My Maids are All Fin Chapter 29: Week Passed

Chapter 29: Week Passed

Clay shot upright from his bed, his hair slightly ssy, his expression filled with irritation that had been building up for days without proper release. His eyes were still heavy, but the mont the glowing screen hovered in front of him, blinking again and again like an annoying insect that refused to die, his patience snapped.

"You bastard system!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the wide room. "I just had a good dream. A very good dream. Do you even understand how rare that is for

right now?"

The screen flickered without sha.

Ding! The replacent Villain died! The replacent Villain died! The replacent Villain died!

Clay blinked once.

Then twice.

Then he slowly leaned back against his pillow and let out a long breath, dragging his hand down his face.

"So what?" he said flatly. "He died. People die. That is how the world works. Why are you telling

like it’s my problem?"

The system did not pause.

Ding!

As the Forr Minor Villain, the host should be cautious. The host may return to that role.

Clay froze for a mont.

Then his eye twitched.

"May return?" he repeated slowly. "May return?"

He sat up again, this ti fully awake, his earlier laziness gone, replaced by a deep sense of annoyance mixed with unwilling concern.

"What do you an may return? Explain that clearly before I smash you, you defective piece of junk."

The system responded without emotion.

Ding!

There are three primary reasons why the host may return to the Forr Minor Villain role.

Clay leaned back again, crossing his arms, already looking tired despite having just woken up.

"Fine," he muttered. "Say it. Let’s hear your nonsense."

Ding!

First reason. The continuity of fate correction.

The screen expanded, lines of text forming rapidly, as if eager to dump everything at once.

Ding!

The host originally occupied the position of a Minor Villain within a structured fate sequence. That role was not rely a label, but a functional position within the world’s progression. Each individual tied to fate occupies a specific node, and when that node becos vacant, the system governing the world will attempt to correct the imbalance.

Clay stared at the screen.

His face was blank.

What the hell is this thing even saying?

The system continued.

Ding!

The replacent Villain temporarily filled that node. However, due to repeated premature deaths, the stability of that node has weakened significantly. When a node fails to stabilize, the system may attempt to retrieve the most compatible previous occupant.

Clay slowly raised a hand.

"Stop," he said. "Pause right there."

The screen flickered.

Clay rubbed his temples.

"So what you’re saying is," he began slowly, trying to piece together the ss of words, "that because that idiot keeps dying, the world might drag

back to replace him again?"

Ding! Correct.

Clay closed his eyes.

Great. Just great.

He waved his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he said, even though he clearly did not fully get it. "Next."

Ding! Second reason. Residual fate imprint.

More lines appeared.

Ding!

The host’s previous identity as a Minor Villain has left behind a strong imprint within the flow of fate. Even after separation, traces remain embedded within the host’s existence. These traces act as a connection point, allowing the world’s correction chanism to recognize and target the host when necessary.

Clay stared at the wall this ti instead of the screen.

Residual imprint... connection point...

He sighed.

"So basically," he said in a dry tone, "I left a footprint, and now the world is trying to follow it back to ?"

Ding! Simplified interpretation accepted.

Clay let out a short laugh.

"That sounds stupid," he muttered. "Why does it sound like I’m being punished for existing?"

Ding! Because the host exists within a structured narrative system.

Clay raised a brow.

"Oh, so now it’s my fault for existing?"

The system remained silent.

Clay waved his hand again.

"Whatever. Next."

Ding!

Third reason. Replacent failure threshold reached.

This ti, the tone of the system seed heavier, more serious, even if it still sounded chanical.

Ding!

The replacent Villain has experienced multiple consecutive deaths within a short tifra. Each death reduces the stability of the assigned role. Once the failure threshold is exceeded, the system will prioritize restoring the original configuration to prevent further disruption.

Clay’s expression slowly stiffened.

Ding!

In simpler terms, if the replacent continues to fail, the probability of the host being reassigned to the role will increase.

Silence filled the room.

Clay did not speak.

He simply stared at the wall, his mind blank, his body still.

I need sleep.

That was the only thought that ca to him.

After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"What’s the probability again?" he asked, his voice dull.

Ding! Approximately 0.30 percent.

Clay nodded slowly.

"See?" he said, pointing at the screen lazily. "That’s low. That’s very low. That’s basically nothing. The probability of

going back to the fated path again was quite low!"

He lay back down.

"I am not dealing with this right now," he continued. "I just need rest. Once I’m rested, I can think clearly. If sothing happens, I’ll deal with it then."

Ding! Acknowledged.

"Good," Clay muttered. "Now don’t disturb

again."

...

Ti passed.

One day.

Two days.

Four days.

A week.

Clay did nothing productive.

He ate.

He slept.

Took shit.

He repeated the sa routine again and again, shutting himself away from everything, letting his body and mind recover from the chaos that had piled up inside his head.

When he finally woke up after the seventh day, he stretched slowly, his body feeling lighter, his mind clearer.

"Finally," he murmured. "I feel human again."

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, then stood up and walked a few steps, testing his body.

"I should have done this earlier," he added. "Overthinking everything was a mistake."

As long as I stay away from trouble, everything will be fine.

Just as that thought crossed his mind—

A shadow covered the sunlight burning his side face.

"Hi, young master."

Clay stopped.

He turned his head slightly, giving a side glance.

"You’re here now?" he asked.

Cerys stood there, calm, composed, as if she had always been there.

"Yes, young master," she replied with a small bow.

Clay crossed his arms.

"How did it go?"

Cerys straightened slightly.

"You are right about everything, young master," she said. "It was... amazing."

Clay raised a brow.

"Really?"

He walked closer.

"Did you tell her directly, or did you do what I told you?"

Cerys nodded.

"I followed your instructions," she said. "I gave her hints at first. She doubted it. She resisted the idea. But when she confird that Howard betrayed her, and that her parents were involved... she began to believe."

Clay nodded slowly.

"And?"

"She agreed," Cerys continued. "She allowed

to leave under certain conditions."

Clay’s lips curved slightly.

"So she let you go?"

Cerys hesitated.

"Unfortunately, young master... I cannot leave completely."

Clay frowned.

"What do you an?"

"I made an oath," she explained softly. "It binds . I have to return from ti to ti. It may take months before I can fully separate."

Clay stared at her for a mont.

Then he nodded.

"But she agreed," he said.

"Yes," Cerys replied.

Clay exhaled.

"That’s good," he said. "That’s good enough."

Before he could say anything else—

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Clay turned his head.

"Co in."

The door opened, and the old butler stepped inside, his posture straight, his expression respectful.

"Young master."

Clay looked at him.

"What is it?"

The butler bowed slightly.

"Young master, the Master has sent word."

Clay’s expression did not change.

"And?"

"He requests your presence," the butler continued. "You are to return to the Capital imdiately."

Silence filled the room.

Clay blinked once.

Then his brows slowly furrowed.

"What?"