Tsunade's turnabout was a full one hundred and eighty degrees. Her attitude toward Rakuya became so deferential it nearly scraped the heavens.
Of course, there was one reason and one reason only. Money. Or more precisely, money to feed her gambling habit.
"Master, when do I get paid?"
She was already buried under a mountain of debt. Just thinking about it gave her a headache.
"End of every month. We settle the wages then," Rakuya said with a snap of his fingers.
"Words are wind. I want it in writing."
She stopped kneading, straightened, and looked him square in the eye.
"In writing?" Rakuya tilted his head, playing dumb.
"Give me paper and a pen. I will draft a receipt. You sign and stamp it. Do you dare?"
She stepped closer with a pitiful look. If he said one wrong word, he had no doubt she would switch faces and swing.
"What would I not dare? Write."
Momousagi brought paper and pen in a flash and handed them over.
Tsunade accepted them, frowned in thought, then began scribbling at speed. She wrote for quite a while. When she was done, she passed the sheet to Rakuya.
He chuckled. What could this little princess possibly do to him? He dropped his gaze to the receipt.
"…What the…"
His face darkened at the number staring back at him.
"To serve Master Liuyun as a maid, base salary ten million per month. As I am a princess of the Senju, of noble status, making the bed, pouring tea, shoulder rubs and back pats all receive bonus pay.
"One: Making the bed. This princess has never made a bed. Starting price five hundred thousand per instance. Two times per day equals one million. Three times per day equals one point five million. For reasons of propriety between the sexes, add thirty thousand per day, ninety thousand per month. Minimum monthly subtotal: three point nine million.
"Two: Folding quilts. This princess has never folded a quilt. Starting price five hundred thousand per instance. Once per day equals five hundred thousand. Twice per day equals one million. For reasons of propriety between the sexes, add thirty thousand per day, ninety thousand per month. Minimum monthly subtotal: two point four million.
"Three: Shoulder rubs and back pats. This is close contact with the Master and something this princess has never done. Ten thousand per minute, six hundred thousand per hour, with time extensions and a Princess Dignity Fee. Not everyone qualifies for the privilege of being kneaded by a princess.
"Four: …"
"Five: …"
"Additional clause: If the Master develops improper thoughts and flirts with me, a penalty of one million per incident will be levied.
"Since the Master earlier grabbed this princess by the arm, which constitutes teasing, this is an official warning with a two million fine."
"All payments will be settled in full on the thirtieth of each month. No arrears."
"Employee: Tsunade."
"Client: Liuyun."
Tsunade had already signed. The line for the client's signature was blank, waiting for Rakuya.
"You robbing me?" Rakuya's forehead went black. Ten million a month had somehow been inflated several times over by Tsunade's pen. At this rate he would be burning through a hundred million every month. He almost spat blood.
Even Celestial Dragons did not keep maids this high maintenance.
For a second he felt like he was blowing money even worse than they did.
"This is the receipt. Sign if you agree. If not, then there is nothing I can do," Tsunade said, arms crossed, certain she had him.
People always said women could be ruthless. Rakuya could now testify. This woman and Nami were cut from the same cloth, both loving money more than life. Give them a chance, and they would squeeze you dry.
Try to squeeze me?
Not a chance.
Rakuya's eyes flashed. Not only is the money mine, you are too. You want to take anything out of my hands? Dream on.
"Well? Sign or not?"
"Sign. What would I not sign?" He scrawled his name with a show of irritation.
Seeing it done, Tsunade's eyes shone. She snatched the IOU and tucked it away like a treasure.
Rakuya's mouth tugged into a wicked smile.
You think you will ever see a coin of it?
By the time I am done, you will not only get no money, you will be mine as well.
"Master, your waist and legs must be sore. Allow me to knead them."
She moved behind him with angelic care. Warm jade-soft hands pressed down and worked in slow circles. The pressure was perfect.
"Not bad." Rakuya closed his eyes and enjoyed it. It was the first time he had felt the luxury of being waited on like this. It would also be the last.
The next morning in Ryugu Palace, Rakuya opened his eyes to find Tsunade already standing at his bedside, all sincerity and sweetness.
"Master, please brush your teeth and wash your face."
"All right."
He did not think much of it and let her serve him in comfort.
Gone was the laziness of yesterday. Tsunade handled washing up with the professionalism of a career maid.
Afterward she folded the bedding into a perfect block. Rakuya was about to praise her when she smiled and said, "Master, you must be tired from brushing and washing first thing. You look sleepy. I will make the bed again so you can rest."
With that she unfolded the freshly folded quilt.
"Please, Master, sleep."
Rakuya blinked. It was her first day as a maid. If she wanted to run the full experience, he could humor her. He let her strip him down and crawled back in for a nap.
Five minutes later her voice came again.
"Master, you have rested five minutes. Time for breakfast. Let me dress you. Brush and wash."
They did this dance three times in ten minutes. Rakuya's patience snapped.
"Enough already."
Three rounds of washing and brushing. Three times in and out of bed. It was enough to make a man crack.
Tsunade looked stricken. "Master, is Tsunade's service not satisfactory?"
That was only the start. A few days later, her maid routine had turned insane. In a single day she made and remade the bed no fewer than fifty times. Whether Rakuya wanted to sleep or not, she would slip into his room whenever she had a spare second to practice folding quilts into perfect tofu blocks. Worst of all, she washed every article of his clothing several hundred times. She even scrubbed his underwear to rags.
She would hang a shirt to dry, snatch it down seconds later, and mutter, "Terrible air. Dust everywhere. Dirty again."
Rakuya almost coughed blood on the spot.
Dust? What dust? The air in Ryugu Palace was the cleanest on Fish-Man Island.
This morning he eyed her unholy zeal with a throbbing vein in his temple.
"You are off today. My clothes are already clean."
It did not matter. Her enthusiasm could not be stopped.
She stripped his clothes off him and carried them away to wash again.
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