The Secret He Hides -2- The Lady's Acting Strange
The lady had been acting strange. Ever since she got back from her outing, she'd been glaring at me in this weird way, blatantly raking her eyes over my body. It left me with a profoundly odd feeling.
What the hell? It was like getting groped on the subway. Maybe because it was a pretty girl doing the looking. It felt strangely good.
I slowly flicked my hand in front of her. Her face followed the motion. Oh…! I'd discovered something fun. When I spun my hand left and right, she turned her head to track it. Up and down, and she bobbed her head accordingly.
Down. Up. Left. Right. Again. After dozens of repetitions.
"Fuck!"
The lady hurled the fork she was holding at me. Well, that's what you get for ogling someone else's body. I dodged it easily and handed her a fresh fork.
"Lady."
"What."
"What're you staring at? It's creeping me out."
"Not creepy."
"No, I'm the one creeped out."
The lady looked up at me. She glanced at me from her seat on the bed, nodding her head.
"I'm fine."
I hadn't even asked about her feelings.
"Take responsibility for my wounded heart."
She didn't even respond. The lady kept glaring at my wrist. If stares had temperature, my wrist would've suffered third-degree burns by now—she was sending such intense heat my way.
Normally, she'd be raging at the paprika in tonight's menu, flinging forks and knives in blissful fury. But today, she seemed more curious about me than the food. Me taking priority over food? Was I finally ascending to the ranks of a successful butler? It felt good in the strangest way.
Even as I set the tray on the bed and served her meal, her gaze stayed glued to my wrist. She was craning her neck to peek inside my sleeve. I curled my fingers and flicked her forehead.
"Eek!"
The lady balled her fist.
"That hurts!"
"That's why I hit you."
"Why'd you hit me!"
"You're staring."
"I wasn't."
"Liar."
She whipped her head toward the window, avoiding my eyes.
"I wasn't!"
Just like always, she looked at the window when lying.
"What do you mean you weren't? You were staring so hard my sleeve nearly caught fire. I thought I'd burn to death."
"It wasn't hot. I was looking coldly."
"So you were looking."
The lady clamped her mouth shut, speechless. She poked at her stew.
"Why the hell does this stew have no meat! This is meat abuse. No respect for meat at all!"
"It's healthy, though."
"Can't accept that."
I wrapped up dinner by stuffing some paprika into her mouth. Time for me to rest in my room tonight.
That's when it happened. The lady took a swig of milk, let out a satisfied ahh, and ordered overtime. It stopped my heart, which had been eagerly awaiting quitting time.
"Oh, Ricardo. I wanna take a bath."
"Pardon?"
What the hell was this woman saying? A bath after the maid clocked out? A massive bomb dropped on this Confucian boy's sensibilities, making my shoulders twitch.
The lady looked up at me with those cat-like eyes. Wide-eyed, sending a fierce threat that she'd go on a hunger strike if I refused.
This time, I turned toward the window.
"Don't avoid my eyes."
"I'm not? The sun's just too bright."
"It's 9 p.m.—how's the sun out!"
"It comes up sometimes, right? Even the moon gets tired."
"Bullshit!"
"Woof."
The lady loved baths. The kind where she'd pass out in the tub. She adored soaking in scalding water. She'd melt into slime with a drawn-out hooo~ in the bath, then drag herself out with a reluctant ueeeek!—a woman dead serious about bathing.
No wonder collecting bath bombs was her hobby. It was a clean, wholesome one, but she went overboard. Mint-scented bath bombs. Beef-scented ones. Lamb-flavored. She collected the weirdest shit.
After becoming destitute, she'd dropped the hobby, but her passion for bath bombs hadn't faded.
Sometime when I'm free, maybe make some with the lady. I felt proud for thinking of something fun to do together, but recalling her bizarre bath philosophy made my shoulders twitch again.
When the lady was ten. At the stream, stripping naked, she'd declared:
"Real baths are done naked! Bathing with clothes on is just laundry. Got it, beggar boy!"
"Just put some clothes on."
"No way!"
The lady aspired to nude bathing. Anything less was mere laundry-washing in her unique philosophy. Knowing that, I asked her in a tense voice:
"You want a bath now?"
She confirmed with a curt nod.
"Yeah. I'm all sweaty and sticky."
"You won't die skipping one day."
"No. I might."
"Then I'll heat up a wet towel."
She stated firmly:
"I wanna soak in hot water."
With conditions.
"Stark naked."
Oh my, oh my. What was this woman saying, challenging a full-grown man like that? Despite my bold thoughts, my eyes shook wildly.
Handsome in past life or this one, but a total greenhorn with zero girl experience. The air grew awkward.
A bath-loving lady versus a butler guarding male dignity.
"No."
"Why…"
"I'm a man, aren't I? A perfectly handsome one at that."
"You're not handsome."
"Don't lie."
"…It's true."
The lady puffed her cheeks. She wanted it, and rejecting her made me the bad guy. My resolve softened, but the old saying "no sitting together past seven" held firm.
"Hmph."
The lady glared at me again. This time, eyeing my sleeve and body, she started grinning creepily.
Like a total perv.
"Hee hee."
"What's with that laugh."
"Nothing."
But her gaze was fixed on the window, so not nothing.
"Fine, then… like this."
"Ei!"
I chucked the lady straight into the bath. Splash—she plunged into the tub. Soaked to the skin, she shot me a resentful glare. I felt a weird thrill.
"Hee hee."
Flashing her a cheeky grin, she lobbed a bar of soap at my face.
"Such crude attacks won't touch me for another century."
"Hmph."
She whipped her head away. I wanted to pinch those puffed-up cheeks.
I dipped a finger into the steaming bathwater.
Nice and warm. Not too hot, not too cold—the perfect temp for her.
"How's the water?"
"Yeah. Feels like braising meat."
Her way of saying it was good. In lady-speak, cold was "pig's feet," warm was "braised pork"—today's temp hit the sweet spot.
"Phew."
She was still dressed. After my firm refusal, she'd compromised a step.
"Fine, then. I'll wear clothes—a bathrobe's enough, right?"
Wearing a white bathrobe, lips pursed in a pout, she splashed water at me and muttered:
"This isn't a bath."
"Correct."
"No, it's laundry."
"Then let's do laundry."
I lathered shampoo in my hands and started massaging her scalp. My legendary scalp massage left her moaning helplessly.
"Uuuuh… it's washing away."
"Quiet. You're breaking my focus."
"Huuuuh."
She was out of it. Time flew, and bath time was winding down.
I said to her:
"Lady."
Munching snacks from her perch in the tub, she turned slightly.
"Hm?"
"I might need to step out for two days next week. That okay?"
"Why? Bug-hunting again?"
"No. Similar, but different."
Gonna loot some fortuitous encounters. In two weeks, news would break about an undiscovered dungeon near the Hamel Mountains' peak. As per the novel.
A legendary dungeon, drawing hordes of adventurers. Ancient labyrinth packed with artifacts and gold coins.
A key episode where the heroine Yuria and Ruin dove in. They'd clash with heretics there, but that was their problem.
Bottom line: I'd cherry-pick the encounters they'd claim, leaving story essentials and taking the rest. Grab useful stuff before the crowds hit.
My swordsmanship was Lv. 6 now—no dying to heretics in there. I could even farm them.
Snag a sword for Hanna, elixirs for Malik, and pocket some treasures on the side. Perfect.
So, time to ask permission.
She pondered.
"Dangerous?"
"Nah, just a trip for fun."
"Oh?"
Her face soured. Like last time with the bugs, she thought I was overworking.
To ease her worry, I mixed truth and lies.
"Gonna pick some herbs from the mountains. Weather's turning cold—time to brew some tonics."
"Hmmm."
After long deliberation, she nodded approval.
"Fine. But no bitter ones. Only chocolate-flavored herbs."
"Those don't exist."
"They might."
Tomorrow, once the maid arrives, I'd ask her to cover for two days.
"But Ricardo."
"Yes?"
Her thoughts drifted, then she eyed my hand.
"Why's your forearm so dark?"
Through my wet shirt, my tanned forearm showed clearly.