I'd like to start this story off in the politest way possible.

My mistress is a bitch.

She's a sly, scheming, evil witch in princess clothing.

She's the prime minister's daughter though, so technically she isn't a princess, but she is engaged to the crown prince so technically she is albeit not officially.

She's a spoiled little brat with brains (unfortunately), so everyone aside from her servants tries their very best to avoid her. But even her own maids are terrified of her temperament which I could describe being a mixture between old man senility and PMS on steroids. Not to bash or anything, but I'm bashing.

Crash!

Speak of the devil.

"Which one of you vile serfs dares to hand me this inferior tea!"

Geez woman, no need to break the whole tea set. I rolled my eyes secretly as I skittered together with the other maidservants into a line across the evil hag I usually respectfully refer to as, "My lady."

She glared at each one of us. Her face blackening as each second passed and at the same time, the tense atmosphere in the Plum Blossom Pavillion worsened. I took a quick glance at her frowning face. My mistress, despite her fl(aw)ful personality, was gifted with a heavenly face. The deities must have something wrong with their minds.

"You."

Thank god, it's not me.

"Y-yes, my lady?" The maid two maids from my right squeaked.

"It was you who prepared this god awful beverage on my table."

There's a secret to how a servant can last longer than three months within this monstrosity's entourage. Never falter, never hesitate and most importantly, never talk back.

And that's exactly what this dumbass did.

"Y-you asked for the tea to be m-m-mild." The dumbass sputtered. "S-so this humble servant cooled the pot for a minute before serving it to your grace."

Idiot.

"And what did you use to cool this tea."

"The c-cooling cylinder, my lady."

Not a second passed before the maidservant fell to the ground. Shrieks were heard among the maids as we saw blood seep through the crack on her head. I sighed and quickly fetch the cart that held our cleaning supplies. Some experienced maid followed my example.

With practiced movements, the dead girl was wrapped in linen cloth. I signaled the nearest maids to clean the blood while the guard came in to pick up the corpse. With a hunched back and a lowered gaze, I moved towards the spot bear my mistress where the scattered pieces of glass laid.

For a second, I glanced at my mistress again. Her fierce eyes met with mine, but I was not taken aback. She scoffed and went back to examining pretty red nails while I went back to cleaning the mess this brat made on the floor. Of course, I made sure not to touch anything directly and gathered the shards with sheer meticulousness.

My mistress is a bitch.

But I knew her attitude wasn't unfounded. Developing such an unpleasant temperament can't be helped if everyone around her, including her loved ones, wants to take her life. It was an open secret. She had something everyone desired that can only be obtained in exchange for her life. Something so important and very much needed that one can't help but want to kill her for it.

Yes, even me.