The Scent of a Hidden Crack
The next morning, I opened my eyes. My body felt stiff. For some reason, my back, shoulders, and limbs all ached as if they’d been pushed to their limits. “Ugh… haa…” It was like every joint in my body was creaking in protest. I remembered collapsing onto the desk in the study after poring over documents late into the night. Was this the aftermath of working through the night in the study? It felt strangely off. The fatigue was different somehow—alien, as if I had crossed some physical threshold. I sat up. My joints throbbed. I didn’t recall doing anything particularly strenuous, yet the exhaustion was like I’d marched for days on a battlefield. An unpleasant stickiness seemed to cling to my entire body. I thought I might have drunk a sleeping tea last night… Could that be weighing me down like this? Normally I would have woken up refreshed. Was this some ominous premonition? No, it had to be my imagination. I was just being overly sensitive.
“Hmm… I’m really stiff.” I walked over to the bed and lay down. Maybe because I’d been curled up all night, my shoulders felt tight. As I straightened my posture and stretched out fully, the bedsheets shifted slightly. But oddly, the blanket that covered me seemed to hold my body heat far more than usual. It felt warm and cozy, as if someone had been embracing me, yet at the same time strangely foreign. And very faintly, a sweet, delicate floral scent seemed to rise from the bed. What was that smell… sweet… almost like perfume. It wasn’t the one I usually wore. It reminded me of the scent that lingered in Yua’s room. Was I imagining it? Surely no other maids entered my room. My chamber was always kept in perfect order. I tilted my head in confusion. Maybe I’d been so exhausted last night that I was sensing things that weren’t there. Or perhaps it was some kind of postwar trauma. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.
My room was always impeccably tidy. That was Yua’s flawless touch—she allowed not even the slightest trace of disorder. I got up and headed to the washroom. The face staring back at me in the mirror looked a little pale, but my eyes were still deeply sunken. I didn’t think I’d dreamed at all… so why had the fatigue only grown heavier? I shook my head. A vague memory of drinking a cup of black tea last night flickered and vanished. It hadn’t been brought by the butler, Lauren, but by Yua. The sleeping tea. Maybe it had been too strong. I opened the wardrobe to change. Rows of hanging clothes. And tucked away in one corner of the wardrobe, where it would normally go unnoticed, was an old, worn pocket watch. The one I had given Yua long ago. The one she had coldly returned to me. I was certain I had shoved it into a corner of the study… yet here it was, placed deep inside the wardrobe where my hand could barely reach, carefully preserved like a cherished treasure. A spot I would never have known about until I opened this door. As if someone had deliberately hidden it there. It was Yua’s possession. Why was it here? Had she taken it back and then placed it in this spot?
I picked up the watch. The cool touch of metal. Inside it, I could faintly sense the trace of her fingers. Had someone come into my room during the night? But that was impossible. Every aspect of the mansion’s management was under Yua’s complete control. She would never allow anyone to enter my room without permission…
Later that afternoon, I was changing clothes to attend a banquet. Yua was in the room, assisting me. My attire was always prepared flawlessly, and her movements were as precise as a master tailor’s. She handed me a deep red silk cloak. The fabric was luxuriously soft. “Yua, this cloak feels wonderful. Is it new?” I asked, running my fingertips over the smooth lining.
Yua nodded. She lifted her wooden board.
[Yes. It is the highest-grade silk recently imported from a northern merchant guild. I selected the softest available to match Young Master’s preferences.]
Her hands as she draped the cloak over my shoulders remained neat and composed, maintaining a perfectly professional distance. I adjusted the cloak, then suddenly felt a mischievous impulse. Could I peel away that emotionless mask of hers? I tilted my head slightly and leaned in just close enough for her hands—still arranging the cloak—to brush against me. Then, pretending to inhale the scent of the fabric near my shoulder, I whispered so softly she might barely hear it.
“Mmm… the cloak is nice, but I think I smell something pleasant coming from you. Are you wearing a new perfume?”
I watched her eyes. If things went as I expected, she would show no reaction and simply treat it as part of her duties. Something like, ‘As Head Maid, I strive to purify the air throughout the mansion.’ But at that exact moment, I felt her fingers—lightly resting on my shoulder—tremble ever so slightly. And then, as she pretended to adjust the cloak draped over me, she took a deep, slow breath, pressing her nose ever so briefly, ever so secretly, into the fabric. “Huuuuuup—” It was as if she were inhaling my scent that had soaked into the cloak. The movement was so short and stealthy that no one else would have noticed, but I saw it clearly.
Beyond my shoulder, her small, slender face brushed past. In that fleeting instant, an expression of faint but unmistakable satisfaction and happiness flickered across her features. At the same time, I could have sworn her cheeks flushed just a little. “Yua?” When I called her name, she startled as if caught red-handed, quickly pulling her hands away and taking two hurried steps back. Her head bowed lower than usual, like a child who had been caught doing something wrong. She was clearly avoiding my eyes. Then she immediately lifted her wooden board. Her hands seemed to tremble faintly, yet her handwriting remained perfectly neat.
[No, Young Master. I do not use perfume. I will prepare for the next task.]
She left the message and, without waiting for a reply, turned and hurried out of the room. Normally she would have stayed until I gave an order or until she had something to report. Her retreating figure carried a tiny hint of flustered haste that was completely unlike her usual perfection. I adjusted the cloak once more. The soft silk brushed my shoulders. And there, subtly woven in, was Yua’s sweet floral scent mixed with my own body odor. What was that? Was she… embarrassed? Her face had seemed to redden. Why had she reacted that way? Had my question caught her off guard? I muttered to myself, “She’s… surprisingly cute in places like that.”
I stared absently at the closed door. A subtle sense of déjà vu stirred in my heart, along with an inexplicable curiosity. I had glimpsed another side of her hidden behind that perfect mask—just for a moment, just a tiny crack. From that day on, a new goal appeared in my daily life: breaking Yua’s ‘perfection.’ Finding the small fissures that slipped out from under her perfect control. It felt like an old, familiar game, and honestly, I found those moments of hers quite adorable. A mischievous urge kept bubbling up.
One day, I was organizing documents in the study. Usually, while I read reports, Yua would bring me the neatly arranged files. Today, I decided to fetch them myself. But there was one report on the highest shelf, far beyond my reach. Normally I would have called a maid or brought a chair, but I deliberately reached for it. Standing on tiptoe, stretching as far as I could, fingertips barely brushing the edge. All the while, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Yua always anticipated my every move, after all. She was bound to appear from somewhere. And just as I expected, the moment I nearly dropped the document, Yua materialized like a shadow at my side. Without a word, she stood beside me. Her arms were slender, yet noticeably longer than mine. She looked up at me and raised her wooden board.
[Do you require assistance, Young Master? Documents stored at that height are difficult for you to reach given your stature. If you had called me, the matter would have been resolved immediately.]
Reading the board, I shrugged. “Ah, I suppose so. I wanted to try it myself for a moment. Still, how did you know I needed a document from up there? Is it in the ‘records’ again?” I smiled, watching her reaction. She nodded and lifted the board once more.
[There is a record indicating that around this time, Young Master reviews documents related to the ‘Mining Law Amendment.’ That particular document is stored on the uppermost shelf. Seeing you reach for it, I inferred the needed file was located there.]
“Hmm… perfect prediction, as always. I’m impressed.” I deliberately nodded with exaggerated praise, curious how she would respond. Her eyes remained calm, but a faint trace of satisfaction flickered through them—like a child happy to be complimented. It vanished almost instantly. I stepped down and accepted the document from her. Then the mischievous urge struck again. “Yua, this file looks rather heavy. You must be quite strong. To think my Head Maid possesses such power. Truly befitting the Head Maid of the Heavenfield family.”
She blinked for a split second. The hand that had been about to write paused momentarily in midair. Then she glanced down at her own arm. That slender, delicate-looking arm. She probably wasn’t used to physical labor. Maybe she had struggled to carry it. Her reply was written with firm resolve, yet a tiny, unmistakable hint of embarrassment crossed her face. Along with the faintest smile. She quickly lowered her arm, picked up the tray, and tried to leave the room. I didn’t miss it—her earlobes had turned slightly red. She was pretending to be unaffected, but my praise had clearly shaken her. I watched her retreating back and chuckled to myself. The tiny crack hidden behind that perfect mask. Digging into those cracks had become my new daily routine. Seeing her flustered gave me a strange sense of delight.
“Yes?” Did she have something to say?
“Huh? Understood. But why?”
“…Alright, alright, I understand.”
“Yeah, got it.”