It had been a month since I hired Clarice Elford.
In the beginning, my office desk had been on the verge of collapsing under a mountain of wooden crates. Petitions from the villages, replies that had been stalled since my predecessor's time, tax copies, penalty silver records, and payment receipts—everything was jumbled together. It had been far too tedious for me to even look at. But things were different now. Although the sheer volume of paper on the desk hadn't decreased, I now knew exactly which ones needed my attention. There were those requiring an immediate seal, those where I only needed to check for loopholes, those Clarice would return after further investigation, and those to be sent back to the villages. She had even color-coded the twine used to bind the different categories.
A terrifying woman, truly.
Rather than simply reducing my workload, she had fundamentally restructured the nature of the work itself.
I lay back on the sofa, tea in hand, watching the scene unfold. Clarice, her gold hair tied back in a single ponytail, was busy running her quill across parchment at her own desk today as well. Her cheeks had more color than they did during her time at the flophouse, and the shadows under her blue eyes had faded. She was still thin, but there was a certain strength in her gaze whenever she reviewed a document. Mylene had mended her frayed cuffs. I had given her a room and was providing her meals. From my perspective, since I had provided her with such a stable environment, I expected her to work herself to the bone in return.
"Vain, could you please stop watching me work while you lounge there? You already have a bad reputation; having such poor posture on top of that makes you look like nothing more than a corrupt noble."
"I am not just any corrupt noble. I am a corrupt noble who puts in the effort so that I don’t have to work."
"I don’t think that’s something to be proud of."
Even as she spoke, Clarice slid a bundle of papers toward me. When I made a face, she held up her quill to head off my complaints.
"You only have to read three pages. I’ve handled the rest. The bridge repairs are already underway. We received a letter of receipt from the village we lent seed wheat to. And the village where the penalty silver was suspended said they’ll be able to bring wheat to this month’s market. Those wooden crates you hated so much turned out to be somewhat useful."
"I didn't make them useful; you did. Which means my purchase was a success."
"Calling me a 'purchase' is truly bottom-tier behavior. But... being recognized as useful isn't the worst feeling."
Only that last part was muttered under her breath.
A month ago, Clarice wouldn't have spoken like that. She would have led with words like "untrustworthy," "suspicious," or "scum" to keep me at a distance. Her tongue was still sharp now, but for a fleeting moment, she would look away whenever her work was praised. Seeing that reaction satisfied a certain wicked part of me. Rescuing a capable woman on the cheap, getting her back on her feet, and putting her to work—only for her to actually start feeling better. It was remarkably efficient exploitation.
"Master, I have brought more tea. I will also bring Clarice’s lunch here to the office."
Mylene entered carrying a tray. Her white bobbed hair was perfectly neat, as always, and the keys at her hip chimed softly. She, too, had changed over the past month. The food storage ledgers were now easy to navigate, and any decrease in oil or wheat could be spotted instantly. Clarice must have been advising her; small marks had even been added next to the line items.
"Mylene, I'll eat in the dining hall. If I eat at my desk, I'll end up splashing soup on the documents, and you'll make a face."
"I do not make a face."
"Yes, you do. Silently, and very intensely."
Mylene lowered her eyes, looking slightly troubled. However, despite her denial, she seemed pleased. In the beginning, she had been nervous just serving tea to Clarice, but now she was assertive enough to insist the girl eat in the dining hall.
I watched the two of them as I took my tea.
Mylene guarded the manor's interior. Clarice organized the domain's records and finances. I applied my seal when necessary, looked for loopholes, and drank my tea. It was nearly perfect. No, it would be truly perfect with a bit more wine and a few more beauties, but this would do for now.
◇
In the afternoon, Clarice was spreading out the records of my predecessor’s wheat transactions.
The name of House Elford, which had first surfaced in the food storage ledgers, appeared on more than just one page. There were records from my predecessor's time showing wheat from the Razgrim domain being funneled to merchant lines associated with House Elford. In some of these cases, the payments moved ahead of time, but the quantities entering the storehouses didn't match. It was too early to call it embezzlement, but it certainly wasn't a clean transaction.
Only when looking at those papers did Clarice's movements slow.
"Put it aside if it bothers you. The paper isn't going anywhere."
"If I put it aside, someone else will 'conveniently' take care of it... In my former house, the papers that most needed to be seen were always the ones that disappeared first."
"Then don't let them disappear here. Keep them and read."
"...You say that so easily."
"I say it easily because you're the one who actually has to read them."
Clarice looked at me with exasperation, but her eyes held no anger. She held down the edge of the parchment and took a deep breath. In the depths of her blue eyes, I saw a pain that hadn't faded even after a month.
"The dates of these payments are close to when I was accused at my previous home. My father's steward told me that the wheat payments were short and that my seal was on the documents. He demanded an explanation... I told them I had only processed it because I was ordered to. But the name of the person who gave the order was nowhere to be found."
Though she spoke at length, her voice remained detached. That very detachment made it painful to hear.
Mylene listened in silence, clutching her keys. Behind her white hair, her gray eyes wavered. She, too, had once been framed for a crime she didn't commit—a girl whose life had been tarnished over a single silver plate. To her, Clarice's story was not just someone else's problem.
I picked up one of the papers. It only recorded the wheat transactions between my predecessor and the merchants on House Elford's side. There was no mention of Clarice's name or seal.
"They are merely similar. This doesn't prove you were framed at your previous house."
"I know... but the way the numbers are shifted and the methods used to balance the books are identical... I can't believe it's a coincidence."
"Then let's investigate it separately from your personal case. First, we'll find out who was involved in this manor's wheat transactions."
Clarice’s shoulders stiffened slightly.
"You aren't even going to offer a word of comfort, are you?"
"Comfort won't fill the blanks on a page. However, if you were truly going to skim money, you wouldn't leave such a sloppy trail. Leaving your own seal while erasing the name of the person who gave the order is far too idiotic."
"Are you... praising me? Because it sounds like you're saying I'd be better at embezzling."
"I am praising you. I'm saying your mind works well enough that you could become an excellent villain."
"That is the worst possible way to praise someone."
Clarice spoke sharply, but the corners of her mouth relaxed just a fraction. She didn't quite laugh, but the tension in her fingertips finally dissipated.
"But you're right. If I were going to do it, I'd do it much better. At the very least, I wouldn't leave behind a paper trail that only strangled my own neck."
"Good, that's the spirit. Before you prove your innocence, prove that you aren't an idiot. That will be much faster."
"Isn't it usually the other way around?"
"The 'usual' way is how you ended up in a flophouse."
Clarice was at a loss for words. I was aware I was being harsh, but I wasn't wrong. Wrapping the truth in pretty words would only make a woman like her more suspicious.
After a short while, Clarice exhaled.
"...It's irritating, but clear. Your words hurt, Vain, but you don't leave any escape routes."
"I save the escape routes for myself."
"You really won't yield on that, will you?"
"Naturally."
◇
In the evening, a letter that Mylene had received in place of the absent gatekeeper was brought to the office.
The wax seal bore the crest of House Elford.
Clarice’s hands stopped moving. The air in the room seemed to grow cold. Mylene gripped the letter tightly as she looked at me. I sat up from the sofa and broke the seal.
The content was brief.
Clarice Elford was a member of House Elford, and it would not be in anyone's best interest to keep her at another house while misunderstandings persisted. They desired her immediate return. It was an incredibly self-serving letter. There were no words retracting the embezzlement allegations. No apology. And yet, they demanded her return.
I scoffed.
"Are they saying they kicked her out as a criminal, or are they saying they want her back as a member of the family? Which is it?"
Clarice said nothing.
She simply looked down at the parchment on her desk—the employment contract she had signed a month ago. A paper she had signed not to run away, but to work.
I tossed the letter onto the desk.
"A troublesome letter has arrived, Clarice."
Clarice slowly raised her head. In her blue eyes, hesitation and anger were intermingled.
"...You're right. My old home is truly troublesome."
Hearing her voice, I realized one thing.
It seemed my afternoon nap was still a long way off.