Just as I was about to question the unsettling words, Viga pressed her lips against my forehead.
In that instant, a splitting headache erupted, as if my skull were about to crack open.
I tried to push Viga away, but she seeped further into .
A hazy afterimage clouded my vision.
The first thing I saw was a massive black crystal and Cruello. A magic circle lay before him.
He was channeling a trendous amount of energy into the circle, using his own body as a conduit.
And in the middle of it—Viga lay motionless.
Even amidst the excruciating pain, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“That... what the hell is she...?”
[You’ll understand everything soon.]
With those words, my consciousness was yanked away.
What I saw was a fragnt of the mories torn from —
A life I had once lived. A life of a re maid, one who had worked herself to death in obscurity.
***
Seven years ago, on a certain day.
A girl, her body no older than fifteen, opened her eyes in bed.
She had short, thin bangs and golden hair that barely reached her ears.
Her features were dark and lancholic, but her brown eyes held a rare glimr of life.
“Where... am I?”
The girl—Viga—stared blankly at the ceiling, too dazed to grasp the situation.
She didn’t have ti to process it, as the head maid stord into the room.
“Viga!”
“Huh?”
“You were sleeping again, you scatterbrained fool!”
Startled, Viga bolted upright.
“We’re already drowning in work, and you’re still lazing about! Get up and get moving, now!”
“Wait, are you talking to ? ?”
“Who else would I be talking to? Now hurry up and change!”
The head maid’s voice was loud enough to burst eardrums before she stord off.
Still bewildered, Viga picked up the maid’s uniform that had been thrown at her.
But she hadn’t the faintest idea what was happening.
“What the...? Did I drink poison and wake up as a fallen noble? No, that can’t be... And what’s with my voice? Is this so kind of poisoning aftereffect?”
She reached for her throat, only to realize sothing far worse—
Her hands were rough, coarse beyond belief.
Her face turned pale as she frantically searched for a mirror.
And the mont she saw her reflection, she understood.
This wasn’t over.
This nightmare—living in another’s body—hadn’t ended.
***
Viga.
That was the na of a maid working at the White Desert Duke’s estate.
The abrupt fall in status was bewildering enough, but even more shocking was the realization that four years had passed since she died as Amy.
Regardless, she had no choice but to accept her reality.
And so—
“...You lost your mories?”
“Yes, I don’t even know how to clean.”
This was the strategy she ca up with.
If she wasn’t a noble anymore, at least she wouldn’t be dragged to the temple. It seed like a logical approach.
But the world was cruel.
The head maid’s voice was cold.
“Hah. I knew sothing was off. So you’re saying you’ve lost your mind.”
The atmosphere she exuded reminded Viga of Amy’s father, Lord Royalsand.
Is being sick a cri now? What awful people!
She was frustrated, indignant. But sensing how things were turning against her, she quickly switched gears.
“Then I suppose there’s no choice. As of today—”
“I was lying! I’m sorry. I’ve been so out of it lately, I thought I needed to relearn cleaning from scratch, so I spoke out of turn.”
“...What?”
“My mory is fine, Lady Leria!”
Viga hastily addressed the head maid by na.
Leria gave her a displeased look.
“Never joke about that again. We’re already short-staffed—I don’t have ti to go hiring another maid.”
I really was on the verge of getting kicked out.
Viga let out a silent sigh of relief.
Thankfully, Leria was too busy to dwell on the matter for long.
From that day on, Viga picked up tasks by observing others from the sidelines—
Cleaning, laundry, running errands, occasionally helping in the kitchen!
Her skills improved rapidly, but the workload was relentless, and the servants were all on edge from overwork.
On top of that, the number of staff kept dwindling, making things worse by the day.
Everyone was practically on the verge of collapse, but Viga adjusted quickly.
This body was much sturdier than Amy’s had been, and, surprisingly, the simple tasks suited her.
“Scrub, scrub the windows, scrub, scrub the windows.”
Humming a ridiculous song, she cleaned the windowpane—then suddenly froze.
Wait. Shouldn’t I be doing sothing else?
Wasn’t she here to prevent the world’s destruction?
So why had she spent the last month just scrubbing and sweeping?
Was this so sort of cleaning mission?
What was worse—she had worked at the White Desert Duke’s estate for all this ti but hadn’t even seen Cruello once.
She was just about to reflect on this absurdity when—
A fellow maid rushed over, looking panicked.
“Viga! What are you doing here? You were supposed to finish by three and return!”
“Huh?”
She glanced at the clock.
3:05.
They gave her an entire huge room to clean but only five minutes to do it? How unfair.
“I just need to clean that small window, then I’m done.”
“No! You have to be extra careful because of your blonde hair! Don’t you know what ti it is? The young lord—”
“What about ?”
A third voice interrupted.
Wow. What a voice.
Viga was impressed. She turned toward the source of the voice—
And imdiately froze.
A breathtakingly handso boy stood before them, his gaze cold as ice.
His flawless sky-blue hair shimred in the light. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a strikingly well-proportioned fra—
A living sculpture, crafted by the hands of a master artist.
But Viga wasn’t stunned by his beauty.
No.
It was sothing far more shocking.
'...Cruello?'
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
The last ti she had seen Cruello as Amy, he had been eleven years old.
Four years had passed since then.
The boy had grown significantly, as if ti itself had rushed to prove its passage in a single glance.
The only thing that remained the sa were his dazzling, gem-like eyes.
His voice changed because of puberty.
For so reason, Viga felt strangely shocked that she hadn't recognized Cruello’s voice imdiately.
But, as always during her ti as Viga, she had no room to dwell on her thoughts.
“S-Sir Cruello!”
The fellow maid beside her paled, dropping into a deep bow.
Not fully understanding what was happening, Viga hastily followed suit.
Once her brief mont of sentintality passed, she was able to reassess the situation—
The atmosphere in the room.
The way the other maid was shaking with fear.
The strange expression on Cruello’s face just monts ago.
What exactly is going on?
As Viga puzzled over it, Cruello crouched down in front of her.
“Tell ,” he said, his voice calm but sharp, “what do you think I would do if I saw a blonde-haired girl?”
“I-I’m sorry! Please, forgive !”
The maid beside her wailed, pressing her forehead to the ground.
Cruello’s words continued, unrelenting.
“Do you think I’d lose my mind at the sight of blonde hair and call you Amy, pulling you into my arms?”
What?
Viga’s hands trembled slightly.
“That’s not it at all! I would never—”
“Or do you think I’d realize you’re not Amy and shove you out the window?”
Huh?
Viga’s eyes flickered with uncertainty.
“I... I didn’t an—”
“Or perhaps, unable to bear my own disgust, I’d draw my sword and slash you apart?”
Wait, what?!
Viga’s mouth fell open.
What the hell was he talking about?
“Is it one of those? Or all of them?”
By now, the other maid was sobbing outright.
Cruello didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
“I’m curious now,” he said. “Just how much do you resemble her? Show your face.”
Without warning, he reached forward and tilted Viga’s chin up.
She was too dazed to resist.
Their gazes locked.
For a mont, they reflected one another in their eyes.
Cruello’s lips twisted, as if he were about to sneer.
But the ridicule never fully ford.
“What the hell?”
He muttered under his breath.
“You don’t look like her at all.”
Objectively, the only similarity between them was the blonde hair.
Even then, Viga’s shade was noticeably darker than Amy’s had been.
But as he stared into her eyes, a different thought seed to take hold of him.
His expression wavered.
His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say sothing—
Then, abruptly, he let go of her face.
“......Damn it.”
Without another word, Cruello turned and left the room.
***
After that encounter, Viga began gathering information about the estate’s atmosphere in earnest.
Truthfully, she had not wanted to see Cruello again.
She felt guilty.
Amy had chosen to die, at least partially by her own will.
And Viga could only imagine how much that had hurt him.
But she had assud he would grieve for a while and then move on.
She had not expected him to start calling everyone Amy.
“That’s right, he even called Mr. Jones ‘Amy’ the other day.”
“But that guy’s a burly old man with a full beard. And red hair.”
“He used to only react to blonde people, but now he does it to anyone. The ones who look like Miss Amy just get it worse. You’re the only blonde left in the estate now, so be careful.”
Diana, a maid around her age, warned her like a concerned older sister.
“The servants have been leaving one after another because of him.”
“...Mmm.”
“You don’t want to get pushed out of a window, hit by a flower pot, or face a frenzied sword attack, do you?”
“But are we sure that’s the reason? There could be sothing else going on.”
“Well, so rumors say they were executed for spying on him.”
“That one!”
“That’s nonsense, Viga. The Elders ordered them to watch over him—why would they kill their own people?”
Diana’s sharp tone made Viga’s face brighten.
She was so relieved that Diana almost scolded her—before sighing instead.
“Well, you don’t have to worry. Your cleaning routes don’t overlap with his living space.”
“But you work in the sa area as .”
“Yeah, but Fred just quit, so starting next week, I have to clean the young lord’s room.”
“Oh... That’s scary. Even though you’re not blonde, you’re pretty short, so that might be dangerous.”
“...Should I do it instead?”
Viga’s voice was lighthearted, almost playful.
“Are you insane?! Were you even listening to anything I just said?”
“Hear out. They say he calls people Amy and only gets mad when he realizes they aren’t her, right? So what if he never finds out?”
“...What are you saying?”
“I an, if things get dangerous, I’ll just pretend to be Amy. That should get through it, right?”
“...And if he finds out?”
“I run.”
It was a reckless, absurd plan—
And utterly shaless.
Diana let out a short laugh.
“...You’re crazy.”
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