Home/I am switching to a ruined archmage family/ch2

Chapter 2

'Oh? If this works out…'

Andy's brief flicker of hope was shattered instantly by the light, mocking laugh that followed. She wiped the tears forming at the corners of her eyes and spoke.

"Well, this is unexpected, isn't it?"

How original. Alexa shook her head and clapped her hands together. Andy's face, momentarily robbed of words, flushed crimson with embarrassment.

"You—you dare mock my pure, sincere feelings?"

But Alexa burst into even louder laughter at his words. She laughed so hard she could barely breathe, for so long that Andy, flustered, actually stepped back.

"Wow, 'pure and sincere.' That's so absurd it's just funny."

“…Have you lost your mind?"

"Good. Why don't you spread that rumor instead?"

"Hey!"

"Keep your voice down. Unless you want everyone to know you got rejected."

"Rejected? Me, rejected?"

He considered himself fairly handsome—women flocked to him, not the other way around. And rejected, of all things? By a lowly maid from some viscount's household, no less?

"It's true, isn't it? You confessed, and I refused."

"Look here. When did you ever say you liked me first?!"

"Me? When have I ever?"

"You did! You started that rumor! That you like me!"

His voice was so loud it echoed through the entire corridor.

'What? That pitiful expression. I'm already busy enough just working—what rumors could I possibly…'

For a moment, Alexa frowned. It seemed impossible, but just in case—just in case—she rummaged through her memory.

"Surely you're not talking about that rumor that I like a man with black hair and blue eyes?"

"See! You remember perfectly well, and yet you pretend not to!"

Alexa let out an involuntary sigh.

Black hair was rare enough to count on one hand in the Kingdom of Chelburg. She'd simply used it as a convenient excuse whenever men confessed to her—just when she was about to forget about it, someone had to bring it up again.

And he wasn't even black-haired.

"Black, not your washed-out conch-shell brown."

"Don't be ridiculous. How many men have you twisted around your finger with that trick? My hair is such a soft, rich black! It's just the light making it look that way."

Alexa turned her head and let out a deep sigh.

No… whether your hair is black or pink or rainbow-colored, it makes absolutely no difference to me.

With a weary face, she spoke without even looking at him.

"Whatever. Don't pretend to know me from now on. I really will go to the butler."

Alexa thrust her already bruised wrist in front of him. For the first time, his eyes wavered noticeably.

Perhaps his pride was wounded that his momentum had been broken—he folded his arms and looked down at her. Then, with a snort, he said,

"This is ridiculous. Just so you don't get the wrong idea—you don't actually think I really like you, do you?"

"Yeah. I don't."

“…Huh?"

"I don't misunderstand."

Oh, what now. He'd probably hoped for hurt feelings or tears, but she had no intention of obliging that expectation. She looked Andy straight in the eye.

"Alexa McDonner, the loose woman. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it—that rumor. That's why you came."

"……"

"But is that all I know?"

For the first time, Alexa stepped forward toward Andy.

"Do you think I don't know what thoughts brought you all the way to me?"

"Th-this is—"

Andy Reewood, as if choked, couldn't utter another word and only let out ragged breaths. He'd been struck at his core, so he had no excuse to offer.

"So you just plucked a handful of wildflowers by the roadside and ran over, didn't you? Because I look easy."

"What's wrong with wildflowers!"

"There's nothing wrong with wildflowers."

She slowly looked down at the roughly torn stems. The flowers, picked with not a shred of sincerity, even had dangling roots on some.

Alexa pointed to one of the blooms with a light gesture.

"Plant that one back. It's fresh enough—it'll grow well."

"Yo—you vulgar wench!"

Alexa scoffed. Ah, so that's what Alexa McDonner is to you lot—loose, easy, and vulgar.

She stepped even closer to Andy Reewood and looked him straight in the eye.

"And yet you still came looking for me, with that very reputation in mind."

With those words, she swept past him. Her footsteps, neither light nor heavy, echoed calmly down the corridor.

The distance between them grew, but Andy Reewood couldn't grab her or do anything else—he just stomped his feet and walked off in the opposite direction.

Only after the sound had faded did Alexa let her shoulders, held high with bravado, slump down.

"Hah…"

Another annoying mess to deal with. That man, who had boasted so confidently as if he'd surely win her over—would he really let today slide? Absolutely not.

He'd add all sorts of absurd embellishments, spin the story to make it seem like he'd been the one to drop her first. He'd go on about how desperately she'd clung to him, how skilled she'd been in bed—he'd patch together tattered lies until she was nothing but a rag.

'Should I have made a bigger scene instead? Let them spread rumors that I'm crazy.'

The sun hadn't even set, and she was already rubbing her tired eyes. It felt like stepping in filth on a perfectly fine walk home.

Ah, I really don't want to go to work tomorrow.

"Why can't people just let me work in peace…"

With her shoulders drooping, she stepped out of Viscount Montello's estate.

---

At Viscount Montello's household, maids were required to live in designated quarters within the mansion—but Alexa was the sole exception, commuting to and from work.

Of course, they didn't grant such requests lightly. A maid could steal valuables and run, or fail to show up for work unexpectedly.

"I'll take thirty percent less pay than the other maids. And I'll let the head maid inspect me every time I leave."

Only after agreeing to those conditions was she permitted to commute.

Walking along, Alexa calculated how much of her living expenses remained for the days ahead.

'Maybe taking thirty percent less was too much of a stretch.'

She shook her head.

It had been a tearful concession, but without it, she wouldn't have found work at all. So she had to be a diligent, meticulous, and quick-working maid—the best she could be.

Of course, the men who had been rejected by Alexa had spread nasty rumors, but her time at the viscount's household hadn't been entirely wasted. Her neat and speedy work had gradually earned recognition from her superiors, and the future was starting to look promising.

'Maybe by next year, I could get a small raise.'

Her gloomy mood seemed to brighten, as if a ray of sunlight had broken through.

Suddenly, Alexa noticed an enormous shadow cast at her feet.

'I'm already here.'

Lost in a whirl of thoughts, she had arrived at her own doorstep without realizing it. She lifted her head and quietly gazed at the mansion.

"No matter how many times I see it, this is truly…"

Ivy climbed the outer walls, and overhanging branches swayed in the wind. The overcast sky, threatening rain, only made the towering mansion seem even more somber.

"It's too big."

It was far too large a residence for a mere maid counting her remaining coins. She'd put it up for sale long ago, given her circumstances, but no one had shown any interest—even at a rock-bottom price.

Unable to do anything with this white elephant, Alexa pushed open the heavy iron gate once again. The rusted hinges let out a spine-chilling screech.

"The gate is the face of the mansion. It must leave a good impression on visitors."

A sudden thought made her snort as she slammed the gate shut. At night, she could barely light a single lamp—where would she find the means to oil a rusty gate?

Annoyed for no good reason, she stomped through what had once been a "garden," now overgrown with wild grass, trampling a path as she went. The fountain, clearly built for show, was caked with old moss like a pattern. She let out a heavy sigh.

"I keep telling you to tidy up the garden."

No matter how many times she nagged, her brother never listened. Seeing it exactly as it was today, Alexa opened the front door with a slightly irritated face.

"James McDonner!"

The moment she snapped his name, a musty smell of dust and a chill washed over her face. Goosebumps rose on her neck, freezing her for a moment, before she shivered and stepped inside.

"Ugh, how is it colder inside than outside?"

All that wasteful, inefficient space—just too big. She rubbed her shoulders as she entered.

Cautiously, she lit a single oil lamp, but it barely made a dent in the vast darkness.

"James!"

She called his name a few more times, but the only response was her own voice echoing through the empty mansion.

Then, Alexa looked up toward the barely visible staircase to the second floor, shrouded in shadow.

Her timid older brother wouldn't be upstairs in an unmaintained area. She couldn't manage this entire mansion on a maid's salary, so she had to let some things go.

She stared, almost entranced, at the dark, shadowed staircase—then quickly turned her head away. A chill seemed to creep up from her feet, and with resolve, she stood before the fireplace.

"I-it's cold. I'll just light a little firewood. It's too cold—can't be helped."

Muttering excuses, she loaded the fireplace with wood. It was so unused that it looked brand new.

She considered pouring a little oil to start the fire faster and reached for the bottle, but seeing how little remained sloshing at the bottom, she put it back down. Resigned, she crumpled some old newspaper and reached for a match.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Just then, a sudden pounding startled her so badly she fell flat on her backside.

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