The early mornings were dreadful for me, as my lady never really liked getting out of bed. After much rolling around and hurling pillows at me, she finally sat up, her bed hair too tangled for her taste. It was the weekend, but it didn’t mean sleeping in was an option. Mortals have too little time to waste, unlike undead, so there is no point in sleeping one-third of your life.

“Yow will die, mowgrel!” she shouted in her slurry voice, pointing her finger at me. I doubt anyone would curse the first thing in the morning, but that’s my lady for you. A budding villainess and the lady an undead serves amidst enthused machinations.

I flashed her a smile and continued my way to the common laundry area with her basket. My lady would take a while to have a bath and freshen up, so washing clothes in the meantime didn’t sound like a bad option.

The bloomed flowers had withered around the periphery, replaced by fresh blossoms that would probably be around for a while. Maidens scurried away when they noticed me ambling with my laundry bin, and I offered my most sincere smile, which had them running with their half-washed clothes.

You see, I have honed my smile over the millennium, so it really hurts to see it wasted in such a manner. First the horrible maid, then the prince, and now the rest of the maids. Only my lady appreciates my efforts, despite trashing me most of the time.

Some exotic soap of the world that didn’t give much lather yet worked better than the modern artificial soap did the job for the day. We don’t have an iron, and I heat press her clothes with my palms, so wringing the clothes is a necessity that absolutely cannot be ignored. The faster the clothes dry, the more options will my lady have, which maxed out to five at the moment. Don’t blame me! My stomach is the culprit. Bread and clothes don’t go hand in hand.

When I returned to the room, my lady was seated opposite the mirror, all freshened up, touching the scar on her left cheeks. Her expression was that of indifference as usual, yet the subtle reclusiveness in her gaze was unavoidable.

“My lady,” I stood beside her and reached for the comb, ignoring the other cosmetics that my lady usually never wore. “You want to remove the scar?”

“No,” she said with an air of finality and surveyed my reflection. “Get started, mongrel. I don’t have all the time in the world like certain someone.”

Well, that was true, but I should have been the one to say it. Nevertheless, I helped my lady get dressed in her usual dark royal blue, almost tattered frock and accompanied her to the large dining room that had a boisterous meal waiting for her. The ambiance was too grand as if they were having their last supper with my lady.

“Letitia!” Marlica beamed and directed my lady to the seat opposite her. My lady, as always, cursed vile bitch, and took a seat by skipping a chair perpendicular to the Maquis. She used to sit beside the Marquis before, but since my incrimination, she sat farthest from him, almost close to the opposite end of the small table, adorned with dishes.

I saw Marquis’s expression twitch, but he maintained a stoic face as always. That bastard needed a good spanking for his glib tongue. I wonder if my lady would be hurt by the words of such a worthless father.

“I heard you are getting married, Letitia,” Arabell said, her grin too wide that I saw food stuck in her teeth. Really, I did. It was probably avocado. “And a prince at that! How lucky could you get?! I’m so happy for you.”

Meisie bobbed her head, her pony following her rhythmic motion, as she giggled. “Even me, Letitia! You should learn to become a virtuous woman and give birth to a son for his majesty. It’s never too late, even for a woman like you.”

“These bitches,” my lady remarked, albeit not loud enough for the entire household to hear. It was a joyous breakfast for everyone, except for my lady, so she finished up her portion soon and walked back to the western courtyard, with me tagging along, leaving the marriage arrangements with the dead for them.

“My lady,” I stopped her at the door to my room. “I was planning on getting a license from the guild today. Would you like to tag along?”

“Can I get one, mongrel?” she asked, raising her head to look at me in annoyance. “Why the hell are you so damn tall?! When will I grow up?”

“You won–“ I paused, noticing her glare. “You will, my lady. You are still sixteen.”

“Seventeen!” she corrected. “About the license, I haven’t learned any common spells.”

“Even if I get one, we can go out of the gates with ease,” I said, and she stared at me suspiciously.

“You want to go out of the city without me? I dare you to take a single step, mongrel, and I will drink your blood.”

Well, she would bloat until she retched if she did that, but a cleaver undead knows what not to say. “I said we, my lady. Without your permission, I’m going nowhere.”

She stared at me for a while, looking for affirmation, and when she did get one, she turned to walk to the exit.

“Where to?” she asked, holding my gloved hand.

“Either mercery or merchant guild works. Even guard station at the gate works, but I’m not particularly fond of it.”

“Mercenary guild it is,” my lady said with a smile. “We’ll go out on a mission today, mongrel. The subjugation of felons? Hunting the dragon? Burning the forest? Anything works.”

Well, her notion of anything was really twisted, but I was the one to blame. We grabbed our cloaks from my room, and I let her pull me outside the gates of the manor, the sun’s glare too bright for the advent of the winter. She had her money stash hanging around her waist, so she took me to my usual bakehouse.

“Rudolf, it is,” the old man behind the elevated counter smiled, and my mouth watered, watching the variety of new bread within the encased glass. My puppy eyes tried their best to ask my lady to buy everything in-store, but a kick was all I got in return. You can’t blame me for losing my mind when it comes to bread. Even overpowered undead have weaknesses.

“Long time, Bayle,” I relayed him my sincere smile, for his bread was the absolute best compared to bread in every other world. I had pleaded with him for the recipe, but business secrets are often hard to get, like how I would never tell you where I hide my excess bread stock. I bet you must have sneak-peaked my cupboard if you do know.

“You dropped by just yesterday, Rudolf,” his wife, Sharl, said, packing some buns for the only commoner in the room, who wrapped his arm around the packet protectively when he walked past me. Every regular of the store knew me, but I hadn’t stolen bread from them, so the wary gazes were not warranted. Okay, maybe once when I was suffering from withdrawal, but my young lady had paid for their pack.

“You serve such a good lady, Rudolf,” Bayle said, touching his bald head. “Anyone else would have kicked you out of the mansion already.”

“My lady cannot do anything without me,” I said and earned my lady's glare.

“Mongrel!” she gritted her teeth before paying eight shins to the stingy owner and bought me a loaf of bread. She never usually talked to the commoners, but she didn’t make things difficult for them either. Garlan had been a surprising exception, and me, if you label me as commoner instead of undead.

“If you try new recipes, call me for testing them, Bayle. Give me some fresh bread, and I’ll try them out for free.”

“Scram, glutton! You’ll eat our store if we don’t keep you in check,” Sharla said, and I followed my lady out begrudgingly. They were too stingy.

We toured the city leisurely, my lady happy to have her mind free of worries. I nibbled on the bread as slow as possible, yet it magically disappeared before we could finish walking even twenty good steps. I bet even stuffed air of the city steals crumbs from me!

My lady stopped by a couple of stores, scanning the general goods on display and fishes in other stores with surprising intensity. It was her recent fascination, and I knew it would die down soon, just like before.

When we reached the mercenary guild, I saw Garlan at the entrance laughing with two other blurry men. I pulled my lady’s cowl, making sure to cover her bun, and walked toward the man. My lady wasn’t wearing trousers, so I was apprehensive about her comfort if we did go on a mission.

He saw us walking closer and nodded at his old mates before waving at me. “Yo! You finally made it here, bread lad. I’m so proud of you.”

He almost pulled me in a hug when my lady stood in front of me. “No one gets to touch him, mutt!”

Garlan’s gaze wandered to me with a bewildered look, and I just shrugged. That’s what I get for my schemes.

With an unnatural smile, he led us inside the guild, to the swarming bodies, who were populating one counter or the other. There were a total of five right opposite the entrance, with one quest board right above their reception and the other beside the entrance. Hunting quests went to counter one, subjugation, envoy, army recruits, and general followed.

I almost stumbled on the stairs to the first floor, and my lady held my arm with a sigh as she dragged me behind my lad. The ambiance was different from the ground floor, with methodical chairs lining before the door that led to the examination room. Nervous faces couldn’t be concealed, some young, some old enough to have multiple generations ready to replace them. Garlan asked us to sit on the chairs while he talked to the woman on the counter beside the door.

My lady’s curious gaze followed the strangers in the room, who were too nervous to notice her bizarre gaze. She occasionally paused at Garlan, who was having a friendly chat with the woman. The latter looked in our direction, and my lady glared at her in return, though most of the expression veiled within the cloak.

“I don’t like her,” she said. “She’s staring at you for far too long, mongrel.”

“Well, she’s assessing me, my lady. I am here under recommendation from a veteran mercenary, so they will have their qualms.”

“Still, that bitch is looking at you for far too long,” her glare switched to me. “And don’t grow all mushy, mongrel!”

“I’m not happy about it in the least, my lady,” I laughed, earning a pout. It was a cute one, with her cheeks puffing under the cowl. A rare cute one.

But for an undead, there’s only ash and bones. Even irresistible wonders of the world will wither with time.