TBMGW 2

Episode 2

The very first thought I had upon arriving at the Duke’s estate was, “Truly befitting of a ducal house.”

The moment I stepped into the grand entrance hall, the mansion’s magnificence greeted me. Priceless-looking objects were displayed everywhere, and the waxed floors gleamed brilliantly.

How many servants’ hands must it have taken to maintain all this?

And if they could afford to employ so many people, just how overflowing must their wealth be?

“These are the servants’ quarters. The maids all live in this building.”

Housekeeper Margaret adjusted her glasses as she spoke.

The servants’ quarters were located in a small annex.

Compared to the viscount’s estate, where everyone had crammed into a single underground room, this was on another level entirely.

Here, every servant had a private room.

An entire building dedicated solely to housing staff!

Expecting torn blankets and cobwebbed walls, I stepped into my room—and found it looked like a neatly maintained inn room.

The wallpaper was nearly new, the furniture was in good condition aside from a slightly creaky bed, and the quilt and pillows were freshly stuffed and soft.

Goodbye, days of greeting bugs every night.

Truly, the viscount’s estate had been a garbage workplace.

Who ever called the Duke’s house a grave? They treat you so well here!

But while I was practically bouncing with joy, sobbing could already be heard from the next room.

“Uwaaaah… I really ended up at Brighton Duke’s estate. I’ll be dead tomorrow. Mom…”

Oh dear.

“Miss Sissi?”

“Ah, Miss Margaret!”

“Ahem, hm.”

I felt a flicker of pity at the wailing from beyond the wall, but only for a moment.

Just as I was about to flop happily onto my bed, Margaret called me through the open doorway, absentmindedly adjusting her glasses again.

“How do you find the quarters?”

She hadn’t asked that of any of the other newcomers.

Clearly my reaction stood out. She seemed to be watching me expectantly, which left me a little puzzled.

“Oh, they’re perfect! Back at Count Grington’s estate, you could never hope for treatment like this. This is my very first time having a room of my own—I’m so excited!”

“Oh my… Excited, you say…”

She looked strangely moved.

“Miss Sissi, I read your letter of introduction carefully. The Count of Grington wrote that… well, that you’d be best put to use as a kitchen drudge.”

“I see.”

Not that I had expected otherwise. They’d sent us here just to work ourselves to death, after all.

“I actually enjoy kitchen work.”

Though it would surely be exhausting, I had survived far worse at the Count’s. Memories of James constantly pestering me, of me spilling dirty mop water, of the head maid laughing instead of helping—all made me shudder. I never wanted to think of that place again.

“I’m looking forward to seeing all the new dishes they must prepare here in the Duke’s estate. Just watching will be fun.”

“Oh…!”

Margaret’s expression grew even more touched, as though she had never once in her life heard such words.

“Well, the Count described you as ‘skilled at odd jobs,’ but I see things differently. I think you’re polite, considerate, and someone who’ll get along well with others.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

“As it happens, my lady’s lady’s maid is away in the capital for a time.”

A lady’s maid.

That was the personal attendant of a noblewoman—one of the highest ranks among servants, second only to the housekeeper. Trusted, since she handled her mistress’s personal belongings.

Of course, such a role required skill in conversation, sewing, and more, so it wasn’t as if they meant to place me directly into the position.

“Of course, there is a temporary replacement, but we did request additional help. If you don’t mind, I was hoping you could assist for a while…”

Even if it was only a substitute role, it meant serving the ducal family directly!

If I made a good impression, maybe I could even hope for a rapid promotion.

And a promotion means more money.

I was twelve. Just twelve.

But every night as I lay in bed with bruises from beatings and muscles aching from labor, I’d made the same vow:

I’ll become rich.

I’ll save enough to buy a little house on the outskirts of the capital.

And then I’ll be free. I’ll open a bakery or a little tailor’s shop and live peacefully.

Some might call it a humble dream, but for me, that would be more than enough.

“Of course, it won’t be easy. You’d be attending both the young lady and the young master.”

Wait.

“The… young master?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It will just be chores like tidying his room, helping with dressing, that sort of thing.”

“But wasn’t it the young lady’s maid who left—?”

“Mm…”

For a fleeting moment, unease flickered across Margaret’s face.

She looked like a professor wondering how to break bad news to a graduate student without making them flee.

“This is… something I’m telling you because I believe you’re not the type to be swayed by gossip.”

Yes, yes, of course.

“The two children of the Duke are both extraordinarily intelligent, refined, and beautiful… however…”

Yes, I understand why you’re hesitating.

“Young Master Ian… finds human interaction difficult. He rarely speaks even with his family, let alone with servants.”

I thought to myself: That sounds about right.

“Because of this, he has had many attendants over time, but they are constantly replaced. We’re always short-handed. Which is why we desperately need your help, Miss Sissi.”

Ian Brighton. The infamous problem child of the Duke’s household.

And—the final boss.

The novel I’d fallen into went like this:

A hero is born who must defeat the monster threatening the world.

That “monster” was Ian Brighton.

An ancient demon, defeated in war a thousand years ago, had been sealed to be reborn once every millennium within the body of a child. As the child grew, the demon’s power would recover until it could seize the body completely.

The protagonist, a reincarnation of the saint who had sealed the demon long ago, received the oracle to slay the “demon-possessed young master.”

The reason the Duchess was rumored to be a mad scientist? That was all because of Ian.

Born with the demon inside him, Ian had wielded terrifying magic since he was little, using it to harm without hesitation. He’d even pushed his own sister from a balcony, shattering their sibling bond.

His tantrums and atrocities caused his attendants to be constantly replaced, often after suffering bizarre misfortunes. Every servant feared him.

The Duchess had locked herself away to find a way to purge the demon from her son. But if word of this ever spread, not only would the Duke’s family reputation collapse—the imperial family might order Ian executed.

Thus the secret research, thus the strange religious artifacts and books, thus the bizarre rumors.

And now, here I was—standing right outside Ian’s door.

The voice of the previous attendant, who had just given me a rushed handover, still echoed in my ears:

“The young master is out right now. Whatever you do, make sure you finish cleaning before he returns!”

And he had warned me of the strange rules every one of Ian’s attendants had to follow.

Rules for Attending Ian Brighton

1. Never be alone with Ian Brighton after 10 p.m.

2. Never enter his room while he is sleeping.

3. At sunset, never make eye contact with his shadow.

4. Whatever you see in his room—no matter how strange—do not act startled. Behave with reverence.

5. …

Those who broke the rules met grisly ends.

Servants summoned alone after 10 p.m.? Disappeared without a trace.

Those who entered his room while he slept? Fled to their hometowns in terror the very next day.

Those who met his shadow’s eyes at sunset? Fell into madness and died of illness soon after.

With such a track record, no wonder the departing servant had told me to avoid meeting Ian at all costs.

It was kind of him to warn me. Too bad his advice was useless from the start.

Because—

The door opened.

And at once, a sharp, vivid face met mine.

“Someone I’ve never seen before.”