Chapter 21: How a Mercenary Acts Like a Duchess (4)
The maids hurried out when ordered, leaving Regina alone with Finette in the room. The atmosphere was tense, but Regina didn’t look away from the head maid.
“I’m already taking good care of the maids. So I don’t understand why you felt the need to threaten them.”
Regina’s words cut through the room. She remembered seeing the young maids rushing through the kitchen earlier, grabbing meager meals. Just boiled potatoes with salt—far too little food for their hard work.
“They’re just grateful to earn money under me,” Finette claimed, standing a bit taller. “Most maids struggle to make ends meet, so they should feel honored to work under me!”
Regina thought about how insincere that sounded. She recalled a noble daughter she once met, who would handle such a situation with grace and authority.
Ka-clack!
A porcelain cup shattered on the floor, thrown by Regina’s gesture. It shattered near Finette’s feet.
“What are you doing?” Finette yelled.
“You said they should be grateful for their meals,” Regina replied calmly, her voice ice-cold.
She stepped forward, placed a poker into the door latch, and closed it shut. Now the two of them were trapped—no one could enter or leave.
“Pick up the mess, then bring me the ledgers. That’s how you’ll fix today’s mistake,” Regina instructed.
Finette snarled back, “Fine, I’ll have the other maids help. And I didn’t make a mistake—I was just organizing the room!”
Regina’s blue eyes narrowed, moving closer, their calm intensity suffocating.
“So that means you’ll ignore my orders?”
Finette’s voice wavered slightly, her confidence fading.
Regina folded her hands over her front as though she truly were a gentle noblewoman with steel determination.
“You’ll stay right here until you’ve cleaned up and lowered your head in apology. Neither of us moves.”
Finette froze. The door was blocked, and she couldn’t break that unspoken boundary. She could feel powerful muscles curled beneath Regina’s calm façade.
“Don’t try tricks. I’m the only one who can open this door.”
When Finette asked how long this would last, Regina answered:
“I can stand for two days without eating or resting.”
She really could have lain in wait for targets for days. Now standing firm, she spoke again:
“I’m the Duchess, and I have the right to correct a subordinate’s attitude. Let’s have some patience.”
Finette sneered internally, though her posture tightened. Lowering her head would be admitting Regina was her superior.
Two hours passed in crushing silence. Finette tried to ignore Regina’s gaze but found her legs throbbing, sweat beading on her temples.
“Stop already! What are you doing?” she finally cried, desperation in her voice. But Regina remained resolute.
“This is how I show authority,” she seemed to say without words.
Eventually Finette gasped:
“Fine—I’ll clean up. Just let me out!”
“Then start cleaning.”
Finette lunged for a broom abandoned by the maids and began sweeping fragments from the floor.
“And bring me the records,” Regina added. “All of them—purchase logs, payrolls. It seems you’ve been managing them, not the steward.”
Finette’s voice trembled: “I’ll bring them.”
“Now go.”
She snatched the poker, opened the door, and fled, her mind already planning how to find a fake ledger to hand over.
Regina watched her go, then glanced sadly at the empty table and shards left behind.
“What a waste…”
She sighed. The items destroyed weren’t cheap. As a guild leader, she prided herself on respecting others’ belongings.
Standing there, she silently promised to herself:
“No more smashing things, even if they irritate me.”
Still, gaining access to the guild’s records would be a major victory—like removing a big rat.
She thought, “We’ll need to find another way to get the ledger from the trade guild…”
But she was Regina Rofman of the Persona Mercenary Guild—and she always found a path forward.
A sharp crash echoed through the adjoining rooms. The clatter was so loud that even the timid maids lurking nearby couldn’t help but gasp—it was obvious something had happened in Regina’s room.
“…The maids are pacing outside,” Allan, who was with Valentin, said quietly as he peeked through the door. He watched the maids’ reactions before relaying the news.
“It sounds like something serious is going on in her room. I hope she’s not smashing anyone in there.”
It was a fair concern—Thomas, tough as he was, had come into the infirmary groaning in pain after Regina’s earlier sparring session. So it wasn’t unreasonable to worry.
“And she’s been in there for nearly two hours now.”
Valentin found it strange that Allan had kept his face glued to the door for so long, gazing through the crack.
“Look, the Duchess just stormed out of the room, pale as a ghost!”
Allan described the scene vividly, prompting Valentin to stand. He was clearly curious about what Regina might have done. Ever since she arrived, unexpected and interesting things just kept happening.
“Duke, if you’re heading to her room, let me know what happened.”
At Allan’s request, Valentin clicked his tongue in mild annoyance as he left the room. Allan understood his frustrations perfectly.
