Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Pig Prince Ethan (4)
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"Maid, I'm hungry. So cook for me again today."
'Fuck.'
The moment I stepped into the kitchen and came face-to-face with Ethan's ugly mug, along with that shameless mouth treating me like a cook, a curse popped into my head unbidden.
Why the hell is this bastard here again today, anyway?
The most likely reason was obvious, of course. The piglet must've crawled in because his belly was empty. What else could it be?
Or maybe, just like in the original story, he took a liking to the character Lilith's looks and showed up to get her attention.
'If that were the case, he would've just summoned me during work hours instead of going through this hassle.'
Considering the power Ethan could wield, reassigning a junior maid or two was as easy as blowing his nose.
If this little shit said he wanted me as his personal maid right now, Harold wouldn't hesitate for a second to shove me into that role.
The instant that happened, it'd be no different from dipping half a foot into the hellish path of being his exclusive maid.
That's why in yesterday's encounter, I'd acted annoyed on purpose, and even made the meal he'd demanded as half-assedly as possible.
I really shouldn't have added that honey at the end. Should've just shoved some roughly chopped turnips at him and told him to eat that.
I'd worried it'd be too insultingly bad and backfire in some other way, so I made it look vaguely like a proper dish. But no, making it halfway edible was a mistake—he's back showing his face again today.
'I really just want to kill him.'
I barely suppressed the dark impulse that flashed through me for a moment.
Inflicting even a minor injury on this loathsome prick right now would make Lilith's life worth less than a fly's.
As I'd said before, she might face punishments worse than death.
In the worst case, she'd get her limbs chopped off and shipped out as a sex slave for frontline soldiers, or handed over to some professional torturer who wouldn't even let her die.
Plus, something I hadn't considered last time: there was a risk it could spread to Isabel under some bullshit "guilt by association" pretext.
Like, "She knew Lilith was going to kill Ethan and didn't stop her," or some other nonsense.
'Lilith, we're gonna be friends from now on, right? Pinky promise~.'
If it were just about me, I might've rolled the dice on killing him and running. But the moment Harold lost his son, he'd probably lose his mind.
Not only Isabel, my fellow newbie from the same batch, but most people I'd been associated with lately would end up on the punishment list.
Including the senior maids who'd dumped this chore on me today.
...Come to think of it, that didn't sound half bad.
Anyway, the senior maids could rot for all I cared, but I didn't want to drag Isabel down if I could help it. What had that sweet girl ever done wrong?
For her to suffer some cruel fate just because her coworker was Lilith... that was too pitiful.
Better for me to fuck up alone if it came to that.
In truth, if I ignored all the future entanglements with Ethan, escaping this situation was simple.
Just feed him the same menu as yesterday and send him back to his room. Done.
But since there was no need to worry about unhatched chickens yet, I decided to compromise with reality for now.
Match this piglet's mood for the moment.
"You're up because you're hungry again today, aren't you, Young Master?"
"Yeah!"
"Understood. I'll prepare the same menu as yesterday. Please wait in the dining room for a moment..."
"I don't want what I ate yesterday! Make something else!"
"This little... It doesn't seem feasible to make another dish under the circumstances..."
I nearly blurted out "this fucking bastard," but I managed to pull myself together. I was almost proud of myself for defusing it.
Maybe this was some survival instinct kicking in to escape danger.
My brain sensed that mouthing off to this little shit in this mansion would make survival dicey, so it clumsily covered for my near-slip.
Luckily, the brat was too young to catch that I'd almost cursed.
I could tell from how he kept spewing the most infuriating crap.
"If I say make it, make it! I'm hungry!"
"......"
There's an old saying: endure three times and even murder is forgiven.
With two strikes already stacked, my reason barely held back the impulse as the kid kept pushing.
I even managed to squeak out a response to defuse things.
"...Understood. If you insist, I'll make something other than the tomato turnip salad."
"Yay!"
"But just like last time, I can't guarantee it'll taste good. It might not suit you any better than the tomato turnip salad."
"Yeah!"
"I'll start cooking now, so please wait quietly in the dining room, Young Master."
Hold it in. Hold it in.
Feed this little shit anything quick and get back to work...
"I wanna watch the maid cook!"
"...Please sit quietly in the dining room and wait."
"No! I wanna watch the maid cook!"
"...The kitchen is dangerous, so Young Master Ethan, please wait quietly in the dining room..."
"No!"
...Three strikes.
My body, no longer able to suppress it with reason, reflexively lunged at Ethan.
And in that instant, the kid on the floor, me choking him as he collapsed.
A scrawny thirteen-year-old who'd never lifted a finger couldn't withstand the strength of an adult woman raised on a farm.
I slam the fat loathsome pig's body to the kitchen floor, grab his throat with both hands, and squeeze the life out of him...
......Just for a moment. That was all it was—an imagination.
"......"
"Maid?"
"...One last earnest request. Please wait quietly in the dining room until the food is ready."
'While I still have some sanity left.'
Even this oblivious brat seemed to sense something off in the atmosphere by now; he actually listened to my final plea carefully.
Maybe his own survival instincts kicked in, making him heed me at least that once.
"O-okay... I'll wait in the dining room..."
"...I'll have it ready and brought over soon."
"Y-yeah..."
Only after the little shit scurried out of the kitchen did peace finally return.
With Ethan gone from the doorway, I could finally vent all the pent-up rage I'd bottled up.
"Fuck. It's already bullshit getting stuck with the seniors' chores, and now this loathsome pig pulls the same crap two days in a row..."
If he weren't the young master of this house, my sanity wouldn't have held.
If one of my senior maids pulled that? We'd both be dead meat.
But the gap wasn't senior vs. junior maid—it was commoner vs. the duke's only son. An absurd divide.
Having sunk over 2,000 hours into Luminor Academy in my past life, I knew the death events inside out.
I was dead certain hurting Ethan wouldn't end well.
A protagonist might brute-force it, but a lone maid dueling Harold? The outcome was obvious.
Even in this new body, I knew one thing: my life mattered.
"Haa, what kind of made-up dish does he want today..."
Here I was, transmigrated into my favorite game from my past life, and all I did was handle senior maids' skipped chores and clean up after this brat.
I wanted to curse whoever stuck me as Lilith again.
⁎ ⁎ ⁎
And about ten minutes later.
"...What is this?"
"Not mu ssam... Radish rolls."
"Radish rolls...?"
Ethan stared at it with a look that screamed "What the hell is that?"
His eyes plainly demanded an explanation, so I described my creative dish myself.
"It's thinly sliced radish rolled around julienned carrot, onion, tomato, and turnip."
"There's a dish like that...? And turnips again..."
"If it doesn't suit your taste, I'll clear it away."
"N-no! I'll eat it!"
...He's hungry, at least. Only someone starving would eat something that looks this unappetizing.
Honestly, I wouldn't touch it. Mu ssam without meat or salmon? What's the point?
And the "sauce" was just salt and olive oil at best.
Better to just chomp raw tomatoes.
He's probably thinking the tomato turnip salad was better by now, but he was the one who rejected it.
Your choice, your creative dish. Choke it down or starve.
-Crunch, crunch.
"Junior, junior."
"......"
...I gave it to him to eat, but damn, he's scarfing it down disgustingly.
I seriously wondered if he was chewing like that just to get on my nerves.
No way a thirteen-year-old noble kid hadn't learned manners otherwise.
Even if Harold was a doting fool of a dad, this seemed excessively permissive.
Whatever. Not my problem.
I didn't care if this loathsome pig grew up right or not. All I wanted was for him to stay out of my life as much as possible.
...Too late, since we'd crossed paths in the kitchen two days running.
'Should've fed him something so vile on day one he couldn't stomach it.'
But it was too late to backtrack now. All I could do was inwardly curse my yesterday stupidity.
While I brooded, Ethan had polished off the plate.
His fork clattered onto the empty dish.
"All done?"
"Yeah!"
"Did it suit your taste?"
"No!"
'Figured as much.'
I hadn't expected otherwise.
The kid who'd called yesterday's tomato turnip salad meh wouldn't praise this.
Unfazed by his kid reply, I urged him back to his room.
"It's late. Head back to your room before anyone notices."
"Yeah!"
At least once fed, he goes quietly. Kinda easy to handle that way.
Confirming his waddling form vanish down the hall, I tidied the dishes and table with Clean magic.
...He won't show up in the kitchen tomorrow too, will he?
I couldn't be sure my sanity would hold if he did, so I prayed from the bottom of my heart that he wouldn't.
That was the best Lilith's body could manage right now.