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Never in a million years did I think that drugging a doctor would earn me the Young Master's favor.
Okoto was envious. Also confused.
She'd always figured that someone as clumsy as me would eventually step on the Young Master's toes and get dragged away and beaten to death.
Who knew I'd suddenly turn things around, leap over her, and become the Young Master's personal attendant?
Okoto didn't understand, but she was more than happy to accept it. With a kind of relieved joy, she handed over this high-risk position to me.
My heart turned to ash. I couldn't figure out why I'd earned the Young Master's appreciation.
But I was a maid enlightened by the Young Master. I couldn't give up so easily.
I thought hard. After several days, I finally figured it out.
I'd tormented the doctor. That's why the Young Master was happy.
To the Young Master, doctors were detestable. Every time they appeared, they'd give him a glimmer of hope that his illness could be cured, then smash him back into the dirt, ruthlessly crushing his expectations.
Yet the Young Master couldn't just kill every doctor who displeased him like he did with servants. He could only watch them shake their heads and sigh, saying he had some exceedingly rare strange illness.
Not only did they leave with the head of the household's payment for nothing, they spread word of his strange illness far and wide, making him fodder for gossip.
The Young Master loathed doctors.
Once I understood this, it was like all seven apertures opened at once. I finally grasped how to get along with the Young Master.
Simply put: treat him like a normal person.
Expressions or gestures of pity were absolutely forbidden. Discussing how bizarre his illness was? A capital offense.
Beyond that, help him deal with people he disliked.
After all, the Young Master was a noble Young Master. Some things he couldn't do himself.
From then on, doctors who came to treat the Young Master fell into dire straits.
Because after my guidance, all the servants in the quarters became enlightened.
As long as we tormented the doctors and made them show expressions of pain and discomfort, the Young Master would smile.
His mood would be good for several days. He wouldn't lose his temper at the drop of a hat.
No choice—our lives were in his hands. We had no option but to start grinding down the doctors.
Even when the head of the household heard about this, faced with choosing between his precious only son and a bunch of useless doctors, he turned a blind eye and completely ignored the doctors' pleas for help.
Word probably still spread through the doctors' gossip network, because the number of doctors coming to treat the Young Master plummeted.
Any doctor without real skill had to think twice before deciding whether to come accept the challenge.
With fewer doctors coming to torment him daily, the Young Master's mood improved somewhat. His temper tantrums dropped from five times a day to twice a day.
What tremendous progress!
We were moved to tears.
Especially me. I wanted to go to the shrine every day to thank Amaterasu for her protection.
Being the Young Master's personal attendant was really, really hard work!
Ever since doctors stopped coming as often, I—the main force in tormenting doctors—seemed to gradually lose value in the Young Master's eyes.
That wouldn't do. I had to use every trick I had, working hard to care for him so he'd find me reasonably useful.
I spent a clumsy, confused spring. Endured a nerve-wracking summer. Time finally arrived at autumn—which I thought would favor me.
The Young Master said to me, "I want to go out."
Take that back. Autumn wasn't friendly to me at all.
I nearly grabbed my hair bun and let out a silent scream.
But I still kept my face composed and asked, "Where would the Young Master like to go?"
He was cold, even a bit malicious: "Naturally, somewhere that will please me."
Subtext: You choose. If I'm not satisfied with your choice, I'll deal with you.
I really wanted to punch him down hard, just like when I was young dealing with boys who bullied me—ride on top of him and slap him a dozen or twenty times. Then he'd know he was wrong.
The fantasy was beautiful. Reality was cruel.
I swallowed my anger. "Yes."
By this time, the weather had turned cool—not really suitable for the frail Young Master to go out and play.
But restricting his freedom to go out because of his poor health? Impossible.
Never mind how many people the Young Master would kill in his fury—the head of the household couldn't bear to let him suffer such grievance either.
It's a bit funny, actually. The head of the household thought I'd been taking good care of the Young Master and gave me permission to mobilize other servants.
Except for maids serving the legal wife and concubines, as long as the Young Master needed them, servants from anywhere could be requisitioned.
I started racking my brain thinking about where to arrange for the Young Master to play.
He didn't like associating with nobles. Always felt those people were secretly mocking him behind his back.
He also found commoners filthy and disgusting. Refused to set foot in lowly places.
Lively places he found too noisy. Quiet places he said were quiet as graveyards.
Finally, I anxiously thought of a place, picked a good day, then went to ask the Young Master's opinion.
He arrogantly hummed in acknowledgment without saying anything else, leaving the travel arrangements to me.
That day was a good day. The sunlight was neither harsh nor lazy, falling golden on your body—warm but not hot. Perfect for lying lazily under the eaves and napping.
Okoto and I, one on each side, carefully helped the Young Master onto the ox-drawn carriage. After he settled against the soft cushions, the driver cautiously flicked his whip.
The carriage interior was arranged very comfortably. Pristine white gauze bought from Tang Country covered the windows—it didn't block outside sunlight, and its fine weave softened the autumn breeze rolling in, gently brushing across the Young Master's face.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression clearly content.
But Okoto and I didn't dare relax. We knelt beside him, closely monitoring the Young Master's every move.
If you asked what merits the Young Master had, well, of course, um, this, there were some, I suppose.
He didn't like maids chattering endlessly in his ear, so we didn't have to rack our brains telling jokes or stories to amuse him.
Sparing us the extra labor of squeezing out rest time to hunt for new stories—how was that not a merit?
We rode in silence, listening to the ox-cart's slow progress, occasionally serving the Young Master honeyed water or bringing him a plate of sweets.
After what felt like ages—long enough for my feet to go numb from kneeling—the ox-cart finally arrived.
I quickly rose with Okoto to help the Young Master down. I accidentally pressed on my numb leg and my face contorted in pain.
Fortunately, the Young Master didn't see. After stepping down, he surveyed the area, a storm of displeasure brewing on his face. "What are we doing here?"
This was Mount Kyomei outside the capital. Among the nearby mountains, it had nothing particularly special—except for one advantage very suitable for the Young Master.
I'd taken time off to scout the area thoroughly before selecting this place.
No time to worry about my numb feet. I could only kneel again and say, "This lowly maid believes you will like this place. Please ascend the mountain and enjoy the scenery."
Several strong-footed attendants had already brought over a palanquin, respectfully waiting for him to board.