On the morning of a day when the sun was particularly high in the sky, the Head Maid delivered the long-awaited news.
—Miss Daisy, do you remember the elder from Westwinterre I told you about a few days ago?
—Yes.
—I have permission for you to visit him. You will go with Rue sometime the day after tomorrow.
But it wasn't just the news about Westwinterre that reached the Weatherwoods mansion. The doorbell rang. Beyond the iron gate of the main entrance, silver hair shone in the midsummer sun. A sturdy suitcase and a black sword hung from the person's waist. The uninvited guest tilted her head towards us.
—Good morning, I am Jean Berkley-Gratten. I am here to see Viscount Weatherwoods.
The time had come. The maid turned her head and looked me in the eye. Neither of us was really bewildered, as we had discussed it beforehand. The maid spoke first, moving familiarly towards the front door.
—I haven't heard of you. Had you made an appointment in advance?
—It wasn't an appointment, but I made my intention to visit clear.
—I'm sorry, Miss Berkley-Gratten. The Viscount is not in at the moment; I think you'll have to come back later.
Jean's expression, which had already crumbled a bit at the cold greeting, darkened even more.
—That is unexpected.
Jean was educated and raised as one of the Duke's successors. The time she spent living as a noble was not short, but she was very calm and did not raise her voice to flaunt her authority even before the head maid's cold reception. I guess as long as she could learn to use the sword, status didn't matter. That was probably the reason why she was so blinded by her goals that she was able to leave the Duke.
Then. Jean, who was still standing at the front door, knelt.
—Miss Jean Berkley Gratten?
Jean firmly expressed her intention with a clear voice.
—I don't care what kind of work you leave me. I'm here for Viscount Weatherwoods to teach me. Please, accept me.
—What?! Stand up! Why would someone like the successor of Berkley Gratten kneel before a maid? It makes no sense to force you to do odd jobs, please, stand up…
—I am no longer one of the Berkley Gratten successors. Therefore, you can use me as a servant for this mansion, no, even as an errand boy.
The maid sighed deeply and, after looking worriedly around, let her in.
—Come in for now. At this rate, strange rumors will start to circulate.
I approached Jean as soon as she entered.
—Permission? I asked Jean with questioning eyes. —Did you get permission?
Only then did Jean reply with a calm attitude.
—I have received it. My right to succeed has been officially revoked.
—Did he send you here without conditions?
Wasn't she bad at lying? She couldn't control her expression when I asked her the right question. And did the sword master not know that Jean was bad at lying?
—What were the conditions?
She didn't answer. However, for me that wasn't natural. It didn't seem to me that Jean was the type of person who enters with a bomb into a place without any kind of shame. Just in case, I checked Jean's arm. On the inside of her left arm was a line, the trace of an oath.
—Is this the oath you shared with the sword master?
Again there was no answer. It's not that she didn't answer, it's that she couldn't answer because of the oath.
—I can't believe he'd send her with such an obvious mark. This is clearly a provocation.
Was the sword master always so cunning? And what was that oath about?
An oath to dig up all the secrets of the Weatherwoods family? An oath to search for Dian Cecht's relics in the mansion?
Of course, I could dissuade her myself, but since an oath was involved… a corner of my conscience was uncomfortable.
—This will derail the plan to accept her for now and kick her out later with some excuse. We can't let someone into the house who has made an oath to a person trying to destroy the Weatherwoods.
Furthermore, an oath was a promise made with the soul. If Jean didn't keep her promise due to my interference, she would surely die. However, there was no fear of death in Jean's eyes.
—This mark is a burden I must bear. I swear by my soul that I will never cause trouble for the Weatherwoods.
The maid replied to Jean's unwavering promise.
—You can't even tell us what the oath is about. Can we believe you?
—I will kill myself if I cause any harm to the Weatherwoods family. If you wish, I will bring a mage and make another oath about it.
Mmm. If she's so sure of herself, surprisingly it could be an oath that has nothing to do with the Weatherwoods. It could also be an oath related to the privacy of the Berkley Gratten family.
—Ah… in such a case, you must ask for forgiveness, not kill yourself.
The maid seemed to think the same. Perhaps it was because she didn't know that the sword master was now after the Weatherwoods. Although neither I nor the maid could make a decision easily, Rue, who was sitting at the garden table reading the newspaper, said casually:
—Why don't you take her?
—Is there any reason for that, Mr. Rue?
—She looks like Miss Daisy.
For a moment I was speechless. I looked at Jean again. A girl who knows nothing but the sword is me? The only thing Jean and I had in common was the fact that we were both swordswomen and had no family. I didn't like swords like Jean did, and Jean wasn't someone trying to live a carefree life like me. What kind of similarity did we have?
—What does she have in common with me?
—Well, maybe that clear sense of purpose you have?
This was an unexpectedly normal response. I thought he would say something like: "You two foolishly only look forward."
—I am now a wanderer with no ties. If you accept me, I will complete any task you entrust to me.
When she knelt again, the maid shook her head with a sad expression.
—I'm sorry, but we can't afford another maid. I understand your situation…
—A maid… is it because I am a woman that you can only give me that position?
—It's not exactly like that, but there's not much wrong with it.
—I see. I see.
Jean, who had thrown her luggage on the floor, pulled her sword from its scabbard. But I didn't stop the maid from approaching her. Because she didn't have the slightest murderous intent.
—If, as a woman, I cannot remain in the Weatherwoods family. —Jean put a sword under her hair, which was tied up high—. That means it's possible for a man.
Her long silver hair was cut and scattered. The finely dispersed silver threads waved gently like snowflakes, adorning the patio. The maid stared at Jean's hair, which had now been grotesquely cut.
—That is…
Jean, having fallen to her knees for the third time, cried out.
—Please, madam. Accept me as a member of the Weatherwoods family!
Will she accept it? The head maid is very strict. However, that strict maid was looking at Jean with eyes wide open.
—How… how could you get rid of that precious grown hair all at once?
—If it means I can prove my sincerity to you, I will get rid of every strand of hair that gets in my way.
—…I can't deny it. It was an excellent performance that touched my heart immediately. My heart ached.
—Thank you.
What on earth are you grateful for? The maid turned to me with serious eyes.
—Miss Daisy, could you lift Rue and me in your arms?
It was a sudden request, but a maid must obey her superior. With my right arm I supported the maid's buttocks and with my left arm I lifted the lower part of the garden chair Rue was sitting on. The maid asked Jean, who was blinking in surprise.
—This kind of power is essential for working at the Weatherwoods mansion. Although you are an excellent swordsman, not everyone has great strength. Can you do it?
Jean nodded with grave eyes.
—I can do it. No, I will do my best to ensure that I am left with no other choice.
—…Viscount Weatherwoods is a very busy man. You might not see him until he retires. Is that okay with you?
—It's fine. I'll find him somehow.
—The salary will be much lower than what you can get at other mansions. It can't be helped because this is unscheduled employment. Does that even matter?
—I don't care. I'm sure you will feed me well.
—Can you put me down now? I lowered my arms in silence.
—As you suggested, our Weatherwoods mansion will give you work as a man, not as a woman. And I will ask you to do all the housework I can ask of a male employee. Hard and dangerous work. Can you accept it?
—I can accept it. I gladly accept the orders that help me in my training.
Wait. Why was the atmosphere suddenly so good? Don't tell me you'll take her in just because she cut her hair a bit. The maid with a determined look, announced to Jean with a solemn gaze.
—Very well, Miss Jean Berkley-Gratten, no, Mr. Jean. I will hire you as the butler of our Weatherwoods mansion.
You scoundrel, will you? You've captured someone again!