The Maid of the Cursed Princess

Ugh this total failure.

It was the maid’s harsh self-rebuke for the grave mistake she made on the very first day.

At the very least, shouldn’t she have known what her job entailed, and moreover, done at least some basic studying?

Of course, Dorothy had her own defense as well.

The request Dorothy had accepted was to protect the Princess. The client likely hired her solely based on her combat skills.

Naturally, given the nature of a maid’s work, she had expected a certain amount of housework. She thought she could simply observe and learn housework from others.

The problem was that those ‘others’ had all fled, leading to her being summoned as the maid. She had expected that even if cursed, the Princess would have a few attendants, allowing her to receive at least a rough handover.

But her premise was flawed from the start, resulting in a failure of a maid with zero housekeeping knowledge, including cooking, being left alone in the Princess’s tower. It was like throwing a newborn baby unfamiliar with anything into the heart of the wilderness.

“…Haah…”

Even if she was skilled at fighting, what use was that in this remote empty field far from human habitation? Hunting beasts?

Fighting is done against people. And here, the only other person was the Princess. She could hardly beat up the Princess she was supposed to serve. That would likely cost her not just the payment, but her head.

“…Should I ask them to send a recipe book or something?”

If there was one consolation for both Dorothy and the Princess, it was that Dorothy at least had the will to learn.

“Are there any recipe books in the study on the fourth floor?”

Dorothy recalled the study she had glimpsed in passing. While it resembled a typical storage room packed with old, worn tomes, perhaps she could find some ancient recipe books if she searched thoroughly.

“…Ah right, the bathwater.”

Of course, she still had a mountain of tasks to do first.

* * *

Before arriving at the High Tower, Dorothy had received a schedule from Matthieu.

While instructed not to cling too rigidly to the schedule, adjusting it flexibly as the Princess desired, expecting such discretion from a newly arrived maid was too much. The reason for providing the schedule must have been to follow it if unsure.

“Princess, I have prepared your bathwater.”

Thus, Dorothy resolved to diligently follow the schedule. As the saying goes, if you stay still, at least half gets done – she judged that simply doing as instructed would minimize reprimands. The only problem was-

“Um… Princess?”

“Speak.”

“…Do you require assistance?”

That she knew nothing of noble etiquette.

Dorothy had heard stories of nobles so accustomed to servants that they couldn’t even properly dress themselves without assistance, let alone bathe. The royalty would surely be no different.

But the Princess was effectively a leper. Of course, being afflicted did not make her any less royal, but how was one supposed to bathe someone whose flesh was rotting from their body?

“No need.”

Fortunately, Dorothy was spared this conundrum, as the Princess shook her head and entered the bathroom alone – whether due to her unsightly appearance or simply an aversion to exposing her bare skin to others.

“…Um, then I shall prepare towels and fresh clothing.”

All the foolish maid could do was provide her master with basic conveniences.

“…Hmm…”

Suddenly, Dorothy wondered – was bathing even possible in that fully wrapped state?

Of course, she would remove the bandages for bathing. But then new bandages would be needed. No, before that, was she even capable of perfectly re-wrapping the bandages around her entire body without any gaps?

‘…I don’t know.’

How could she please the Princess? How could she properly care for her?

“…I should go down to the study.”

After pondering, Dorothy came to a conclusion.

First, she would learn and think.

* * *

Contrary to Dorothy’s worries, the bandages wrapped around the Princess’s body were not much of an issue.

“…Unravel.”

They were not ordinary bandages, but a magic item imbued with sorcery.

A handy item that stayed perpetually clean, automatically unwinding and re-wrapping itself at the Princess’s command. So Dorothy’s efforts to find new bandages had been futile.

“Phew…”

Effortlessly unraveling the bandages, the Princess Sibylla immersed herself in the underground bath filled with magic-imbued spring water that helped suppress her curse.

This High Tower was replete with traces of sorcery throughout, the result of her father the King summoning mages from across the kingdom to provide some convenience for his afflicted daughter. Sibylla was no less intimately acquainted with magic than an average mage.

“…Ha.”

Sibylla let out a dry chuckle. How ironic that the very cause of her ruined life, the curse, was itself a witch’s magic.

A life ruined by magic, sustained by magic’s aid. What an absurd state of affairs.

The underground bathroom in the tower basement was conducive to contemplation. The simple act of immersing one’s body in warm water naturally induced relaxation, and the only sound was the gentle sloshing of water, making it ideal for clearing the mind.

“…I wonder how Father and brothers are faring.”

Amid her musings, the faces of her family back in Orléans surfaced – the current King and her two elder brothers.

“I hope they are well.”

Sibylla knew, or rather, could not avoid knowing about her family’s affairs.

Upon realizing his youngest daughter had become the curse’s victim, the current King had desperately sought a way to break the curse, only to descend into madness. Now he was effectively a mindless living corpse, showing no reaction, his life merely lingering on.

The Crown Prince, her eldest brother, was governing the Kingdom in their father’s stead, while the Second Prince, the younger brother, was keeping a watchful eye on the Crown Prince while subtly coveting the throne himself.

Whether any of it was truth or falsehood, Sibylla paid it no mind. It was a matter she had no desire to know – the quarrels between brothers.

“Phew…”

Having mulled over such thoughts, Sibylla soon came to her senses and raised her arm from the bathwater. No matter how therapeutic the medicinal bath, soaking too long would cause her body to swell, making it difficult to re-wrap the bandages.

“…”

Thus, as Sibylla rose to exit the bath, she suddenly stared intently at her own reflection in the water.

Without mask or bandages, what was reflected was her bare face.

Her hideously disfigured, cursed bare face.

“…”

An appearance abhorred even by Sibylla herself, let alone anyone else.

Who could possibly claim to love such an unsightly visage? Sibylla thought even God could not make such a claim.

“…God.”

If God existed, He would never inflict such a dreadful ordeal upon His own children.

“…I’ve wallowed enough in self-pity.”

Shaking her head to dispel such idle thoughts, Sibylla exited the bathroom.

“She’s not here.”

There was no sign of the newly arrived maid. Perhaps she had gone upstairs, or fled unable to stomach the master she was to serve and her foul appearance.

“What grand expectations could I have of a mere maid?”

It was rather a boon for the Princess, as she had bathed herself in any case.

Unlike the self-wrapping magic bandages, the towels bore no enchantments. The same went for her clothing, of course.

“…?”

As Sibylla headed to her bedchamber intending to rest after her bath, her eyes fell upon the maid diligently poring over books from the study, taking notes and memorizing.

Observing closely out of curiosity over what she was so intently studying revealed they were all cookbooks.

“…Heh.”

So she herself realized that egg dish was an utter failure. The corners of Sibylla’s mouth twisted into a wry smile.

From the outset, Sibylla had harbored no particular expectations for this maid. For good reason – she was hopelessly inadequate.

While the deep-rooted human distrust built over many years was not without influence, even setting that aside, the brown-haired maid fell far short of acceptable.

Making blunder after blunder from day one, unaware of even her most basic duties – Sibylla had witnessed all those unsightly displays without the maid realizing.

“…She might last a week.”

Even the most stalwart of the exceptional royal servants could not endure a single month before returning to the palace. If the royal servants could not last, how could such a bumbler persist?

Of course, Sibylla had no intention of voicing such thoughts to dampen the maid’s earnest efforts. For she considered the possibility that her judgment might be a misguided product of her own jadedness and narrowed perspective.

“…I loathe them.”

But now, looking without rose-tinted lenses:

“Humans, I utterly loathe them.”

Her heart’s wounds were far too deep.