Just A Year

Rhys's POV “Good afternoon, Uncle Rhys!” the triplets chuckled as they took their seats at our serving table in the restaurant. What can I say? It was practically their possession anyway. It was my last day seeing their humorous faces, so I definitely wasn't going to shout at them to make room for the customers. “What may I serve for you, my ladies?” I jeered, and they burst into laughter. Their smiles broke my heart. If poverty hadn't forced me into this, I wouldn't have had any reason to leave home. Who could I blame? “The best menus coming right up,” I said, reaching for the dishes to serve my cuties. The vibrant atmosphere of the restaurant felt strangely empty that night. Grandmother and Grandfather kept advising me nonstop. Actually, it was Grandmother more than Grandfather. “We'll pray for you. This time, it will be in your favour.” “Claudia is already sending so much money to her parents. I trust Putideal.” That was the name of the matchmaking app. I didn't have much to pack since we had always managed with the little we had. So, most of my remaining time was spent listening to Grandmother's endless counsel before I finally took a nap. Very early the next morning, I took the first bus to Elta. Elta was the country's biggest city, filled with conglomerates owned by chaebols with immense wealth and influence. It wasn't a city for the poor. In fact, the poor who lived there were mostly servants, maids, and workers. Meanwhile, Wudo was the poorest and smallest village in the country—and that was where I proudly lived. I couldn't believe I was actually going to live in Elta. Not among the poor this time, but in a better life where I could finally provide for my family. Perhaps the triplets would have a better life. Maybe we'd own a car, get a better house, and finally stop worrying about every little expense. My imagination ran wild. After I arrived, I called the number that had been given to me. A luxurious car, almost the size of a bus, came to pick me up. I couldn't believe I had lived long enough to experience something like that. The interior was exquisite, like something straight out of a movie, and the cool air from the air conditioner felt like nothing that had ever touched me in my life. I was expecting to meet the young woman I was going to marry, but instead, I was confronted by an elderly man and woman. I assumed they were her parents. “Read and sign here if everything is okay with you,” the woman said. I glanced through the contract.We were going to be a couple for just one year, but I was going to benefit a lot from it. Why did rich people even do this? I pondered for a moment. “Listen up, young man,” the woman warned. “You cannot—and should not, in your miserable life—think you are entitled to involve any emotions in this marriage. Because the day you do, you die.” She gave me a threatening look. “The wedding will hold tomorrow,” the man added, waving at one of the servants. I was taken on a massive shopping spree. I even received a beautiful, gigantic accommodation. Where was my wife-to-be? I wondered about it for a while, but then remembered that I shouldn't care. So, I simply took a long, relaxing shower, changed into my pyjamas, and fell asleep. It was the first morning I had woken up without feeling an ache in my body. A servant helped me get ready for my wedding. That was when I finally met the bride. Cameras and reporters were all over the place, recording every moment. It felt ordinary until we came out of the court. “Could you really mingle with a poor and faceless citizen?” “Why, then, were you so rude with your ruling?” “Do you feel apologetic for deeming that young man guilty simply because he was poor?” The reporters rushed toward my bride. She seemed to be a celebrity. Of course, she should be, considering the kind of wealth her parents controlled. Some huge men pushed the reporters back, and we managed to get into the car. It was on our way home that I became curious about what the reporters were saying after catching a glimpse of it on a street television. “You are likely guilty, especially since you are poor.” The woman sitting beside me had said those words in court. I stared at her. She looked calm but I could sense the rude and cold attitude radiating from her. “Those fools won't stop running their mouths until I destroy them all.” She threw her shoes carelessly onto the floor when we arrived home. The servants all left, and I wasn't surprised. It was included in the contract that I would become her servant while being her husband. It didn't sound like a big deal to me. I had grown up in a world where men served their women. My late father had treated my late mother that way, and my grandfather had always listened to my grandmother. I made my way to the kitchen to prepare a meal for us. It was delicious rice, vegetables and stew with lots of chicken. When I served the food, she was sleeping. “What is your problem?” she barked at me for interrupting her sleep. “Lunch is served, my lady.” I bowed. “What do you know when you don't even know how unethical it is to disturb a woman's peace? Take your damn food away.” She hissed and lay back down to sleep. I guess I had to put up with it if I was going to achieve everything I had ever dreamed of. One year was a long time... but the reward was convincing enough. When she finally woke up to eat, she rejected the food and turned me into a baker. I had to learn quickly. Thanks to the new smartphone they had gotten for me, I could at least search for recipes. She was working on her laptop when I finished preparing the snack. I didn't say a thing because I didn't know how she would react. I simply served it beside her. “Do you even have a catering degree?” she asked. “No, my lady,” I replied. “Do you want to kill me, then?” she asked without even tasting the pastry. That made two meals wasted in one day. I wasn't even allowed to store anything in the fridge unless she approved it. So, the little food I could quickly shove into my tummy became my only consolation. Late that night, my phone rang. I guessed my people were already missing me, even though I had called them when I arrived before calling the number I had been given for the pickup. “Uncle Rhys?” A tiny voice came from the other end, and I immediately recognized it as Ivy's. “Why are you calling this late at night, Ivy?” I asked but then she started crying. I could hear the cries of her sisters in the background too, and my smile disappeared. “Grandma won't wake up,” Ivy whispered. “What do you mean? Where's Grandpa?” “He's not back from work yet,” Iris spoke this time, her little voice trembling. “Could you please come back home?” “Come on, cuties. Try waking her up properly,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Grandma always wakes up even with the slightest tap." Ida's tiny voice came through the phone. “Grandma!” For some reason, I screamed the word into the phone as if she could hear me from wherever I was...but there was no answer.