Michael slept soundly through the night, waking refreshed in his soft single bed. For the first time in recent memory, he had allowed himself to be completely vulnerable—without fear of danger.
His eyes scanned the room. Sunlight filtered in through the open windows, casting warm golden rays across the simple yet tidy space. Aside from the bed, there was an old but well-maintained desk and a sturdy wooden chair beneath a hanging lantern.
Though the room was smaller than the one he'd had at the Aurelius estate, it was far better than sleeping on the streets, which had been his original plan.
"Good morning, sunshine!" The door swung open without warning.
Shirley stepped in, wearing her usual black dress and white apron, a bright smile on her face.
"M-Morning," Michael replied, sitting up abruptly.
Unfazed, Shirley entered the room holding a wooden platter stacked with food—eggs, crispy bacon strips, and freshly baked bread that still steamed in the morning air. The rich aroma hit him immediately, causing his nose to twitch as he inhaled deeply.
But just as he reached toward it, Shirley pulled the platter closer to her chest, her expression unreadable.
"Just so you know, you're already late for work," she said flatly.
"Ah—damn it! I overslept?" Michael's eyes widened in panic, a knot forming in his stomach. Had he already messed up before even starting his first day?
A second later, Shirley burst into laughter and stuck out her tongue teasingly. "Just kidding! Lady Winterborne told me to let you sleep in this morning."
Michael blinked, momentarily stunned.
This woman is so carefree, he thought, amused.
She was nothing like the stiff, cold servants at the Aurelius estate. But he didn't mind. For the first time in what felt like forever, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Ah! You smiled!" Shirley gasped, almost dropping the tray in surprise.
"Can I not smile when I'm happy?" Michael replied, deciding to tease her back.
Shirley laughed again and finally placed the platter on the desk. "Eat your breakfast. I'll come fetch you when you're done."
She ruffled his hair before heading out, leaving him with a serious case of bedhead—but Michael didn't mind. In fact, he felt warm inside.
Letting out a deep stretch, he rolled out of bed and took a seat at the desk. His gaze drifted to the window, where the estate's well-maintained gardens greeted him.
Outside, numerous servants moved about with practiced ease, using a mix of magic and tools to water the flower beds and trim the hedges. It was a scene he'd seen countless times before—but this time, it felt different.
The servants looked genuinely happy.
One of the gardeners was whistling a cheerful tune as he trimmed a hedge with precise, fluid movements, not a leaf left out of place. Another was humming along, entirely absorbed in her task.
Compared to the Aurelius estate, it was like night and day.
Michael watched in silence, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Even if he hadn't seen the Lord and Lady's kindness the night before, the demeanor of the staff alone told him everything. This place was different.
Here, people were treated like people.
For once, Michael found himself looking forward to life in a harmonious household.
Harmonious? he scoffed inwardly, recalling Melody Winterborne. Given how hostile the young miss had been toward him, calling the household harmonious might've been a stretch.
I just hope she doesn't cause any problems for me…
Shaking off the thought, Michael turned his focus back to the meal in front of him. The egg yolk was perfectly runny, the bacon slightly crisp—just the way he liked it.
He tore off a piece of warm, fresh bread and used it to scoop up the egg and bacon, chewing slowly as the rich flavors spread across his tongue. By the time he finished, only the tough edge of the crust remained, too hard for his teeth to manage in their current condition.
"You're done? Good. Grab your plate—I'll take you to the kitchen. You're on cleanup duty," Shirley announced as she barged through the door, leaving no room for protest.
The rest of the day was a whirlwind.
Shirley dragged him from one chore to another: from the kitchen to the laundry, the gardens to the guest rooms, and even a short shift manning the front door. By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, Michael was utterly spent.
Seeing his exhausted state, Shirley gave him a satisfied nod. "You've done well, young Michael," she said, genuinely impressed. "I'm surprised you managed to keep up."
Michael offered a weary smile, though inside, he was stunned. He'd never looked down on maids or servants, but he hadn't realized just how hard they worked—or how long.
It had been nearly twelve hours since he'd woken up, and they'd only been allowed a short break during midday.
I'm going to need to build up my stamina… or I might not survive this.
"What time does work usually finish?" he asked, trying not to sound too desperate.
Shirley chuckled, clearly amused by the question. "Don't worry, we all have our own shifts and assigned duties. Days like today, where you try every job, won't happen again. I imagine Vaughn will assign you your permanent role tomorrow."
"Vaughn? Who's that?" Michael asked.
"He's the estate manager," she explained. "He's in charge of all of us. Don't worry—he's a good guy, even if he's a bit… eccentric."
"I see…" Michael murmured, resisting the urge to adjust his collar.
He wore the standard black uniform of the male servants, but since his personal set hadn't been tailored yet, the fit was awkward and scratchy. Shirley had scolded him more than once throughout the day for fidgeting.
"So… when do I finish today?" he asked eventually.
"Oh, you finished about ten minutes ago," Shirley admitted, flashing him a cheeky grin. "But I made you stay a little longer since you got to sleep in this morning."
Michael blinked in disbelief, but before he could respond, her infectious laughter echoed down the hallway.
He was just about to speak when the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention.
He turned—only to shrink back a step.
Melody Winterborne was walking toward him. Her long blue hair was braided neatly over one shoulder, and her porcelain-doll features were set in a deep frown, as if she'd just tasted something unpleasant.
Why did it have to be her…