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CHAPTER 10
That day, the Duke was once again sitting at his desk in a neat black uniform, flipping through documents.
“Shasha.”
“Yes?”
“You should knock.”
“Oh, sorry!”
…Too much enthusiasm only ruins things.
I went back out, knocked twice, then stepped inside again.
“…Come in.”
“Good morning, my lord!”
“….”
The Duke let out a long sigh, still holding a half-turned page in his hand.
Well, what was done was done. Might as well act shamelessly.
Since I had already cleaned once, tidying up his office wasn’t that hard today.
By the time I was wiping the marble windowsill, I heard his low voice blend with the sound of rustling papers.
“…The horses still seem weak.”
…Ah!
Another thing I could help with!
My eyes sparkled as I stared at his perfect profile.
After cleaning the Duke’s room, I went straight to the stables.
“Kelpie, Seeker.”
“…Yes, Head Maid!”
The reply came in a rush, though their steps were slow.
As the squelching of boots grew closer, the smell of manure filled the air. I almost pinched my nose—but stopped myself. They were working hard. Covering my nose would’ve been rude.
Sweaty and tired, Kelpie and Seeker trudged over. A quick glance told me the front of the stable was already cleaned.
But the real issue here wasn’t cleaning.
“Are the horses eating their feed now?”
“….”
They both looked away, silent. Then Seeker jabbed Kelpie in the side.
“Argh!” Kelpie yelped, like it hurt way more than just a poke.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“So… they’re still not eating? And you don’t know why?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Huh, how strange.
I looked at their awkward faces. Honestly, the only reason I put these two in the stables was because—well… their faces looked like horses.
Yes. They had human bodies, but horse heads. Monsters.
At first, they complained loudly. “Just because we have horse faces, why do we have to clean horse poop?!” But then Jameson got mopped in the face… and they went quiet.
Since then, they followed my orders.
But apparently, horse-headed didn’t mean “good with horses.”
“Um… can’t you two, you know, talk to them?”
“Eh? We’re not horses.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Our origin is the ocean! Not these weak land creatures—mmph!”
Kelpie’s passionate outburst was quickly silenced by Seeker covering his mouth.
I folded my arms.
‘This is troubling.’
If the Duke’s horses regained their energy, it would surely ease his mind. But right now…
“Then I’ll just tell the Duke. If you can’t speak to them, there’s no help—”
“No. I can do it.”
“…Huh?”
But hadn’t he just said he couldn’t? Even worse, it was Seeker—the quiet one—who spoke.
With a determined look, he clenched his fists and approached the horses.
Then he shouted—
“■☐? ■☐☐☐■■☐!”
The horses neighed loudly, kicking and stomping, like they were answering him.
‘Wow… amazing!’
So he really could talk to them?
Their strange back-and-forth went on for a long while. Finally, Seeker turned back.
Covered in horse feed.
“It’s no good.”
“…What?”
“It’s useless. I didn’t understand a word.”
“….”
Wait. Then what was all that noise?
Turns out the horses just got mad and kicked feed at him.
‘Hold on…’
The strange-colored feed stuck on his head caught my eye.
“Um… how old is this feed?”
Both of them froze and looked at me.
I grabbed a handful of the stuff from Seeker’s hair and held it up.
Without hesitation, he replied:
“About 300 years old.”
“…WHAT?!”
The feed crumbled into dust between my fingers.
No wonder. It wasn’t even yellow anymore—almost purple.
And here I was thinking it looked “colorful.”
“You’ve been feeding them this? And they’re still alive?!”
“Well, yes…”
“It’s obviously why they’re weak!”
I pressed my forehead, exasperated. “I need to tell the Duke right away!”
I rushed out of the stables. Monsters really made no sense. Who keeps 300-year-old horse feed?!
But at least I had found the solution.
So I ran straight to the Duke’s office.
…Though now that I thought about it, wasn’t he also handling all the finances himself? Could this be tied to some tragedy, maybe money problems, the empire, his family—?
My imagination started spiraling, and tears pricked my eyes. I shook my head wildly.
The next morning.
The weather was bright and peaceful.
Or so I thought.
“Aaaaargh!”
The scream echoed across the estate.
No, so much for peaceful.
I tried to ignore it—until I spotted Kelpie running toward me. His boots were covered in mud. Or manure. Or both.
“…I just cleaned that!”
The monster scrubbing the garden shrieked, but Kelpie didn’t care. His eyes were locked on me.
“Head Maid! It’s terrible! Please, come to the stables, quickly!”
“What happened?”
“Just come—hurry!”
What in the world…? His eyes were bloodshot.
I followed him back to the stables.
There, Seeker was standing stiffly, staring up at something.
I followed his gaze. And froze.
The horse feed.
It was stacked higher than the stable roof, in two giant piles.
Seeker turned to me, his face filled with desperate hope.
“Head Maid! The supplier just dumped this here and ran away!”
“…Wow. So fast. They delivered in one day?”
“…Eh? But this amount—this can’t be normal!”
“Of course. The Duke must have ordered it himself.”
After all, there was no butler here.
“….”
“Kelpie, Seeker. Bring it all inside.”
“All of it?!”
“Yes. The Duke wouldn’t make a mistake.”
They exchanged a look, shaken.
“…Or do you want me to go ask him directly?”
“No!”
The hope in their eyes vanished. Wordlessly, they began carrying the feed.
I watched them proudly.
‘See? No problem at all.’
Efficient workers, prompt delivery. Everything was going smoothly.
Yesterday, I had rushed to the Duke and told him about the ancient feed. I expected shock. Outrage. An instant replacement order.
But instead—
“The feed should be fine.”
I almost lost faith in him then. Almost.
But then I remembered. He had lived shut away here for so long. He wouldn’t know what “normal” was.
‘That’s right. It’s not his fault. Poor thing.’
So I explained. Feed didn’t last 300 years. Feed was not supposed to turn purple. Purple food usually meant… death.
Finally, he relented.
“Very well. We’ll replace the feed.”
Not only that—he even thanked me.
And for the first time…
He smiled.
The sunlight through the tall window behind him lit his face. I nearly dropped to my knees on the spot.
‘If the horses get better… he’ll be pleased too, right?’
I glanced at his office window, smiling softly at the memory.
Then—
“Hiiiiiing!”
A strong neigh rang out behind me.
