Chapter 8

The next morning.

I stepped into the backyard to collect the laundry and was taken aback by the garden's transformation.

In just two days, the small garden of the Weatherwood mansion had taken on a rather decent appearance.

Despite no special contractor having visited since the first day, all the dead grass had disappeared, and the ground was covered with soft, moist soil.

'I thought he just took on any job to get into this mansion.'

And his cooking skills, too. Why is he so unnaturally good at so many things, more suspiciously so.

Just thinking about his heart-stirring beauty brought back the awkward potato talk from last night, making me feel uneasy again. At that moment, my eyes met with Lou, who was passing by with a spade in hand.

He beckoned to me as if it were the perfect timing.

"Come here, Miss Maid."

I wanted to ignore him, but...

'To properly investigate what kind of person he is, I need to interact with him to some extent.'

I stopped putting the laundry in the basket and approached Lou. Then, in a rather indifferent tone, I said,

"Daisy."

Lou, who had been leaning against the front steps, turned to look at me with a puzzled expression. I repeated, facing his radiant face,

"My name."

"Ah, I see."

Lou stood in front of me with his usual soft smile.

"Alright, Miss Maid Daisy. It's finally been four days since we properly introduced ourselves. This is quite a significant progress in our relationship, wouldn't you say?"

If everything he says sounds sarcastic, is it the speaker's problem or the listener's?

"I'll entrust this pot to you."

I took the small bronze pot Lou offered, almost involuntarily. It was filled with moist soil that looked of good quality.

"Entrust it?"

"Plant a flower in the pot. Anything will do, but don't transplant it. Start from the seed, not a seedling."

"Me? Why?"

When I asked, bewildered, Lou replied as if it were the most obvious thing.

"Didn't you say you were curious about me?"

What does that have to do with flowers?

"Coincidentally, my true identity is so, incredibly, mind-blowingly secret that I have no intention of telling anyone for free. In that sense, growing a flower is quite a modest price, don't you think?"

I frowned deeply, looking at the pot in my arms.

'Why flowers, of all things?'

It's not like it's a child's play.

Is he playing with me now?

'Why bother now?'

This pot was the first plausible answer Lou gave to my suspicions and distrust. Unlike the first day, he didn't ignore me and offered a condition for me to hear his answer.

Refusing and feeling offended might be a foolish move.

"If you don't want to, it's 500 gold."

"500 gold?"

"The price for not growing a flower and hearing the secret."

Is this con man crazy? Where am I supposed to get 500 gold? Does he think it grows out of the ground? I couldn't earn that much even if I worked as a maid for a hundred years!

I hugged the pot tightly with both arms and replied,

"I'll grow it."

"Good choice."

"Keep your promise."

Lou, smiling affectionately, tapped my head. It was the lightest and most natural smile he had ever shown.

"Yes, Miss Maid Daisy. I look forward to seeing what flower you grow."

Annoying brat.

After glaring at Lou's broad back, I put the pot back in its place and went to collect the laundry.

I decided to pause my investigation of Lou for now.

I hadn't given up on uncovering his true identity; I had just taken a step back.

Ultimately, I judged that it would be best to observe for a while, as the butler had suggested.

I had no one to investigate Lou or the funds to do so, and he wasn't the type to open up easily. He wasn't someone I could easily overpower and force to talk.

'Besides, my suspicions are just that. He hasn't done anything suspicious yet.'

Focusing on Lou any further would be a waste of mental and time resources. For now, I would be content with collaborating with the butler-assassin.

I had become familiar enough with my maid duties and needed to focus on gathering information related to Dean Ket's artifact.

Everything has a priority.

"Have you collected all the laundry, Miss Daisy?"

"Yes."

"I'll take care of the sorting. Please go buy the ingredients. The list and money are in the kitchen."

"Yes."

As I left the mansion, I checked the list of ingredients to buy. It was the same as last time, except for the addition of eggs.

Although there was no meat again, I wasn't particularly disappointed. Lou would surely fill the table even without meat.

His cooking skills.

That talent is the only unique advantage Lou has.

Before entering the market, I stopped in front of a frail old man selling dull vegetables in a narrow alley.

'Hmm.'

The potatoes looked in poor condition, but I decided to buy them.

I was concerned about the old man's shabby appearance and, given my decent cooking skills, thought the quality of the ingredients wouldn't matter much.

"Seven potatoes."

The old man, who had been dozing off, opened his eyes wide and looked up at me.

"Oh? Finally, a customer."

This old man probably won't go home until he sells a certain number of potatoes.

"Thank you, miss. Please come again."

The old man, frail and thin, bowed repeatedly, thanking me.

After paying for the potatoes, I turned to head to the market, checking the count.

'One, two, three... eight.'

Eight, not seven. The old man must have miscounted.

I turned back to return one potato.

In the meantime, the alley, which had been empty except for the old man and me, was now occupied by new people.

It was a disturbing sight.

"Oh! This old lady finally made some money."

Three large men surrounded the old man selling potatoes.

The biggest one showed his palm to the old man.

"Hand it over."

"Wait, just give me a month..."

"The Merchant Guild's dues are overdue by more than a week. Did you think we wouldn't collect just because you were hiding here?"

"Guild or no guild, I'm just a small-time seller. I've told you several times I'm not a member..."

Suddenly, the man kicked the old man, who had grabbed his pants, roughly.

The frail old man tumbled to the ground without even a scream, his forehead bleeding from a gash caused by the shoe heel.

Not satisfied with that, the big man stomped mercilessly on the old man's curved back.

"You old coot, if you can't afford the dues, quit the business or get out of our territory!"

The man spat on the trembling old man's back.

"Got it. I'll come back at the same time tomorrow, so remember that."

Thus, the old man's meager income disappeared into the greedy hands.

I looked at the old man's poor potatoes. There were fewer than twenty, and after I took eight, only about ten were left, with a couple sprouting.

This old man isn't selling potatoes to live in luxury. He's selling potatoes to avoid starving. He spends the whole day selling potatoes to survive another day.

Look at his frail body. If he can't sell potatoes for even a day, he'll surely starve. If he can't sell for two days, he'll have trouble moving, and if he can't sell for three days, he might be on the brink of death.

These men are essentially killing the old man. Claiming ownership of the streets that no one else can have.

"Hey."

The men turned to look at me.

"What?"

I asked them sincerely,

"Why did you crawl out of the trash can?"

The leader, frowning deeply, staggered toward me.

"What do you think you're doing, you crazy woman? From your appearance, you seem to be a maid. What gives you the nerve to talk like that? I could make it so you can't even walk down this street. Got it?"

I carefully examined his arrogant face and nodded.

Good timing, friends. I've been quite stressed these past few days.

I immediately struck the leader's face lightly.

"Ugh."

The leader, pinned to the wall, fell unconscious with his eyes rolled back.

I then did the same to the second man, who was standing there in a daze.

"Ugh."

The third man, finally coming to his senses, ran away without looking back.

Should I chase him? The decision was quick. Instead of chasing, I squatted next to the old man and thoroughly searched the leader's pockets.

"Ah."

A bundle of bills popped out of his pocket. Is this the dues the Merchant Guild forces people to pay? It's essentially a protection racket, and the amount is not small.

"Miss, get up. We need to run before the others come, okay? Hurry."

The old man, who had just managed to steady himself, was surprised by my taking down two men but was more concerned with getting me out of the alley.

His sleeve turned red each time he wiped the blood from his forehead.

"These are very dangerous people. Don't come this way again. If you get involved in something bad, your parents will be very sad."

The wrinkles on his hand, which was still trembling, were a testament to the fear etched into his body.

I looked at the old man's tense face and then at the potatoes that had been trampled and rolled on the ground.

If I let today's incident pass, people like this old man will suffer again.

The logic of these thugs is always the same. They take out their anger on the weak. They might even use the violence they experienced to justify raising the protection money.

The victims will suffer even more, and this old man will be forced to leave the city.

"Old lady."

"Run, I said."

"Do you know where these people stay?"

The old man, looking at me with a puzzled expression, pointed to a clean-looking one-story shop across the paved road leading to the market.

'Pub Peace of Land'

The pub, a place of concern, exuded an atmosphere suitable for thugs who only bully the weak.

It's strange.

From what I know, in the empire, pubs were such places.

Places for hometown and people.

Especially in the southern part of the empire, under the influence of the great mage Mephisto, pubs were almost like the headquarters of volunteer patrols protecting their hometowns.

The people gathered in pubs took up arms to protect their hometowns, families, and friends. Pubs near the front lines often took on the role of supply for the entire village. In my memory, their faces were full of pride and nostalgia.

'But the Merchant Guild.'

Perhaps, at least to me, it could be quite useful, especially in gathering information.

I returned the money for the potatoes to the old man.

"Don't come to the market tomorrow. Okay?"

Then, I took some of the bills and crumpled them into the old man's palm.

"Get your forehead treated before it gets worse. Okay?"

After leaving the two fallen thugs deep in the alley, I headed back to the market with the bundle of bills in my chest.