One Night, One Book, Zero Memory
That "one" book was, with a little exaggeration, thicker than my palm.
Mouth running ahead of my brain, again.
My promise to memorize five books, ten books, however many it took — officially retracted.
At this thickness, it's got to be worth ten ordinary books.
I washed up quickly and set about turning pages in earnest.
Something told me tonight was not going to be a night for sleeping.
The next day.
In a corner of the first floor of the Ballot Grand Ducal Estate's main building sat the laundry room, where all the estate's wash was managed.
The space was vast, and the floor-to-ceiling windows lining its walls let the natural light pour straight through.
Though it was indoors, the moment the windows were opened, a cool breeze swept through and the hot sunlight flooded in without a hint of shortage.
It was a place filled with the fresh scent of soap and the warm fragrance of sun.
"……Count, are you certain this girl has never worked as a maid before?"
"……"
Rudia, the maid in charge of this section, asked with a look of pure bewilderment.
Hmm. Norbert gave no answer, simply watching Freya as she threw herself into her work.
Freya was sorting a mound of laundry by washing method.
The heavily soiled items had been pre-scrubbed and set aside, and before starting the proper wash she had even adjusted the water temperature accordingly.
Granted, she had wobbled for a moment while lifting the soaked laundry out of the water and wringing it — as if her strength had briefly failed her.
"Count."
Maid Rudia spoke to Norbert in a serious tone.
"You're aware we're short-staffed in our section, yes? If you'd transfer that Freya girl to us—"
"You think this is the only section running short of hands."
Norbert cut the proposal down in a single stroke.
Tsk. Rudia clicked her tongue softly.
Norbert rubbed the bridge of his nose.
This was exactly the situation he could not wrap his head around.
So that makes five.
First it had been Terce in the wine cellar, then Patrick in the garden, then Wilter at the forge, and Delsen the stable keeper.
Now even the staff of the laundry room were requesting that Freya be assigned to their section.
Because the knowledge and understanding of the work she had displayed in every single section had gone well beyond ordinary levels.
—"This is a Felledor wine from the Kingdom of Villed. The terroir of the region comes through beautifully — it's famous for its strong tannins and distinctive fruit notes."
—"Marrinhawk, if I'm not mistaken. That's its flower. Petals blue as the sea are used to make healing salves, and the dried, ground root serves as an ingredient for the deadliest of poisons."
—"Armor forged from Planite ore? An ore that's both hard to acquire and notoriously difficult to work. And yet from the look of it, the carbon content has been raised to boost its strength and hardness."
—"A well-trained horse, this one. A horse properly trained and bonded shows it from the very set of its eyes. The sheen of its coat says its nutrition is in peak condition. Ah — may I try brushing it?"
She never hesitated to let the words flow.
And it was not the level of someone reciting from rote memory.
So claiming she'd only remembered names was a lie as well, it seems.
No — honestly, if she truly hadn't lost her memory, it would have been stranger still.
Wine and gardening I could accept. But how on earth does she know about the forge and the stables?
It was staggering.
At this point, one wondered if she'd simply forgotten ever saying she'd lost her memory.
Or perhaps she never had any intention of hiding it.
As if understanding his doubts perfectly, Freya answered matter-of-factly while snapping the laundry briskly through the air.
"Have you forgotten, Count? The book you gave me last night."
The book?
Ah……
Norbert remembered the book he had sent up to Freya's room.
A volume containing the Grand Ducal House's butler regulations and the duties of each work section.
And naturally, it also described in detail how the work was to be done in each and every section.
"You read all of it?"
"Merely read it? You told me to memorize the whole thing. Or has that slipped your memory as well?"
"……So — you really memorized all of it? In a single night?"
Instead of answering, Freya gave a small nod.
Well then. If that claim was true, everything she had shown so far became reasonably explicable.
And yet.
……Is it really true?
Or nothing more than bravado?
No.
No one could memorize that much in a day.
Simply reading it through would take a week at minimum.
And she claims she memorized it on top of that?
She must be putting on an act.
But if she hadn't memorized it, then every one of her actions made no sense either.
Norbert studied Freya, who was even now sorting a fresh batch of laundry.
Rudia, standing beside him and watching the girl work, murmured under her breath.
"You had her memorize another book? Weren't there a good few Academy students who ran off rather than endure that?"
"……"
"And here I thought she was only a pretty face, but her hands are remarkably deft too. That's the survivor they found on Teridana Beach, isn't it?"
"……It is."
"So — which section will you assign her to?"
"……"
Norbert did not answer.
He had already decided which section Freya would be assigned to.
Before that, though, he intended to take her around the estate and let her taste a little of the work in each section.
I never imagined she'd handle it this well, though……
Her looks drew every eye in the room no matter where she went — that was a headache of its own.
But aside from her stamina falling short of everyone else's, she's carrying out nearly everything to the point of perfection.
It was the moment Freya's words from the previous night — that she wanted to train her body — began to make perfect sense.
I would die on a battlefield, if I died at all.
That had been my mindset back when I lived as a knight.
Now I was a maid.
So where would I die, if I had to die somewhere?
The laundry basin, obviously.
I dumped out the murky water from the basin, now turned black with grime, flipped the basin over to let it dry properly, and headed back inside.
In the meantime, the sun-baked laundry had already been moved indoors.
Maids clustered around the incoming mountain of wash. I grabbed an armful of the toasty-dry linens myself and folded them into crisp, neat stacks, sorting as I went.
I didn't forget to label everything and carry each pile to its designated spot, easy to find later.
"Quick hands, too."
"Good head for the work, as well."
The maids I worked alongside tossed remarks my way as they passed.
Is that so?
I tilted my head and returned my focus to the task.
Maybe it was just the first day.
Compared to the ominous warnings from old man Norbert — that this was harder than I'd expect and I'd best not laugh it off……
Honestly? It's fun.
Every place old man Norbert dragged me to was work I had done before, so nothing was particularly hard.
Should I be thanking Serhin?
Crown Prince Serhin of the Tenasis Empire suffered from a severe case of mysophobia.
And I was the only person who attended to him at his side — which meant I had to become capable of doing everything myself, precisely calibrated to Serhin's obsessive cleanliness.
The food he ate, the clothes he wore, the horses he rode, the swords and armor he bore — down to the single small flower placed in his bedchamber.
I was Serhin's shadow and his sword, his hands and his feet.
It hadn't been particularly tiresome, or hateful.
Repaying the man who saved my life and taught me the sword was simply what I owed.
Could I have been a maid once, in some childhood I can't remember?
The thought did cross my mind.
In any case — if this was what a maid's work was, if this was what a butler's work was……
Surprisingly, butler work might actually be my true calling?
It occurred to me that it wouldn't matter which section I was assigned to either. The final goal was butler, after all.
And not just any butler — the Grand Duke Ballot's butler.
There was still one sore spot, though.
This pathetic stamina of mine.
If only I could do something about my stamina……
Which is exactly why the kitchen is off the table.
It would eat into my training time.
"Phew……"
I wiped the sweat beading on my forehead with the back of my hand and took a deep breath.
Ah, so this is the true taste of honest labor.
It was a different feeling entirely from staying up nights on end on a battlefield, cutting men down.
Next to a victory in war it was nothing, and yet this swelling sense of fulfillment was somehow unlike taking a life.
Heh.
Good grief, me.
It's just laundry. Anyone watching would think I'd devoted my whole life to the trade.
I felt oddly embarrassed.
By the way.
The sun was already setting.
The red sun's crown slipped behind the mountains, leaving only a faint afterglow behind.
Not planning to visit any other sections today?
I glanced sideways at old man Norbert. He was standing along one wall, talking with one of the maids.
From the mood of it, it looked like today's work ended here.
Could he be planning to assign me here?
I'd been taken around to various sections since morning, learning the work.
And of all of them, I'd spent the longest stretch here, in the laundry room.
Well, as long as it's not the kitchen, anywhere suits me fine.
Compared to the kitchen, where the work ran past midnight, this place — where the day ended once the sun went down and the dry laundry was put away — was far preferable.
And the sun was setting right now.
Just then, my eyes met old man Norbert's.
"……"
"……"
A brief moment passed, and Norbert beckoned me over with a tilt of his chin.
"That's enough for today."
A signal to clock out.
I hastily set down the laundry in my hands, squared it away, and followed old man Norbert out the door.
"See you tomorrow!"
"I hope you get assigned here."
We'd worked together all of a few hours, and the maids were already throwing friendly farewells at my back.
I turned and gave them a small bow.
They're all so kind.
No real wariness in their eyes, no signs of cliquishness either.
I hoped, once again, that this would be my section.
Trudging along, lost in one thought and then another, I followed old man Norbert.
Then, in front of a certain door, he came to an abrupt stop.
Huh?
This place is……
I stared at the door I had seen at least once before.
The Grand Duke's study.
"Your Highness, it is Norbert. May I enter?"
Wait, what. Weren't we going home?
Why are we suddenly in front of the Grand Duke's study? And why am I being brought inside?
Ah — don't tell me.
Is this about asking to borrow the training grounds……?
Just then, a voice drifted through the door.
"Enter."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Panic flared in me for an instant, and I grabbed at old man Norbert.
"Um, Master? Why are we suddenly—"
Hush. Old man Norbert cut me off with a hiss.
"Quiet, and come inside."
"……"
Ugh.
I'm dead.