You can’t fire me when it’s for life!  

I can beat up spies, and I won’t be cut off. 

“I’ll see him under any condition.” 

This was an opportunity given to me by heaven.
No, the head maid. 

And I had no intention to shrug off the opportunity of being able to sleep comfortably in a bed without going hungry for three years. 

“Answer politely.”  

“I’ll definitely see him.” 

“You’ll say ‘Nice to meet you.’ there are some things you should be aware of.
There are certain conditions to meeting the master.
You must swear to me that you will not divulge information about your master to anyone.” 

Wait, do you mean an oath? Like the oath that makes sure that one carries out their promise or goal?  

A faint, precipitated gaze stared at me.
The Head maid whispered to me in her characteristic quiet and calm voice. 

“The oath here is a promise to each other’s souls…it’s part of magic.
It is not recorded in speech or writing, but in both of the people’s souls.
Even if it sounds like nothing, should you break it, there will be a big penalty.” 

There is only one penalty for an oath imprinted on the soul. 


“Yes, I thought you would know of it.
It’s a terrible condition, isn’t it?”  

“Then who will bind the oath?” 

“I’ll bind it to you myself.” 

She is right.
It is very repugnant. 

Not the conditions set to meet Viscount Weatherwoods, but the head maid herself. 

‘You know how to bind an oath?’ 

Magic is a kind of sport. 

There is a limit to the wall that can be climbed with effort and perseverance, and after reaching a certain level, it becomes a sport that you must compete in with natural talent and wit. 

However, magic was the rarest one to be possess of all the sports that required talent. 

In the first place, it was not common to be able to use magic, so even if you were average at it, it was possible to make a living that lasted through generations. 

The magic-treatment hospital and the magic tools workshops, which each neighborhood has at least one of, were usually life-long workplaces for them. 

The oath spell itself belongs to a low-level magic with small difficulty. 

But whether they are low-ranking or not, a wizard is still a wizard.  

All wizards are given special additional points in the process of hiring civil servants.
It meant that even if you are incompetent as a bug, you can live well on the national treasury. 

‘A wizard is working as a mere maid.
I wonder if that’s why she wasn’t killed by an assassin? She set a trap.’ 

A family that is frequently visited by assassins. 

A family connected to the legacy of Dian Cecht. 

A family which hires wizards as maidservants. 

The Weatherwoods…certainly a suspicious place. 

“Give me your arm.” 

I rolled up my sleeve and held out my arm as requested.  

A total of two lines were drawn on the underside of my forearm.
All of them were traces of oaths carved from my days of living as Andert. 

“…are these all from oaths?” 

An oath is imprinted on the soul, not on the body. 

So even if my body returned from a man’s to a woman’s, the traces of the oath engraved on my existence itself will not disappear. 

The traces of the oath cannot be erased by any transformation magic, and can only be covered.
The easiest magic had the strongest power. 

 “Miss Daisy, what the hell have you been doing all this time?” 

…a soldier? 

I turned my eyes away, as if not hearing her, and the maid just shook her head.
Soon a line of oath appeared on the arm she held out. 

The two arms touched like one.
A spirit-like feeling drifted between us.  

The maid whispered to me. 

“I ask you to swear it.
‘Do not reveal anything secret about the Weatherwoods family.’ that is the condition, do you agree?”  


A long red-line drew in the air. 

The line, which raged like a flame, soon fell slowly over our arms. 

The touch to the skin was burning hot. 

The line, which burned the skin mercilessly, was soon engraved like a tattoo and permeated into the soul. 

I’ve felt it every time I’ve done this, but it is still an unpleasant situation. 


Shortly after the maid gave a long sigh, the bedroom door opened. 

The bedroom was dark.
Even a handful of moonlight rays hidden behind dark clouds were not allowed to enter the room with the densely covered blackout curtains over the windows. 

The maid who lit a lamp next to the bed beckoned me. 

“Come up close and set the table, Miss Daisy.” 

Why is this room so dark and quiet? 

Why doesn’t this room feel like a room where people live in? 

Why can’t I feel the presence of someone else besides me and the maid in this room? 

Why doesn’t Viscount Weatherwood even ask why the maids have come to visit him at such a late hour?  

Faced with so many questions I had to force myself to swallow, I turned to Viscount Weatherwoods on the bed. 

“This is the head and master of our Weatherwoods family.”  

Viscount Weatherwoods, I mean… 

 “The owner, Viscount Grey Weatherwoods.” 

It was an egg. 

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