SWST 21

Chapter 21

She flinched when she saw my face, then quickly scanned me up and down.
“Hmm? A new maid?”
She asked, looking at my old, shabby clothes. Even I had to admit, I looked worse than a maid.
Anyway, I didn’t even know how to introduce myself.
I wasn’t officially marrying Dochev, and unlike Getty, I couldn’t say I was his mistress.
I couldn’t exactly say something like: “I’m a woman who will live with Dochev. The Duchess said I should live with His Highness for now. Maybe the young master hopes I’ll change a bit while living with him?”

“Uh, well… something like that.”
“What do you mean, something like that?”
“I’m looking for cleaning tools.”
“What? Then you are a maid. What is the head maid of the annex doing to leave you like this? Off visiting the main house again… Seriously, if that’s the case, why not just make me the head maid?”

Muttering to herself, the maid sighed deeply and gestured for me to follow.
We arrived at a laundry room stacked with piles of dirty clothes.
She rummaged through a corner and pulled something out.
“This is your maid uniform. Put it on.”

It was certainly a maid uniform, but much higher quality and softer than my own clothes.
Of course, being from a ducal household, even the maid uniforms were of good quality.

“The cleaning tools are in that room. Since you’re new, want to start with the first floor? You do know how to clean, right?”
“Of course. Cleaning’s no problem; it’s my specialty.”
“Then I’ll leave the first floor to you.”
“Thanks.”

The maid left the laundry room with a mop.
I quickly changed into the maid uniform. It was a good thing—otherwise I’d have to wash my own clothes after getting dust all over them. In fact, the uniform was so comfortable I almost wanted to take a few more sets with me.
“Perfect. Now I can clean freely without worrying about my clothes.”

Seeing the sunny weather outside the window, I happily grabbed a bucket and cleaning tools and headed out.

Before the morning dew dried, only Moldorf, the commander of the knights, remained at the quiet training grounds. He was tidying the place alone before the apprentice knights arrived and sat under a tree to polish his sword.

This routine had been repeated for over twenty years, yet today, an unexpected guest stopped his movements.
At the sound of unfamiliar footsteps, Moldorf’s initial caution faded the moment he saw the visitor’s face—shock painted his expression.
“…Young Master Dochev?”

Clang!
Moldorf was so startled he dropped his sword.
Standing there was Dochev, the second son of the family. Someone he never expected to see again—or perhaps thought he might never see again before he died.

This was the Bloody Mary Iron-Blooded Knights, specifically the 3rd division. It was an academy where apprentice knights were trained for real combat. Even the young princes of Bloody Mary were educated here.

When Nikolai, Dochev, and Helvern were about five, the duke had personally entrusted Dochev’s education to this place.
But Dochev stopped showing up after the age of thirteen. The reason was simple: he had no talent for swordsmanship.
While his brothers mastered the sword by the age of seven, he never did. The skill gap only grew with time.

Dochev lost to Nikolai and Helvern repeatedly, and by thirteen, he even lost to apprentices who had just joined as regular knights.
After being severely injured in a sparring match with Nikolai, he stopped appearing at the training grounds.

Moldorf had tried multiple times to persuade Dochev in his room, but Dochev firmly shut the door. That was ten years ago.

Now, after a decade, he had returned to the training grounds on his own.
“Long time no see, Moldorf,” he greeted unexpectedly.
“…Why are you here?” Moldorf asked, flustered.

Dochev, now standing nearby, handed him the dropped sword.
“I’ll be direct. Be my swordsmanship teacher again.”
“Swordsmanship teacher…?”
“Yes. I plan to take up the sword once more.”

In truth, Dochev had never let go of his sword, and a teacher wasn’t strictly necessary for him—even now. But the knights of this family were essential.

The ones who had destroyed the family were highly skilled—enough to defeat the 9-star duke and 8-star Nikolai and Helvern. Whoever they were, they would need more capable knights to face them.

With Halara—the beginning of that destruction—now beside him, it was time to act swiftly. For that, Moldorf, a trusted and respected knight, was needed.

“I need you.”

Dochev’s eyes were sharp, clearly different from the defeatist boy he had been. Moldorf’s breath caught.
“This place hasn’t changed much either,” Dochev said calmly, surveying the grounds as if sketching it in his mind.

“Are you serious?” Moldorf asked. It had been recent that some drunken knights got into fights with mercenaries, and he had no reason to accept someone who had left of their own accord just because he was a prince.

Dochev reached for a wooden sword stacked nearby.
“Then let’s test it.”
“What test?”
“The trial to join the knight order. If I want to rejoin, I must undergo it, right?”

He gripped the wooden sword firmly, showing no hesitation or inferiority.

After a morning of cleaning, I stepped into the hallway, focusing on a faint smell that reached me.
[When do we eat… I’m starving.]
“I feel the same. But you won’t die from hunger.”
[I’m so hungry I could die.]
“Wait. I’ll find something soon.”

Junel, weak from the exertion, slumped on my shoulder.

Getty was still nowhere to be seen. She probably hadn’t found the room, but I had no time to wait. If she didn’t come, I’d have to find her.

Sniffing along, I soon found the kitchen.
“Here it is.”

I threw the door wide open, and the smell of delicious food hit me instantly. My hunger, long suppressed, surged back.
“Finally… I’m saved.”

The kitchen was still busy preparing meals. There were many staff, but no sign of Getty. Judging from the maids and servants eating here, this was likely the staff dining area.

“Oh? You’re the one I saw earlier. You came to eat too?”
“Huh?”
“Here’s a bowl.”

The maid who had shown me where the cleaning tools were gave me a rough wooden bowl.
“Come here.”

She filled it with stew, and I carried it to a dining table next to the kitchen. There was plenty of bread on the table, and the maid said I could eat as much as I wanted.
“Unlimited bread? Nice.”

Being from a ducal house, the benefits were decent. I took a bite of the bread.

“I’m not sure what it means, but I probably can’t eat too much.”

I realized why—the bread wasn’t just wheat flour. It was a mix of whole wheat and rye, dense and rough.
Actually, that was good. Back home, whole wheat bread was twice the price of white bread and healthier.

As I chewed, enjoying the unique flavor, the maid looked at me wide-eyed in surprise.
“I’m May. What’s your name?”
“I’m… Lara.”

I simplified my name so she could understand it better.
“Lara? That’s a pretty name.”
May didn’t doubt it for a second.
“You’re pretty too.”
“My name? It’s ordinary.”

May shook her head and picked at her stew. I followed suit.
The stew looked simple but was packed with potatoes, carrots, onions, corn, peas, and pumpkin—a true nutritional powerhouse!

But why was May picking at it like that?
“Ugh.”

The moment I took a spoonful, I understood.
“Why is the seasoning like this…?”
[Ugh, ruined my taste buds! Is this food waste?]

Spitting it out, Junel rinsed her mouth with water.
“You’ll need to get used to it. Even before, the kitchen was never excellent, and the skilled chefs all moved to the main house.”
“But surely there are maids who are good at cooking.”
“They’re all in the main house. Skilled cooks are rare.”
“Then why not hire a new head chef?”
“To get a truly skilled head chef, they’d need to come from outside. Once, a spy disguised as a chef caused trouble. Since then, they try not to hire new ones.”

Hearing her whispered explanation made sense, but the taste was still awful. They were using ingredients that even poor market vendors would struggle to afford. No wonder the staff were all thin—it wasn’t just the work, it was the food.

“Still, eat this. I’ll show you a resting place afterward. Don’t tire yourself out on the first day.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Looks like you’ve been working really hard.”

May pointed at my uniform. White dust stuck to the black fabric like cat fur.
“Haha, it got a bit dirty.”
“Really? The first floor is near the entrance, so there shouldn’t be much to clean…”

Actually, I had been cleaning my room on the third floor, but no need to explain that.
“Haha. First day, so I was just cleaning anything I could find… No wonder I’m so hungry and dizzy. I want something tasty.”

Whole wheat bread wouldn’t satisfy me. When hungry, one should eat something delicious. That’s why I had planned to sell hearty dishes at the market.

[I’m hungry… Halara, just tell Getty or Jetti to bring proper food.]

But there was no guarantee Getty would bring decent food. She didn’t even like Western-style cuisine, being a K-possessed body.

“May, can I use the kitchen?”
“Eh? The kitchen?”
“I’m actually good at cooking.”
“Really?”
“Yes. When I leave here, I plan to run a food stall at the market.”

Not only that—I could cook anything in Korean cuisine, thanks to my three-meals-a-day husband.
“You don’t want to eat this either, right? I’ll make a proper meal.”
“Ah? Sure. Anything but this. I’ll report to the head maid.”

May, clearly dissatisfied with the food, gladly let me proceed.
“Perfect.”

Later, Hotssen, the annex head chef of Bloody Mary, returned late.
“Chef, did you receive proper treatment?”

An assistant saw him coming out after finishing a meal and approached. Their eyes went to Hotssen’s injured arm.
“Yes, but we’ll have to observe it for a few more days.”
“Oh my. Why do you always insist on experimenting with cooking?”
“This guy… he complains that the annex food is terrible and insists on learning proper cuisine now!”

Hotssen’s hands were already hurting from a cut, and now the assistant was adding to it. Hotssen bristled.
“Just leave him. Still, at least the food here isn’t like the scraps other noble households feed their staff.”

“You speak oddly. Aren’t the staff people too? Why must they only eat tasteless food?”
“I’m just worried about you. Compared to other houses, the staff here are treated well—they get salaries and buy decent food.”

He was right. Unlike other noble families, Bloody Mary provided fresh ingredients and decent wages, and no one complained.

“That’s the problem! So much food gets wasted! I’m embarrassed as the chef. Even store-bought junk would taste better!”

Hotssen felt ashamed. Even as head chef, few appreciated his food.

He strode to a wooden barrel at the back of the kitchen.
“Look! How much food is wasted today!”

It was the trash bin. Predictably, it was usually full.
“Clean.”
“What?!”

But surprisingly, there was almost nothing left. Only a minimal amount remained.