CDMGS 28🌻

Chapter 28

I crossed my arms, staring at Jameson’s back as he half-heartedly mopped the floor, dragging himself forward.

Sure, I had been in the wrong. But honestly—
unless you were working under some cruel, heartless master,

If you were being paid, you ought to work properly.

Especially when our Duke wasn’t just “any” employer.

He gave us meat at every meal.
Our quarters were more than comfortable.
He frequently handed out extra wages.

Even I, as someone with the authority to assign tasks, had been lenient. This time I’d even excused him from his afternoon duties.

So really… this wasn’t right.

I had been the one apologizing all this time, so I hadn’t wanted to pull it out. But if my relationship with Jameson broke down completely, I was ready to use the magic phrase:

“I’ll tell the Duke.”

It was just then, as I turned a corner in the corridor, that Eki came running, waving both hands excitedly.

“Sha— Head Maid!”

Today was finally a day when I could work with Eki again.

Eki!

I mouthed her name and waved back warmly.

By now, I had learned so many of the servants’ names that I couldn’t even count them anymore, and I called them freely.

But Eki still hesitated to reveal her own name to the others. Sometimes she even clapped her hand over her mouth mid-introduction, as though hiding some dangerous secret.

The Duke himself has called her by name several times. What’s there to hide?

Amused by the thought, I hugged Eki lightly as she approached.

She nestled her face briefly into my chest, then lifted her head with a bright grin. Her golden eyes glittered like they’d caught the sun.

“It’s been so long since we cleaned together!”

“Yes, you’re right. I haven’t been on corridor duty in a while.”

“It reminds me of the old days! When you first came, the three of us always cleaned together like this—”

Her cheerful voice cut off abruptly.

The warmth I had felt in her hug seemed to turn cold, almost icy.

Her gaze had locked on Jameson’s back.

“….”

The air itself grew heavy. Jameson’s shoulders twitched as though he’d been struck.

The tips of his tentacles, dragging along the floor, trembled.

Living alongside him had taught me something: Jameson was terrible at hiding his emotions. His face betrayed his thoughts, and his tentacles revealed even more.

“I heard the Head Maid even gave you her special meal the other day,” Eki’s voice dropped low, sharper than I’d ever heard before.

Jameson’s tentacles jerked violently in midair.

“Then shouldn’t you at least do your work properly?”

“……!”

Jameson’s whole body sagged as though he’d been struck hard from behind.

“A-ah! I-it seems… there wasn’t enough water for mopping!”

To my shock, Jameson finally opened his mouth for the first time in two days—right in front of me.

He slid backward, silently, like a shadow.

Splat! Squelch!

He dunked every one of his tentacles into the bucket, soaking them through, then twisted them together until they were perfectly damp.

Not dripping, not dry. Just right.

They hit the floor with purpose, moving in practiced, steady strokes.

The lips that had always jutted in defiance pressed flat against his octopus-like face.

And then—

“Head Maid… I’ll accept your apology.”

The apology he had refused again and again—he suddenly accepted.

And without even waiting for my reply, he scrubbed the corridor with renewed zeal.

The floor gleamed in moments.

Eki, still nestled lightly against me, watched his every move with sharp eyes.

I replayed the scene over and over in my mind, trying to make sense of it.

So basically—

Eki had said just one sentence?

The same Eki who had once shrunk timidly among the monsters, who had always seemed so small?

Her tone had been low, her words biting, her eyes fierce.

Which could only mean one thing—

“Eki has grown stronger.”

It was one of those classic transmigration-romance clichés: the timid friend who, by the heroine’s side, slowly gained confidence and became bold.

When did she grow this much?

Soon after, Eki slipped out of my arms, took up a broom, and swept the floor diligently—making sure Jameson mopped properly where she swept.

Compared to when she could hardly wield the broom at all, it was incredible progress.

I barely resisted the urge to grab her cheeks and stretch them in pride.

No matter how small she was, she was my peer—and today, she had earned respect.

And so, my quarrel with Jameson ended far more smoothly than I had expected.

“Shasha, let’s eat dinner together!”

“Yes, Eki.”

We walked together toward the dining hall, chatting happily.

But midway, a thought struck me.

Wait… didn’t Eki just use informal speech?

Her words echoed in my mind:

“Then shouldn’t you at least do your work properly?”

I was certain Rule Number One said everyone, except the Duke, must use polite speech with each other.

Maybe it was just a mutter…

After all, her voice had been so low that only I, right beside her, had heard.

And since it had been just the three of us in the corridor, it probably didn’t matter anyway.

As I mulled it over, Eki tugged eagerly at my sleeve, her eyes sparkling.

Almost too sparkling. Honestly, compared to when she’d scolded Jameson, her gaze now seemed even scarier.

“Tonight’s dinner is lamb steak, covered with gooey melted cheese!”

So that was it. She was just excited.

Eki spent the rest of the walk chattering about doneness levels and seasoning, her golden eyes glowing.

Dinner ended, and the afternoon shift began.

As always, I went to the Duke’s office.

“Good afternoon, my lord!”

“Mm.”

As always, he answered briefly, his eyes still on the documents in his hands.

He still didn’t look directly at me.

But at least he responded. That alone was huge progress.

At first, he had bristled like a hedgehog, spines out in every direction. Now, though he still seemed weary,

the corners of his lips sometimes curved upward—just slightly.

Still…

Why was it that no matter how often I saw him, I could never get used to it?

The wind stirred his silver hair, and sunlight glinted across the strands, like a halo of light. His lowered eyes gleamed like rubies—no, stop.

I quickly moved to the far corner near the door, sweeping the floor diligently.

If he caught me staring, he would no doubt ask again, “Do you have something to say?”

“Shasha.”

“Yes?”

“What is it this time?”

“….”

Too late. I’d been caught again.

When I looked up, he had already set aside his papers and was resting his chin on one hand, gazing at me expectantly.

As if to say, Go on. Speak.

I coughed lightly. Of course, I couldn’t just blurt out, “Why are you so handsome, my lord?”

But inspiration always struck in desperate moments.

Pushing aside the thought of his beauty, I asked instead:

“I was just wondering… what happens if someone breaks the household rules?”

It wasn’t that I intended to break them, but surely someone could explain.

After all, most estates with strict rules also had strict penalties—warnings, fines, even dismissal without severance.

Without consequences, rules were meaningless.

At Baron Armond’s estate alone, I remembered over twenty such clauses, each ending with a dire warning.

This place seemed different. Everyone followed the rules without issue. Well—except Eki’s little “informal speech,” which had been just a mutter, so it didn’t really count.

So I had expected a quick answer.

But the Duke didn’t reply right away.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, thoughtful—far more thoughtful than usual.