Two people, not one, visited after the first assassin had come.
The behavior pattern was also a little different before, but it must have been because they must’ve been asked to deal with a higher-level threat than previously.
This was probably a real assassination.
The sharp edge of the dagger flew at my neck. I rolled out of bed and trampled over the assassin who’d fallen unconscious at my feet.
Another thin dagger flew towards me at that moment.
I reached out and grabbed the blade of the first one as I rushed to the second assassin. As the handle dug into the inside of his left eye, a painful breath burst out of the mouth of the skilled assassin.
I tried to be as quiet as possible, but it became a little noisy since there were two opponents. The second assassin, who staggered to his feet, took a sharp breath.
“What are you…”
I hit him on the head and knocked him out.
I expected it, but it bothered me anyway. Did they send two people because they lost contact with the first one?
“Should I call this stupid or efficient?”
From the mouths and sleeves of the two visitors, I took out the suicide pills that now felt friendly to the touch. Does this make a total of six ‘Bite of Mercy’?
It happened to be the same number as the executives of the merchant association. As expected, this mess is piling up. I must inform the assassin-butler of this properly.
What should I do?
My agony was short-lived and I took swift action.
I decided to send these two assassins to the assassin-butler. No matter how much I thought about it, that was the best move to make.
“But what about the next assassins?”
I can’t keep sending them to assassin-butler.
Once I opened the window and dropped my two-pieces of baggage out of it, I stepped on the ground myself. It was raining outside.
Suddenly, I remembered the flowerpot I’d put on the porch’s stairs.
Contrary to what I’d initially thought, I was getting a little worried since nothing had sprouted from the pot yet in these few days. I got a little excited at the thought of seeing little leaves grow because of the rain.
Now, if we go over two fences…
“What the hell are you doing, Ms. Daisy?”
As soon as I turned around, I made eye contact with the head maid standing in front of the back door.
She crumpled her cigarette butts and threw it in the can before looking at my baggage with her round eyes.
“Who are they?”
This is too obvious. There’s no way out!
“They’re assassins, spies.”
“Did you handle them all by yourself?”
I couldn’t bear to answer the question. The maid, who had been tapping her chin several times as if confused, sighed.
“When are they going to get up”
“In about…3 to 4 hours…”
“I see. Follow me.”
I followed the maid into the mansion obediently.
‘What will happen to me now? Will I get fired?’
I’m finally getting used to working as a maid. Where would I go if I get kicked out of here?
But why should I be fired? I didn’t do anything wrong. Is it a crime to be strong?
“To me, Miss Daisy means a lot.”
I widened my eyes and looked at the head maid.
The back of the maid’s head, as we climbed the stairs leading to the second floor, was as calm and neat as when we met during the day.
“You’re the first person to hold out at Weatherwood’s mansion for more than a week. But I found out only today why you’re the first one. I want to say thank you.”
“As I thought, the head maid wasn’t aware of the threats that the maids here experienced?”
However, it is somewhat strange to pass it over.
Shouldn’t the head maid be the most important target for the client who sent the assassins?
Why didn’t the assassin threaten the head maid?
The maid stopped walking in front of a bedroom door on the second floor.
I am unfamiliar with this door. it is because this is none other than the door of the bedroom of Viscount Weatherwoods.
“Will you see your master, Miss Daisy?”
All of a sudden?
The maid smiled a little bitterly when I tilted my head in surprise.
“I thought you’d be fine with it. Of course, the choice is up to you. You may see your master, or you may not…”
I looked at the maid with the eyes of the most faithful maid ever.
I’ll meet Viscount Weatherwoods. Then I’ll become closer to the Weatherwoods.
I’ll be appointed as a maid of the Weatherwoods for life. You can’t fire me when it’s for life!
I can beat up spies, and I won’t be cut off.
“I’ll see him under any condition.”
This was an opportunity given to me by heaven. No, the head maid.
And I had no intention to shrug off the opportunity of being able to sleep comfortably in a bed without going hungry for three years.
“I’ll definitely see him.”
“You’ll say ‘Nice to meet you.’ there are some things you should be aware of. There are certain conditions to meeting the master. You must swear to me that you will not divulge information about your master to anyone.”
Wait, do you mean an oath? Like the oath that makes sure that one carries out their promise or goal?
A faint, precipitated gaze stared at me. The Head maid whispered to me in her characteristic quiet and calm voice.
“The oath here is a promise to each other’s souls…it’s part of magic. It is not recorded in speech or writing, but in both of the people’s souls. Even if it sounds like nothing, should you break it, there will be a big penalty.”
There is only one penalty for an oath imprinted on the soul.
“Yes, I thought you would know of it. It’s a terrible condition, isn’t it?”
“Then who will bind the oath?”
“I’ll bind it to you myself.”
She is right. It is very repugnant.
Not the conditions set to meet Viscount Weatherwoods, but the head maid herself.
‘You know how to bind an oath?’
Magic is a kind of sport.
There is a limit to the wall that can be climbed with effort and perseverance, and after reaching a certain level, it becomes a sport that you must compete in with natural talent and wit.
However, magic was the rarest one to be possess of all the sports that required talent.
In the first place, it was not common to be able to use magic, so even if you were average at it, it was possible to make a living that lasted through generations.
The magic-treatment hospital and the magic tools workshops, which each neighborhood has at least one of, were usually life-long workplaces for them.
The oath spell itself belongs to a low-level magic with small difficulty.
But whether they are low-ranking or not, a wizard is still a wizard.
All wizards are given special additional points in the process of hiring civil servants. It meant that even if you are incompetent as a bug, you can live well on the national treasury.
‘A wizard is working as a mere maid. I wonder if that’s why she wasn’t killed by an assassin? She set a trap.’
A family that is frequently visited by assassins.
A family connected to the legacy of Dian Cecht.
A family which hires wizards as maidservants.
The Weatherwoods…certainly a suspicious place.
“Give me your arm.”
I rolled up my sleeve and held out my arm as requested.
A total of two lines were drawn on the underside of my forearm. All of them were traces of oaths carved from my days of living as Andert.
“…are these all from oaths?”
An oath is imprinted on the soul, not on the body.
So even if my body returned from a man’s to a woman’s, the traces of the oath engraved on my existence itself will not disappear.
The traces of the oath cannot be erased by any transformation magic, and can only be covered. The easiest magic had the strongest power.
“Miss Daisy, what the hell have you been doing all this time?”
I turned my eyes away, as if not hearing her, and the maid just shook her head. Soon a line of oath appeared on the arm she held out.
The two arms touched like one. A spirit-like feeling drifted between us.
The maid whispered to me.
“I ask you to swear it. ‘Do not reveal anything secret about the Weatherwoods family.’ that is the condition, do you agree?”
A long red-line drew in the air.
The line, which raged like a flame, soon fell slowly over our arms.
The touch to the skin was burning hot.
The line, which burned the skin mercilessly, was soon engraved like a tattoo and permeated into the soul.
I’ve felt it every time I’ve done this, but it is still an unpleasant situation.
Shortly after the maid gave a long sigh, the bedroom door opened.
The bedroom was dark. Even a handful of moonlight rays hidden behind dark clouds were not allowed to enter the room with the densely covered blackout curtains over the windows.
The maid who lit a lamp next to the bed beckoned me.
“Come up close and set the table, Miss Daisy.”
Why is this room so dark and quiet?
Why doesn’t this room feel like a room where people live in?
Why can’t I feel the presence of someone else besides me and the maid in this room?
Why doesn’t Viscount Weatherwood even ask why the maids have come to visit him at such a late hour?
Faced with so many questions I had to force myself to swallow, I turned to Viscount Weatherwoods on the bed.
“This is the head and master of our Weatherwoods family.”
Viscount Weatherwoods, I mean…
“The owner, Viscount Grey Weatherwoods.”
It was an egg.
2 thoughts on “PLOM Chapter 12”
excuse me I think I misread the end how does “an egg”??!
Most normal person in Midwinterre