I woke up with a heavy heart, the weight of yesterday's eavesdropping still pressing down on me.
Today was the day they would decide my fate. The thought of being fired scared me more than anything.
Not because of the job itself, but because this mansion had become my sanctuary, a place where I felt like I could belong if only I tried hard enough.
As I pulled myself out of bed, I decided that I would give it my all today. No mistakes, no mishaps. I would prove to them that I deserved to stay. I threw on my uniform, tied my hair back, and took a deep breath. I could do this. I was a cleaning ninja. Silent, swift, and deadly to dust bunnies.
My morning began with the usual routine: dusting, vacuuming, and polishing.
Every move I made was deliberate, careful. I triple-checked everything, making sure not a single speck of dust remained.
If I missed something, it was probably because it was invisible and plotting against me.
Arlecchino passed by me several times, her gaze lingering a bit longer than usual, but she didn't say a word. It was both unnerving and motivating. I couldn't decide if she was silently cheering me on or planning my doom.
As I was polishing the grand staircase railing, I heard footsteps behind me. Turning around, I saw La Signora, her elegant figure draped in a luxurious robe, descending the stairs with the grace of a catwalk model.
She didn't look at me, but I could feel the tension in the air. I focused on my task, determined not to give her any reason to criticize me. I polished that railing until it shone like it was trying to out-sparkle the sun.
"Good morning, Y/N," she said finally, her voice as cold as ever, like an Arctic breeze.
"Good morning, Ms. Signora," I replied, keeping my tone respectful and steady, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.
"Make sure the dining room is spotless today. We have guests coming over in the evening."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll take care of it right away." Guests? Who were these guests? Were they like the terrifying trio or maybe—no, best not to imagine that. Focus, Y/N, focus.
But curiosity gnawed at me, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "May I ask who the guests are, ma'am?"
La Signora's eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing whether I was worth an answer. "That's none of your concern. Just ensure everything is perfect." With that, she swept away, her robe fluttering behind her like the cape of a very intimidating superhero.
"Yes, ma'am," I murmured, deflated but determined. Alright, Y/N, let's make that dining room so clean you could eat off any surface. Even the chandelier if necessary.
I dashed to the dining room and surveyed the scene. It looked like a tornado had passed through during a dust storm.
There was no way I was going to let it stay this way. I grabbed my cleaning supplies and set to work. Every speck of dust was my sworn enemy. Every misplaced fork, my nemesis.
An hour into my cleaning frenzy, Arlecchino sauntered in, watching me with an amused smirk. "Don't work too hard, Y/N. Wouldn't want you to burn out before the big event," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
I smiled tightly, my hands still busy wiping down the table. "Just doing my job, Ms. Arlecchino. Making sure everything is perfect."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Perfect, huh? We'll see about that." And with that, she left me to my task.
I continued scrubbing, dusting, and polishing like my life depended on it. Because, well, it kind of did.
Every now and then, I'd catch a glimpse of Kafka watching me from the doorway, her expression unreadable. Maybe she was silently rooting for me. Or maybe she was just making sure I didn't steal the silverware. Hard to tell.
By lunchtime, I had managed to turn the dining room into a gleaming paradise. Not a single speck of dust or smudge marred its pristine surfaces. The table was set with the finest china and silverware, arranged with meticulous precision. Even the napkins were folded into perfect swans this time—thank you, YouTube tutorials.
I took a step back to admire my handiwork, feeling a rare sense of accomplishment. Just then, La Signora appeared in the doorway, her critical gaze sweeping over the room.
"Well, it's certainly an improvement," she said, her tone begrudgingly approving. "But don't think for a moment that this erases your past mistakes, Y/N."
"Of course not, ma'am," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm just doing my best."
"We'll see if your best is good enough," she said, turning on her heel and walking away.
As the day wore on, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of last-minute preparations. There were flowers to arrange, candles to light, and countless other details to attend to. My nerves were frayed, but I refused to let them get the better of me.
Finally, I moved to the kitchen to start preparing the meal. La Signora had been very clear that the food needed to be perfect for their mysterious guests. No pressure, right?
I was in the middle of chopping vegetables when disaster struck. I heard a strange, ominous hissing noise. My eyes darted to the stove, and my heart sank.
Oh no, not the stove! This couldn't be happening.
The burners flickered and died, leaving me with a pot of half-cooked soup and a rapidly cooling oven.
The stove was as essential as air, especially when you're the one and only maid-cook-butler-everything else in a mansion.
Who hires only one maid for a place this size anyway? Probably just me applying. Or maybe they just enjoyed watching me struggle. Heck, they probably do.
"Think, Y/N, think!" I muttered to myself, pacing the kitchen. There had to be a solution. Maybe... yes! The portable camp stove in the storage closet!
I dashed across the mansion, narrowly avoiding Arlecchino who gave me a suspicious glance. "Just... need... some... supplies!" I shouted over my shoulder, hoping she wouldn't follow me.
I rummaged through the closet and found the dusty old camp stove. It looked ancient, like it had survived at least three apocalypses. But it would have to do. I lugged it back to the kitchen, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste.
Setting up the stove was a nightmare. The instructions were in some kind of hieroglyphics, and the knobs seemed to have a mind of their own.
But finally, with a lot of swearing and elbow grease, I managed to get it working. The tiny flame flickered to life, and I almost cried with relief.
Back to cooking! I transferred the pot of soup onto the camp stove, praying it wouldn't blow up in my face. The vegetables went into a frying pan, and I hovered over the makeshift setup like a mother hen, stirring and adjusting the heat constantly. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.
As I juggled pots and pans, I couldn't help but imagine the guests arriving to find me cooking over a camp stove in the middle of the luxurious kitchen.
They'd probably think it was some avant-garde Intalian culinary technique. "Oh yes, we always cook our gourmet meals on portable stoves. Very rustic chic. Hon hon hon. Wait, no. That's German."
The meal slowly came together. The soup simmered gently, the vegetables sizzled, and the main course—roast chicken—was miraculously almost done, thanks to the oven working just long enough before its breakdown.
I tasted everything, adding a pinch of salt here, a dash of herbs there. It wasn't perfect, but it was pretty darn close.
Finally, the food was ready. I plated everything with the care of a master chef presenting their finest creation.
The dining room looked like a scene from a movie, the table laden with delicious dishes, candles flickering, and flowers adding a touch of elegance.
I took a step back and sighed with relief. Now, all that was left was to wait for the guests.
As the evening wore on, I stood by the entrance, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited to greet them. I glanced at the clock. They were late.
Maybe they were just stuck in traffic. Yes, that had to be it. I took a deep breath and prepared to wait a little longer, ready to welcome these mysterious guests whenever they decided to show up.
But as the minutes ticked by and the night grew darker, my confidence began to waver. Where were they? Had something happened? I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, but all I could do was stand there and wait, hoping that my efforts wouldn't go unnoticed.
After a while, boredom started to creep in. I pulled out my phone and, after a moment's hesitation, decided to distract myself with some light reading.
Scrolling through my apps, I opened the app and dove into one of my favorite girl-on-girl romance stories. The latest chapter had just dropped, and I couldn't resist.
As the steamy scenes unfolded, I couldn't help but let out a quiet, "Ehehehehe, sesbian lex," like some kind of gleeful, romantic deviant.
I was so engrossed in the story that I lost track of time.
When I finally glanced up from my phone, the clock showed it was well past the guests' expected arrival time.
Confused, I peeked outside the door, seeing only the empty, dark driveway. No sign of any guests. Maybe they had gotten lost? Or maybe kidnapped?
Shrugging off my unease, I decided to read another chapter. My phone screen lit up my face as I continued to devour the story.
Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me. Turning slowly, I saw Arlecchino standing there, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Good taste, Y/N," she said, glancing at my phone over my shoulder. "Didn't peg you for a romance reader."
I yelped and nearly dropped my phone. My cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "I-I was just... um... passing the time..."
She chuckled, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. "Whatever helps you get through the wait. Just don't let Rosalyne catch you slacking off. She might not appreciate your reading material as much as I do."
I laughed nervously, trying to stuff my phone back into my pocket without much success. "Yes, of course. I'll be more... vigilant."
Arlecchino gave me one last amused look before turning back. "Come on, Y/N," she said, "Follow me to the dining room."
Confused, I hurried after her, my heart pounding. What now? Another cleaning task? Did the guests finally arrive? My mind raced with possibilities.
When we reached the dining room, I saw La Signora and Kafka already seated at the beautifully set table. They looked up as we entered, and I braced myself for whatever was coming next.
To my utter surprise, La Signora smiled—yes, actually smiled—and said, "Y/N, this dinner is all for you."
Wait, what? Did I hear that right?
Kafka nodded, her expression softening. "We wanted to show our appreciation for your hard work."
I stood there, blinking in shock. A dinner for me? Really? That's incredibly sweet and all, but considering I was the one who cooked it... My emotions were doing somersaults. I mean, sure, it's nice, but I did just nearly blow up the kitchen making this.
"Really, you shouldn't have," I said, my voice tinged with both gratitude and irony. "No, seriously, you shouldn't have. I made all of this. But thank you. Really."
Arlecchino chuckled. "Yes, we know. And that's why it's all the more special."
I couldn't help but laugh. This was surreal. "Well, thank you. I... I really appreciate it. And the dinner looks amazing, if I do say so myself."
La Signora's smile widened a fraction. "We'll be transferring your paycheck to your bank account tomorrow morning. Consider this dinner an advance on our gratitude."
"Thank you, ma'am," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten all day. Note to self: make sure to ask for a raise next time they want to appreciate me with my own cooking.
"Please, join us," Kafka said, gesturing to an empty chair.
I took my seat, and as we began to eat, I couldn't help but feel a warm sense of accomplishment.
Sure, I had cooked this meal, but their acknowledgment and kindness made it taste even better. This was a moment to savor, both the food and the feeling of being appreciated. Even if I did want to throw a fork at them for the irony.
As we dug into the delicious spread, I glanced around the table at the three intimidating yet strangely endearing women who had become such a big part of my life. This might just work out after all.
"Next time," I said with a grin, "I hope the dinner you throw in my honor comes with a professional chef."
Arlecchino laughed. "We'll see about that, Y/N. We'll see."
I smiled back, hiding my annoyance behind a polite facade. If they think I'm going to cook my own appreciation dinners every time, they've got another thing coming. But for now, I'll let them enjoy their little joke.
After we finished eating, I started gathering the dishes, but Arlecchino stopped me with a firm hand on my shoulder. "You know what? I'll handle the dishes tonight. You deserve a rest."
My eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Thank you, Ms. Arlecchino."
"Go on, you've earned it," she said, waving me off.
As soon as I got to my room, I felt the calm before the storm. Then, the storm hit. "YEEEESSSSS!" I jumped around, punching the air. "I'm not getting fired! I did it!"
Grabbing my phone, I opened the group chat with my two close friends. Time to share the news.
Group Chat: The 2 Scholars and the Dropout~ ✨
Y/N: Guess what?!
L: Oh god, what now? Did you finally burn the mansion down?
M: or did u get fired for tripping over the rug and breaking another vase??
Y/N: LOL, no, I didn't burn anything down! And I am NOT that clumsy!
M: r u sure? remember when u spilled coffee all over urself in the library?
Y/N: That was ONE time! Besides, Kafka was watching me and I forgot how hands worked for a second!
L: And let's not forget the time you knocked over the entire cookie display at the bakery.
Y/N: Okay, okay, fair points. But seriously, I have actual good news!
M: u adopted a cat?
L: You found a secret passage in the mansion and discovered a Mac-10 or something?
Y/N: As much as I'd love a cat (and maybe fewer guns), nope. The three ladies actually made me dinner!
Y/N: They told me I'm not getting kicked out, and I'm getting paid tomorrow!
L: Finally! You deserve it after all the grueling work you've put in.
M: congrats! now u can buy that cat and maybe some anti-trip shoes
Y/N: Thanks, guys. You always know how to boost my confidence.
L: You know we're just messing with you. We're really proud of you, darling.
M: yeah, u did great. just keep being awesome. but seriously, no more tripping, okay?
Y/N: I'll do my best! And hey, I might even treat myself to something nice tomorrow.
L: You should. But don't spend it all at once. Save for a rainy day, right?
M: or for when u trip and break something expensive again
Y/N: Haha, very funny. Anyway, thanks for always being there for me. You guys are the best.
L: We love you too, Y/N. But we have to get back to history. Exams are coming up.
M: yeah, gotta hit the books. otherwise, we'll end up maids like u
Y/N: Hey! Maid-ing is hard work! But yeah, good luck with your exams. You'll crush them.
L: Thanks. And you keep crushing it at the mansion. Night, Y/N.
M: nighty night. don't let the bedbugs bite… or trip u
Y/N: Goodnight, you clowns.
Y/N: … bitch.
M: What was that?
Y/N: Nothing.
I mute my phone, put it down and laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. My friends were right; this was a victory, and I needed to celebrate it. I wasn't completely hopeless after all.
I sat on my bed, feeling a sense of belonging wash over me. I looked around my cozy little room, and for the first time, I truly felt like this was where I was meant to be.
And with that thought, I drifted off to sleep, ready to face whatever challenges tomorrow would bring. Smiling, I whispered to myself, "I belong here."