their reputation.
It wasn’t that I specifically wanted to recruit people with bad names. It was just that when you looked for talent at a bargain price, those were the only cards left on the table.
When I walked into the tavern, my silver hair drawing every eye, several tables fell silent. The young head who purged the old staff the moment his father died. The man with the face of a villain. The cold son of House Razugrim. The rumors must have been running wild. It was convenient, really; it saved me the trouble of unnecessary greetings.
I took a seat against the wall and ordered a glass of watered-down wine. I gestured toward the opposite chair for Mylene, who had been about to stand beside me. Her white bobbed hair and grey eyes stood out remarkably in the grimy atmosphere of the cheap tavern. She had tried to withdraw modestly, but standing there would only make her draw more attention.
"Sit. Keeping a beautiful white-haired maid standing makes it look like I have terrible taste."
"I think I'll stand out quite a bit even if I sit, Master."
"Then sit and rest. It’s better than standing and standing out."
Mylene hesitated for a moment before perching on the edge of the chair. Before, she would have politely declined a dozen times. She was still stiff, but she had learned to consider the logic behind my words and obey. There was no need for the person who managed my tea, my pantry, and my manor to tire herself out for no reason in a tavern.
"Master, are you truly going to look for an aide here?"
"Referral agencies love to overcharge. If I use them twice in a row, they’ll realize we’re desperate."
"Are we not?"
"We are, but the price goes up if they know it."
Mylene nodded slightly. She was learning to look at where the money flowed before spending a single coin. Ever since she’d taken over the pantry ledger, that sensibility had been sinking in. It was a good sign; I didn't mind if the people in my manor loathed wasting money.
I listened intently for a while until the conversation I’d been hoping for drifted over from a table in the back.
"House Elford apparently delayed their payments again. Management’s gone to the dogs ever since they kicked out Lady Clarice."
"If they kicked out a woman for embezzling, you’d think they’d have more money, not less."
"Embezzling, my foot. That girl was a genius. She’d been clutching ledgers since she was a child; she was better with numbers than any official. Back when the predecessor was alive, that house’s granaries and fields were managed perfectly."
"Regardless, the disownment was real. They say she’s staying at some old inn on North Street now. Doesn't matter how beautiful she is; no house wants to risk hiring a talented woman with a stain on her name."
I set down my cup.
Capable. Homeless. No backing. A bad reputation. And a beauty to boot.
The situation was almost too perfect.
If she really was an embezzler, that would be a headache. However, if the house's finances fell apart the moment she was ousted, then the ones left behind were the ones who looked suspicious. I had seen it countless times in my previous life. People would frame the person doing all the work, kick them out, realize they couldn't function without them, and then continue to blame the person they’d exiled. It seemed that even if the world changed, the way a workplace rotted remained the same.
"Mylene, do you know the old inn on North Street?"
"Yes. It is a refuge for those with nowhere else to go. It is... not a very pleasant place."
"That’s perfect. If she could afford a decent inn, I wouldn't be able to hire her for cheap."
"Master... saying it that way is unkind."
"Is it?"
"It is. But it is very like you, Master," Mylene answered quietly. Even as she disapproved, she didn't try to stop me. She likely understood the significance of someone who had fallen being picked back up. I wasn't acting out of the goodness of my heart. I was going because there was a chance I could get a bargain. But if there was a reason for that low price, I needed to see it for myself first.
◇
The old inn on North Street was gloomier than the merchant tavern, reeking of stale ale and the dampness that had seeped into its very walls.
At the front counter, the landlady was counting beans with a drowsy expression. When I mentioned Clarice Elford, she visibly scowled. She looked like she wanted to tell me to forget it. The clearer the reason someone was disliked, the clearer the reason they could be bought cheaply.
"What do you want with that girl?"
"I came to see if she was worth hiring."
"Don't bother. She’s pretty enough, but she’s a nightmare. She has no money, yet she nitpicks the inn's bill down to the last copper. The moment I make a tiny mistake, she’s all over me."
"Did you try to overcharge her for the room?"
"...I didn't overcharge her. I just made a mistake."
Highly suspicious.
Still, she clearly had an eye for numbers. If she looked at bills closely enough to make an innkeeper hate her, she might be able to handle sorting through my crates of paperwork.
The room the landlady led us to was at the end of the second floor. The window was tiny, and the wood of the door was warped. From inside, I heard the crisp sound of paper flipping. She was looking at documents even while struggling to pay for her room. She had lost her position, but she hadn't let go of the numbers. Not bad at all.
When I knocked, there was a short pause.
"Who is it?"
The voice was calm, but there was a distinct note of exhaustion in it.
"Vain Razgrim. I’m looking for someone who can manage a domain."
The sounds from inside stopped. After a moment, the door opened.
The woman who stepped out had long golden hair tied back in a single ponytail. Her clothes were frayed, but her back was straight. There were dark circles of fatigue under her blue eyes, and her cheeks were a bit hollow, yet her features were undeniably striking. She was a woman who had lost everything but had refused to abandon her dignity.
Clarice Elford.
The rumored genius narrowed her eyes the moment she saw my face.
"The young head of House Razugrim... The villain with the scary face who purged the staff the moment his father died. So, what does a man like that want with a woman accused of embezzlement?"
Starting with that, are we?
Good. A woman who didn't bother with flattery was at least using her brain.
"I need someone to oversee the domain’s administration. I heard you were capable, homeless, and currently available at a bargain price."
Clarice let out a dry, hollow laugh.
"You really should learn how to talk to a woman. I can't see this as anything other than you coming to exploit my weakness."
"I’ll exploit the weakness too. But it’s your talent I’m after. I don’t want to work. If you do it, my workload decreases."
"...You're the worst. That's a terrible thing to say to a woman you've just met."
"Would you prefer I dressed it up in pretty lies?"
"I’d trust you even less. So, what are the terms? Don't tell me you expect to recruit me with just words."
"I don’t intend to lay them out here. It’s a waste of time to argue later about what was or wasn't said. I'll show you the documents at the manor."
Clarice's blue eyes wavered for a split second.
It wasn't trust. If anything, her suspicion seemed to deepen. But her expression suggested she realized this wasn't just a simple attempt to squeeze her. Documents. Wages. Food. A bed. Clear boundaries of responsibility. To me, they were just tools to minimize future headaches, but apparently, few employers in this world offered them upfront.
"A noble who goes so far as to prepare a written contract is usually just trying to close off any exits, isn't he?"
"It is meant to close off exits. Mine, specifically. If you really are an embezzler, I'm the one who loses out."
"You truly are the worst. But at least you don't seem to lie much."
Clarice leaned against the doorframe and brushed her golden hair over her shoulder. She was exhausted, but her spirit wasn't broken. There were reasons her market value had dropped, but her competence didn't seem to have rotted along with it.
Mylene was watching Clarice from behind me with a slightly anxious expression. Clarice noticed and turned her gaze toward the white-haired maid.
"Were you also hired cheaply by this man?"
"Yes. However, I am provided with food and a bed. If I am injured while working, the manor pays for the medicine."
Clarice’s expression went blank.
"...And he considers that to be hiring you cheaply?"
"It seems so."
"...What a strange household."
"Yes. It is a bit strange," Mylene replied earnestly.
I gave Mylene a brief glare. Now she was joining in? However, seeing their exchange, Clarice relaxed her guard just a fraction. Mylene’s simple presence seemed to carry more weight than my words.
"The wages are low," I stated again. "I'll be honest: I don't have the funds for an expensive aide. I'll provide food and a bed because it's a nuisance if you collapse on the job. I'll draw up a contract so we don't have to deal with 'he said, she said' nonsense later. Take three days to look over my paperwork as a trial. If you’re useful, I’ll hire you. If not, you’re out."
Clarice remained silent.
Her suspicion hadn't vanished. Her eyes were still searching for my ulterior motive. But inside that dim, cramped room, her fingers were white from how hard she was gripping the doorframe.
"I did not embezzle anything."
"I'll decide that after I see your work."
"Normally, wouldn't a person say whether they believe me or not first?"
"Better to say I'll look for myself than to lie and say I believe you when I don't."
Clarice fell quiet for a moment, then let out a soft sigh.
"...You are a strange man."
"I hear that a lot."
"Fine. I'll hear you out, Vain. But don't get the wrong idea. I don't trust you yet."
"That’s fine. I wouldn't know what to do with your trust if you gave it to me this early."
Clarice retreated into her room and grabbed a small bag. She had very little—a change of clothes, an old quill, an inkwell, and a bundle of papers. It was a pathetic amount for the daughter of a formerly noble house. Yet, she hadn't abandoned the tools of her trade.
I glanced at the papers. "What are those?"
"Evidence I wrote up to prove my innocence. Not that anyone will look at it."
"Bring it. Someone who refuses to let go of the numbers might be worth something."
Clarice’s fingers tightened around the bundle. "...Understood."
◇
By the time we left the inn, the bill the landlady had presented had shrunk.
Clarice had pointed out that the bath fee had been charged twice and that she was being billed for meals she hadn't eaten. The landlady tried to shout her down at first, but she folded the moment she saw me watching in silence. A villainous face has its uses. I didn't even have to threaten her; I just stood there.
When we stepped onto the street, Clarice squinted as if the sunlight were too bright.
"You're really taking me back to House Razugrim."
"Going to change your mind now?"
"No. It’s just... if you take me in, it will only fuel the bad rumors about you, Young Master."
"They're already as bad as they can get."
Clarice seemed at a loss for words.
I kept walking as I spoke. "Don't get any ideas. I'm not doing this to save you. I came for you because I can't afford a high-priced aide and you looked like a bargain. I’m giving you food and a bed because I need you functional. I paid your bill because I’d lose out if you ran off before looking at my paperwork."
"When you put it that way, I actually feel relieved."
"Is that something to be relieved about?"
"It’s easier to understand than someone acting out of 'goodwill' only to demand something else later."
Is that how it works? I didn't quite get it, but I could hear the sharp edge in Clarice’s voice softening. For someone who had been pitied, suspected, and mocked, perhaps being viewed through the simple lens of utility was a comfort.
The aide candidate I’d scouted for her low price was more of a handful than I’d anticipated, but she also seemed far more capable than I’d hoped.