The Maid Wants to Be Trained (1)
"......Huh?"
The man's eyes went wide. Even the burly thugs who'd followed him in couldn't tear their gazes away from the leather pouch tossed onto the table. The glimmering golden shine peeking from its opening was unmistakably real gold coins to anyone with eyes.
With trembling hands, the man undid the pouch's strap.
"Wh-what the hell is this? Master Ian?"
A hint of respect had crept into the mouth that had been wagging its finger at me just moments ago.
Slave to capitalism, huh.
I leisurely crossed my legs and sank deep into the sofa.
"What else? The principal, prepared right on the due date as promised. Go ahead and count it."
The man gauged the number of coins with shaky hands as he opened the pouch. I could see his pupils quivering. It was the look of someone who couldn't fathom how the Ashy Barony—on the verge of hitting the streets tomorrow—had scraped together this kind of cash.
It wasn't an insane fortune, but it was no small sum for our debt-ridden barony to muster.
But soon enough, that classic loan shark greed resurfaced on his face. He cleared his throat, pocketed the pouch, and forced a menacing scowl.
"Ahem. Well, looks like you scraped together the principal somehow."
He slyly pulled the gold pouch toward himself with another fake cough.
"But this is just the principal! What about all the back interest? You planning to stiff us on that?"
He tilted his chin up again, glaring down at me from his slouched, cocky stance.
"This is just the principal. What about the piled-up interest? You know better than anyone, as the baron yourself, how steep those rates are. Sign the territory transfer deed as agreed."
Oh, come on. I couldn't help but let out a disbelieving chuckle. The money I'd thrown on the table was more than enough to cover principal and interest. And yet here he was, playing hardball to squeeze out that territory deed?
My brain's big data from devouring territory conquest webnovels kicked into overdrive.
Obvious.
This was 100% one of those clichés: a massive magic stone mine buried under the barony's land, or some imperial redevelopment jackpot.
Yeah. Who the hell transmigrates into a family this screwed? There has to be a lifeline I just haven't spotted yet.
Firing up my hope circuit lifted my mood from rock bottom a bit. I leaned even deeper into the sofa, crossing my legs, and smirked with one corner of my mouth.
"How about dropping the rat act and being straight with me?"
"Wh-what? Rat?"
"Yeah, rat. You know, the kind that sneaks in and gobbles up someone else's hard-earned grain. What else you gonna call it?"
"You, you...! Do you even know who I am?!"
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Don't know which two-bit noble's your backer. But trying to lowball the value of 'that thing' under our family territory for a few interest pennies? Ballsy move."
At my words, the man's face went sheet-white.
"H-how do you know about th-that...? No, I have no idea what nonsense you're spouting! I'm just an honest merchant trying to take useless land in lieu of back interest!"
"Honest merchant?"
I leaned forward over the table, lowering my voice.
"Wonder what the Imperial Palace would do if they found out? Some pissant loan shark trying to skim resources that rightfully belong to the crown."
"Guh...."
"And everyone in the empire knows how much our esteemed crown prince, His Highness Leonhardt Bell, despises corruption and fraud."
I had no clue if the crown prince actually hated corruption. All I knew was he was a raging tyrant whose mana went berserk when he got mad. But the name-drop worked like a charm. The second "crown prince" hit the air, the loan shark and his goons started shaking in their boots.
"L-let's recalculate! This should cover it!"
Like a thief hearing footsteps, the man clutched the gold pouch to his chest and bolted from the mansion with his thugs in tow.
Bam!
The front door slammed shut, and silence settled over the drawing room.
"...Young master."
Estelle, standing behind me, spoke cautiously. A faint tremor laced her usually composed voice.
"Yeah, yeah. Go on, praise me more."
"...What are you talking about?"
What? Weren't you about to compliment me?
I turned to see Estelle staring down at me with her usual impassive, icy expression. No fun. Her lips parted in that boring way.
"Was there really a magic stone mine discovered under our territory? Or perhaps an imperial redevelopment plan?"
"Huh? Oh, no. I was totally bluffing."
"...Pardon?"
Estelle's dark blue hair framed eyes that shook finely. The perfect poker face of our head maid cracked, her face openly screaming disbelief.
"It's just a classic romance novel trope. Barren land always hides something like that, 100% of the time. I tossed it out, they bit, so I chased 'em off."
"...I can't decide if I should admire your unnecessarily sharp wits or sigh at the reckless bravado that could get you killed."
Estelle let out a small sigh, pressing a gloved hand to her forehead. But the way she looked at me now held a strange new glint. The second son who'd only ever caused trouble or holed up in his room had suddenly paid off a massive debt and toyed with loan sharks till they fled. A natural reaction.
But the crisis wasn't over.
I put out the immediate fire, but this ain't enough.
No way my deadbeat dad's screw-ups stopped at this one. And with the mansion's daily upkeep, plus back pay for our sharp-minded Estelle, we needed way more cash.
Bottom line: erotic manga.
My Saintess's Secret Confession, modeled after Arina Saint, had been a smash hit. So, next target?
I stared at Estelle as she tidied the drawing room. Her jet-black hair neatly pinned up, her spotless perfect maid outfit hugging her form. The elegant posture like nobility, the unflappably cool professionalism no matter the situation.
Perfect.
The ever-devoted maid who tends to her master and provides flawless service. But what if she unraveled and crumbled under her master's actions?
'Maid conquest'—a perennial bestseller in adult content. In this prudish fantasy world, it'd be an atomic bomb.
I licked my lips and headed straight to my room.
"Young master, holing up in your room again?"
"Yeah, busy! Leave food outside the door!"
Diving into work, I wielded my pen like a god possessed.
"Ngh, check out these fabric folds. Museum-worthy, easy."
But in my artistic fervor, I made one fatal slip. A rough sketch for proportions ended up way too close to Estelle's real body type—eerily so.
"Ugh, too on-the-nose. Tsk."
And I'd pressed too hard; the paper tore. As if this dump had decent paper lying around. I crumpled the sketch viciously and chucked it under the desk into the trash bin without a second thought. Then grabbed fresh paper and dove back in.
Days and nights of drawing later, the basic storyboard was done. An unbearable thirst hit me.
"Water... need water."
I stretched and headed downstairs to the kitchen for a bit.
In that short time Ian was away from his room.
Creeeak— The door opened, and Estelle slipped quietly inside, cleaning tools in both hands. Her brows were furrowed in a rare frown.
Her mind was filled with suspicions about Ian.
The young master lately... it's like he's a different person.
Even that bluff against the loan sharks was nothing like her usual young master.
The money's one thing, but...
Estelle tidied the desk area with a quiet sigh.
Don't tell me he's gotten into shady deals on the sly... or started selling himself to rich noble ladies in high society?
For a second son practically unemployed, those were the only ways she could imagine him making big money.
With a bitter heart, Estelle bent down to empty the trash bin under the desk. That's when a particularly tightly wadded ball of paper caught her eye.
"This is...."
It looked hastily crumpled to hide something. Without thinking, she picked it up with her gloved hand. Then, very carefully, unfolded it.
Flutter—
The moment the paper smoothed out, Estelle froze.
"......?"
What was drawn on it was an impossibly refined, beautiful sketch. Flowing pen strokes even top imperial artists would struggle to match.
But the content... it was something so shocking she'd never seen in her life.
The woman in the drawing wore the exact same maid outfit as her. The problem? It was disheveled to hell. And worse—the maid was twisting her legs around some invisible someone's hand, face flushed in ecstasy.
"Kyaaah!!!"
She screamed without realizing it, crumpling the paper as her face burned bright red.