A/N: I.Really.Love.Weird.Pairings.
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Hereafter...
...is when we find the meaning of it all.
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Chapter 2
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The snow cascaded gently down the earth. The winds, making the flakes of snow dance outside the window, were just tiny puffs of air. The mansion was located in a remote area of the mountains and was surrounded by a barrage of trees. There was a little clearing of about 2 acres around for a nice front and back yard. Near the circular driveway, a fountain stood still and shut off from years of neglect. All were covered with a soft, blanket of snow—like a winter-wonderland.
But the busy housemaid took no notice of this. Zipping in and out of doors, carrying loads of abandoned curtains, cleaning through thousands of books upon hundreds of shelves, scrubbing untouched floors, polishing unused, wooden furniture, washing tall windows—the list went on.
[Flashback]
Satoshi Hiwatari commanded her to follow him up two flights of stairs that gradually sloped to the right and walked down a dark hallway. They passed many doors before he finally stopped at one and opened it. Inside, there was a beautiful desk carved from oak that was littered with (most likely, important) papers in the middle of the room and a few bookshelves to the right. To the left was another stair that spiraled to the third floor. The room was a fairly good size with a good-sized window right behind the desk.
Riku's new employer turned and stared (well, maybe glared a little) at her—measuring her up to standards he had set in his mind. After scrutinizing her for about a minute, he walked to a nearby table—smaller than the desk—full of scattered papers and folders; he picked an envelope and took out what looked like an invitation. Satoshi handed it to her and summed up what was inside.
"There's going to be a party for the elderly Kenichi Shigurawa, one of the founders of the largest art museum in the world. 'Ciel sur Terre'—do you know of it?"
Riku's eyes grew wide. "'Ciel..?' Yes, I think I've heard of it when I was in high school—"
He didn't let her finish. "There's going to be a 50th anniversary for the museum, and it's going to be held here. I was chosen out of bad luck, I presume..." The last statement was directed towards himself, realizing a little too late. He shook his head in annoyance and sighed. "As the new maid, it's your responsibility to make this place as nice as that invitation you're holding in your hand."
Riku looked down and glanced at the card. Then, something hit her—like a giant elephant trampling on her brain. "What...I mean... are the others off today?"
[End flashback]
Riku regretted asking that question because he had given her a "you-must-be-really-stupid" look. She thought it was a harmless question, but the answer was painful. No, there weren't any "others." No, there weren't maids or butlers to help her out. She groaned inwardly. There must be about fifty rooms in this mansion—this mini-castle! She didn't expect this job to kill her in the process.
Why couldn't he hire more? This place must have cost a fortune, but yet...it seemed that he only lived in that one room she first visited. Well, maybe, two if there was a bedroom that he occupied.
Well, enough with those thoughts, already. It was slowing down her progress. She was given two weeks to shape this place up, and she wasn't going to embarrass herself again by slacking off. Riku took down each painting from the 3rd-floor hallway carefully, but quickly, to start scrubbing on the wooden walls.
'Midnight Dreams,' 'Daylight's Shadow,' 'Requiem of the Dead...' she read while glancing at the titles. They were decent paintings, but too sad and... well, depressing for her tastes. Finally, she reached the last one near the door that she was forbidden to enter. Now, she remembered that the last door in the east wing was never to be opened. Riku made a quick look and noted how fancy the intricacies of the carvings were. Also, the door handle wasn't covered with dust like the others. 'Maybe...this was his bedroom,' she guessed.
She wiped her forehead clean of the perspiration that gathered and rolled up her sleeves. Tying her small ponytail in a secure knot with a ribbon, her face held a determined look to make this place spotless. She looked around and decided to start from where she was standing. She grabbed the small towel that was soaking in the pail of soapy water and started scrubbing—madly—with the words, "Hurry up," chanting in her head.
CRACK.
. A/N: Yes. Thank you. Thank you for reviews. :) This is the story I needed to take a break and relax...[sigh] before school starts.
