TVH 06

Chapter 6

“Mr. Matthias, would you like to come with me to the market? Since you like flowers, I’ll buy some pretty seedlings and plant them for you.”

“Is that necessary?”

Matthias asked indifferently, his eyes still fixed on the newspaper.

It’s lonely to go alone. I looked at him with sorrowful eyes before slowly turning away.

Then, from behind me, came a quiet remark:

“What’s the point of having an excellent servant if I don’t use them? Take him with you.”

But I really don’t want to go with Mr. Dante. What if, in the future, market merchants testify that I colluded with him in treason? And besides, he’s tall and handsome—people will just compare us.

I didn’t answer and slipped into the mansion.

“Where are you going?”

Dante asked as I came out after changing clothes.

Wait a second—did that man just lift the sofa with one hand?

For a brief moment, an image flashed through my mind: “Tch, so he figured out my plan? I hate people who are quick on the uptake,” and then him tossing me right out the window.

“What are you… doing with that strength?”

“I was cleaning under the sofa.”

I shook my head quickly from side to side, trying to stay calm. No, no—it’s just my imagination. He’s not that violent of a person.

After all, he likes housework and he’s good at it.

There are plenty of tyrants with obsessive cleanliness, but have you ever heard of one who does his own housework? Maybe he’s just a simple man who ties on an apron, does the dishes, and finds happiness in it.

Perhaps he only destroyed the Empire because someone kept interrupting his small happiness—maybe he just wanted to do housework, but people kept forcing him into wars.

Consoling myself with this completely baseless rationalization, I opened my mouth.

“Ah, I’m going to the mark—”

Before I could finish, he gently set down the sofa and straightened up.

“Grocery shopping is part of my duties. Let’s go together.”

“I’m going to meet a friend named Jean Pierre. He’s the head of an employment agency, twenty years of experience. He’s shy around strangers, though.”

I blurted out a quick lie, then ran outside, hopped on my bicycle, and sped out of the mansion grounds. Honestly, there was no need to lie, but every time I looked at him I felt oddly small and a little sore inside.

“So annoying! Too competent to fire!”

I pedaled furiously through the forest, fuming. I would get rid of that elegant housekeeper who made even the landlord nervous! With a cunning plan and devious schemes, I would drive him away.

And before I knew it, I’d arrived in front of the newspaper office.

“Huh? Was it always this close?”

The first time, it had taken a long drive by car. I’m no mountain biker—how did I get here so quickly? Maybe it’s just in my head.

Still confused, I parked my bike and stepped inside.

The clerk who had run my ad last time greeted me warmly.

“This time, please write it properly.”

I pointed out how misleading the last advertisement had been and explained the trouble it caused me when no one applied.

“I’m terribly sorry. I’ll fix it. But I’ve heard… that house has some scary presence. Are you really okay there?”

“Oh, nonsense. The air’s fresh, it’s quiet, I like it. Anyway, just write something positive.”

The clerk nodded, promising to do better this time.

I would have liked to check the ad before it ran, but this world was terribly analog. Since I needed a replacement quickly, I decided to trust the clerk’s confident assurance.

Leaving the office, I headed into the market to buy food.

And nearly fainted at the murderous prices.

“What do you mean a tray of eggs is six thousand gib? Back in my neighborhood, it was two thousand! Did someone monopolize distribution or something?”

“Girl, you clearly don’t know capital prices. It’s the same everywhere here,” the egg seller clicked his tongue.

Why is everything so expensive? Are they trying to scam some innocent country girl like me?

In the end, I bargained it down to five thousand and turned away—when I spotted some clothes hanging at a stall. Probably expensive too, but since I’d been rotating just two outfits to their limits, I really did need more.

As I browsed a dress, the clothing merchant approached with a friendly smile.

“You’ve got a good eye. That’s a Cristan Tior design—same one worn by a countess in the capital Londinium, setting the trends.”

“How much?”

“Three hundred thousand gib. But if you take the skirt with it, I’ll make it five hundred thousand—discount of five thousand, just for you.”

What nonsense. At best, it looked like twenty thousand gib. The rip-off was beyond belief. I let my hand fall away, took a step back, and gave a polite smile.

“Maybe next time.”

The merchant’s expression darkened. He strode forward.

“You touched it, you have to buy it. Don’t you know the rules of the market?”

“…What?”

“The invisible hand. Once you touch, it means you’ve influenced the market price flow.”

“I didn’t even touch it.”

At that, two rough-looking men who had been loitering nearby stepped forward.

A bearded one growled, “I saw you touch it. Look, it’s torn. Pay up and we’ll let it go.”

This was daylight robbery. If I wasn’t careful, they’d take all the money I had. I straightened and glared.

“Hey, if just touching it tears it, is that even clothing? Move before you get torn too.”

I was terrified, but money was on the line, so I forced myself to talk tough.

I started inching backward to run, when the bearded man grabbed my wrist with a snarl.

“Do you even know who I am, to act so fearless?”

Maybe living with a dangerous villain has dulled my fear.

“How should I know? Do you know my aunt’s name?”

“Hah, still mouthing off. I’m the one who collects protection money from the merchants here. I run this area. No way I’m letting you off.”

So he was a professional thug? Oh no. I glanced around quickly.

Anyone willing to play the dashing rescuer?

But no one even looked this way. What a cold, heartless society. I raised my eyes to his with deadly seriousness.

“Your fly’s open. Pink underwear.”

“…What?”

He flinched, glancing down.

“Nice greeting.”

Got him. While he was distracted, I yanked free and bolted, vanishing into the crowd.

Behind me, I heard a dramatic wail and the sound of something crashing. Clearly a scam or a shakedown, not my problem.

“Günter! Are you okay? Catch that brown-haired woman!”

“There are dozens of brown-haired women!”

Blending into the throng, I easily escaped. By tomorrow, they’d probably forget my face entirely.

Thank goodness I’m so plain. If I’d had rainbow hair, I’d have been caught instantly.

Once I confirmed they weren’t following, I sighed in relief and went to fetch my bike.

“Whew… but all the eggs are broken.”

I had no idea what consequences this little incident would bring later.

Walking my bike, I spotted pots of flowers outside a florist’s shop.

Especially the peach-colored roses—they were so lovely. It would also be a way to apologize for almost throwing away Matthias’s precious roses. If I planted them in the garden, he’d like it.

“How much for these roses?”

The shopkeeper in a brown apron smiled warmly.

“Seventy thousand gib each. They’re from the imperial gardens. You’ll also need the twenty-thousand gib nutrient solution. The flower’s meaning is ‘Unfulfilled love, in the next life…’”

“Oh, I see. Roses, let’s meet in the next life! Have a nice day!”

I gave up immediately.

I don’t even buy supplements for myself—why would I get them for a flower? No wonder the flower’s meaning is about waiting for the next life.

Muttering internally, I loaded the plump chicken, onions, and potatoes I’d bought earlier onto the back of my bike. (Sadly, not a single egg survived.)

Riding home along the fields bathed in scarlet sunset, my eyes caught the wildflowers lining the roadside.

“Wow… this road is gorgeous.”

The early spring landscape looked like an artist had dabbed paint across the earth. I’d been too blinded by my earlier fury to notice such beauty.

“I need to live slower. Look around, look at the sky.”

Breathing in the sun and wind, I admired the swaying wildflowers. Then I crouched down, dug into the soil, and began uprooting them.

They were free. Whether they grew here or in my garden, what difference did it make?

Back at the mansion, I spotted Matthias standing in the garden, scowling at the Rilke roses I’d replanted.

“You planted them however you pleased. Not a single row matches.”

Like a daughter-in-law used to her mother-in-law’s nagging, I put on a face of serene resignation.

“Still, I took really good care of them. I even gave them leaf compost.”

“You just dug them up and replanted them, what care? And why are you covered in dirt?”

I held out the wildflowers I’d brought back, roots and all.

“Because I was pulling these up.”

“You actually eat those?”

“No? I’m going to plant them in the garden.”

“My precious garden, and you’d plant weeds?”

Matthias looked at me with clear disapproval.

I ignored him and started planting the flowers near the garden table he often used.

“On my way back, I saw them blooming everywhere. They’re beautiful, even if they’re not expensive or rare. They have lots of advantages—tough, low-maintenance, free.”

Matthias sat down in a chair, silently watching me, his face still clouded with dissatisfaction.

As I dug with the trowel, I asked,

“Before me, you had other contractors, didn’t you?”

“Yes. And you’re the most incompetent of them all. I’d pay the penalty just to cancel.”

He said it like he was canceling an internet plan. If only he really would pay to end it first. I shot him a resentful look.

“Well, same here. If you dislike me that much, just bring back your old contractors.”

“They’re all dead.”

His tone was calm, almost casual, though the words were anything but.

Could it be… that they died of illness from all his nagging? Or worse, that he killed them because the cleaning wasn’t up to his standards…