The Preciousness of Money -1-

Late that evening, I sat at my desk with the thick household ledger spread open before me, clicking a ballpoint pen idly.

Click-clack. Staring at the pen tip extending and retracting, I let out a deep sigh and sank into thought.

"What am I gonna do with this."

All that came out was another sigh.

"There's just too much money."

A sigh of success, that is. A happy dilemma I couldn't have dreamed of just a year ago. Forgetting those lean days when I agonized over whether to sell my opportunities, I smirked arrogantly and flipped open the ledger.

"Is this what it's like to have rich people's problems...? This is tough. Real tough."

The ledger, once meticulously itemized down to the last silver, hadn't seen a single silver coin in ages. Food costs took the biggest chunk unavoidably, but with my wallet far plumper than before, I couldn't stop grinning as I muttered to myself.

"If I save well, I could buy a house in the capital... Nah, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠building a seaside mansion wouldn't be bad either."

The butler's mindset shifts with a life of leisure. I used to worry about starving to death, but now I was making constructive plans for retirement. Felt good. Back then, I'd sigh endlessly while filling out the ledger. These days, I actually enjoyed it.

Money really is the best, huh. Taxes? The miss says she'll handle it, and even if issues pop up, we've got a tax evasion expert in the mansion. No worries there.

She says she's good at it, so if problems arise, I can just ask. Even if the miss has settled into a life of leisure, she shows off that sharp brain now and then. I nodded, deciding to trust her.

"Maybe give her some pocket money starting next month."

She might not spend it, but it's good to instill proper money sense. Smiling, I jotted "pocket money" into next month's expenses.

She'll love it...

For the miss, money still didn't hold much weight. To some, it's the power sustaining life; to others, shackles binding them. But not for her—not because she doesn't need it, but because she's never had to worry about it. That was my fault, and Darbav's.

She'd never earned money herself, never knew how. All she knew was taxes and business basics; details? She never bothered. Last time, she jumped at a gig pasting eyes on a bear doll without even checking the pay.

We'd been her warm ATM machines.

We'd made her treat money like a joke. Even when kicked from the family, Darbav and I became her sponsors, so she didn't see much change. That's why I planned to slowly teach her money's value—and seeing her knack for pocketing platinum coins, pocket money seemed fine.

As I tapped my forehead, pondering her first allowance amount—

"Ricaaaardo!"

An familiar voice boomed from the next room. The miss calling me at full volume. What now? Her shout shook the mansion's roof. I burst out laughing and closed the ledger.

"Coming right now."

Wonder what it is today. Cockroach or ghost? Her late-night summons varied, but mostly nightmares or "I think there's a ghost." Guessing as much, I grabbed a fairy tale from the bookshelf.

Not from this world—my past life's fairy tale, spiced up for the miss alone. Tucking the fresh hot-off-the-press book under my arm, I left the room lightly, hoping she'd like it.

Tip-toe. My quiet steps on tiptoes soon halted before a door with a small plaque.

A secret plaque I'd stuck on. Chuckling softly, I knocked gently.

Knock knock.

"Miss. It's me."

No reply. Asleep after three minutes? Puzzled by the silence, I knocked again.

Knock knock knock.

What? Bored and ignoring? A gentleman butler doesn't barge into a lady's room, so I cleared my throat and spoke ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠softly toward the door.

Click-clack clack!

"Ahem, miss? Shall we make bath bombs together?"

"..."

No response. I drooped my shoulders sadly. Guess she doesn't need a butler.

"Oka— bye..."

But leaving without seeing her face felt like neglecting duty after coming all this way. Quick decision—I turned back, approached her door, and—

Slam.

"Miss!"

Grinning brightly, I thrust forward the plagiarized fairy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tale My Glass Slippers Cost 3 Million Gold and entered. Her dark room slowly came into view. As always, the wide-open window let in cool air. Awkward smile, I nagged.

"I told you not to sleep with the window open.... Huh?"

A massive dumpling lay on the bed. Not real—not a dumpling, but her silhouette bundled head-to-toe in blankets.

"Hic..."

Her huddled form bulged perfectly like a well-made dumpling. Puzzled, I approached and gently peeled back the "dumpling skin," speaking kindly.

"Why are you like this? Bug show up?"

Seeing my face, she rubbed her teary eyes and rummaged in the drawer. Shiny coins glinted amid her frantic hands. She'd scored a haul behind my back. Her shadow talents were unmatched.

After digging forever, she pulled out a platinum coin and thrust it at me with trembling hands.

"Here!"

"Huh?"

"Take it."

"Why this?"

"Just...! Take it!"

What? Whatever it was, the heartwarming pocket money made me smile as I accepted the coin. Money's the best. Vowing not to spend this first allowance from her, I pocketed it.

"Thank y—"

Before I finished, she threw herself into my arms, not even straightening her clothes. Even a villainess feels pangs of conscience. Stroking her back amid her shaky breaths, I smiled.

"It's okay."

And Olivia—

Good thing...

—sighed in relief, gazing at the reddening blue window.

* Embracing Ricardo, Olivia felt her pounding heart and sighed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in relief. That sudden blue window had looked like bad news.

Clutching him tight, she squeezed her eyes shut past his shoulder at the blue window, breathing raggedly.

Not looking this time.

For real.

* Ten minutes earlier. Lying in bed, a blue window had appeared before Olivia's eyes. Hiding her face in the pillow didn't work; shaking her head didn't banish it. Clenching her fists, she slowly lifted her head.