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Chapter 7
Shasha, who had been soaking up the sun beside Vendia, also widened her eyes.
“I-I’m Chris… I’m here for the interview today. I-I don’t have much experience, but I’ll do whatever you need me to… I’ll do it well…”
The man introduced himself as Chris. Whether he was shy or just timid, he fumbled his words, his face flushed red, and bowed deeply.
“A mad dog?”
Vendia muttered under her breath.
Chris resembled the “mad dog” she had been looking for in the market the other day.
His appearance screamed hardship—unkempt, scruffy hair, and bangs so long they covered his eyes.
On top of that, Chris had jet-black hair and deep black eyes, like a black hole pulling everything in.
Even with his eyes hidden, his face was striking. Just one brief glance through the strands of his bangs was enough to make you hear a dramatic aria in your ears—his looks were that stunning.
‘With a face like that, he’s definitely male lead material.’
There’s no way a creator would put that much effort into someone who wasn’t a protagonist.
And he even had black hair and black eyes—a classic male lead look, especially for a Northern Duke. The way he acted and spoke was different, sure, but…
A male lead applying to be a mansion caretaker in some countryside estate?
Vendia’s sharp blue eyes scanned Chris from head to toe.
Could it be…?
You know the type—stories where the male lead is a fallen prince or noble in hiding, dreaming of revenge while living as a slave or commoner… until he meets the female lead.
She takes care of him, and later he becomes emperor or restores his family and clings to her obsessively.
The keyword obsession is often followed by other spicy ones: confinement, angst…
“Wait, is this not an all-ages story…?”
Of course, she didn’t like those themes. No, really. Seriously.
“Miss Dia, why are you smiling like that?”
“Ahem!”
Anyway.
As far as she knew, there hadn’t been any kingdoms near the empire that disappeared in recent decades.
But she could say with certainty that the aura of nobility radiating from Chris’s appearance had to come from a distinguished lineage.
Still… it was suspicious.
The timing was way too perfect. He just happened to walk in at the right moment?
“Am… Am I not good enough?”
Just then, Chris lifted his head—and Vendia gasped.
His eyes were slightly red, and his shoulders drooped like a puppy caught in the rain.
With a pitiful expression that looked like he might cry any second, he opened his trembling lips again.
“I-I guess I don’t suit such a fancy mansion, huh? I-I’m only good for heavy labor and manual work…”
“Shasha. What are you doing? Go ahead and prepare a room for our new caretaker.”
Who cares about timing?
Our little black kitten wants to stay.
Midday, with the sun high in the sky.
And yet, something outshone even the blazing sun—
“Chris, do you know you’re handsome?”
“Wh-what? T-that’s absurd…!”
Chris’s face turned beet red, like a roasted sweet potato.
“I’m serious.”
“M-Miss, please don’t say things like that. Someone like me—if others heard, they’d pelt me with stones.”
Embarrassed by Vendia’s constant compliments and gaze, Chris tried to hide his face behind his hand, pressing down his bangs.
His neck and ears were already redder than his face.
“Oh dear…”
Humble male lead? Even better.
“M-Miss, you’re the truly beautiful one…”
“Chris, don’t overdo it. Take it easy, okay? You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Y-Yes, ma’am!”
It was barely more than a murmur, but she heard it all.
Pretending not to, she changed the subject, and Chris hurriedly grabbed his hammer, rubbing the back of his neck before getting back to work.
“Miss Dia.”
“What? What now.”
Vendia, grinning from ear to ear, turned with a serious face at Shasha’s voice.
“Can you please do something about that expression?”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“Shall I bring you a mirror?”
“…No.”
She already knew. Her cheeks were sore from smiling.
Watching Chris was better than any comedy. Just seeing him made her smile.
Even though she didn’t mean to, there was something about Chris that made her want to tease him, fluster him, make him cry.
He had been hired just the day before, right in that very spot. She gave him one of the extra rooms on the first floor of the mansion.
Naturally, they signed a proper contract. He would handle management and security, and if he helped with repairs, she’d give him a bonus too.
Chris had insisted that just being fed and housed was enough—but that wasn’t acceptable.
Chris. A man with no last name, just a first.
He said he was 22 years old, from Venerochi in the southeast, not far from the Rims territory.
Of course, she didn’t believe him. There had to be a hidden backstory.
The reason he called her “Miss” (or rather, “Master”) was simple.
She’d told him he could call her by name, but since she was both his landlord and employer, he insisted on calling her “Master.” Said it felt more comfortable.
‘Whoever wrote this guy clearly studied the genre.’
Whether he was acting or being genuine—if Chris ever “darkened” and revealed his true self…
The former Chris would vanish, and he’d turn into an obsessive man who wouldn’t let her go.
Chef’s kiss.
Clang!
Just as she was imagining that satisfying future, a sharp sound echoed through the front yard.
Not far away, Chris had rolled up his sleeves and was swinging a hammer.
His exposed forearms were lean and defined, veins popping as he worked.
Clang!
Another loud smack—and an old fence plank toppled over. He wiped his sweat-drenched bangs with his arm and kept going.
His whole face seemed to shine.
And not just his face—his sharp jawline, wide shoulders, well over 180cm in height, and toned, lean muscles all screamed “perfect male lead.”
If there was one flaw…
“Uh… oh?”
Chris had dropped his hammer and scrambled after it. For the sixth time.
“Doesn’t he suck at this? You totally hired him just for his looks.”
Shasha frowned, watching him repeat the same mistake.
“Ahem. Everything has a purpose.”
Scolding Shasha for not seeing the bigger picture, Vendia sank into the rocking chair with a peaceful expression.
For now, she’d just take care of Chris like this, right?
It had been over a month since she was transmigrated into this world—and she finally felt like she’d found the genre of her story.
The ex-husband? Completely forgotten.
“Are you going to leave that tree there?”
“Tree? What tree?”
At Shasha’s words, Vendia looked over at the tree standing alone in the front yard.
According to the broker, it was an old pagoda tree of unknown age.
“Doesn’t it feel a bit out of place? Doesn’t match the fancy mansion at all.”
“Hmm, I guess.”
“How about cutting it down and putting in a fountain or something? That would look amazing.”
Shasha looked up at her with sparkling eyes, clearly excited about her idea.
“A fountain would look nice… but no, we can’t cut it down. Just leave it.”
“Why not?”
“Because… old trees like that aren’t supposed to be cut. Bad things happen when you do.”
She had felt it from the very first day—the aura that tree gave off. Something sacred.
Cutting down a tree like that could bring disaster.
Old trees were often believed to be guardian trees—and the rule of thumb was to never mess with them.
It was superstition, sure—but better safe than sorry.
“Hmm. Okay, I guess.”
Shasha didn’t seem particularly convinced or disappointed. With a vague expression, she went inside, saying she’d make dessert.
Vendia stayed in the yard, watching Chris work.
“I wonder when he’ll show his claws.”
Surely, the day would come when his hidden past would be revealed. But when, exactly?
“Ah! S-sorry!”
Chris shouted as he dropped his hammer for the sixth time. Vendia shook her head.
“Not anytime soon, apparently.”
