Women sat in a row of chairs lined up in the hallway.
They all wore different clothes and had different appearances, but they each held the same thing in their hands.
‘A job posting flyer…’
Deborah looked again at the flyer she had read so many times that she could almost recite it from memory.
Five hundred crowns.
A regular maid’s monthly wage was about 20 crowns.
But 500 crowns? Even a well-known lady’s grooming maid among the nobles would have trouble getting that much.
‘Sigh…’
Deborah lifted her head and looked up at the ceiling.
Even the ceiling in this mansion was luxurious.
Neither of the two families Deborah had previously worked for had ceilings like this.
‘They even gilded the molding. You’d have to live in a place like this to afford to pay that kind of salary without a care.’
Though she was sitting there waiting for an interview, the truth was that Deborah didn’t want to attend this interview at all.
‘I tried so hard to avoid this… Sigh.’
Deborah thought of Madam Saint, the lady she currently served.
Kind and witty Madam Saint.
That lovely-faced woman had pushed Deborah into this dangerous situation.
‘Of course, Madam probably didn’t know this place was dangerous. She must’ve asked me without knowing. But even though I said I didn’t want to, she insisted.’
If it weren’t for the favor Deborah owed Madam Saint, she would’ve run away long ago.
That’s how badly she wanted to avoid the Baker family.
But what could she do now?
She was already here.
“Next applicant, please come in.”
A handsome footman, whose name she didn’t know, called her in. She had no choice but to enter the interview room.
‘It’ll be fine.’
Although Deborah was attending the interview, she didn’t think she had any chance of getting hired.
There was a good reason for that.
First, the room was full of people.
They were all sitting up straight in trendy clothes.
With so many talented people here, would they really choose her—the one in a plain, dull black dress?
“…Please hand me your resume and recommendation letter.”
Even the footman who took her documents looked at her with curiosity.
There was no way that proud man Zen would choose someone like her.
‘No way.’
Deborah planned to do her best not to embarrass Madam Saint, who had written the recommendation, but she still believed she had no chance of being selected.
‘Definitely not, definitely not…’
Deborah kept whispering it to herself like a self-hypnosis chant.
Though the uneasiness didn’t completely go away, at least she wasn’t so nervous that she was sweating.
“Please have a seat.”
After the footman closed the door, a voice came from behind the partition.
It was low and elegant—but young.
At most, in the mid-twenties?
“Thank you.”
Deborah gave a polite nod and sat in the lone chair in the center of the wide room.
‘Nice chair.’
While enjoying the softness of the chair, Deborah watched as the footman handed her documents to the man behind the partition.
Then the footman left the room, and the interviewer behind the screen let out a displeased sigh.
“What is your relationship with the person who wrote your recommendation?”
Deborah didn’t understand why he was already annoyed, but she wasn’t naïve enough to be hurt by someone being rude right from the start.
“I’ve worked at Madam Saint’s villa for about a year.”
“Madam Saint? Is that what you call her?”
The man’s tone was clearly unpleasant, as if he planned to argue about everything.
But Deborah focused more on his words than his tone.
‘What else should I call her? What do you call the bourgeois class?’
If someone had a noble title, of course it would be polite to use it.
But this lady, who lived in a tiny house too small for a noble, had asked to be called “Madam Saint.”
And Deborah had memorized the noble directory by heart—there was no surname “Saint” in it.
“I just did as Madam asked.”
“Hah, so you’re saying you didn’t know the person you called Madam Saint was actually the Marchioness of Forea?”
Deborah’s hands, folded politely in her lap, flinched slightly.
‘Marchioness of Forea? Madam Saint was?’
Though her mind was spinning, Deborah kept her calm.
“I didn’t know. Are you really saying she’s the Marchioness of Forea?”
“Hah. Isn’t that just what you’re supposed to say?”
The interviewer didn’t seem to believe she hadn’t known such an important fact.
At his sharp remark, suggesting she was pretending not to know, Deborah answered calmly.
“I truly didn’t know.”
“…Anyway, let’s move on from that.”
When the man stopped speaking, she heard the sound of water being gulped down, followed by the clink of a glass on a table.
Right now, the name “Baker” was just starting to become known.
But the future Zen Baker, who would make most nobles bow their heads, would never drink water so noisily.
So this man must be…
‘Maybe he’s the butler?’
Just as Deborah tried to remember the butler’s name, the man’s voice returned, and she focused again.
“Hah. Your resume is quite impressive. You speak four languages… Was your dream to become a tutor?”
“No.”
“I thought most educated women wanted to teach children from wealthy families.”
“I never went to school.”
“Then how did you learn all this?”
The interviewer spoke in a mocking tone.
Deborah replied without flinching.
“My first employers were from Geman, so I learned their language. And Madam Saint, who was kind to me, taught me many things.”
“Hah. Lucky you. It’s rare for a lifelong maid to get that kind of education.”
Despite his sharp voice, Deborah smiled softly.
“I think I was lucky too.”
“Yes, well, not so lucky today.
I’m not looking for a smart maid who speaks many languages.
I’m looking for one with a good sense of beauty who’s skilled at grooming.”
Deborah clenched her fists—not from anger, but from joy.
‘So I really didn’t make it.’
She felt sorry toward Madam Saint, but Deborah was relieved.
“Huu.”
The interviewer tapped the recommendation letter with his finger and sighed.
“Still, since your reference is a respected lady, I’ll ask a few more things. Do you know the current noble registry?”
“Yes.”
“You answered right away. You must be very confident. Even though you didn’t know Madam Saint was the Marchioness of Forea.”
Deborah gave a slightly awkward smile.
She agreed with his words—how could she have missed that?
“What operas are currently showing in the capital?”
“At the Royal Theater, Madame Sella.
At Ocel Grand Theater, Braum’s Minstrel.
At Triumph Theater, Wings of Prianna are showing, as far as I know.”
“…”
The man looked at her resume again.
She was from Burmers, a small seaside town in the east—an extremely rural place.
And yet she knew the opera listings in the capital that well?
‘I guess this is something she could’ve crammed for.’
The man lifted his chin and asked:
“Do you know what Braum’s Minstrel is about?”
“I know a little.”
“The main character?”
“A fairy named Jean who lives in the minstrel’s old guitar.”
The man raised one eyebrow in displeasure, crossed his legs in the other direction, and asked:
“Let’s say Countess Babara and Viscountess Crim both sent dinner party invitations to your lady on the same day.
Which one would you suggest she attend?”
“…”
Deborah had expected questions about opera, since popular operas often influenced how noble ladies dressed.
But this question caught her off guard—usually butlers handled such matters.
‘Still, it’s not an impossible question. Famous grooming maids often know about noble connections too.’
The man smirked when Deborah, who had answered everything smoothly until now, went silent.
“Can’t answer?”
“Yes. That’s a difficult question for me.”
“What’s so difficult about it?”
“Countess Babara and Viscountess Crim are sisters with a good relationship, as far as I know.
If they’re holding parties on the same day, wouldn’t it be a joint party?”
The arrogant smile disappeared from the man’s face.
‘She knows that much?’
Of all the women he had interviewed so far, none had answered like this.
Just then, the annoying smile of Madam Saint came to mind, and he held his pounding head.
“How did you get here?”
He spoke in Geman.
Deborah smiled slightly, happy to hear Geman again.
“By train. Ah, and I took a carriage to this mansion.
The hotel I’m staying at is a bit far to walk.”
As she answered comfortably in Geman, the man’s headache grew worse.
‘What kind of woman is this?’
Lifting his chin again, he spoke to the woman beyond the partition, whose figure was barely visible behind oiled paper.
“I wonder who the Geman couple you served were.
How bored must they have been to teach a maid their language?”
He was ready to call her ungrateful if she said she had taught herself—anything to find a flaw and reject her, who was probably tied to the Marchioness.
Deborah was silent for a moment.
Then she carefully opened the box of old, dusty memories in her mind.
After searching for something good, she recalled the smiling face of Madam Heather and answered with a faint, bitter smile.
“…The Heathers were good people.
Especially Madam Heather, who treated the servants with kindness and humor.
Thanks to her, I have many good—”
Crash!
The sound of a glass shattering cut through the room.
Then came the loud clatter of a table falling.
Deborah’s bitter smile vanished instantly.
‘What the—!’
She placed a hand on her chest and only looked up once the noise had completely stopped.
Then, above the partition—taller than most men—a man’s face appeared, his golden hair slicked back with pomade.
He was so handsome that even the best artist couldn’t fully capture his cold beauty.
“…”
His eyes shook like the floor had collapsed under him.
That expression didn’t suit such a frighteningly handsome face.
And as Deborah looked at him, she prayed inwardly with urgency.
‘Why did You make me face him?’
Deborah was certain.
This man.
This man is the main character of this cursed story.
