It was…
A potion?
A green liquid in a bottle, strangely familiar.
O o o… it's the hair growth potion.
That's right! Isha's jet-black hair—so silky, so unnervingly perfect—was different. Weirdly different.
'Look at that! So it's true.'
'She can't be the Count's daughter.'
'That ominous black hair… so it's true.'
'But the priest said otherwise…'
'Who even knows what's true these days?'
A memory fragment smacked her mind like a broomstick to the back of the head—sharp, sudden, and a little humiliating. Sourness welled up, bitter and biting.
" You're really dumb. Really? A potion is your trump card? You do know what'll happen if the Count finds out that a mere maid dared to grow out the 'ominousness' of the illegitimate child? He could have your head for thinking such a thing."
The maid tried to recover her voice, but it trembled like a dying candle flame. "Who would even believe you, the illegitimate child?"
Isha smiled—not sweetly, not kindly. The kind of smile that should come with a warning sign. "True, none will. But all will… his."
Cue dramatic gasp.
Right on time, as if the universe loved plot twists, the Head Butler stepped out of the shadows. His entrance was as perfect as it was theatrical.
It really had been smart to bring him along—under the thin excuse of needing a jewel repaired. A commoner can't say no to a noble's request. Even one as questionably ranked as Isha.
Ah, nobility. Petty, poisonous, but oh so powerful.
Thud!
The maid hit the cold, stone floor. Her skin drained of color, leaving her as white as a sheet.
Soooo…
On one side: the Head Butler,silent, deciding whether today was a good day for execution.
On the other: a sobbing damsel, desperate to save her head and probably her job.
Ooooh, this is so interesting.Can someone give me anaglyph 3D glass and popcorn.
Now, if only this cursed world had popcorn.
"Miss Isha," the Butler finally spoke, voice smooth and firm like his finely pressed uniform. He bowed just enough to show respect, but not an ounce more. "You summoned me for a jewel repair. I find myself instead in the middle of potion-brewed treachery. May I assume this is… a revised task?"
"Do as is fitted", I said indifferently while trying hard to not cracka smile.
He exhaled slowly, like a man who had endured far too many nobles and not enough wine.
"The potion, madam—may I ask where it came from?"
The maid sniffled. "I-I found it in the laundry room! I thought it was… perfume. I didn't know it was forbidden. I swear!"
He raised a single eyebrow. That was never a good sign.
"Perfume that grows hair?"
The maid moaned, covering her face.
The Butler took the bottle, turned it in his hand, and inspected it like it might explode. "This will be taken for analysis. In the meantime—"
He turned to the maid, his tone sharpening. "You. You are hereby dismissed. Pack your things. I will not allow reckless idiocy within the Count's walls."
The maid choked a sob. "Please… Miss! I didn't mean—"
"Stop," I said quietly, but clearly. The word hit the air like a falling blade.
The Butler paused, confused. "Miss Isha?"
I tilted my head. "Don't kick her out."
He blinked. "Pardon?"
I stepped forward slowly, voice lower now, thoughtful. "She may be a sobbing, panicking, chaos of a maid… but she clearly knows things. Things about this house, about the Count, about me. Most importantly, can you find a maid to would serve the cursed."
The Butler's eyes narrowed. "You wish to keep her?"
"Yes," I said simply. "Let her serve me."
I want to know more about this world. Its rules, its power games, what people whisper about when no one is looking. And she's already talked too much to not be useful.
The maid looked up in disbelief, still sniffling. "You… you'll keep me?"
I crouched beside her, brushing a speck of dust off the girl's cheek. "Don't get too excited. You're a liability and probably a terrible cleaner. But for now? You're mine.",I whispered.
She nodded . "Thank you madam so much. ". She bowed till it seemed like she would pass floor if possible.
The Butler gave a slow, almost grudging nod. "As you wish. But if she causes trouble—"
"Then I'll deal with her," I said, straightening.
I glanced at the potion again.
This world had secrets. And now, she had her first key.
(Isha: 1. Maid: rehired. Butler: probably planning early retirement.)