The Maid Who Couldn’t Stay Upright

The first thing I saw when I entered the grand hall was a bucket of water… tipping over.

And the first thing I felt was ice-cold water splashing across my boots.

“Ah! Oh no, I— I’m so sorry!”

A small figure scrambled forward, her frilly maid’s cap slipping sideways, almost falling into the puddle herself. She looked like she had run straight out of a romance novel — big round eyes, flushed cheeks, and a panic so genuine that it made me pause instead of scolding her.

She clutched a cloth, dabbing frantically at my boots, but her hands were shaking so badly that she nearly wiped the wrong way.

“Stop,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

She froze instantly, biting her lip. “I… I’ll clean it! Please, don’t fire me. It’s only my first day.”

I sighed. I had told the head housekeeper I didn’t need another maid, yet here one was — tiny, trembling, and clearly about to trip over the hem of her own skirt.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Lila.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Lila,” I said slowly, “have you always been this… clumsy?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “I— I promise I’m not usually like this! It’s just—” She glanced up at me for the first time, and I noticed her lashes trembled like they carried the weight of the world. “You’re… intimidating.”

…Well. I wasn’t expecting that.

The corners of my lips twitched despite myself. “If I’m so intimidating, why did you take the job?”

Her cheeks turned even redder. “Because… they said the pay was good. And… I like castles.”

I studied her for a moment. Her uniform was slightly too big, the sleeves slipping past her wrists. She smelled faintly of fresh soap and lavender. Completely harmless. And yet…

I crouched down, slipping an arm under her before she could react.

She squeaked — actually squeaked — and grabbed my coat collar. “W-what are you doing?!”

“You’re drenched. You’ll catch a cold. And if you trip again while carrying boiling tea, I’ll be the one dealing with the burns.” I started walking, carrying her effortlessly toward the servants’ quarters.

“I can walk!” she protested weakly, her face buried in my shoulder.

“I noticed,” I said dryly. “And I also noticed how well that went a minute ago.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t argue further.

When we reached her tiny room, I set her down on the bed. She looked at me like I had just saved her life and ruined her pride at the same time.

I crossed my arms. “From now on, you are forbidden from carrying heavy trays, boiling kettles, or anything sharp. Understand?”

Her brows knitted together. “But… then what can I do?”

I let out a slow breath, leaning against the doorway. “You can… stay where I can see you. Read books. Drink tea. Try not to fall out of your chair.”

“That’s not work,” she said, almost pouting.

“That’s the point,” I replied. “I’ll handle the rest.”

For some reason, saying it out loud made my chest feel… warm. Like I had just made a decision that went far beyond today.

She blinked at me, hesitant. “…You’re… spoiling me?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like a crime.”