On Rational Marital Life - Chapter 46

At first, the servants didn’t welcome Layla’s actions.

Typically, when a master claimed to be doing something for the servants, it never actually benefited them. As long as their wages weren’t reduced, it was best if the master simply left them alone.

Change usually meant inconvenience—another burden to bear.

But this time, their expectations were completely off the mark.

Layla reassigned empty rooms to the servants who had been forced to share quarters due to the mercenaries taking over their space.

“Hah, I’ve worked in many estates, but this is the first time my conditions have actually improved.”

“I thought all these interviews were just a pretext to fire us or cut wages.”

“Who was it? Who had the guts to complain to the lady?”

“I’d like to thank them personally. I got my room back thanks to them! My old roommate snored so loudly.”

With the mercenaries now using the garden only on weekends, Layla designated those same weekends as rest days for the servants.

“They were always demanding things—bring this, fetch that—but ever since the lady had those shelves installed near their quarters, they just take what they need without bothering us. Do you know how much of a headache that’s saved me?”

“The barbarians don’t make us run errands for them anymore. It’s so much easier now.”

Layla also had one simple request for both the mercenaries and the servants:

“Greet each other when you meet.”

It was a small thing.

At first, the servants would jump whenever the mercenaries boomed out a greeting, but soon, they got used to it.

Over time, they realized that the men weren’t actually threatening—they just had loud, rough voices.

“You know, they’re not so bad after all. I was carrying a heavy laundry basket, and one of them suddenly grabbed it—I thought he was going to do something weird, but he just carried it for me.”

“I gave one a sandwich, and he lit up like a kid.”

“Did you see how much they eat? I thought only the master ate that much, but apparently, all barbarians do.”

“No wonder they were always so hungry.”

“…Maybe that’s why they always glared at us after meals. Being deprived of food is one of the worst feelings.”

As they slowly learned more about each other, the once-tense atmosphere in the estate became more relaxed and lively.

“The lady is surprisingly competent.”

“She’s better than I expected.”

“Now we get a full day off every week! Before, we only got one day off a month.”

Even opinions about Layla herself had begun to shift.

Once, she had been viewed as nothing more than a fallen noblewoman—the former fiancée of the crown prince, disgraced after being accused of embezzling charity funds meant for the poor.

Everyone had expected her to live lavishly and create chaos in the Burmang estate. Instead, she was… quiet.

Even more surprising, she was far more down-to-earth than the previous viscountess.

Leah recalled her interview with Layla and muttered, “She didn’t say much during the interviews, but she really listened. Viscountess Bastian was strict, but now… I feel like if I ask the lady for something, she’ll actually do it.”

“I used to think Marisa was doing a decent job managing things, but now that the lady is involved, it’s completely different.”

“Marisa… compared to the former head maid…”

“Hey, behind you.”

One of the maids urgently nudged Leah’s side.

She turned around—only to see Marisa standing right there.

There was no need to ask if she had overheard them.

Marisa’s expression was sharp as she glared at Leah and the other maid.

“Ah! Uh… I just remembered, I have to put away some supplies.”

Leah, avoiding eye contact, hurriedly fled with the other maid.

Marisa clenched her fists.

When the estate had been sold to the mercenary captain, the butler, head maid, and many of the older, more experienced servants had left.

She had been the oldest among the remaining staff, and it had been her job to keep things running. She had done everything she could to maintain order and ensure daily life continued smoothly.

She had worked so hard.

She had been so close to becoming the new head maid.

But now, instead of a promotion, people were comparing her to Layla.

“How am I supposed to do the same things the lady can? I don’t even have the authority. If I had been made head maid, I could’ve run this place just as well as Anne did.”

If Layla’s marriage had been delayed even a little longer, Marisa was certain she would have been made head maid.

For now, she needed to act—before the lady gained full control of the household.

After finishing his training, Blake headed to his study, where Marisa was waiting with a chilled glass of juice.

“Master.”

Blake placed his pocket watch on the desk, a worn yet elegant piece that had once belonged to his father.

“Thanks. Is it cleaning time? You don’t have to do it yourself—assign someone else.”

“There are many important things in your study. I feel more at ease doing it myself.”

Despite her words, Marisa didn’t move from her spot in front of the desk, waiting until Blake had fully seated himself.

Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her. She took a breath, clearly tense, before speaking.

“I’ve worked in this estate since the time of Viscount Bastian. When the estate was sold and many people left, I stayed behind to fill the gaps and take care of the remaining staff. I’ve worked hard to ensure the new master wouldn’t face any inconvenience.”

Her voice brimmed with confidence.

She sat up straight, looking him directly in the eye, exuding pride in her years of service.

“With no official housekeeper or butler, I haven’t had the authority to issue orders. Naturally, with fewer staff and my lack of position, there have been gaps in management. It may not be perfect in your eyes, but I’ve done my best to keep the estate running.”

Marisa swallowed dryly before getting to the point.

“I heard you’re looking for a new head maid. Rather than bringing in someone new, wouldn’t it be better to appoint me? The staff already knows me, and I’m familiar with all the estate’s affairs. There would be no need for an adjustment period. Please consider me for the position.”

She had been warm toward Blake, keeping him informed about Layla’s activities. She had built rapport with him, and in her mind, this ignorant barbarian would surely choose her.

Blake’s response was unexpected.

“What areas of the estate do you think are lacking?”

“…Excuse me?”

“The things that needed fixing—Layla has already taken care of them, hasn’t she? You said you noticed these issues before, but you lacked the authority to act. That’s understandable.”

Marisa felt a twinge of unease.

Blake’s tone was light, but his words seemed to be testing her.

“So, do you believe everything has been resolved now? That there are no more problems?”

She knew how to answer that. Saying everything is fine would be a mistake.

“Ah, well… there are still areas that need improvement, of course…”

“And what are those areas?”

“Well, we’re short on staff, and the estate could use some redecoration…”

Truthfully, anything could be seen as a problem, depending on one’s perspective. The safest answer was to keep things vague so she could adjust her response as needed.

“Then if we were to hire more people, where should they be assigned? And for redecorating—where should we start?”

“That… I could organize my thoughts and submit a report… There’s quite a lot to go over…”

Yes, that was a good response.

There was no need to have all the answers immediately. She had dodged his traps skillfully.

Or so she thought.

“Then why didn’t you bring this up with Layla?”

“…What?”

Blake’s gaze turned sharp. Marisa instinctively glanced at his desk.

“The hiring of staff now falls under Layla’s responsibilities. If you truly want to become head maid, speak to her. If you’ve done a good job so far, I’m sure she’ll consider it.”

“…Understood.”

Blake didn’t even touch the juice she had brought him.

It was clear. He didn’t trust her.

* * *

“Marisa, about the soap—oh? Marisa?”

The maid called out, but Marisa didn’t respond. She simply turned away and headed back to her room, her emotions surging up in thick, uncontrollable waves.

Her body trembled as she slammed the door shut behind her.

With clenched fists, she struck the soft, down-filled comforter. When she swung a pillow, white goose feathers scattered into the air.

The ornate vase on her table, the delicate music box she wound up before bed—these elegant belongings were not the kind of things found in an ordinary maid’s quarters.

“What makes that criminal so great?! What has she ever done besides being born into a noble family?! She stole charity funds! She indulges in luxury while pretending to be innocent!”

Grinding her teeth, Marisa pounded the bedding again. She didn’t shout—there were still other servants nearby. And she was careful not to damage the finer objects in her room.

“But after everything I’ve done—how could they do this to me?! Is it really that hard to make me head maid?! I’ve worked so hard for this!”

She clenched both fists and slammed them into the mattress repeatedly, as if it were Layla she was striking.

“I’M the one who’s kept this estate running! I can do this! I deserve this! I should be the head maid! Aghhh!”

Her disheveled hair fell over her face, sticking to her damp forehead. She heaved for breath, her shoulders rising and falling erratically.

Her palms ached from how tightly she had curled her fists.

“I was here first. I belong in this estate.”

Marisa slowly straightened up, whispering to herself.

Her hushed murmur carried a chilling undertone as it spread through the dimly lit room.

“We have to get that bitch out.”