Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Starting As A Maid Today

Of course, Shimizu Sakuya knew Fujiwara Yuki’s weak points were her ears and the shoulder blades on her back.  

Originally, her earlobes had only been slightly flushed, but after that soft, teasing exhale, they turned a deep crimson, as if all the blood in her body had rushed to them.  

Vivid red, unmistakable.  

Yet Yuki’s face showed no obvious reaction. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, looking at Sakuya with feigned confusion.  

“Did the Master allow you to come this close?”  

Her tone was icy, plunging Sakuya into a frozen abyss.  

Freud’s theory of psychological defense mechanisms posits that when faced with something they don’t want to confront, people employ self-deceptive coping strategies.  

The most obvious manifestation? Acting in complete opposition to their true feelings.  

Given Sakuya’s understanding of Yuki, her current behavior was undoubtedly a defensive reaction—her heightened sensitivity triggering an aggressive counterattack.  

After all, those bright red earlobes were undeniable evidence.  

“No… Master said you couldn’t hear me, so I came closer to speak.”  

Yuki’s voice darkened. “From now on, don’t approach without permission.”  

Sakuya nodded, playing along as expected. “Understood, Master.”  

Hearing the same words but in a completely different tone, Yuki’s expression soured.  

“Then hurry up and fetch the arrows.”  

She was irritated, her temper flaring.  

Sakuya understood but had neither the energy nor the courage to provoke her further. Like indulging a child, she obediently went to retrieve the arrows.  

Watching Sakuya’s frail figure and unsteady steps, Yuki touched her still-warm earlobe, lost in thought.  

Sakuya made a quick round of the dojo, returning to Yuki and placing the collected arrows back in the quiver.  

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to steady her breathing. The delicate skin around her neck, flushed from exertion, stood out starkly against her pale complexion.  

A sudden spark lit up Yuki’s golden eyes, her earlier gloom vanishing.  

Pleased, she patted Sakuya’s head approvingly and made a new demand. 

“Master is thirsty. Go buy a drink.”  

Kyudo practice did require considerable stamina, and Yuki hadn’t brought a water bottle. It made sense she’d be thirsty.  

“Understood, Master.”  

Sakuya didn’t overthink it. By now, she’d fully accepted the title. She turned, ready to leisurely stroll to the vending machine—maybe even take a detour to peek into the kendo club and check on Saori.  

But her plans were shattered by Yuki’s offhand remark.

“If you’re not back in eight minutes, guess what your punishment will be~?”  

The moment the words left her mouth, Sakuya’s relaxed pace faltered. Then, as if the ground beneath her had turned scorching hot, she broke into a desperate sprint.  

The nearest vending machine was 200 meters away, near the school building. With her frail physique, the round trip would take at least two and a half minutes.  

If she got delayed or the machine jammed…  

Yuki hadn’t specified the punishment, but in previous timelines, it was never anything good.  

Choking pain, bruises around her neck, teeth marks littering her shoulders and back—  

She poured every ounce of strength into her sprint, not daring to waste a single second.  

Her legs were already weak, so she leaned her entire weight against the vending machine, panting heavily.  

Staring at the array of drinks, Sakuya froze.  

Yuki hadn’t specified what to buy.  

Which one should she choose?  

Mung bean soup? She’d made it for her once before, only to be met with a scathing review—”I’d rather die than drink this again.”  

Cola? “I’d sooner use it to clean a toilet than let this corrosive swill touch my lips.”  

Green tea? But Yuki only drank tea brewed through elaborate ceremonies, with precise charcoal heating, water temperatures, and pouring techniques.  

Screw it. Sakuya decided to gamble.  

She probably liked coffee best.  

Back then, dressed in a crisp shirt and gold-rimmed glasses, Yuki had taken a sip from her cup and sighed—”Coffee is truly mankind’s treasure. Bitter yet sweet, sharpening the mind.”  

Decision made, Sakuya selected the coffee without further hesitation.  

Not even waiting to catch her breath, she bolted back to the archery range.  

Yuki’s retaliation for her earlier teasing was swift and brutal. Seizing on Sakuya’s physical weakness, she put her through a merciless training regimen like a drill sergeant.  

“H-Here… your drink.” Sakuya nearly collapsed, bracing herself against a nearby post as she gasped for air.  

Yuki took the still-chilled can of coffee, glanced at her glittering wristwatch, then eyed Sakuya’s exhausted state with mock surprise.  

“Oh? You made it back faster than I expected~”  

“D-Did I… meet the time?”  

Yuki’s fox-like eyes gleamed as she flashed an innocent, almost angelic smile—but her words were razor-sharp:  

“You did. But I want more than just this.”  

“…Huh?” Sakuya’s already pale face turned ashen. “Then… What does the Master want?”  

Yuki tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Juice.”  

She patted Sakuya’s back encouragingly, like a heartless boss motivating an overworked employee.  

“Hurry back~”  

Her eyes brimmed with amusement.  

Why did I have to provoke her? A sadist’s subtle wrath is the worst…  

Numbly, Sakuya forced her unfeeling legs into another sprint.  

Watching her retreating figure, Yuki popped open the coffee can with relish, savoring the moment.  

The chilled caffeine, the sight of someone she disliked running herself ragged for her—it was truly satisfying.  

“Haah… G-Got it…”  

Before she could even hand over the juice, Sakuya gasped for air, her legs giving out.  

The agony of oxygen deprivation burned her lungs, her throat felt like cracked desert earth.  

She collapsed to the ground, one hand clutching her chest, the other holding her navy-blue skirt in place to avoid flashing anyone.  

At least she’d made it in time.  

All Sakuya felt now was post-survival relief—and an overwhelming thirst.  

Yuki stood by the shooting line, her massive wooden bow and quiver set aside.  

She took a sip of coffee, the newly purchased blueberry juice in her other hand, and looked down at Sakuya with infuriating nonchalance.  

“You didn’t buy one for yourself?”  

Sakuya wanted to, but she’d been too pressed for time.  

“Didn’t… had to hurry…” Her voice was hoarse from dehydration.  

Yuki blinked innocently. “But I never said this one had a time limit~”  

“……”  

Sakuya’s blood pressure spiked in the ensuing silence.  

Rubbing her aching calves, she tried to massage some life back into them, hoping to stand and fetch her own drink.  

But to her surprise, Yuki crouched down, her delicate face suddenly level with Sakuya’s.  

Sakuya had expected her to sear this humiliating image into her golden eyes as further retaliation for the ear-blowing incident.  

Instead, Yuki chuckled, popped open the juice can, and handed it to her.  

“Drink this.”  

What’s her game?  

Given their current dynamic, this kindness was way out of character.  

Bewildered but parched, Sakuya gave in to her body’s desperate need for hydration, sipping the juice like a cautious cat.  

Watching her, Yuki stood and clapped her hands cheerfully.  

“Once you’re done, carry all this back.”  

Still recovering, Sakuya’s reply was feeble. “Understood, Master.”  

“Oh, right.” Yuki’s tone shifted abruptly. “Saori mentioned your house doesn’t have a curfew?”  

Huh? Where’s this coming from?  

Sakuya was baffled.  

Technically, the Shimizu household had no curfew. Her workaholic father came home maybe once a month, only to grab fresh clothes before vanishing again.  

Her concert pianist mother spent eight months of the year on tour, rarely returning.  

So the sprawling mansion was mostly just Sakuya and a handful of housekeepers maintaining the place.  

As long as she avoided the gossipy staff who might snitch, she could come and go as she pleased.  

Seeing no reason to hide it, she nodded. “Yeah, no curfew. I can come back whenever.”  

“Perfect.” Yuki’s slender brows arched in delight.  

She lifted her right wrist and pressed the red call button on her watch.  

The matching wristband on Sakuya’s arm lit up with a flashing red light—like a death warrant.  

A strange premonition gripped her.  

It was confirmed the next second.  

In a lilting voice, Yuki declared.

“I was going to wait until the weekend to have you move into my place as a proper maid. But now… why not start today, hmm? Miss Maid—Sakuya-chan~”