PRKE 04

CHAPTER 04……………………………

Hubert smoothed the wrinkle between his brows and nodded.

“Right, you should eat too. You worked hard preparing all this.”

Chewing the salmon pie, I looked up at his gentle smile.

[Help me just this once, Igraine.]

…Bastard.

“Right? Since I’ve got so much work to do, I’d better eat a lot.”

I answered with a bright smile—every word loaded with meaning. Cooking, cleaning, estate management, finances… there was no place in this house untouched by my hands.

And yet I’d been saving even a single slice of salmon pie. My blood boiled.

All the salmon pies I’d never gotten to eat floated around in my head. Without realizing it, my grip tightened, and the knife scraped hard against the plate.

Screeeech.

Aris covered one ear.

“Unnie! Please be careful!”

“Oh, was that unpleasant?”

“Of course it was.”

She nodded as if baffled.

Then Hubert, who had been quietly watching, spoke.

“Has something been bothering you lately?”

“Not really? It’s just that today, for some reason, the food—though I made it myself—looks especially delicious.”

“I see. Well, eat plenty.”

“Thank you.”

I replied bluntly.

He was no longer a young master and I was no longer a mere maid—he was now the head of the family, and I was technically part of the household. Politeness was required in front of others, but honestly, I didn’t even want to speak to them.

I had just intended to ignore them and continue eating when—

“But didn’t you hear what Aris said?”

Hubert pointed to a plate—the dish of young veal.

“She says it’s salty.”

“…”

“Could you take it back?”

He was speaking to me. My hand froze above my plate. I put down my fork and knife.

I nearly picked up the dish to redo it without thinking.

Habit is terrifying.

I turned my head slowly toward Georgiana. She was watching with a thin smile, clearly enjoying the sight. I smiled wider—much wider.

“Georgiana. Go to the kitchen right now and tell the chef the veal seasoning is too salty. Since Lady Aris seems to want more, if there are ingredients left, have him remake it with less seasoning.”

“…Pardon?”

At her protest, I sent her a cold glare. Georgiana quickly dropped her eyes.

When I was young, I used to rule over street kids twice my size.

I had simply been meek in the Count’s household, but someone like her? I could crush her with a look.

I’ve held back for way too long.

“Was the order difficult? Should I repeat it?”

“N-no. I understand, my lady.”

Hesitating, Georgiana glanced at Aris and then hurried to the kitchen.

I watched her go for a moment, then shifted my gaze.

As expected, both Aris and Hubert were staring at me. I blinked innocently, as if to say What?, then shrugged.

“I guess my taste buds changed. It tasted fine when I tried it earlier, so either the chef’s skills have declined, or my tongue has.”

“Then why not make it again? Aris likes the dishes you make.”

“No. There’s a skilled chef—why would I? A superior shouldn’t steal the duties of a subordinate.”

“…”

“I’ve had too much on my plate as it is. I should step away from kitchen work altogether.”

“B-but then the kitchen will fall apart…”

I widened my eyes.

“That’s impossible. We’ve got a head chef, and Gemma has been working there longer than I have. A noble’s task is to place capable people where they belong, not personally run around doing everything. Even after being part of this noble household for so long, I’m still learning new things. Embarrassing, truly.”

The more I spoke, the more awkward Aris’s expression became. I flashed her a warm, sincere smile.

“Lady Aris, thank you. Because of you, I’ve realized again how to prioritize my duties. As expected of a priestess of the Water Temple—you’re so wise.”

Aris nodded stiffly.

“…It’s nothing.”

I picked up my fork again and cut the salmon pie into bite-sized pieces.

Aris, unlike me, seemed to have lost her appetite. She just scraped at her plate with her fork.

I frowned sympathetically.

“Oh dear, you’ve already finished? I shouldn’t have sent Georgiana. The chef must be working on the veal stew right now. The servants will be feasting today.”

Of course, no palm-sized stew would ever feed all the servants, but it sounded good.

Let her stew a little.

Aris, clearly annoyed, opened her mouth to speak, but I didn’t give her the chance.

“I should have the cherry sherbet brought in. I knew you’d ask for it, so I made sure it would be prepared. It’s already frozen, so it should be ready to eat. You there—bring the cherry sherbet.”

The maid bowed and hurried off.

I chewed my salmon pie with satisfaction. The juices burst pleasantly in my mouth.

“…Thank you, unnie.”

Aris hesitated—clearly unsure whether she should show annoyance or gratitude—and finally chose gratitude.

It would seem like she had a personality problem if she snapped now, after I’d arranged her favorite dessert ahead of time.

Though honestly, Aris does have a bit of a personality problem, but she held back.

We weren’t alone here.

Or perhaps she has someone right beside her who’ll get angry on her behalf.

Her blue eyes flicked sideways.

Suppressing a snort, I looked at Hubert. He laid down his utensils and dabbed his lips with a napkin—gracefully, as always.

“Igraine, something’s odd about you today.”

“Me?”

I blinked innocently. Hubert showed no reaction.

I looked at his gentle, intelligent face and replied—

“I’m just hungrier than usual.”

Clang!

A utensil slammed against a dish. Aris was stabbing her soup with a spoon. She tasted a bit, then grimaced.

“It tastes awful.”

That’s the same soup you said tasted good earlier.

“Hubert, we should recruit a new chef. I think the young lady’s tastes have changed.”

It wasn’t the chef—Aris was just sulking. Still, I furrowed my brows like I was truly concerned.

“She’s already so thin—she can’t lose any more weight. It wouldn’t look good.”

Aris’s eyes flew open. She snapped her head toward Hubert.

“Hubert! Do I look bad?”

Is she a child? Must she be told everything?

I never thought her pretty before, but after regressing, she looked even less appealing to me.

Hubert smiled warmly at her distressed face.

“Not at all. You’re very beautiful, Aris.”

Her smile finally returned. I looked away, down to my salmon pie.

To see this scene again… that’s the hard part.

Suddenly, the crown of my head tingled. I glanced up and caught Aris sneaking peeks at me.

Not her eyes but her lips caught my attention—curved proudly, smugly.

I pretended not to notice and looked back at my pie, but a faint smile slipped out.

Fine. You can have Hubert. Turns out he’s worth less than a lump of lead.

The next day.

I was summoned by Madam Emmern.

Her room—the most extravagant in the mansion—glittered in every direction.

If I sold all that to a fence, I’d make a fortune.

I mentally recorded the locations of every expensive item and turned my head back.

Madam Emmern was seated in a cushy chair, embroidering. When she kept her mouth shut, she actually looked like a refined noblewoman.

When I first met her, I really thought, “Ah, so this is what a lady looks like.”

If judged only by appearance, she looked more cultured than the former Countess.

Which she absolutely was not.

“Madam, you called?”

“Yes. I have something to ask you.”

I folded my hands and waited.

From the moment I’d opened the door, she hadn’t looked at me once—only at her embroidery.

After ten minutes, I assumed she was absorbed in her work.

After thirty, I began questioning her intentions.

Why is she angry?

Madam Emmern fancied herself a cultured noblewoman.

Calling someone and then leaving them standing indefinitely was her “noble” form of discipline. I had endured this many times years ago.

After an hour, my calves began to ache. I had the urge to reach down and rub them.

Maybe noble-born children could endure this easily, but street rats like me collapsed at the slightest pain screaming “I’m dying!” and rolling around.

It helped when getting caught stealing—people panic and you can run.

But here, whining would only earn contempt. So I endured.

Just then, Madam Emmern finished her embroidery. My eyes sparkled.

Finally the topic?

But no—she simply picked up a new piece of cloth.

I clicked my tongue inwardly.

Of course.

Years ago, and right before my death, I would have bowed my head and endured her petty cruelty.

She was the elder of the house, and unlike me, she was born a noble.

But after experiencing the blade of the guillotine, my thoughts had shifted.

What’s the point of any of that? In the end, everyone dies the same.

It’s not like nobles turn into gemstones instead of ash.

I couldn’t overturn society’s rules, but complying with them? That was another matter.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Only then did she raise her eyes from the embroidery and look at me.