Freya crossed paths with Keith while dragging her suitcase. His eyes flicked to the luggage, then to the copy of the contract in her hand.
"Oh, you've finished reading it?"
Freya handed him the paper. "I've signed it."
"Keep this copy." Keith pushed it back toward her. "If you've signed, I assume you agree with everything."
She didn't answer. Truthfully, she hadn't read all of it.
"Yeah."
"Good. It's hard to find a beautiful woman who can cook these days."
Freya froze. "What?"
She hurriedly flipped the pages open and found a line listing her duties. "I have to take care of the house and his daily needs?"
"Well, the most important thing is that you can cook. The rest can be negotiated," Keith said. "It's to convince my aunt that Nathan didn't just pick some random woman off the street."
His mother really knows him well, huh?
"So, can you cook?"
Freya had been living alone since her parents passed away. She'd been forced to grow up overnight. To save money, she usually cooked for herself or survived on bread and instant noodles.
"I can cook a few things," she said honestly.
"That's good."
The rest of the contract terms were reasonable enough. She didn't mind them. In fact, it all felt too easy for such a high salary. And they didn't even have to truly get married, which made her feel at ease.
High pay, easy work. This felt like the freedom she had been chasing.
Taking care of a giant baby who was allergic to women? Not a big deal.
In fact, she felt lucky she didn't have to get close to that man at all.
Satisfied, she closed the document.
"You really agree to everything, right?" He asked.
"Yeah. Being a housemaid isn't hard. I've worked as a café waitress, a milk delivery girl, a newspaper seller, and I've even mowed lawns at empty houses. I can do anything."
Keith was speechless for a moment, then smiled. "You're impressive."
Freya wasn't used to praise and felt a little overwhelmed. "Ah... it's nothing."
"Alright. Your room is on the first floor. The second floor is Nathan's. You'd better not go upstairs and disturb him."
"Okay." Freya smiled sweetly.
Keith glanced at her, hesitating. "You really must not disturb or tempt him. He could get sick."
He sounded more like a worried parent than Nathaniel's cousin.
"Don't worry. I won't tease him."
Besides, who would want to deal with someone who insulted your smell and even gagged because of it?
Annoying.
Before leaving, Keith handed her a check with the amount already filled in.
Not long after, she found herself alone in the house-well, almost. There was still that 'sick giant' on the second floor.
She rolled around on the bed in a daze. The room was spacious, with a private bathroom, nothing like her tiny apartment.
The contrast was... glaring.
But was that man really sick?
He looked pale, sure. But he had casually drunk a can of beer earlier.
Ah.
Not her problem.
She picked up the contract again and reread it. Cleaning, cooking... it really did sound like she was just a housemaid. But the pay was ridiculously high.
She chuckled in satisfaction.
Then she flipped another page she had missed earlier and froze.
"What is this...?"
She read aloud, "Party B is not allowed to leave the house without Party A's permission. Violation will result in a 50% salary deduction."
"What the hell?"
She continued.
"If Party B is seen meeting another man unknown to Party A, the contract may be terminated at any time, and Party B will receive no payment."
What a leech.
The phrases "leave the house" and "meeting another man" were printed in bold italics.
As if those were the real rules.
Alongside things like: "Party B must not approach within five meters of Party A and Party B must not intentionally touch Party A."
Freya threw the paper aside and dropped onto the mattress.
"Whatever. As long as I don't get caught, it should be fine, right?" she muttered.
Her phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. A message from Astrid, one of the girls at the karaoke club. Her friend.
[Freya, wtf?? You just quit outta nowhere? Judith said you were gonna pay off your dad's debt. What, did you find some rich old guy or something? When's he dying???]
Freya could practically picture her expression. She noticed several missed calls from her.
[Relax, okay? Well, yeah, I met a rich guy and got swept away. I'll pay you back too.]
Astrid replied instantly.
[You fool! Who cares about the debt?! Don't go with strangers! You're getting scammed!]
Freya laughed but didn't reply.
Astrid Bennet had been one of the senior hostesses at the karaoke club when Freya first started. She was the one who taught Freya everything. They were fifteen years apart, yet Astrid was still stunning.
She had been married once, but her husband had passed away six years ago. After becoming a widow, she chose to work at the club and never remarried.
Maybe that was why they understood each other so well-both alone in the world in their own ways.
As she thought back on everything, she let out a quiet sigh without realizing it.
Astrid and Judith... they were the two people Freya trusted more than anyone else in this world.
One day, she would repay their kindness.
The room was so comfortable that her tired eyes gradually grew heavy.
But she hadn't been asleep for long when she suddenly jolted awake at the sound of something crashing outside.
Startled, she jumped to her feet and rushed out of the room, her mind still hazy. Instinctively thinking there was a thief in her tiny apartment.
By the time she fully came to her senses, instead of a thief, she found a tall, handsome man, bare-chested, staring down with a frown at a pot of water that had fallen onto the floor.
"What are you doing?" she asked, picking up the pot.
When she looked up, Nathaniel flinched and stared at her like she was a pest, backing into the corner of the kitchen.
His face was pale, his body weak... but he still looked ridiculously attractive.
Freya cleared her throat and looked away.
"Do you want something to eat?"
"If I do, can you cook?"
"Of course."
"But I don't want to eat your cooking," Nathaniel said flatly. "So forget it."
Freya frowned.
She stepped closer, nearly bumping into his chin because of their height difference, but he quickly moved back.
"Stay five meters away from me. You agreed to that in the contract," he said, raising a hand to stop her from getting any closer.
Freya scoffed. "I'm not even wearing perfume. What, are you allergic to this beautiful women too? Give me a break."
She still didn't understand his condition. If her scent made him vomit... would simply being this close do the same?
The moment she finished speaking, Nathaniel's eyes widened.
He clamped a hand over his mouth and then he threw up.
"..."
Wtf.
In the end, Freya had to clean it up.
"Seriously... is his condition really that bad?"
Then something clicked.
"Wait! I didn't touch him. I'm not wearing anything scented. So why did he throw up?"
She sniffed the air.
Nothing. Just the sour stench of bile.
After cleaning up the mess and mopping the floor until it was spotless, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her gaze drifted upstairs, to where Nathaniel's room was. Ever since that vomiting incident, he hadn't come out at all.
His door remained tightly shut.
She remembered how pale he looked.
So... he really was sick?
Then why had he seemed fine this morning, even drinking beer?
Tsk.
What a confusing man.
He must have come down earlier to do something.
Was he trying to cook instant noodles?
Yeah, right. A rich man eating instant noodles?
Since Nathaniel didn't come out again, Freya cooked for herself.
The kitchen was fully stocked with fresh and instant ingredients. She made an omelet. Halfway through eating, she paused.
She remembered his pale face.
"Should I cook for him? But with that personality, he'd probably throw it straight into the trash."
So she didn't.
Back in her room, she took out her phone and stared at Keith's contact for a moment before hesitantly calling him.
"Freya, is something wrong?" His firm voice carried a faint edge that made her uneasy.
"Um... you said that Obgrin-I mean, Nathaniel is sick, right? Isn't someone supposed to bring him food? There's no one here."
She heard faint rustling on the other end and assumed Keith was busy with work.
"You didn't cook for him?" Keith asked.
"He told me to forget it."
"Huh?"
Freya clicked her tongue. "He said even if I cooked, he wouldn't eat it."
"Oh." A soft chuckle slipped through.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Not that I care or anything, but I don't want to be accused of murder if he starves to death, okay? I just want to avoid trouble."
"I understand," Keith said. "If you can, make him some porridge. He didn't say that because he doesn't want it... he's just a little prideful and shy."
Shy?
That guy?
Were they even talking about the same person?
...to be continued...
