“A merchant from the capital said there was a corpse hanging at the city gates.”
Lily barely had time to finish speaking before Wolfram, ignoring her entirely, turned to speak into the air—as if directing his words not to her, but to someone unseen.
“I’ll begin by checking for any remaining rebels. I’ll also look into the situation on the capital’s side. Do you have any other instructions?”
[We’ll need to find a translator for the Solmon language.]
That was all the Duke said. No explanation, no further context.
A translator? Not an interpreter?
Lily instinctively wondered if the remaining rebels might be Solmonites—maybe he needed someone to help interrogate them. But still, the Duke had been specific: not an interpreter, but a translator. That choice of word stuck in her head.
She wanted to ask why. Desperately. But given the way Wolfram had been treating her earlier, she figured it would be smarter to stay in her lane. She was a maid. A messenger. Nothing more.
So, swallowing her curiosity, she turned to deliver the message.
“His Grace says to find a translator for the Solmon language.”
Wolfram paused. Unlike Lily, he seemed to understand the implication immediately. He looked troubled for a moment, but then nodded.
“Understood.”
A heavy silence followed. Sensing that the conversation was winding down, Lily carefully took a step back and bowed slightly.
“Then, if there’s nothing else, I’ll return to my duties.”
[Where do you think you’re going? Your role isn’t finished yet. You know that, don’t you?]
The ghost might’ve been smiling, but Lily knew better. A smile didn’t always mean kindness—especially from a superior.
She caught the undercurrent behind his words right away. That subtle thread of scrutiny. A watchful gaze beneath the surface.
Trying not to ruffle feathers, she replied gently, “I believe I’ve completed my task here for the moment. I’ll continue cleaning the main manor as assigned. If you need to communicate with His Grace again, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
She was only here to pass on messages. Until Wolfram came back with new information or questions, there wasn’t anything else for her to do.
The ghost gave a nod, seeming satisfied with that answer.
Just as she turned to leave, Wolfram spoke up again.
“Wait. There’s something else I need to consult His Grace about.”
He walked to the center desk, pulled out a stack of papers, and began to read.
“It’s a petition regarding a land dispute in the Randell region. It involves property on either side of the Semiviela River…”
Lily could barely follow what he was saying. She caught bits and pieces—the word “investigation” made it through, but the rest? A blur of names, legal jargon, and bureaucratic nonsense. It was technically Imperial, but felt like another language entirely.
By the time he finished explaining the case, she figured she could’ve cleaned an entire break room.
[What about the related documents?]
“What about the related documents?”
Her voice had a tired edge, and she didn’t bother to hide it. She repeated the ghost’s words exactly, adding a hint of irritation that came from standing too long and watching her chores pile up.
Wolfram didn’t even blink. In fact, he looked downright pleased.
“They’re right here!”
He quickly produced another stack of papers.
He must’ve been stuck on this issue for a while.
Lily tapped one leg with the other beneath her skirt, calculating how much time she could spare. Thirty, maybe forty minutes at most.
Unfortunately, Wolfram didn’t seem to understand the concept of limits.
One case turned into another. And another. By the time she was finally allowed to leave, hours had passed—and she only got out by practically begging him, explaining that if she didn’t finish her duties, she’d be in trouble.
As she backed toward the door, Wolfram stopped her with one last cold remark.
“I trust you won’t do anything foolish, like sharing what you’ve heard today.”
The way he said it made her skin crawl. True, she’d overheard things no low-ranking maid should ever know. His attitude was insufferable, but… he wasn’t wrong to be cautious.
“Of course, Sir Wolfram. I understand.”
The moment she was out of the office, Lily ran.
She cleaned like her life depended on it. But even with the speed of desperation, by the time she was done packing up her tools, it was nearly the end of the servants’ dinner hour.
Her stomach was already growling.
She rushed to the dining hall, throwing herself into a chair and peeling the skin off a lukewarm boiled potato when Mari appeared.
“Lily. The head maid was looking for you. She said to come see her when you’ve finished eating.”
“Oh. Thanks for letting me know.”
Lily forced a smile. Her lips trembled as she did.
Why can’t people just stop summoning me for one day?
—
After swallowing her dinner along with all her bitterness and exhaustion, Lily headed to the head maid’s room.
She had a pretty good idea why she was being called. That guard from the third floor definitely went tattling.
As she walked, she tried to come up with a reasonable excuse for what had happened. Something believable.
But all she could think of was the worst, most cringeworthy explanation possible—like confessing to a forbidden crush on Wolfram and losing control in front of his office.
No. Just no.
In despair, Lily raised her hand and knocked.
“This is Lily Dientha, ma’am.”
[Come in.]
She stepped inside, instantly reading the head maid’s expression. No visible anger.
But that didn’t mean she was in the clear. Calm reprimands had a way of snowballing into avalanches when you least expected it.
She studied Angela carefully. The woman was writing in a thick logbook.
Lily’s heart nearly stopped.
That wasn’t just any notebook—it was the head maid’s record of every task, every evaluation. It had the power to decide raises, transfers… or firings.
Her body stiffened.
So it’s about the third floor incident, after all. Great.
If this wipes out my raise, I’ll scream.
Lily scrambled to compose a script in her head.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ve… always admired Sir Wolfram, and I happened to be near his office, and… my feelings got the better of me and—”
No. That’s worse.
Angela finished writing and looked up.
To Lily’s shock, she smiled.
“Lily, I have to say—assigning you to the main manor was the right choice. The deputy said your cleaning work was exceptionally thorough.”
Lily blinked.
“Of course, I already knew you were capable. But I didn’t expect you to impress Sir Wolfram on your very first day.”
“Um… excuse me, ma’am, what exactly are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you clean his office today?”
“Oh—yes. I did. I helped him out.”
And somehow, that wasn’t a lie.
—
She hadn’t lied.
Sure, she didn’t exactly clean the office, but she did help Wolfram. That much was true.
Angela, clearly pleased, spoke with a satisfied smile.
“This afternoon, the aide came by himself. He said that despite His Grace being confined to bed, it seems the maid staff is being well managed. He said it eased his worries.”
Lily’s shoulders, which had been stiff with tension, relaxed slightly. So she wasn’t in trouble. Relief flooded through her.
And then—
“So from tomorrow, head straight to the office.”
“…Sorry? What?”
That one syllable—“What?”—contained an entire paragraph’s worth of unspoken questions.
Why are we suddenly going in that direction?
Normally, Angela would’ve snapped at her for questioning orders, but today she kindly elaborated.
“The aide said he can trust you with the office. He requested you be assigned there exclusively, since he didn’t want to be distracted by having to manage things himself.”
The more Angela explained, the brighter her expression grew.
“Honestly, I was against it at first. No matter how well you clean, I didn’t think you were ready for the office. And it’s such a small room—why would it even need a dedicated maid? A quick morning wipe-down should be enough…”
Exactly, Lily thought.
To anyone who didn’t know the full story, it would look like Lily Dientha had somehow scored the easiest assignment in the manor. And naturally, that would lead to resentment.
But when a superior gives an order, both low-ranking maids and head maids alike have no choice but to follow.
“But since he specifically asked for it, we’ll have to go along.”
Angela smiled again.
“Keep representing our maid department well, alright?”
“Y-You can count on me, Head Maid!”
“Good. Carry on, then.”
Lily left the office and made her way back to the dormitories.
When Mari asked her how cleaning the main manor went, she simply replied, “It was fine,” and for the first time in what felt like forever, she actually had some free time to enjoy.
She changed into comfortable clothes, laughed with her friends, and gradually let the chaos of the day fade into the background.
Or… at least, she tried to.
But just because something was out of sight didn’t mean it had never happened.
That night, in her dreams, Lily found herself sprinting through the endless manor halls, chased by the ghost Duke floating ominously behind her.
“Lily… Lily…” he called, his voice eerie and echoing.
In the nightmare, doors would fly open without warning, and Wolfram would jump out shouting, “We need His Grace’s input on this!”
It was awful.
—
Armed with a feather duster, a broom, and a battered silver tray, Lily sighed and muttered to herself,
“…Guess the nightmares aren’t stopping anytime soon.”
The fear didn’t even bother her anymore. What exhausted her was the fact that even in her dreams, she was working.
The guard on the third floor, who had been hostile just the day before, didn’t stop her this time.
He must’ve been given a heads-up.
“Good morning!” she chirped as she passed him and entered.
Wolfram hadn’t arrived yet.
Maid cleaning schedules were brutal, always planned to the minute so they wouldn’t bump into nobility. That’s why she had to start her rounds at an ungodly hour.
But now, that wasn’t her concern. She hadn’t been called in to clean. Not really.
She’d been summoned because she was now the ghost’s interpreter.
Even so, she’d come early with her cleaning tools. Why?
Because she couldn’t, in good conscience, leave the office in that state.
It was a disaster that offended her very soul.
Yesterday’s sandwich plate was still on the desk. Actually—so was the one from the day before.
Dried tea leaves clung to the insides of every single cup like a crust.
There were layers of dishes forming a sort of archaeological record.
Picking up one of the plates, Lily sighed.
“They could’ve just left these outside. Someone would’ve collected them. At this rate, they’ll run out of plates in the kitchen.”
[When I was around…]
“Ahh!”
The voice brushed against the inside of her skull, startling her so badly she almost dropped the plate.
Reflexively, she clutched it tighter.
Don’t break it. Don’t break it. This is the kind of fancy plate you get charged for.
And if she broke it, her wages would definitely be docked.
