Ysa scrubbed the wooden floor with a vengeance, her small hands red and raw from the harsh lye soap. Elsa had insisted she learn to clean properly, and Ysa, still smarting from the early morning wake-up call and the meager breakfast of porridge, saw it as yet another form of punishment.
Why is she so mean? she thought, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Nana Maria never made me do chores. She always said I was too young, too precious. But Elsa just wants to keep me busy, so she doesn't have to look at me.
"Ysa," Elsa's voice cut through her thoughts. "You're not scrubbing properly. You need to use more force, get into the corners."
Ysa gritted her teeth, her resentment growing. More force? Does she want me to break my arms? She scrubbed the floor harder, her frustration fueling each stroke.
For a moment, she paused, the memory of her first day in the Montemayor courtyard at Sikka Village creeping into her thoughts. I still remember Elsa saying, "I'll show you to your room. You can rest for a while, and then I'll explain your duties."
Duties? Ysa scoffed inwardly. Scrubbing floors, washing dishes, watering plants—those are my duties? She shook her head, recalling the day Elsa had taught her how to plant vegetables.
"Ysa, you need to learn how to plant vegetables or you'll have nothing to eat," she mimicked, exaggerating Elsa's voice as she absentmindedly mimicked the motions of planting. As if that's the only thing keeping me alive here.
Her hands tightened around the rag, her simmering anger pushing her to scrub even harder.
Oh, Nana! How I miss your gentle care, Ysa thought wistfully.
As she worked, she noticed a small, brown bird fluttering against the windowpane, desperately trying to escape. Ysa paused, her heart going out to the trapped creature. She glanced at Elsa, who was busy mending a tear in a tablecloth.
"Elsa," Ysa said tentatively. "There's a bird trapped in the window."
Elsa looked up, her expression impassive. "Leave it be," she said. "It will find its way out."
Ysa's frustration boiled over. She doesn't even care! she thought. She's just like my parents, cold and heartless. She turned back to her scrubbing, her anger and resentment burning brighter than ever.
By the time Ysa finished her "duties," the sun had already sunk below the horizon, leaving the courtyard bathed in twilight. She straightened up, wincing as her back cracked. "Ugh, I'm starving!" she muttered to herself, pressing a hand to her growling stomach. "I could eat a whole cow."
Dragging her aching feet toward the kitchen, Ysa called out, "Cora! Cora! I'm so hungry! Elsa had me scrubbing the hallway for hours!" She flexed her sore hands, exaggerating the pain. "Look at my hands! They're going to fall off!"
She scanned the kitchen, looking for Cora, but her attention was quickly stolen by the sight of food laid out on the table. Her stomach growled even louder as her mouth watered at the sight of the dishes. Before she could say anything, Cora, appearing from the corner, noticed her gaze and laughed.
"Hahaha! Come, Ysa, eat your fill. I've made all your favorites."
Ysa didn't need to be told twice. She practically threw herself into the chair, grabbing at the food as if it might disappear. "Finally!" she mumbled between bites, her hunger momentarily silencing her complaints. But as soon as she could breathe again, the grumbling returned.
"I swear, Cora, Elsa's trying to kill me with all these chores. Scrubbing floors, washing dishes, watering plants—my whole body hurts!" Ysa groaned, shoveling another spoonful of food into her mouth. "If I hear her tell me to use 'more force' one more time, I might lose it."
Cora watched her eat with a gentle smile, her amusement evident. "Don't mind Elsa too much, Ysa. All these tasks she's giving you are for your own good."
Ysa paused mid-sentence, a forkful of stew halfway to her mouth. Cora's smile was so warm, so genuine. It reminded her of Nana Maria. A flicker of doubt sparked in her mind.
Maybe Cora is right. Maybe Elsa isn't trying to be mean. But the thought was quickly extinguished by the lingering resentment. "Anyway," she continued, shoveling the stew into her mouth, "if I hear her tell me to use 'more force' one more time…" She continued devouring the meal, too hungry to argue further.
Ysa leaned back in her chair, rubbing her stomach with a satisfied sigh. "Ah… I'm so full," she murmured, sinking into the feeling of contentment. "Thank you, Cora, for the delicious meal. You really outdid yourself."
Cora smiled warmly, wiping her hands on her apron. "You always say that when you're hungry, Ysa. But I'm glad you enjoyed it."
Just as Ysa was about to relax into her seat, the kitchen door creaked open, and Elsa appeared, her expression as serious as always.
"Ysa, since you've finished your meal, head to bed early. You'll need to get up early tomorrow to go to the village and buy supplies for the courtyard."
Ysa blinked, caught off guard. "Huh? Me? Why me, Elsa? Isn't that Carol's job to buy the supplies?" Her tone was a mix of surprise and confusion.
Elsa's eyes didn't waver. "Yes, Carol will go with you. But it's important you learn where and from whom we buy in the village. You'll be responsible for this someday."
For a moment, Ysa didn't know what to say. She had expected more scrubbing or planting duties, but this? This felt different. "Oh… okay," she mumbled, still processing the unexpected task.
But as the initial surprise faded, a spark of excitement ignited within her. The village market! she thought, her pulse quickening. She had always wanted to visit the village, to see the bustle of the marketplace, to experience the energy of it all. Maybe this wasn't such a bad chore after all.
She tried to keep her face neutral, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "I'll be ready," she said, her voice more eager than she intended.
Cora caught the change in her tone and chuckled softly. "It seems someone's looking forward to tomorrow."
Ysa shot her a playful glance. "Maybe," she admitted, feeling a little thrill of anticipation bubbling up.