On Rational Marital Life - Chapter 44

“Trying to win us over with just a glass of milk? You must think we’re fools. You can’t even do anything.”

Leah didn’t care if she got fired. Her tone was sharp, her gaze even sharper.

“I was indifferent to the household before. That’s why I’m trying to improve things now, and I need help figuring out what needs to change.”

Layla wasn’t offended. She understood their wariness, and her desire to make improvements was genuine.

She remained calm and composed, speaking in a measured tone to convey sincerity.

But Leah rejected her sincerity outright. She scoffed at Layla’s words.

“There’s nothing to fix. We’re perfectly satisfied, so stop wasting our time with these pointless interviews. Maybe you have the leisure to go on strolls, but we’re busy working all day. Can I leave now?”

Leah refused to engage any further. Her expression made it clear that she just wanted to leave. There was no persuading her.

If she claimed she was too busy to be called in, what more could Layla do?

“…Alright. You can go.”

“Thank you, then.”

As Leah exited the room, Layla let out a small sigh.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, Leah found a group of servants gathered, surrounding those who had already finished their interviews.

“Oh, Leah! You’re done? How did it go?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I got out quickly. She really thought she could win us over with some milk and cookies.”

“You should’ve at least had some.”

The servants laughed, pleased that they had collectively defied Layla’s efforts. Leah smirked along with them.

‘How naïve.’

‘She expects us to talk when everyone’s gathered right outside, waiting? If I stayed too long, they’d start wondering if I spilled something. She really is clueless.’

* * *

The interviews had ended, but there were no meaningful results. Layla had expected the servants to be hesitant to speak openly with their employer, but she hadn’t anticipated just how closed-off and distrustful they would be.

Without a middle manager—either a butler or a head maid—there was no one to properly oversee and mediate between the servants and the household. Marisa had stepped in as an unofficial leader, but judging by how the servants behaved around her, she was far from a suitable candidate for a managerial role.

Meanwhile, Jefferson had been dismissed, and Ham Royer had started working at the estate. After briefly speaking with him, Layla called for Jerry.

“Nice to meet you. I’ll be teaching history and economics from now on. My name is Ham Royer.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Jerry Burman.”

Although Layla already had an idea of what kind of person Ham was, she couldn’t help feeling a bit tense. His expression was warm and approachable, but there was always the possibility that he harbored resentment toward Strovers or wasn’t used to handling children.

However, Ham smiled at Jerry and said, “Ah, much more composed than those troublemakers from Woodward! No need to be so stiff—we’re going to be seeing each other often, so let’s loosen up. Nobles created etiquette to put on airs, but staying rigid like that just makes you uncomfortable. Relax, like this.”

With one hand, he made a large, exaggerated circular motion while bowing.

Jerry, unable to hold back, let out a small giggle before quickly glancing at Layla and pressing his lips together, trying to suppress his laughter. His cheeks twitched from the effort.

Layla was surprised. Ham’s movements were theatrical, but they weren’t actually improper.

“Oh, was that a laugh? Young Master, you have to do the same.”

“W-What? Really?”

“Really. Come on, come on. I promise I won’t cover my mouth and snicker at you.”

Before Jerry could even attempt to mimic the gesture, Ham clamped his own hands over his mouth in mock restraint, making an exaggerated, silly face.

Both Jerry and Layla burst into laughter.

‘He’s a good man.’

Thus, the first lesson began. The study quickly filled with the sounds of conversation, laughter, and the occasional spin of a globe.

Layla, watching from the hallway through the open door, smiled at the sight before quietly stepping away so as not to disturb them.

‘One less thing to worry about.’

Perhaps, if Ham was willing, she could ask him to recommend teachers for other subjects as well.

As she walked along the mansion’s exterior for a short stroll, she happened to run into Leah, who was carrying an empty laundry basket.

“I asked the kitchen to prepare scones as today’s afternoon snack.”

“…Thank you.”

Leah responded awkwardly, lowering her head slightly.

Since the interviews, Layla had ordered the servants to be given afternoon snacks—not to win their favor, but because, during one of the interviews, the gardener’s stomach had growled audibly. Embarrassed, he had mentioned how much time remained until dinner and how he was starting to get hungry.

Layla had realized that the servants, who always served meals to their employers first, often had delayed mealtimes. While they likely found their own ways to manage, she wanted to at least provide them with something small to tide them over.

So she had ordered snacks to be made—for both the household staff and Blake’s subordinates.

Just as she was about to continue on her way, Leah suddenly called out.

“Madam.”

Layla turned back.

“You asked me to be honest before, didn’t you?” Leah hesitated for a moment before her expression hardened. “Well, I have plenty of places I could go, so I’ll say it. I can’t stand those barbarians anymore.”

“I won’t fire you just for voicing a complaint.”

Layla reassured her, but Leah didn’t believe her. She continued fidgeting with the empty laundry basket before finally releasing the frustrations she had been holding back.

“Get rid of the mercenaries who’ve turned this estate into lawless chaos.”

Layla studied Leah for a moment before responding.

“Tell me why you feel that way. What exactly about them makes you think they should be removed?”

“See? You say that, but you don’t actually intend to do anything. You claim you want to make improvements, but you have no intention of taking action from the start.”

“Leah, why are you so hostile toward me? Have I wronged you in some way?”

Leah flinched, clearly not expecting such a direct question. Layla wasn’t angry; she had asked calmly, but that made it all the more intimidating.

“I held these interviews to help improve conditions for the people who live and work here—to make things more comfortable for everyone. So why are you showing so much hostility toward something that’s meant for you?”

Leah, who had earlier seemed so confident—so certain that she wouldn’t care even if she got fired—suddenly looked uneasy.

It was frustrating, but she couldn’t deny that Layla’s words made sense.

“The mercenaries Blake brought here aren’t just his subordinates—they’re part of the Strover delegation. Their customs and ways are different, which naturally leads to conflicts. But as long as Blake remains here, I can’t drive them out without a valid reason. Not unless a war breaks out.”

At the mention of war, Leah swallowed dryly.

She had lived in the capital, Greymers, and hadn’t experienced war firsthand, but the newspapers had painted a grim picture of its brutality every day. Many of the servants had family members who had fought in the war.

“If this is just a matter of personal bias or misunderstanding toward me, that’s one thing. I can accept that. But this issue concerns the people you work alongside—the entire household staff. So tell me, Leah, why do you feel this way about the mercenaries?”

* * *

“Those barbarians are completely ignorant. They think we’re their servants. We work for this household, but just because they’re the master’s subordinates, they order us around without any regard. If they need something, they should pay for it! Why do we have to explain to Marisa or Mr. Whaler why supplies are missing from the storage? Sometimes we even have to cover the cost with our own money.”

“They jump out of nowhere while training in the garden, scaring us half to death. And they’re carrying swords—it’s terrifying! Someone could get hurt.”

“Do you know how much extra laundry we have to do? Their clothes are always filthy from rolling around in the dirt… and the larger mercenaries stink so badly.”

“At least they don’t harass or mistreat the maids, but we’re already exhausted just managing the household work, and now we have to tend to them as well? Preparing their meals, cleaning up after them—it’s just too much.”

“We barely get any rest!”

“And… Mr. Whaler. He steals from the estate. It’s true! I saw him taking down one of the gold wall sconces and sneaking it away. He never lets anyone into his room, and he always locks the door from the inside. You should check it—his room is probably filled with stolen goods.”

“The servants have had to give up their rooms for the mercenaries, so now we’re all crammed into smaller spaces, sleeping uncomfortably.”

Leah, who had vented all her frustrations, now clutched her empty laundry basket tightly, looking as if she regretted speaking at all.

“…Please don’t tell anyone I said this. I’ll be in serious trouble.”

Layla reassured her before heading off to speak with the stable master and the head gardener.

Unlike the general servants, stable hands and gardeners were skilled workers who had been employed for years, making it difficult to dismiss them without just cause. They knew this well.

When Layla subtly brought up the mercenaries, they echoed Leah’s concerns. Though they were reserved men of few words, they also pointed out that the mercenaries’ behavior was problematic.

All the issues stemmed from a lack of communication.

The old staff and the new mercenaries operated in two completely separate groups, barely interacting. Since no one was mediating between them, the mercenaries remained unaware of the problems they were causing, while resentment among the household staff continued to build.

“I really need to find a butler and head maid soon.”

Layla could manage the estate’s internal affairs, but the mercenaries fell under Blake’s authority. If she wanted to establish any rules for them, she would need his approval.

And that wasn’t the only concern—would the mercenaries even listen to her?

As for Whaler’s alleged theft, it was a serious accusation, but she needed more than one person’s claim to confirm it. That matter would have to wait.

Now, she just had to figure out when to bring all this up to Blake.

She still remembered the ordeal she went through when she asked for his approval to fire the tutor and take over the household management.

“If you want something and need my permission, try convincing your husband. That’s part of a wife’s duty, isn’t it?”

“I’d love to see my wife kneeling between my legs, pleasuring me while begging for what she wants.”

Blake had spoken without the slightest shame, as if such things were only natural between husband and wife.

Just thinking about it made Layla’s ears burn.

She had already endured his indecent demands to get permission for household affairs—if she brought up his subordinates now, what would he ask for this time?

That was why she chose to speak to him during dinner.

Blake was the type to do whatever he wanted regardless of Jerry’s presence, but at least with a dining table between them, he wouldn’t pounce on her immediately.

…Though, given his past behavior, she wasn’t entirely sure of that either.

Still, it was better than being alone with him.

Layla stole a glance at Blake. He was seated beside Jerry, moving some uneaten beans onto the boy’s plate.

“Eat everything. You need to eat well and exercise. That’s how you grow taller and stronger. Starting tomorrow, wake up at dawn.”

“If you study history and economics during the day like I do, I’ll do it.”

“You’ve learned to refuse so politely. I see the tutor was useful.”

“The new tutor makes learning fun. You’d probably enjoy his lessons too.”

“If you want to keep learning from him, make sure I never meet him. That would be the smart choice.”

The mood was surprisingly pleasant.

Blake hadn’t been particularly angry about Jerry’s injury, but he wasn’t indifferent either.

“…Blake.”

Layla cautiously called his name.