Disguised as a Male Servant in the Duke's House (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 6
“You don’t know what Clojet wants?”
His expression was impassive, but a chilling frost lingered in his eyes.
“You know exactly what Clojet needs. For Clojet’s future, the family’s honor and money are essential—because in this wretched world, nothing is more certain than that.”
Klaus slowly approached Rozelia as he spoke. His gaze, colder than cold—downright lethal—froze her body rigid where she stood, rendering her utterly unable to move.
“Antonio de Hessink.”
Klaus lowered his head slightly and whispered hoarsely right into her ear.
“All you need to do is repay three thousand verangs within a year. Anything beyond that would be unwise—especially for your own sake.”
His breath against her ear was unmistakably hot, yet where it passed, a cold sensation remained, as if a sharp blade had grazed her neck.
Klaus turned away from the paralyzed Rozelia and walked off with icy composure.
Left behind, Rozelia trembled uncontrollably, shaken by the Duke’s killing intent that had just pressed close to her.
Only after the Duke boarded his private carriage and the sound of his departure faded could Rozelia finally exhale the breath she’d been holding. She’d never understood the novel’s description of how the Duke could kill someone with just a glance—but now, she felt it viscerally in her bones.
As her tension eased, Rozelia forced her wobbly legs to carry her toward the mansion.
Near the entrance stood Clojet, arms crossed, glaring at her disapprovingly from behind a tree.
“Don’t do anything unnecessary, Antonio.”
Clojet, sounding uncannily like her brother, wore a deeply displeased expression.
“I suppose I overstepped.”
Feeling inexplicably exhausted, Rozelia immediately offered an apology.
Now that she thought about it, she truly had done something pointless. She’d sworn not to get unnecessarily entangled with the Duke, yet here she was, meddling in matters neither the Duke nor the Princess welcomed.
With a bitter feeling, Rozelia bowed slightly toward the Princess and prepared to leave.
Just then, Clojet tossed out a curt remark.
“Come down for dinner together later.”
With that, Clojet disappeared haughtily into the mansion. Rozelia watched her retreating figure blankly, then slowly headed to her room, utterly baffled.
Dinner time arrived quickly. Rozelia sat at the table wearing a poet shirt and neat trousers—a relatively comfortable outfit.
Behind Clojet, who was already seated, rows of servants stood ready to attend. Their eyes all flicked toward Rozelia with palpable disapproval.
Clojet, apparently fond of the updo Rozelia had styled for her earlier, remained seated in her loungewear but kept her hair neatly pinned up. Seeing this, Rozelia almost smiled to herself—until Clojet’s voice snapped her back to attention.
“You seemed quite skilled at styling women’s hair earlier…”
Clojet’s gaze, sharp like her brother Klaus’s, made Rozelia swallow hard.
“I often styled my younger sister’s hair.”
“Younger sister?”
“Yes. After our father passed, we had to dismiss all the servants… so I did it myself.”
Of course, Antonio had never actually styled anyone’s hair. Well, technically it wasn’t a lie—after the servants were dismissed, she’d had to style her own hair.
“Where is your younger sister now?”
“She’s dead. She succumbed to the same illness as our father.”
It felt strangely ironic to speak of her own death so plainly, yet she felt no surge of emotion.
But her calm, almost indifferent reply shocked Clojet so deeply that she dropped the spoon she’d been holding.
“Dead…?”
Perhaps she was still too young to be accustomed to the word “death.”
“Yes, not long ago. The death certificate has already been filed.”
“Antonio…”
Now that she thought of it, Clojet herself had also lost her parents and lived only with her older brother, Klaus.
Though Rozelia and Antonio shared not a drop of blood—it was understandable that Clojet might see their situations as similar.
“You can style my hair sometimes too…”
Huh? What was that shimmering look in her eyes?
Clearly, Clojet had misunderstood something—but Rozelia saw no need to correct her, so she merely offered an awkward smile.
“Were you close with your younger sister…?”
Rozelia originally thought of Antonio and nearly broke into a cold sweat, forcing a strained smile. They’d last parted in a near-blade fight, utterly hostile.
“Yes… well…”
“So you must be deeply troubled, having just lost your sister…”
“Well… I suppose so?”
“And that cold-hearted money-grubber dragged you here over a debt…”
“Well…”
Something felt off about this conversation…
It was true enough, yet she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable—Klaus was being painted as even more shameless than he already was.
“Don’t worry. Just stick close to me, and that heartless man won’t be able to trouble you.”
That would be difficult… If she didn’t turn the 20 verangs Klaus had lent her into 500 within two months, Klaus would surely skin her alive. She couldn’t possibly spend all day as Clojet’s domestic aide.
“That would be rather difficult. I have other obligations to meet the Duke’s debt. Of course, I’m not refusing to serve as your domestic aide—but I’d appreciate it if you could guarantee me some time of my own.”
At Rozelia’s firm words, Clojet’s momentarily softened expression twisted into displeasure.
“How much is this debt? Is the salary from serving as my aide not enough to repay it?”
Though Clojet’s nursemaid had promised 500 grangs per week for serving as her domestic aide, repaying 3,000 verangs would require over ten years of work.
Would she even survive that long without revealing her true identity? Remembering Klaus’s murderous gaze, Rozelia shivered involuntarily.
“The salary Your Highness offers is far from sufficient.”
At Rozelia’s resolute answer, Clojet’s face hardened with wounded pride.
“How much do you owe, exactly?”
“Five thousand verangs. Ah—but after selling the Baron’s estate, it’s now about 3,200 verangs.”
Hearing Rozelia state the amount so calmly, Clojet’s jaw dropped in shock. Even she clearly couldn’t spare three thousand verangs at once.
“F-fine. Then you’ll serve as my domestic aide exactly three days a week.”
Having heard the sum, Clojet quickly compromised, stepping back slightly. Seeing the usually haughty princess voluntarily yield like this struck Rozelia as oddly endearing, and she found herself smiling faintly without realizing it.
“Thank you, Miss.”
“In return, you must style my hair whenever I ask. The mansion’s maids can’t do an updo as well as you.”
“Of course.”
As they spoke, the servant Denver, who had been waiting nearby, approached to refill Rozelia’s empty glass. He clearly resented this newcomer receiving such favor from Clojet.
While Clojet was momentarily distracted by her meal, Denver deliberately tilted the pitcher toward Rozelia.
“Hey!”
Only when Rozelia cried out did Denver pull the pitcher back, feigning surprise as he apologized.
“Oh! My apologies, Mr. Antonio. My hand just slipped…”
Clojet, finally noticing the commotion, turned toward them.
“Antonio, what happened?”
Rozelia, about to protest Denver’s obvious intent, abruptly stood up as her thin white poet shirt clung wetly to her chest, clearly revealing the outline of the cloth padding beneath. A sharp-eyed observer might easily notice she was concealing something underneath.
“It’s fine, Miss. Given my current state, I should probably excuse myself first.”
“Nonsense—you must finish your meal. I’ll scold Denver right away.”
“No, I’d rather change out of these damp clothes first.”
Rozelia bowed respectfully to Clojet and hurried toward the dining room door, desperate to avoid drawing more attention.
Just then, Head Butler Jeffrey’s familiar voice echoed from outside the dining room.
“His Grace the Duke is entering the dining hall.”
The door slowly opened, and Klaus stepped calmly into view. Rozelia froze in place like a rabbit before a predator.
“What’s going on?”
Having apparently overheard the commotion from outside, Klaus scanned both Rozelia and Clojet with a stern expression.
Clojet, clearly displeased by his arrival, immediately clamped her mouth shut and turned her head away. Klaus glanced briefly at her before fixing Rozelia with an utterly indifferent, icy stare.
“How leisurely of you—to be dining with Clojet already. Have you secured the 500 verangs?”
Rozelia desperately wanted to leave quickly—her shirt was soaked—but Klaus stood squarely in the doorway. Flustered, she reluctantly replied.
“There are still nearly two months left.”
“Is that so? I thought perhaps you’d already earned the 500 verangs—seeing as you’ve been accompanying Clojet to tea parties as her domestic aide.”
His sarcasm was unmistakable, and Rozelia’s expression twisted unpleasantly.
“I’m hardly in a position to refuse Her Highness’s request.”
Her challenging look clearly implied: *You’re the one who brought me here as a servant of the Duke’s household.*
He met her defiant gaze unflinchingly—then slowly let his eyes drift down to her soaked shirt.
A shiver ran through her shoulders where his gaze touched, but Rozelia clenched her teeth, resisting the urge to cover her chest. If she did, Klaus’s suspicious nature would undoubtedly grow even more wary.
“Your shirt is wet. I doubt you drank the water with your body.”
His eyes then shifted toward the servants in the dining room.
Denver, startled in advance, stiffened and bowed his head even lower.
More eager to leave than to argue right and wrong, Rozelia bowed to Klaus and moved to exit the dining room.
“As you can see, I’m in no condition to stay—I must excuse myself.”
As she tried to slip past Klaus, his large hand suddenly seized her wrist.
Startled by the unexpected contact, Rozelia looked up at him with wide eyes.
Klaus stared back, his usual cold and piercing gaze fixed firmly on her.
“Are you injured?”
His question, as sudden as his touch, left Rozelia struggling to follow the conversation.
“What?”
At her foolish-sounding response, Klaus frowned slightly and looked down at her damp shirt—more precisely, at what lay beneath it.
“You seem to be wearing bandages underneath.”
In that instant, Rozelia’s body stiffened, and cold sweat trickled down her spine.
When yandere male lead believes she loves him — but she never did
“How dare you!”
“How dare you make me love you, only to cast me aside as nothing more than a friend?!?
“I will never accept that.”
“I will never let you return to him.”
“Even if I have to burn myself to ashes.”
“Even if I must shatter my purity, my dignity, my very soul.”
“I will never let you escape me!”
This was the first novel that introduced me to the matriarchal genre. I’ve read it three times already!
At first, the male lead despised the female lead. Later, he misunderstood that she liked him, so he condescendingly and reluctantly reciprocated her feelings.
Then, he suddenly discovered that she was kind to everyone in the same way, and there was already someone she cherished in her heart, and that person was not him.
The male lead couldn’t believe it, he became angry and crazy. He was determined to capture her body and heart by any means necessary.
Synopsis:
Want to see how a green tea bitch male lead falls in love with the female lead?
Want to see how he flirtatiously pursues the female lead?
Want to see how he gets slapped in the face repeatedly?
The male lead is a green tea bitch, a poisonous lotus, jealous, ruthless, unscrupulous, with a venomous heart, and he’s also a delusional maniac.
The female lead is righteous, positive energy-filled, kind, a holy mother.
Let’s see how two people with extreme personalities come together~
_____
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