The atmosphere inside the carriage was heavy as we made our way back to the manor with Clarice Elford.
Actually, to be precise, there was no carriage. Since I had already sent the coachman and stableman packing, we had to walk from North Street back to the estate. It didn't look the least bit aristocratic, but since we were short on hands, there was no helping it. A silver-haired young head with the face of a villain, walking with a maid sporting a white bob-cut and a fallen talented woman with her blonde hair tied back. The people along the road pretended to look away, but they were definitely watching us.
Clarice glanced at me several times as we walked.
What flickered in her blue eyes was wariness. Though her face was exhausted, her spirit remained unbroken. Her clothes were worn and her cuffs were frayed, yet her blonde hair was tied neatly and her head remained held high. For a woman who had been cast out by her family and framed for embezzlement, her eyes weren't dead yet.
Good.
She had a good face and sharp eyes. If I could get her for a bargain, it would be a steal. Of course, if I said that out loud, Mylene would give me a cold stare, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Hey, Vain. Do you really intend to let me into your manor? I’m a woman suspected of embezzlement. Besides, your house just dismissed all its old servants at once. I think just bringing me in will only fuel the rumors."
"If rumors could reduce the number of petitions in those wooden crates, I’d listen to them gladly."
"They won’t."
"Then I don't care. I’d rather reduce the paperwork than the rumors."
Clarice narrowed her eyes slightly. It was the look of someone who thought I was the lowest of the low, but it wasn't the look of someone dealing with a person they couldn't communicate with. Not bad. Sometimes, a woman who doubts is more useful than one who fawns. Those who doubt check the records. Those who check the records notice fraud.
When we passed through the manor gates, Clarice stopped in her tracks.
Crumbling gateposts, a garden that hadn't been tended to yet, and cobblestones in the middle of being cleaned. It was hard to call it a grand noble's manor. However, the windows were open, the candelabras in the hall were lit, and the faint scent of herbs wafted from the direction of the dining hall. At the very least, the house wasn't dead.
"It’s in better shape than I thought."
"Mylene got things moving."
"...By herself?"
Clarice’s gaze turned toward Mylene.
Mylene pressed the keys at her waist and bowed with a slightly tense expression, her white hair falling over her cheeks. She still showed signs of fear in front of others, but she didn't try to hide the keys.
"I am merely tidying the manor so that Master can take it easy."
"...I see. You’re a strange pair."
"I think so too."
Mylene looked as if she wanted to offer a small protest, but she held her tongue.
◇
When we entered the office, Clarice’s expression changed instantly.
The wooden crates piled on the desk. The petitions from the villages. The old ledgers. The receipts stamped with the predecessor's seal. To me, it was a mountain of paper I didn't even want to look at, but Clarice went silent the moment she saw it. Her blue eyes weren't tracking the height of the stack, but rather the organization and age of the documents.
"Who sorted these?"
"No one. They’re just piled in the order they arrived."
"That’s the worst way to do it... petitions, payments, and harvest records are all mixed together. This way, you can’t even tell if they’ve been answered."
"That’s why I brought you here."
"I haven’t decided if I’m taking the job yet."
"Then take a look as a trial. I’ll be watching you, too, to see if you’re actually useful."
Clarice didn't reply. Instead, she stepped toward the desk and picked up a piece of paper. Her movements were swift—not rough, but without a hint of hesitation. She seemed like a different person from the woman who had been leaning against the door at that run-down inn.
"This village has sent the same petition twice. This one is a request to repair bridge planks, but the next paper says the transport of wheat was delayed. They couldn't move it because the bridge was out, but during your predecessor's time, it was treated as negligence and they were fined....How cruel."
"The one who was cruel wasn't me. It was my predecessor."
"Hearing that from his son sounds quite heartless."
"I have no interest in shouldering my deceased father's failures."
Clarice gave a short, derisive laugh, but she didn't take her eyes off the paper.
Next, she opened an old ledger. She traced the numbers with her finger, furrowing her brow. Her blonde hair swayed behind her shoulder, and a sharp focus returned to her profile, masking her fatigue.
"The tax collection is too heavy relative to the harvest. Moreover, the amount of wheat that entered the storehouse doesn't match the amount sent to the manor. Either it’s being siphoned off along the way, or the village officials have been lying from the start... either way, if this continues, they'll be forced to eat next season's seed wheat."
"And your point is?"
"You need to separate the petitions by village immediately. Sort them into three categories: awaiting a reply, awaiting payment, and requiring on-site confirmation. After that, separate the villages that need tax deferrals from those that need their fines canceled. You can't do it all at once, but if you leave it like this, the domain will wither."
I sat in my chair and took a sip of tea.
A total hit.
She had a good face, a sharp tongue, and she could see the truth in the numbers. She was perfect. If I could hire her for cheap, my days of leisure were close at hand. I pulled two sheets of parchment from the desk drawer that I had prepared in advance.
"Read this."
Clarice took them with a wary look.
"What is this?"
"A trial contract. It lists the wages, room, meals, scope of work, delineation of responsibility, and the required record-keeping methods. It's a pain to explain it all verbally. It's all there."
Clarice’s eyes scanned the parchment.
She was suspicious at first, but as she read on, the tension in her expression shifted. The wages weren't excessively high, but it wasn't an amount meant to exploit a fallen woman, either. A private room provided. Meals provided. Right to inspect the ledgers. When involved in payments, she must always obtain the master’s seal. No acting on verbal promises; she was to record the name of the person who gave the order. No single person would bear all the responsibility alone. After a trial period, formal employment would begin upon the signature of both parties.
Clarice looked up from the paper.
"...Suspicious. Rather than being too good to be true, it’s almost too thorough in closing off any escape routes."
"It closes my escape routes, too. If I leave a record of what I ordered you to do on paper, you can't act on your own. In exchange for you losing that freedom, I can't feign ignorance later, either."
"And how does that benefit you?"
"It saves time. Blaming each other for mistakes is a waste of effort. I don't want to work, and I hate being called away to deal with useless disputes more than anything else."
Clarice pursed her lips tightly.
She looked as though she were angry, or perhaps as though she were holding something back.
"In my previous house, they wouldn't let me keep any records. When I tried to write down the name of the person who gave the order, they got angry, saying it was offensive because it seemed like I was doubting them. In the end, only my seal remained on the documents."
"Then keep the records here. Take my seal, Mylene’s confirmation, and if necessary, get the village official's thumbprint. I won’t say that paper never lies, but it’s better than just taking someone's word for it."
Mylene let out a quiet breath.
Clarice noticed the sound and looked at the white-haired maid. Mylene touched the keys at her waist and gave a small nod.
"In this manor, every time we open a lock or take out food, we record it on paper. Because Master dislikes trouble."
"...Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Yes. For me, it is."
After a brief silence, Clarice looked at the parchment once more.
"I don't trust you. Your face and the rumors are both far too villainous to believe."
"I don't mind."
"But, given this document, it’s worth a try. I'll look at the ledgers for three days. If you order anything strange during that time, I'm leaving."
"Will three days be enough?"
"Not to finish everything. But it's plenty of time to see if you're a master actually worth serving."
She certainly had guts.
I laughed, likely looking every bit the villain.
"Three days it is, then. Make my life easy, Clarice."
"That's a lazy order, Vain."
As Clarice spoke, she didn't fold the parchment, nor did she toss it aside. She simply placed it neatly on the edge of the desk.
That alone was enough. A second useful woman was about to join my manor. The only problem was that she didn't trust me in the slightest.