Episode 7

"I'll make sure to keep a close eye on you."

Is that necessary...?

In a workplace, nothing is more nerve-wracking than receiving the attention of the employer.

The Count shot me a sinister glare and left.

'What kind of oppressive demeanor was that…'

We aren't interrogating a traitor or anything of the sort now, are we?

I exhaled deeply once the Count was completely out of sight. My palms were sweaty.

“Are you okay, Sonnet?”

“I’m fine, Madam.”

“He’s always been so cold-hearted... well, perhaps not always.”

The woman lost in her memories, clasped my hands in hers. Her silver eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings.

“If anything happens, you must tell me. I’ll help you however I can.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

“You’re my benefactor, Sonnet.”

“Today is my first day on the job.”

“Still, there’s just something about you. Hehe.”

Why was she smiling so nostalgically, like she was the only one who could understand?

'What is this?'

I wanted to ask the man lurking somewhere within the shadows of the mansion what the heck was going on.

'But if things go on like this, it shouldn’t be too difficult.'

Initially, I was more worried about how I could get close to the noble lady, but...

It turned out she already had an unforeseen liking towards me.

'It’s a bit creepy, though.'

But hey, good things are good things.

'If I pretend to run into her often and have some conversations, we’ll get close in no time, right?'

Until today, I sincerely believed so.

Unaware of the crucial problem that lay ahead.

---

“You! Are you done yet?”

“Almost finished!”

“Youngest one!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Can’t you hurry up? I called for you ages ago!”

“I’m coming!”

Yes, the crucial problem.

I was very… insanely busy.

'It's this crazy?'

I had previously managed a mansion with only ten people, but the Count’s residence seemed to be on a different level.

'Why are there so many guests!'

Aside from the first day, I was never put in charge of serving meals.

'My previous job wasn’t this hectic!'

Thinking back to my old job, where there existed almost no outside visitors, made my nose sting.

'Outsiders wouldn’t even know if anyone had lived there or not.'

It wasn’t a bad place to work.

'At least until the wedding.'

After the bride arrived, the kitchen staff were busy preparing a new menu for every meal, three times a day.

Ingredients couldn’t be repeated, nor the recipes…

'They kept insisting that the same dish couldn’t be served twice within a month.'

Thanks to that, I became proficient in handling all sorts of ingredients in less than half a year.

Of course, the pinnacle of such a career ended with a single cauliflower.

“Hey, rookie! Are you crazy? I told you ages ago, but you’re still not done with the ingredients—”

“Here they are!”

The basket of peeled potatoes disappeared quickly.

I wiped my damp forehead and moved back and forth across the kitchen.

“Here!”

“Hey!”

“You there!”

Every day the kitchen was a madhouse.

'No wonder everyone quits after just one day!'

I haven't heard the exact reasons, but I could bet my six, no, seven experiences on it.

This amount of intensity was the highest within the industry.

'They had a reason for hiring so urgently.'

Even the kitchen alone was terribly understaffed.

'That’s not the only problem.'

There was another main culprit that increased the difficulty of the job at hand.

'It should be here soon.'

After having prepared all the meals, the kitchen staff settled down.

One of the maids from the main house walked in pushing a trolley.

“That’s...”

“It’s Madam’s dinner.”

The people scattered all over the kitchen hurriedly advanced closer.

A servant near the entrance quickly opened a silver tray handle.

Dozens of eyes focused on one spot.

“Again, really…?”

“No, please, I just want to take a break…”

Amidst the people praying with clasped hands, the head chef spoke solemnly.

“Again… she barely touched it.”

A deep sigh escaped the chef's lips.

It wasn’t just the chef. The entire kitchen staff appeared depressed.

'Even a funeral preparation would be more lively than this.'

The chef rubbed his face with his thick hands.

“Ha… this is driving me crazy. What on earth is wrong…!”

A middle-aged woman, who had been complaining, suddenly pursed her lips.

Clap, clap, the sound of her clapping echoed throughout the kitchen.

“It’s because we’re not good enough. If not, what is it? Maybe she didn’t like the cream?”

“Should we try different spices?”

“Yes! We just received some as a gift.”

The chef nodded solemnly and left to conduct some research.

The remaining staff slumped down in various positions and grumbled.

“Again...”

“Can’t someone just ask?”

“And risk getting caught by the master?”

Haa...

The major factor that made kitchen life tougher was the madam’s picky eating habits.

'It’s not even about being picky.'

She ate less than a tenth of what was served.

What could stop a grown adult from eating?

'The problem is that every time, the count rebukes the chef.'

The chef would then scold the other cooks, and they, in turn, would scold the assistant cooks, and...

The chain of scolding was endless.

Which meant I, as well...

“Make sure it’s done by four in the morning!"

“Yes, sir.”

An empty kitchen.

I was thrown away with three hundred onions.

“They’re really squeezing the rookies dry."

With a lack of hands and time, bullying the newbie was the most cost-effective method.

I washed, peeled, and chopped the mountain of onions one by one.

I could handle onions without even looking.

It was just that there were so many of them.

“People need to sleep at night…”

My eyes grew itchy, but the onions didn’t seem to decrease in amount.

'What kind of female protagonist is such a picky eater?'

Shouldn’t the protagonist of a novel be flawless?

'What is Sir Ute thinking…'

Despite existing within the same mansion, I hadn’t seen his face once.

'He probably has a plan...'

For now, it was crucial to handle the three hundred onions quickly.

'Once we grow closer, I’ll have to ask what kind of food she likes.'

At least then I could escape this grueling labor.

As the sun set and the night grew quiet,

Amidst the peeling of onions, an unfamiliar presence was felt.

Tap, tap.

Tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

The footsteps grew closer.

A dim red light peeked through the slight gap between the door.

A small figure glanced around and approached me.

'If she’s not careful, she'll step all over the onions.'

“Excuse me—”

“Kyaaaak!”

“…Whoa.”

Ah, I missed the timing to be surprised.

The crimson light neared uncomfortably close, enough to hurt my eyes.

On the other hand, the woman in her nightgown trembled and sputtered.

“Are you the ghost? The ghost from the portrait that roams the mansion at night? No, no. Could I be the ghost?”

“…”

“Right, actually, I’m the ghost! So, uh, you don’t have to be scared, ok...ay?”

“Madam is a human being.”

“Ahh!”

The Madam, who had been backing away, finally responded a beat late.

“S-Sonnet?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“What are you doing here? Why is your face like that?”

“If my appearance offends you, I shall turn away—”

“That's not it! Why are you covered in tears? Who did this to you, hm?”

Her other hand, free from holding the lantern, cupped my cheek.

Her soft thumb brushed underneath my eye.

“I was chopping onions.”

“In the dark?”

“It's not that I turned them off; I just never turned them on.”

“Why? Did someone tell you not to?”

“I can do this without looking. Why are you here, Madam?”

“I… I was, well.”

Her cheeks glowed red under the flickering light.

Her pale eyelashes fluttered slowly.

“…Hungry.”

Then eat your meals.

'If you leave so much during every meal, of course you’ll get hungry.'

I wiped away my tears and guided the Madam to a wooden chair.

“Please sit here, Madam.”

“Huh?”

I had been saving this for when I felt hungry during the night…!

I took out the pudding I had created using leftover ingredients from a few days ago and placed it on the table.

The caramel-coated surface gleamed, exuding a sweet aroma.

“Please have this for now.”

“…”

“While you eat, I’ll prepare a quick snack… Madam?”

Large teardrops ran down her eyelashes.

The Countess spoke with a face that resembled soaked bread.

“You knew everything, didn’t you? Sonnet?”

Did I?

---

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