The Maid of the Cursed Princess

The thought that first crossed Dorothy’s mind upon seeing the Princess’s appearance was, ironically, that she’s pretty.

‘Pretty eyes.’

Of course, that only referred to her eyes.

Dorothy’s aesthetic sense was ordinary. She was not so distorted in her appreciation of beauty as to find a woman wrapped in bandages from head to toe, expressionless behind an iron mask, to be beautiful overall.

If Dorothy differed from others in one regard, it was that she liked beautiful eyes. And to her, the Princess’s eyes, like sapphires, seemed very lovely.

‘…Well then, did I do it properly?’

However, Dorothy couldn’t be certain if her conduct appeared proper in the Princess’s eyes.

More than concerns of royalty or nobility, she was fundamentally a drifter from the slums who had never properly learned basic etiquette.

Even the witch who arranged this request knew this better than anyone else. Thus, until the day before entering the palace, Dorothy had undergone arduous training from the witch to ingrain the conduct befitting a maid.

But that was etiquette learned from a witch residing in the slums. For that reason, Dorothy couldn’t assert with certainty that her conduct was flawless.

“…What about the other servants?”

“From now on, I will handle everything alone.”

Fortunately for Dorothy, the Princess did not specifically criticize her conduct. Whether it was because there was no need to point it out, or because she saw no prospect worth pointing out, Dorothy couldn’t tell.

“…Speaking of which, two weeks was about as long as they lasted.”

“…Two weeks?”

“That was how long your predecessors remained in this tower attending to me.”

Two weeks is not a very long time. Most jobs that receive wages rather than payment per task like Dorothy tend to have monthly pay periods, do they not?

“This time it’s just one person… it will be difficult for you. You’ll be taking on the workload three servants used to share.”

Her tone seemed to pity her, but Dorothy sensed a complex tangle of emotions in the Princess’s innermost feelings – extreme melancholy, scorn directed at her, and more.

Regardless of how proper Dorothy’s conduct was, the Princess’s attitude toward her was not very welcoming, like someone putting on airs of disapproval while unable to hide their ridicule.

“Not at all.”

“What is not?”

“How could I possibly complain about being tasked with attending to the great Princess of Orléans?”

But Dorothy had no choice but to stick by the Princess’s side, whether she liked it or not, until the client informed her she no longer needed to guard her.

Perhaps she would have to care for the cursed Princess her entire life, as the request didn’t specify a time limit.

Therefore, at the very least, it would be better to establish and maintain an amicable relationship with the Princess to lessen her burdens somewhat.

“Anyone who says that usually doesn’t last a week.”

The Princess’s heart, long inured to the contempt and disregard of others, was deeply rooted in distrust of humanity.

“Get out.”

“…Yes.”

It seemed her prospects were not bright.

Letting out a silent sigh, Dorothy sensed an arduous future ahead.

* * *

After being dismissed from the Princess’s bedchamber, the first thing Dorothy did was assess the tower’s layout.

Contrary to its slender, shabby appearance from outside, the tower’s interior had quite spacious floors that could easily accommodate dozens of residents.

Five floors in total. Excluding the fifth floor which was entirely the Princess’s bedchamber, and the fourth floor study she likely would have little reason to visit, Dorothy had three floors at her disposal – the equivalent of a three-story house, an unimaginable luxury compared to the single tiny room she had in the slums.

Of course, she did have one housemate, so to speak.

“Not bad.”

It was a satisfactory environment. For Dorothy, who had grown up drifting the streets, this tower represented opulence she never dared dream of experiencing in her lifetime.

She lacked confidence in caring for someone, especially a cursed invalid, but in such an environment she could endure. At least, that’s what Dorothy thought.

“The question is, how do I win over the Princess’s heart…”

Strictly speaking, there was no mention of befriending the Princess in the request, only guarding and caring for her.

However, to live comfortably going forward and successfully complete the request, becoming close with the Princess was not a choice but a necessity. No matter how you slice it, the Princess was of a noble status Dorothy as a common drifter could scarcely look upon, and more immediately, her future housemate.

What should she do to gain the Princess’s favor? Turn the desolate field into a garden blooming with colorful flowers? Or perhaps learn some wit and charm?

“…I should start with cleaning first.”

Of course, before that, she would need to thoroughly dispose of the traces left by her predecessors.

* * *

The cleaning Dorothy expected to finish quickly ended up taking far longer than anticipated.

“…I really did live like trash.”

The reason was Dorothy’s disastrous housekeeping skills. For someone who had only known cramped single-room dwellings, cleaning up the traces of three people scattered throughout the spacious tower was too daunting a task.

She hadn’t even properly cleaned those single rooms before. How many people in the slums truly did housekeeping work?

“Phew…”

Wiping the beads of sweat from her brow, Dorothy packed away the clothes and odds and ends in a large bundle, hoping in vain that leaving it outside the gate would somehow return the items to their owners.

“Still… it does look nice and clean.”

Surveying her newly refreshed living quarters, Dorothy smiled in satisfaction. It was the first time she had experienced the rewarding feeling of cleaning.

“…But I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

However, so focused on cleaning, Dorothy had forgotten an important matter.

“…Ah right, the meal…”

As is well known, a maid’s duties encompass general housework – cooking, cleaning, laundry, dishwashing, and so on.

With no other maids to share the workload, all that housework fell solely on Dorothy. That meant cooking, cleaning, laundry, dishwashing – everything was her responsibility alone.

And Dorothy had neglected one of those duties – her obligation to serve her master a meal. In other words:

“…I’m doomed.”

It meant she had starved the Princess. A mere maid had starved her.

“…What do I do?”

But realizing it now didn’t solve the problem. Not only was it too late, but Dorothy’s cooking skills were utterly disastrous.

As mentioned before, Dorothy’s housekeeping abilities were ruinous. When was the last time she had cooked for herself?

If she had money, she would dine at a tavern, if not, she simply went hungry… and now she had to cook directly.

If it were just for her own consumption, Dorothy would have made do sloppily, or skipped the meal altogether.

But now, the recipient of Dorothy’s cooking wouldn’t be herself, but another person – no less than the Princess of the Kingdom, someone of exalted nobility.

“Um… uh…”

Dorothy panicked. What in the world should she serve? Having already missed the meal time, leaving the Princess to starve, what dish could she possibly prepare?

* * *

“…”

The result was disastrous.

“…?”

Poking with a fork at the fried egg, burnt on bottom but raw on the top, the yolk burst and eggshell fragments mixed in, the Princess looked up at Dorothy.

It was not just the egg’s pathetic state that prompted her gaze. For the Princess was seeing something she had never laid eyes on in her life, something that could scarcely be called a cooked egg dish.

Thus, the Princess silently questioned the culprit who had served this un-dish on a plate – just what was this supposed to be?

“I’m… sorry, Princess. My skills are lacking…”

Under the Princess’s unspoken interrogation, Dorothy could only prostrate herself. No matter that she was cursed, no matter that she was an outcast child, she had undoubtedly served utter garbage to the Princess.

If it had at least been a proper fried egg, but she had served a burnt-raw, yolk and shell-mixed fried egg to the Princess. Even a minor noble would be tempted to loosen their belt if their maid brought such a thing on a plate, would they not?

“Not everything on a plate qualifies as food.”

Leaving that scathing remark, the Princess pushed the plate away, declaring she would not eat it.

Of course, Dorothy hadn’t expected the Princess to actually eat such garbage in the first place. Rather, she was thankful the Princess didn’t throw the plate in her face.

Not that it absolved her of guilt, however.

She had made the Princess wait due to her tardiness, and at the end of that wait, presented something that could scarcely be called food.

In the end, Dorothy had left her master, the Princess, to starve all day long.

“…I’m sorry.”

With that apology, Dorothy barely managed to exit and close the bedroom door behind her.

“…Haha.”

It was a moment where her life as a maid became even more tangled.