Uninvited Guest -3-
It had been a while since people gathered at the dining table. The table was lavish for just three of us, but huddling around the round surface like this brought back old memories. Olivia, the family head, the deputy head, and the madam. We'd sit and bicker every day, but we still had our share of harmonious times. Facing each other over a meal like this felt nostalgic—it had been about a year.
We usually ate in her bedroom with the young miss, so sitting at the table again lifted my spirits. With a flutter of excitement, I asked the lady of the house, "How does it feel to come out after so long?"
The young miss wore a sullen expression, brimming with complaints. She hadn't even been woken from a nap—why the long face? I'd thought she'd be thrilled about guests.
Olivia's gaze fixed on Hanna—specifically, on the sky-blue pajamas Hanna was wearing.
"Isn't that mine?"
"Yes, it is."
"Then why's she wearing it?"
Hanna shrank under the scrutiny, looking like she'd stolen a cherished outfit. Hesitant, as if wondering if she should change back into her damp clothes, she fidgeted. I came clean to the young miss. "I stole it for her."
"Aha." Olivia nodded, looking satisfied. "Gave her the pretty one."
The young miss wasn't upset about losing the dress—she was annoyed I'd given away something unpretty. Hanna gawked at Olivia's easy acceptance and my proud confession. This was just our daily routine, though.
With her anger diffused, I repeated my earlier question. "So, how's it feel to dine here after so long?"
"Hate it. Too much hassle."
"Keep that up and you'll turn into a pig."
Olivia puffed up with confidence. "A pig?" She threw her shoulders back, proudly thrusting out her chest. It was impressively vicious, but a grown woman acting like that in front of company deserved a knuckle-rap. That smug look didn't help.
"All my food goes to my boobs."
"Don't lie. So what's that gut from—greed?" I teased, pointing at the pudge poking from her side.
Olivia huffed in outrage. She flung her fork, but no dice.
"Too slow."
"Eek…!" The young miss clutched her neck. This was exactly why I never gave her chocolate. Too much and she'd spike a blood pressure crisis. What if she keeled over from my teasing? I crushed her boast with a smirk.
"Pig."
Her wail echoed at my sly grin, but I ignored it and prepped the meal. Hanna stared in disbelief at our antics, eyes wide like she'd spotted wild owls. A butler mocking his mistress like this? Unheard of.
As I set forks and knives on the table, I reassured her. "We're not crazy, so don't worry."
"No, it's…"
They are crazy, Hanna thought. She'd pegged them as nuts ever since that fist-in-mouth crying fit last time. Teasing the infamous villainess like that, or the villainess hurling forks—neither made sense. They seemed nice enough, just not normal.
I caught her flustered look and chuckled softly. "We're just having fun. Me and the young miss."
"Fun? I can't see how."
"Just because." Spotting the young miss's intent stare at Hanna, I added, "It's been ages since we had company."
Hanna fell silent. How to describe this warmth? Her chest tightened. Being welcomed like this—it had been forever. Birthdays in her memory were days of tears, ignored by her indifferent father, blowing out candles alone in an empty room. This felt like being truly received for the first time.
"Are you happy I'm here?" Hanna asked me, voice thick.
As her butler, I was thrilled for the rare task. The green tea I'd brewed had drawn her here—another win. Just two weeks since we met, and this attention was overkill. Plus, the quest progressed nicely. Call me materialistic, but I answered her sincerely. "Yes. Very."
"For real?"
"Of course. So, after dinner, could you keep our young miss company?"
Hanna froze. The young miss snorted through her nose, pretending nonchalance while clearly expectant. Visions of girl talk danced in her head—she was already plotting topics. I hustled to meet those expectations.
Hanna didn't reply. I didn't need one—I'd make her anyway. No such thing as a free meal. Might as well ask for more.
"Feeling sticky from the rain?"
"A bit."
"Then bathe with our young miss after."
Huff. Bigger snort from the young miss. She was pumped.
"Huh…?" Hanna's face twisted in absurdity. Perfect.
"You look better already."
"Pardon?"
"Happier than before."
Hanna touched her face. Her lips had curved up involuntarily. She didn't want to do this, resented the errands—yet her mouth betrayed her. Why was she smiling? It'd been ages since she smiled on her birthday.
The tender mood hung briefly—until the atmosphere-killer spoke. "Ricardo, I'm hungry."
"As expected, glutton fairy."
"Insult?"
Olivia's head tilted with a question mark. I laughed it off as praise. "No. Means you're beautiful like a fairy."
"I am a fairy."
"True. Though you eat more than one."
Another fork flew—I dodged easily. With innocent eyes, she asked, "What's for dinner?"
"What do you want?"
The answer gleamed in her eyes. Always the same.
"Meat?"
I denied it, as usual. Asking wasn't about her input—it was our telepathy game, checking if my menu matched her craving. Miss, and it stung; hit, and joy. Simple.
"Nope."
"Eeeeng."
Tonight: cake, as promised Hanna. Whipped cream piled high. My past-life hobbies were cooking and baking—I had confidence. Dessert: cream cake. Side: seasoned chicken. And the main—the dish women obsessed over back then, rain or shine, joy or sorrow. Brain-rice-cake levels of fixation. Perfect mood-lifter for Hanna's blues.
I flashed Olivia a triumphant smile. "Your favorite." Then to Hanna: "You'll love it too. First time, but just eat. Guests accept what's served."
Hanna gaped. Tough luck—I felt like it.
I headed to the kitchen. Soon, spicy aromas wafted out.
"Tch… haaang…."
"Haaaang… hiet."
"Sluuuurp… haa."
Indecent moans filled the dining room. I shifted in my seat. Hadn't aimed for this vibe. Too spicy? All the better. Anyone overhearing might mistake it for hanky-panky. Even the spice-tolerant young miss struggled, fanning her skirt wildly.
"Young miss, too erotic. Stop."
"Why! It's hot!"
"Still too provocative."
Tch. She eyed me warily, then quit fanning and focused on eating amid my nagging.
Center table: red food. My past-life specialty—tteokbokki. Tested on the young miss since childhood; she devoured it. Figured it'd hook Hanna too.
As predicted, she did. "Spicy… but delicious. Tongue burns… slurp. Addictively weird."
Suited her palate. I smiled. "Good?"
"Amazing!"
Sweat beading as she shoveled it in—like me at the orphanage, skipping only fish cakes. She knew good eats. No fish cakes here, so ham instead—worked great. Hanna picking out the ham chunks moved me. Olivia's favorability toward her plummeted in real time, though.
"Eeeeek! Don't pick out just the ham!"
"You're doing it too, miss."
"This is my house!"
"I'm the guest!"
"Eeeeek."
Olivia looked ready to stroke out. I plated ham onto hers, silencing complaints. Hanna eyed me with fervor.
"First time, and it's great?"
"Costs a pretty penny."
"Huh?"
I teased. "Ten thousand gold."
Clang. Olivia dropped her fork.
"Hieeeek!"
Why're you freaking?
"How much have I scarfed?! Ten thousand, a million… ten million?!"
"No."
"Ricardo… am I a money-devouring pig?!"
I stared incredulously; she gawked back in horror. Hanna stayed chill, sensing the joke. Worried for the most shocked one's chest, I corrected. "Kidding. Didn't even cost ten silvers."
"Phew. Nearly force-dieted myself." She dove back in. Hanna nodded.
"What's it called?"
"Tteokbokki."
"Tteokbokki."
"Yeah. Special for your visit. My secret recipe—no one else can make it."
"You can give me something that unique?"
Her eyes widened—stunned by the one-of-a-kind treat.
"It's your birthday."
"…"
Hanna gripped her fork. "Right. My birthday today."
She ate silently, breaths ragged. "Guh… what's wrong? Too spicy, huh."
"Yep. Made it hot."
"I don't usually… sniff… why? Haha… too good…"
I set a water glass beside her. "Happy birthday."
"Guhh… thanks."
Hanna seemed the weepy type.
Night fell. Somehow, I ended up sleeping over. First sleepover in ages. Sword practice left no friends; my only "overnights" were outdoor gigs. Someone's home felt awkward—but nice. Stress-melting food, welcoming words. I'd snuck in like a burglar; the butler treated me like company. Grateful. The young miss still scared me, though.
Stuff happened. Hated my family ignoring my birthday. Dad's dismissals fueled my runaway. Cried over dinner, too.
"Ugh… why'd you bawl there!"
Hanna kicked the blankets furiously.
But it was great.
Best birthday yet. Dad watching bro's swordplay, ignored greetings in that dead house—never felt this. Heart fluttered. Tomorrow, she'd shake it off, stronger. Ready to quit swordplay? Nah—glad she came.
But dread lingered for dawn. Back to that suffocating home. Dad probably hadn't noticed her gone, obsessed with bro. Bro: sword expert on the horizon. Dad itching to coach.
"…Hate it."
Loneliness crashed in. Hanna curled tight under the quilt.
"Shoulda slept by the young miss."
Shed chatter all night, so separate room. Regret now. Assuming sleep done—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Asleep?"
Familiar voice. Hanna rose cautiously, opened the door.
"Haha…."
Ricardo stood with an awkward smile, bearing cookies and green tea.
"Forgot something."
"Come in."
"Thanks."
Door shut. Seeing him, Hanna flushed hot. Forgot: grown man and woman, alone in a closed room. Weird thoughts crept. Naughty ones. We're not that close—yet fantasies swirled.
He stepped closer; she squeezed eyes shut, yelling. "Sorry! Not yet…."
"Pardon? What?"
"This isn't the time for…."
Ricardo burst laughing. Grateful she hadn't screamed, insisting no such intent—her face burned nuclear.
"Then why…?"
"Ah…"
He smiled gently. "Forgot your birthday gift."
Hanna wanted to crawl into a hole.