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After buying the ingredients and returning to the estate, the head maid led me to the kitchen.
“You’re late.”
“First time.”
Tonight’s dinner was vegetable stew.
While I peeled potatoes, the head maid prepared carrots and onions and adjusted the seasoning of the stew.
When I finally sat at the table and was greeted by the warm, steaming bowl, my chest tightened slightly.
‘How long has it been since I’ve had something this warm? There are even proper dishes.’
But… only the two of us?
“For your information, the master takes care of his own meals, so there’s no need to worry about that.”
So that’s how it is.
I took a spoonful of stew, savored it, and swallowed.
A flavor so surprising that even I—who had lived like a beggar—was taken aback spread through my mouth.
“It’s bad.”
“It’s bad?”
“…ma’am.”
“Keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself. I’ve never been particularly talented at cooking.”
We finished our plates in silence. For reference, I was on my third plate, and the head maid watched me eat nonstop like a slave with a tired expression.
“It’s only been a day since we met, but I’ve never seen a maid like you, Miss Daisy. Not that I’m bragging, but quite a lot of maids have come and gone from the Weatherwoods estate. Most of them quit quickly… or ran away.”
I think I know why they ran away. It felt awkward to answer, so I just kept moving my spoon.
“How did you end up doing this kind of work?”
How did I end up here?
After escaping Quinn Island with the help of the soldiers, I had a major problem.
I had no money to live on.
My hometown—my home—had long since burned down, and having lost the identity I’d used for ten years as my younger brother, I had nowhere to get money from.
A woman with no connections and no skills has few options.
Factories won’t hire you without a referral. Farms have off-seasons, so they can’t provide year-round work. Shop assistants don’t get lodging.
So the only way to secure both food and shelter, along with money, was to become a maid.
That was why I had deliberately told the interviewer I wanted a “vicious employer.”
Because I had no choice but to work even in a place like that.
‘A maid, huh.’
In the end, it wasn’t a bad choice.
I only had three years to live anyway—and to extend that lifespan, there was something I needed to find in this city, Midwintry.
I had no intention of saving money to live in luxury. I only needed enough to survive. Nothing more.
The head maid looked at me with a hint of sympathy.
“If it’s hard to answer, you don’t have to. Everyone has their own story, don’t they? Surely everyone carries at least one thing in their heart.”
I had been about to say “I have no home and no money,” but I closed my mouth instead.
‘If I let it slip that I’m broke, she might work me even harder like a slave.’
Better to pretend I’m someone with a tragic backstory. Maybe she’ll feel bad and give me less work.
Still, the dishes were my responsibility.
The next day.
Following the head maid’s orders, I cleaned the estate like a dog.
“You really have great strength and stamina, Miss Daisy. Today, we’ll clean the dust on the second-floor ceiling. Did you know? If it’s left unattended long enough, even ceilings collect dust.”
I had only closed my eyes for a moment after dinner, yet a new day had already begun. Seriously? It was the first time I’d experienced something like this since my days on the battlefield.
The day after that.
Today, I worked not like a dog, but like an ox.
“A new employee will arrive tomorrow morning. Today’s schedule will be even more demanding, so we’ll finish about an hour early. Let’s start with cleaning the fireplaces in each room.”
After about three days, I started getting used to being a maid.
It also felt like time to look into the “purpose” that brought me to Midwintry, so I asked the head maid and the market merchants about “that item.”
But the answers I got were predictable.
“Hm. You mean the legacy that Dian Ket left behind before his death? It probably exists. Isn’t it safely stored in some great noble’s treasure vault?”
“Dian Ket’s legacy? Ah, right. They say something like that is hidden in this city… but it’s just a rumor, isn’t it? No one believes it except children, miss.”
<The Legacy of Dian Ket>
That’s right. I had settled here in Midwintry to find the “eye,” one of the five relics left behind by Dian Ket.
Dian Ket—the great healer said to bring even the dead back to life.
He divided his power among his relics and sealed them away, and a myth—almost a legend—has been passed down: that gathering all five relics can cure any incurable disease.
‘Though whether it can heal a broken soul is another matter.’
Dian Ket, along with the grand mage Mephisto, had been called a demigod.
If I could find it, it would certainly be worth the effort.
And so, I spent my days juggling the search for Dian Ket’s legacy and my work as a maid.
Late at night, as an exhausting day came to an end—
My mind, drifting between reality and sleep, suddenly snapped awake.
‘One.’
Someone had entered the bedroom.
Footsteps, breathing, timing. It was an excellent infiltration.
I considered striking first and threatening them, but held back.
Highly trained assassins tend to kill themselves when they sense their mission will fail.
A very troublesome habit.
So unless I exploited an opening, it would be difficult to uncover the intruder’s identity.
“Wake up, maid.”
Soon, a cold blade pressed against my throat.
“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat. Stay quiet and listen. If you want to live, obey my orders.”
When I calmly opened my eyes, I was met with cold blue eyes staring down at me.
“From today on, you are a spy. Monitor Baron Weatherwoods’ movements and report regularly.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you hear me say shut up? This is not a request—it’s an order. If you want to live, obey.”
The intruder looked slightly flustered at my response.
“Why?”
“Seems you’re not fully awake yet,” the intruder muttered—
So I flicked his forehead.
The solid flick nearly knocked him unconscious, and he staggered.
I didn’t miss the moment. I shoved my fingers into his mouth and pulled out the hidden pill.
A pill fitted neatly where his molar should be—
the so-called Merciful Bite.
A suicide pill commonly used by assassination guilds.
“Why?”
As the intruder quickly regained his senses, I stuffed a blanket into his mouth.
I pinned him to the floor and stripped away the hidden weapons concealed all over his body.
“Why?”
A needle-like blade. A sturdy dagger. Unknown powder. Leaf-shaped shuriken…
And finally, when I tossed aside the emergency Merciful Bite hidden in his sleeve, the fighting spirit in his eyes completely vanished.
Now, he had no means left to kill himself.
“Prepare to answer.”
The intruder shut his eyes tightly in despair, then nodded.
When I removed the blanket from his mouth, he spoke in ragged breaths, staring at me in disbelief.
“You’re no ordinary maid. Who the hell are you?”
“Answer.”
“…I only took on a request from the guild. I don’t know who made the request, or why Baron Weatherwoods must be monitored.”
“How many before me?”
“At least three, from what I’ve heard.”
That meant at least three maids had been threatened the same way I was.
All for one purpose: to spy on Baron Weatherwoods.
“What happened to the previous maids?”
“……”
“Answer.”
“I don’t know. My role is only to extract an oath of obedience from the maid. I’m not involved in what happens before or after.”
The assassin held up a small tack-shaped earring attached to his right ear.
From the aura it emitted, it was clearly a magical artifact.
‘Something used to enforce an oath.’
An oath is a promise bound by the soul.
Breaking it destroys the soul and leads to death—a forbidden magic banned long ago.
‘They tried to force such a thing on an ordinary maid? More than three times?’
Thinking about it, something had felt off.
I had only been here a few days, but the Weatherwoods estate wasn’t terrible enough for maids to constantly run away.
The master never showed his face. The assigned bedroom was spacious and clean. The daily schedule was strictly from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m.
So rather than running away, it was more likely the maids had disappeared.
Not by choice—but by force.
‘But the baron isn’t even in this estate.’
After ten years on the battlefield, sensing presence is second nature to me.
I was certain—Baron Weatherwoods had been absent from the estate.
For quite a long time.
‘If they’ve sent assassins more than three times, there’s no way the client doesn’t know that.’
An empty estate.
A client persistently monitoring it.
This place… was suspicious in every possible way.
