Chapter 11

Somewhere in Ainsworth Manor, a boy around 11 years old, standing at 160 cm, dressed in a black suit with a bow tie at his collar, was pouring tea into a cup. That boy? Me. Across from me, a rich young lady giggled, clearly pleased with the scene.

"Pfft~ Are you sure? Why not just agree to it? You heard the sum of money Grandpa offered, didn't you?"

"Shut it, Rita."

"What did you say? Should I remind you of your position? You're my butler, so act with proper manners. Now, repeat after me..." Rita grinned, savoring the moment. "*My apologies, my Lady.*"

I sighed. "My apologies, my Lady."

"Ummmu~" She nodded, her face beaming with satisfaction. "Apology accepted. Now, pour me some more tea."

She wasn't wrong. I had promised I'd do anything as her reward, without giving any specifics. As a man of pride, I don't break agreements. It was my own fault for underestimating this brat and forgetting that she wasn't just any rich young lady.

---

Two days had passed, and my job as Rita's personal butler continued.

The first two days were exhausting. Most of the time, I just followed Rita around, sticking to her schedule. I learned that being a butler basically means doing chores elegantly like American Psycho.

This morning, I woke up in the manor again. I'd slept here before, but every time I did, I couldn't help but feel how rich I become, um, mentally. The manor was grand, but honestly, I preferred modern housing over this old-school luxury.

"Yawn~"

Knock. Knock.

It was 5 a.m., and someone was already knocking on my door? Opening it, I found an irritated Rita standing there.

"Rita? What do you want?"

"Aren't you my butler?" she asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Uh-huh."

"Don't uh-huh me. Aren't you supposed to be waking me up?" she said, reminding me of the absurd schedule she had given me.

"Oh! Right. Good morning, my Lady. How was your sleep? But don't you need more sleep?" I smirked as I ruffled her hair.

"You bastard! I'm your mistress! Stop teasing me!"

"Okay, okay. What's next? Let me check…" I walked to my desk, grabbed the schedule, and read, "'At 5:00 a.m., wake up the lady and brush her hair. Prepare her breakfast.' You're old enough to brush your own hair though. Why do you need a butler for that? It's really takes me back when I still 12 month old, I went to the bathroom by myself," I sigh, "Tch. Tch. Kids these days."

"Huh? Who want to listen to that rediculous story? Just do your job," She handed me a comb and sat on my messy bed, "Hurry up, brush my hair!"

I hummed and started brushing her long, blonde hair.

"Grandpa says you're some kind of genius, right? So why are you so bad at using a horse?" she asked, not holding back her amusement.

"Not everyone can afford a horse, genius."

"Hm, makes sense. But why are you bad at basic things like cutting an onion?"

"I'm not Gordon Ramsay."

"Huh? You don't need Gordon Ramsay skills to cut an onion, Masamune."

"True, I hate it because it makes my eyes sweat."

"Pfft~ why so weak? Because of you, I ended up cooking by myself. Do I really need an incompetent butler?"

"Good call, my Lady."

"Calling me Lady... you really hate this, huh? You should be grateful, spending time with a gorgeous beauty like me is priceless."

"Eww. But maybe I'll call you that when you're older…"

She stood up suddenly, looking at me with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Really?" Then she smiled shyly. "Will you wait for me?" A soft blush crossed her face. "Just kidding~ I'm still beautiful without your validation." Her confidence returned in full force.

"Well, I think I agree with that, my Lady. You are indeed beautiful."

She blushed even deeper, her body language betraying her. "T-that! Ahem! I mean, of course I am. Ahaha~ finally, you recognize it, Masamune. Not that I care. It's just… so corny."

Despite her words, I could tell she was pleased.

After brushing her hair, she decided to spend some time studying, while I went for a jog around the manor park. After a shower and a quick review of my work, I had breakfast with Rita before heading to school at 8 a.m.

Normally, she pick up Mashiro on the way, but she was still in Paris for her painting exhibit. So, when I stepped out of Rita's car at school parking lot, I immediately felt the stares. Some students were curious, others, mostly the guys, were glaring.