Queen's Favor
Chapter 5
"That's to be expected, given the time." He made a small gesture with one hand, a minuscule dismissive wave. As if the concern was much too small to be bothered with anything grander than that. "It's why I returned home early."
Dear lord in heaven. He really was a super pervert after all.
Well. Maybe. It's the first coherent thought that jumped up to her after her initial confused panic, but then that was probably a knee-jerk response from the day before. Her body still ached from the crash with the ground, after all.
But...no. No, it still didn't add up. If he were a secret pervert, she'd be getting rules about how to dress before he started appearing home early. And besides that, what kind of a person would use 'the maid attacked an intruder who intended to assault my cat' as a downing rod for 'acceptable sexual target'?
Well, honestly, if anyone did, it would be a rich person.
Oh.
Oh. Her expression must have been showing some of that, because he'd stopped speaking and was simply staring at her, one brow raised impatiently as if she'd actually interrupted him and had been rambling on.
She hadn't been.
She had a very good wall between inner and outer monologue, thanks much. So expression it must have been.
"Um...have I done something wrong?" Honestly, now that his incredulous expression grounded her more into reality, that was the most likely answer. "If anything's not up to your standards, you can always just call the office-"
"That would be unnecessary." He flicked a hand dismissively. "I've already arranged a replacement."
She spluttered. It was most undignified, yes, but she would contend that compared to being caught in a closet cornered by his cat it was positively graceful.
Really though?!
That...it wasn't...did she just get fired?!
"Wh-why?"
His gaze swept across her in silence for a moment, before he tilted his head toward the cat that sat near his feet. "I'll be out of the country for three days. Ordinarily, I would keep Elizabeth the 3rd in the care of a particular employee trained in her care." Of course he would have a special assistant just for his cat. "However...this time she's turned off her phone on her vacation days."
This time?
His brows furrowed a moment, almost as if he struggled to comprehend how one of his employees had managed to so thoroughly stymie him. It was only a passing expression, though, before his gaze turned back to her. "Caring for her will take up too much time for you to clean. You will, of course, be paid the premium she usually receives for the duty."
Wait. So...not fired. Just transferred. Suddenly and non-optional, apparently. "I haven't been trained to care for a cat." That wasn't really the most pressing concern? But it's what dribbled out of her open and very confused mouth first.
His lips pressed into a line briefly, before he nodded. "It's regrettable, yes. But I'll arrange for instructions for you to follow. Adhere to them. It will be extremely obvious when I return should you fail to do so."
She squinted at him for a few moments. As of yesterday she knew he could laugh - and therefore must possess a sense of humor - but his serious expression didn't seem to hold any sort of mirth to signal the set up to a very bizarre joke. The moments passed and he simply stared at her, blinking eerily similar to the way his cat did, awaiting a response.
Granted, he hadn't actually asked a question. At all. Since he came home. But she definitely felt that hanging in the air, as if he expected an answer anyway. Maybe he forgot to just ask if she wanted the job? Maybe he expected her to ask about the details of what he expected?
She sighed and pushed herself up to her feet. Instinct told her to brush her knees clean, but his rug had nothing more than cat hair in it, and she knew well enough that trying to rid herself of any of that before she left the penthouse was a monumental waste of her time.
It's pretty rude to go talking about one's poverty in front of one's employer's abject wealth, but it really seemed important to point that out. It wasn't as if he'd know her apartment was smaller than the closet he'd found her in, and with his level of wealth he probably couldn't conceive of the idea that whatever cat food chef was in his instructions would break her bank just making Elizabeth an appetizer. If she didn't want to be insta-fired over this, there was no choice but to communicate. "My apartment isn't big enough to house her. It's small enough that I could misplace it in here. And it's near a train track, so the air and sound quality really aren't up to the standards she's used to. And frankly, the neighbor's dog - who shouldn't even be there, as it's a pet-free complex - barks from 4AM to 9AM non-stop."
"That's horrifying." He shook his head. "Elizabeth the 3rd won't be staying with you over the weekend."
Well, thank goodnes-
"You'll be staying with her here."
"...Huh?"
He gave a short, barely audible sigh, before kneeling down to gather the cat in question - who'd begun to paw at pant legs undoubtedly more expensive than her entire bed - up into his arms to pet. "Your responsibilities will solely revolve around Elizabeth the 3rd. Caring for her...and protecting her will be a 72-hour non-stop assignment. Deplorable living conditions aside, residing in your own home for that time might provide too many distractions to care for her properly."
In the penthouse? Well, honestly, now that she thought about it that did make sense. From someone as picky and pampering toward his cat, it probably would seem more sensible to him to bring in someone to sit the entire house than to just temporarily re-home his cat. And it wasn't as if she'd never house-sat for someone before. Although none of the digs she'd cared for (with the not-so-subtle suggestions left behind about cleaning them up while she was there) were quite as swanky as this one, she was at least reasonably familiar with it, given that she had cleaned it for a while now.
"Well...I'll...still need to pack up some supplies, and you'll need to make sure you've bought up enough food for her before you leave."
"...Of course anything ordered to this room from the shops below will be covered. Whether for Elizabeth or for yourself."
"Point me to the contract. I'll sign it right now. I've even got a thumbtack if you need a drop of blood." Was she coming on a little too strong there? Maybe? But three nights on that guest bed without a dog barking and free food was more than enough to put up with Elizabeth's hijinks and whatever pedantic demands she knew would somehow make their way onto her instructions.
His lips curled up in amusement, as the cat in question deftly jumped from his arms again to the floor, meandering off to attack one of her toys. "It was already signed an hour ago."
That...
That couldn't be legal.
She forgot to look up whether ultra-rich heirs could sign contracts in her place, but in her defense, that night had kept her pretty busy. She tidied up her things, made sure to notify her contacts that she'd be busy house-sitting for the weekend, and collected clothing more comfortable than her work uniform which wouldn't make her feel like some kind of homeless beggar just sitting around in his penthouse.
Sure, she'd be alone save for the cat, but she'd be judging herself.
Belatedly, she also made sure to gather up some books and bits of entertainment. Beautiful and spacious as it was, Mr. Jumin Han's apartment wasn't exactly stocked with things to keep herself entertained with when she had time to herself.
Predictably, the penthouse was already devoid of human life when she arrived, right on time.
Also predictable: not a list, but an entire pamphlet sat on the counter of the kitchen marked 'INSTRUCTIONS. READ.'
She was absolutely wrong about the pedantic demands. They weren't just hidden away in a list normal things. They were the instructions.
Nevertheless, the day passed...for once...unremarkably. As if the universe knew she wasn't technically 'working', and so it didn't bother to get out of bed. As the natural light faded for the day, sensors activated the internal lights, the transition almost seamless.
At some point in the night, the white cat hopped from her lap, abandoned its toys, and pranced off to the master bedroom. No doubt to roll around on her master's sheets and get white hairs absolutely everywhere in time for the poor new maid to have to clean them.
The entire floor itself was really the penthouse. Without the sounds she made from bustling around playing with the cat, feeding the cat, cleaning the dishes or running cleaning equipment, she could almost hear her own heartbeat in the silence.
She stretched out on the couch, each creak and crackle almost an explosion in the silence of the penthouse, and draped an arm over her forehead. The rug she usually played with Elizabeth on was comfortable, sure, but there could be no denying the couch was more comfortable than her bed back home. She probably didn't even need to use the guest bedroom at all, except to be indulgent and potentially keep herself from being smothered by cat hair in her sleep.
...It's lonely.
Yes, she lived alone. In her apartment she didn't even have an animal to keep her company. This late, she'd also often given up on texting partners who'd fallen asleep at their phones. But she heard the city. The neighbors on every side of her (sometimes getting up to things she really didn't want to hear), that infernal barking dog, the regular passing of the trains carrying people to and fro at all hours of the night.
Here...she heard nothing. The building was huge, practically a small self-contained city with employees, customers and other residents milling about on the floors below. Not even the distant clacking of heels or the rattling of the elevator could be heard from the penthouse. And it was so high up above the rest of the city the sounds on the street below wouldn't make it through the windows even when she left them open.
Cut off from the rest of the world in a bubble of isolation, so far away from the nearest human that no one could even wander up and pass close enough to be heard accidentally.
This is worth all that money, huh...?
Her lips pursed a moment. It did separate the rich from the poor, she supposed, a bubble of luxury and wealth completely untouched and unaffected by the help except when its owner desired for it to be. Wealth, distilled into an apartment building.
Her free hand fell to the ground, fingers trailing in the plush rug, and her gaze turned toward the door.
In the still silence of midnight, a part of her couldn't help but wish the ever-frustrating and strange owner of the penthouse would have second thoughts about leaving her with the penthouse for three days and return early again.