A Day in the Life of an Evergarden Maid (2)
"My lady, I'm coming in."
Having escaped the chaos and frenzy that Darian's appearance had stirred up at the well and successfully delivered the water for that morning's cooking, Bennet went straight to her next task: waking the eldest daughter of House Evergarden. She knocked on the door to her room.
Creeeak—
"My lady?"
"Mmm..."
Bennet carefully pushed the door open and called out as she approached the bed where Rosaria still lay buried face-first in the blankets, lost in sleep.
"Lady Rosaria? It's morning. My lady?"
Without so much as a touch, Bennet whispered from the bedside in the softest, gentlest voice she could manage.
Back when she had first started waking her, Bennet had made the mistake of laying a hand on her—and Rosaria, furious, had caned her thigh so hard the flesh had swollen. The memory of that pain made Bennet call to her with the utmost caution.
How many times did she call before—
"Hah!? Private! Kim! Hyun! Soo! I! Didn't hear you!!"
"Pardon?"
Rosaria, who until that moment had been dead to the world, snapped her eyes open, bolted upright, and started shouting something completely incomprehensible.
"...Huh? This is... ah, fuck. Another army dream."
"Lady Rosaria? Are you all right?"
"Ah... no, no, just a nightmare..."
"You've been having that dream a lot lately. You did the same thing last time."
"...It'll probably keep happening for another ten years or so."
"Pardon?"
"Ah, it's nothing."
"I see... I've brought water for washing up."
"Thanks."
This was at least the third time Bennet had watched Rosaria wake up shouting nonsense in her sleep. Just like Darian at the well, Rosaria had changed a great deal.
The irritable young lady who used to lash out with her cane at the slightest provocation now often carried a languid air and a rough, easygoing manner. She let mistakes slide. She seemed almost indifferent.
"Can't I just cut this damn hair off? It's such a pain in the ass."
"My lady, to chop off hair this beautiful..."
"It's too stuffy. Uncomfortable."
"Then shall I just gather it up lightly on top, the way we always do?"
"Yeah, that's the least annoying way."
Once she'd finished washing and gotten out of bed, Rosaria perched on the vanity stool, and Bennet immediately set about combing out the hair that had come loose overnight.
There was a time when Rosaria had always insisted on elaborate updos, plastered with ornaments, and would fly into a rage if so much as a single strand was accidentally pulled out. These days she only ever wanted her long hair gathered up and loosely tied on top of her head—Bennet's compromise after talking her out of simply hacking it all off.
"Shall I prepare the same outfit as usual for today?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
But the biggest change of all was this.
As Bennet finished tying her hair and tidied away the combs, she asked the question, and Rosaria answered. Bennet hurried to the wardrobe and pulled out a set of clothes.
Riding trousers.
The same Rosaria who had always insisted on lavish dresses dripping with jewels and cascading lace had, a few days ago, declared that she would wear pants instead of skirts.
In noble society, a woman wearing trousers was almost unheard of outside of horseback riding, so Bennet had been horrified—but Rosaria had pushed her will through with absolute force.
"I'll help you dress."
"No! I said no! I'll put them on myself!"
"But my lady..."
Bennet approached with the riding trousers held out respectfully, but Rosaria recoiled and shouted. Helping a noble with their attire was the most natural thing in the world, and Rosaria had always accepted it without complaint—until recently. Now, every time she changed clothes, she panicked and insisted on doing it alone.
And yet.
"My lady, you can't put the clothes on by yourself."
"Th-that's...! I was just about to get the hang of it, okay?"
She could shout all she wanted, but noble clothing was designed to be fiendishly complicated. Every time she stubbornly tried to dress herself, Bennet ended up having to help her anyway.
"Still..."
"Ugh... fine. Just make it quick."
"Yes, my lady!"
When Bennet finally bowed her head, Rosaria—who'd been pouting—reluctantly handed over the trousers she was holding.
"My lady? Why are you closing your eyes..."
"...I'm still not used to it."
"Ah, you mean the trousers? But then why your eyes—"
"Haa... seriously."
Is my lady at that age now?
As Bennet skillfully stripped off Rosaria's nightclothes and prepared to dress her properly, Rosaria's face grew redder and redder.
My younger siblings got shy about changing in front of people once they were old enough too... but my lady is a noble. Shouldn't she be used to this?
It's my own body, so who cares! How long am I going to keep acting all modest about this? Whoa. But these breasts—whoa, shit... this is insane... A woman's naked body I've never seen before is my body. This is so fucking unfair—holy crap, so that's how it looks down th—
Bennet watched her and thought of her own younger siblings. Rosaria, meanwhile, kept sneaking glances at her reflection in the mirror, swinging wildly between wonder and horror. They stood in the same room, but they might as well have been dreaming entirely different dreams.
"Oh? Opp— I mean, little bro? Heading to breakfast?"
"You're enjoying this, aren't you."
"Yep. This is genuinely fun."
"You little—!"
Dressed and on their way to breakfast, Rosaria and Bennet were walking down the corridor when they rounded a corner and ran straight into Felix. He grinned and called out to them.
"Ahem! How dare you raise your voice at your heavenly older brother!"
"Haa... cut the crap. Being the older brother is exhausting."
"Hehe, sorry. Going to eat?"
"So are you."
How strange...
Felix and Rosaria. These two siblings had once treated each other like there was a wall between them—sniping, needling, or pretending the other didn't exist. A cold relationship. And yet here they were, trading insults that somehow felt like nothing more than playful teasing.
It was the same tightly bound dynamic Bennet shared with her own younger siblings. The kind of thing she'd always assumed families just did. Watching these two do it, though, left Bennet simply staring in quiet fascination.
"By the way, what do you even do locked up in your room every day?"
"Opp— I mean, little bro, you're one to talk."
"Me? I've got nothing better to do."
"I've been ridiculously busy lately! Look at this."
Fwoosh—
"Whoa, holy shit! A human lighter!"
"My goodness!"
As they chatted their way toward the dining hall, Felix suddenly raised a finger—and a tiny flame bloomed atop it.
Magic.
A miracle that only the chosen few could work in the real world, something entirely different from divine power. Bennet had grown up on this estate her whole life, and the sudden appearance of genuine magic right before her eyes left her astonished and utterly captivated.
She was used to magical tools—the kind used to light fires, or the pump that had gushed water that very morning. But Felix, conjuring magic from nothing but his own mana in empty air, looked like a true mage.
"Well? Cool, right? I can do this too."
Fwoosh—fwoosh—
"Whoa, insane—what does that say? Let me see... 'How does Oppa look in women's pantie—' hey, you bastard!"
"Ack!! Writing in midair! Hilarious, right?"
"The sentence isn't funny, you idiot!"
The moment Rosaria looked impressed, the flame dancing on Felix's fingertip suddenly scrawled through the air, tracing out a string of characters in a language Bennet couldn't read, blazing and elegant.
Bennet guessed it was probably Runic—the script mages were said to use often. The fact that Rosaria had immediately understood the sentence suggested most nobles could read Runic as well.
"Amazing..."
"Hm?"
"Ah...! F-forgive me! I—I overstepped my place...!"
Bennet had been staring blankly and murmuring without thinking. When Felix suddenly leaned his face in close, she flinched hard, dropped her head, and begged forgiveness.
What was I thinking...! No matter how fascinating it is, how could I be so rude in front of nobles!
She had no defense if Felix scolded her for her lack of manners. Clutching the hem of her apron, trembling as she braced for whatever punishment was coming—
"Right? Pretty amazing, huh?"
"...Pardon?"
"This is one of the fundamentals of magic—taking a formless mass of mana and converting it into a different elemental form. Fire magic is extremely unstable among those, so it needs careful control! You gather mana at your fingertips, and when you convert it to flame at that stage, you have to suppress the mana while constantly feeding it a steady amount... but who am I? A future archmage in the making! If you match the mana formula and temporarily restrict the supply channel, you can pour out as much mana as you want and the flame still won't surge past a set intensity—it holds a constant heat! This method is actually used more often in magical tools than in casting, since mages treat mana control as pure talent and just wing it by feel, but if you inscribe the mana structure on a scroll and attach a miniature version to your body, it's this simple, and also—"
"Y-yes...? Yes... yes..."
"Hey, are you going to keep monologuing about stuff only you understand? She clearly has no idea what you're talking about."
Far from scolding Bennet for her slip, Felix had lit up and launched into a full lecture on magical theory. Bennet had no idea how to respond—and the words pouring out of him might as well have been a foreign language. Her head was spinning.
"Oh my, so this is where you two were."
"Da— I mean, Mother? Coming down for breakfast?"
"Wow... that dress looks wonderful on you, Mo.ther?"
"....Yes. Thank you."
Freya, also on her way to the dining hall for breakfast, spotted them and called out. The two siblings grinned in perfect sync, as if they'd rehearsed it.
Rosaria could wander the mansion in trousers as she pleased, but Freya—as the Countess—had to be conscious of her station and the eyes upon her. She had no choice but to wear elegant, old-fashioned dresses every day. Every morning, as the maids helped her into one, Freya could feel the last scraps of the man she used to be being scraped away a little further.
The two siblings knew exactly how she felt—and instead of offering comfort, they seized the rare chance to mess with their former uncle, smiling with pure mischief. For a moment Freya's usual gentle smile seemed to flicker, but Bennet didn't catch that far.
"G-good morning, my lady!"
"Yes. You've been working hard since early morning."
"Not at all! I'm only doing what a maid of this house ought to do!"
"My, how admirable. I wish my own children would learn from your example. Especially my daughter."
"Hey, what's wrong with me? I already did a year and a half of hard labor—isn't that enough!"
"In my day, it was three years."
"......Cheap shot, pulling the 'back in my day' card."
"In any case, let's get to breakfast so this child can move on to her other duties."
"What's for breakfast today?"
"Tomato soup, I think?"
"Ah... tomato soup makes me want sausage-veggie stir-fry."
"Hearing you talk like a grunt in that body is hilarious."
"Heh heh. Back in my day, we were grateful just for barley rice and pickled radish—"
"Okay, okay! Can we just go eat already! See you later, Bennet!"
"Ah—yes, my lady."
The three of them strode off, chattering noisily all the way. Bennet watched their retreating backs and bowed her head.
"She... remembered my name."
She had never imagined her name would come from Rosaria's lips—Rosaria, who had glanced back at her while herding the other two along. Something warm bloomed in Bennet's chest.
The nobles of House Evergarden had truly, unmistakably changed from the people she once knew.
And Bennet didn't mind. No—she liked it.
"...All right! Time to work hard again today!"
And so Bennet's day rolled on, bright and full of energy, just as always.