Sebastian's Obsession

Chapter 17

“What's that burning smell?” Sebastian asked as he hurriedly descended the stairs. I looked at him with a wondrous facade. In awe at his glorious morning face. His hair is disheveled and he's only wearing a white shirt hugging his toned-up body paired with his tight sweatpants. My face blushed unconsciously as my gaze dropped on the thing bulging in between his legs. For f**k's sake, Winter, what are you thinking? I gently slapped my face to awaken back my consciousness. Did I just fantasize the devil? I shook my head cringing at the mere realization. Ain't no way. I resumed my work, shrugging off any green thoughts that kept flooding my mind.

“Dang it, you overcooked the chicken," Sebastian yelled after he got into the kitchen.

I shrugged my shoulders and continued what I was doing— feeling a bit unbothered. If the chicken was burnt, then he should cook a new one. That's basic.

“You're so dumb. Just a chicken and you don't know how to cook it?” the devil added.

I sighed, enduring the pain that flashed into my heart. I'm still learning, so what does he expect? Besides, he shouldn't have made a mess here in the living room last night so that I can focus on cooking. Sebastian is so immature. He said he doesn't like a mess, but he kept messing up things and leaving each of them unattended, waiting for me to clean and arrange them. His attitude is somehow hypocritical. I've told him countless times to put the book back on the bookshelves every after use or throw his trash in the trash bin but he never listened. His reason—it's my job to do it.

“Make a new dish! Make sure it will all be done after I'm done showering," he commanded, ascending back to his room.

I gritted my teeth in anger as I forcibly picked up the vacuum. Planning to throw it on his back.

It's been two days since I began working for him. But I feel like giving up already. I previously stated that I should concentrate on the positive aspects of the situation, but with Sebastian as my boss, it would be impossible. I have no time to appreciate the privileges I have had, if every day all I encounter is insults, yelling, and non-stop demands. He is too much. He's not just Satan's right hand, because he is Satan himself. He is demanding, controlling, and stupid.

I groaned in annoyance before preparing the food again. This time I decided to just give him fried spam, fried egg, and fried rice. Because that's the safest meal I could offer him. If he once again complains, I'm really gonna shove the plate into his mouth. And I'm not even bluffing.

I am now preparing the dining table for the crownless king who gives demands without favor. Not long after, the señorito, in his usual business attire, descended the stairs.

"Spam again?" he complains.

Sebastian's face was already frowning. The last time he complains about not liking the food, he throws it in the trash. Unappreciated people can definitely raise my blood pressure. They've already been served, yet they're still whining. Out of annoyance and like what I had said earlier, the spam immediately flew into his face. If only he hadn't been able to avoid it right away, his face would have been really smudged.

"What the f**k, Winter!"

"Eat what is served and stop whining like a freaking kid. You are so annoying, Sebastian," I screamed, hurling the spoon at him before stomping out of the kitchen and escaping to my room.

If he doesn't like the meal, it's no longer my problem. I followed his instructions. I prepared the meal. I did some cleaning. And yet, despite everything, he never seems to appreciate any of it. He enjoys whining and whining. I'm not sure why he hired me in the first place. He could have just revoked the prohibition and allowed me to work again if he didn't want a headache. The fool, on the other hand, did not do it. He wants me to suffer. That's it.

I waited hours in my room, making sure that Lucifer had left already. I don't want to see him now. My head gets even hotter at the sight of him. He does not have the right to disrespect me just because he is my boss. Sebastian is well aware that I am not a Michelin-starred chef, yet the moron thinks I am. And if I disappoint him, he criticizes me.

Being his maid made me feel like a prisoner. Trapped in this dungeon created by him. I am not literally jailed, but neither am I free. I'm curious whether my housemaids felt the same way before. To work in exchange for freedom.

Strangely, even with a lot of work, there were moments when it was boring. Working on repetitious and monotonous tasks is nothing new to me, but I couldn't seem to find any color in whatever I was doing right now. I'm doing everything because I have to, not because I want to.

I'm not sure if what I'm feeling is typical, or if I'm the only one that feels this way. I understand that people are built for labor. In the same way that birds are meant to fly. And fish are built to swim. But there are moments when I wish I could just sleep all day, travel anywhere I wanted, and enjoy life without worrying about money or other concerns. Life is supposed to be enjoyable...but only for those who are privileged.

In order to survive...

The poor will have to continue toiling in the ground. While the wealthy will just sit on their designated throne and wait for food to be prepared beneath their feet.

The table was spotless when I arrived in the kitchen. There was no food on the table, and there were no dishes in the sink. Montenegro seemed to have cleaned up before leaving. Out of curiosity, my gaze fixed on the trashcan, as that is where he routinely dumps away food that he doesn't like. For some reason, he was finicky about meals, yet he still wanted me to cook for him. That demon is a strange creature.

I pressed the lid and a smirk immediately appeared on my face as I noticed a miracle: the spam I launched at him was the only item in the trashbin and nothing else. It seems like he hasn't thrown away the rest.

It's comforting to know that my efforts aren't in vain. I hope Montenegro maintains this mentality in the future, and that we will be able to work together. We couldn't get along if he was always yelling and insulting us. That would be really impossible. Well, logically speaking, who wants to be shouted at all the time, right? I'm sure no one.

Suddenly my stomach grumbles. And I unconsciously glance at my wristwatch and realize that it's almost 11 o'clock. I feel hungry since I haven't had breakfast yet. Because Sebastian finished the dish. I decided to make a bread toast. I'm too lazy to cook anymore.

Perhaps after I eat, I'll try out some new recipes. Sebastian's refrigerator is brimming with ingredients, and if any of them go to waste, or if my cooking fails, I'll have to do it again. I'm not worried about leaving the fridge empty because Sebastian has plenty of cash to purchase fresh supplies. But, once again, I'm hoping to make it all a success so that the food doesn't go to waste. People are starving and here I am wasting it. It doesn't make sense.

Perhaps if I had studied cooking previously, I would be a better cook now. If only I had known, I would have gotten to this point. I should have prepared ahead of time. And, even if I reach a crossroads in my life, I will be able to withstand it because I am equipped. Well, I was complacent before, and now I'm having a tough time finding out how to simply survive.

Regrets might come late at times.

I savored a slice of toasted bread while contemplating my life. I still have a lot of stuff to learn in order to live. Not everything is easy, as before. Just a call, a complaint will be resolved immediately. My situation has changed now. It's completely different.

I used to be the one who gave orders to others. Now it's my turn to be ordered. I used to be the one who paid my staff. Now I am the one who is getting compensated. There is no such thing as certainty in life. Everything is subject to change. If I had known this before, I would not have been so comfortable.

I heaved a sigh while sipping my coffee. It's still three days before Sunday but I'm already excited, so eager to get out of here. Especially since Isabelle is coming home on Saturday and we plan to bond this week. I'm stressed out at work and need to relax. So, Isabelle's arrival was perfectly timed. I rinsed my spoon and cup after I finished eating. Then I began organizing the kitchen in preparation for my culinary session. And, since I don't have a chef to educate me, I decided to look for videos on YouTube. My one ray of hope.

And since I decided to make chicken afritada. I carefully prepared the ingredients needed while following the step and step tutorials. I'm not quite sure if I had followed everything nor was I confident in my cooking. But there's nothing wrong with trying. Certain of the idea that every chef had also failed once before becoming successful in their field of work. How much more, I, who's not a chef? Never mind, what I said was just a mere excuse to boost my pride. Whether the result of my cooking will taste good or not, what matters is the effort. Sooner, I'm going to learn it anyway. Learning is a process and it does not happen all at once.