Several days later, Hina packed her belongings and left the tenement house.
Leaving this humble home, where memories of living with her parents were deeply ingrained, weighed heavier on her heart than she had imagined.
(…Father, Mother. Please watch over me.)
She pressed her hands together in silent prayer before an old photograph of her late parents. Carefully tucking it into her kimono, she stepped outside.
As she made her rounds to bid farewell to the neighbors, some smiled and said, “You’ve really made something of yourself,” while others grasped her hands and urged, “Don’t push yourself too hard.” Each farewell left a bittersweet ache in her chest.
And then, Hina once again passed through the gate of the Saotome residence.
After paying her respects to Lady Kiyoe and Keiichiro, the master of the house, she immediately set to work creating a small herb garden in a corner of the estate.
She chose a spot facing southeast—where soft morning sunlight filtered in, and by afternoon, it was naturally shaded. It was a lonely little patch, slightly removed from the azaleas Lady Kiyoe tended herself, where weeds had once run rampant.
Though the garden was somewhat maintained, there was no dedicated gardener. The maids, it seemed, pulled weeds or planted seasonal flowers whenever they had spare time. Occasionally, she heard, Lady Kiyoe would whimsically plant bulbs herself.
Hina had already secured permission to use the storage shed. When she slid open the weathered wooden door, she found hoes, shears, pots, bamboo baskets, and even drying racks neatly arranged inside. The well-ventilated space seemed perfect for preparing and drying herbs with a little ingenuity.
Using a hoe from the shed, she turned the soil in a long, narrow flowerbed framed by wooden borders. She mixed in the compost left neglected in a corner of the garden, transforming the earth into soft, rich black soil.
What Hina paid special attention to was the Seirenso (Seirenso) she had brought from her old tenement, still in its pot.
Seirenso was a rare medicinal herb with calming properties—and notoriously difficult to cultivate. It withered under direct sunlight and was sensitive to even slight changes in humidity. During the carriage ride to the Saotome estate, she had anxiously monitored its condition.
Now, she transplanted three of the Seirenso into the flowerbed and covered them with a handmade wooden box. One side of the box could be opened or closed, allowing her to adjust sunlight and airflow as needed. Without fail, she checked the leaves at dawn and dusk, misting them with water.
The other herbs could make do with what already grew in the garden.
“Please grow well here…”
Surrounded by the scent of earth, Hina clasped her hands together and whispered her wish.
Unbeknownst to her, Keiichiro had been quietly watching her from his study overlooking the veranda.
Once the herb garden was set up, Hina’s duties as a maid awaited.
Led by the head maid, Yamane, she was introduced to the other maids one by one. They all appeared to be in their thirties—older than Hina, with composed demeanors. Their roles were divided: cooking, cleaning, bath duties, and laundry, with those free assisting others as needed.
“First, you’ll need to familiarize yourself with the entire estate,” Yamane said, guiding Hina through the sprawling Saotome residence.
As they passed the kitchen, something caught Hina’s eye.
“W-Wait… is this… gas?!”
Beside the hearth sat a small gas stove with a single burner. To Hina, it was an overwhelming marvel of modern convenience.
“This is amazing…! You can boil water right away without even lighting a fire…”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. When brewing medicine or steaming ingredients, water temperature and speed were crucial. This would make her work so much easier.
Moving to the back entrance, she spotted a pump well and a brand-new faucet.
“And this… water comes out just by turning it? Really?!”
Timidly, she twisted the faucet—cold water gushed out with a rush. However, she learned that while the plumbing was used for quick tasks, well water was still the norm.
The other maids exchanged amused glances at her reaction.
“My, my… you really are a country bumpkin, aren’t you?”
“Is it really that surprising? Gas and plumbing are common these days.”
Though her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Hina’s eyes sparkled with delight. She was simply grateful for anything useful. As an herbalist, she wanted to make the most of every tool available.
Just then, footsteps echoed from down the hall.
“Hmm… If you’re this taken with our home, then hiring you as a maid was worth it.”
At the gentle voice, Hina’s head snapped up.
Keiichiro stood there.
His expression was as composed as ever, but the faint smile on his lips seemed directed at her.
When he let out a quiet chuckle, the maids around them gaped.
“Goodness… the Master… laughing like that…?”
Flustered, Hina stared back at the young lord before her.
For some reason, though his words were simple and ordinary, they seeped deep into her heart.
Later, after helping with meal preparations, Hina asked while putting away a bucket:
“…Um, is the Master really as they say?”
Yamane and the senior maid, Harue, exchanged glances.
After a brief silence, Yamane relaxed her lips.
“Heh… where did you hear that? The ‘ruthless young lord’ bit?”
“Yes… even back in the village tenements, a little…”
“Well, his glare could make a stone tremble, that’s true. Straight-backed, few words. But he’s never once scolded me.”
Harue quickly added:
“Me neither. Though I suppose it’d be different if I slacked off. But—I’ve never seen him smile before.”
Hina blinked.
“…Huh? But earlier…”
Harue nodded slightly and shrugged.
“Exactly. That’s why we were so surprised.”
“I’ve served this house since the previous master’s time… Back then, he was a cheerful young master. But…”
As Yamane gazed into the distance with a somber look, Harue whispered in Hina’s ear:
“Well, he was a soldier once… Maybe something happened in the past.”
The words left a faint tightness in Hina’s chest.
She had braced herself for a stern man. But in his eyes, she sensed not coldness—but something far more distant, like an inexpressible shadow lingering in his gaze.