Episode 7 : CRASH
897 Words
I was so screwed.
The second I heard that sharp voice echo from across the hall, I swear my soul almost left my body.
“Oh no, that’s Miss Pen,” Timothy muttered beside me, and my stomach sank.
Great. Just great. The queen of rules and lectures was heading our way—and I was dead meat.
I barely had time to say goodbye before I rushed toward her, my steps heavy with dread. Miss Pen stood there, arms crossed, her stare sharp enough to slice through skin.
“Amelia, I’ve been looking all over the mansion for you,” she said, calm but clearly pissed. “And you’re here? Of all places? You know you’re not allowed to be down here.”
“I—I didn’t know,” I mumbled.
She huffed, turned around, and started walking back without another word. “You’ve only been here for a day, and you’re already breaking rules. Come with me. You need to prepare Master Ryou’s lunch.”
I silently followed her, head down like a scolded puppy. The shame was hot on my face, and honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I was suddenly so drawn to this place. Everything was new to me. The mansion. The rules. Him.
When we reached the sliding doors, Miss Pen suddenly froze.
“Master Ryou…” she whispered, and my heart dropped.
I peeked from behind her and there he was—Ryoushin. Towering, brooding, looking like he just walked out of a Vogue mafia edition. His brows were pulled together, jaw tight. But it wasn’t Miss Pen he was glaring at. It was me.
Why me again?
“I apologize, Master. I’ll take care of her. She won’t cause any more trouble,” Miss Pen said, gripping my arm as she bowed her head respectfully. I let her drag me out of there like a ragdoll, too embarrassed to look up.
She didn’t stop until we got to the servant’s hall. She finally let go of my arm and sighed in frustration.
“Do you realize you could lose this job because of what you did?” she snapped.
I stayed quiet, my fingers nervously fidgeting. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. Great, now I was the new girl and the screw-up.
“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” I muttered. “I just didn’t know.”
“You should’ve stayed in the areas I told you to. Ground floor only, Amelia. You’re not allowed upstairs unless you’re delivering something. Do you understand?”
I nodded so fast it almost gave me whiplash. She softened slightly and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m only saying this because I know you need this job. So don’t give them a reason to send you away. Work smart and follow the rules. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise, it won’t happen again,” I said, meaning every word.
A chef rolled in a trolley of food just then. My heart skipped. Right. Lunch delivery.
Miss Pen gave me one last warning look. “After this, head straight back to the maid’s quarters. You’ll be fitted for your uniform.”
“Okay,” I whispered, already feeling the anxiety crawl up my chest.
I pushed the trolley toward the stairs. As soon as I reached the landing, I carefully picked up the tray. It had soup—hot, obviously—and I didn’t want to wear it all over my uniform.
As I walked through the second-floor hallway, I couldn’t help but notice the strange decor—thorny vines twisted along the wall like something out of a gothic painting. This mansion really was something else.
I stopped in front of Ryoushin’s door and knocked three times.
“Lunch is here, M—Master,” I said, nearly forgetting what I was supposed to call him.
I twisted the doorknob and stepped inside. The room looked empty. No sign of him. He was probably in the bathroom or behind the sliding panel that led to the other room. I didn’t waste time. I placed the tray on the coffee table, trying to be as quiet as possible.
“Crap!” I hissed as a bit of soup spilled on my wrist. It stung, but I bit my lip and kept going.
I noticed the tray I had brought earlier was still there—barely touched. I stacked the remaining dishes and started arranging them back on the cart when the sliding door behind me creaked open.
And there he was.
Ryoushin.
He stepped out, barefoot, wearing a plain white shirt and gray shorts. His tattoos wrapped around his arm like wild ink flames, trailing all the way to the back of his hand. I hadn’t noticed them earlier. I guess I’d been too distracted by his eyes. His presence. His mystery.
He was on a call, his tone cold and clipped.
“Tell Mr. Fuentes I’m not accepting the invitation. No reason needed. And tell him to stop pestering me, Lorenzo.”
Mr. Fuentes?
Wait—was he talking about... Dad?
The tray in my hands slipped.
CRASH.
Plates and bowls shattered all over the floor, loud enough to end a war. My heart stopped. His head turned slowly in my direction, his eyes locking onto mine like a sniper.
Shit. I was doomed. Again.
- Writer
