It finally murmured gently to me, "Oh my goodness ija! I forgot to inform you that there is just one room here." I was shocked as I glanced at him.
Just one? That indicates that it is her son's room, so what about me? Where can I find a bed?
"You'll just rest on the couch, I guess."
I'm fine, but where are my things, and where can I take a bath? Sofa.
So, perhaps the high pay is a result of their poor quality of sleep. Why are they so wealthy, Hayst? This is, of course, his son's home, not hers.
I was virtually covered in saliva when I said, "There's just one restroom here and it's still in my son's room." Since I was accustomed to sleeping on the floor as a child, I don't have any issues with it when it comes to sleeping. However, what about going to the bathroom? What if I knock on his door and say, "Can I use your bathroom because I have diarrhea?" When I'm already fucked up?
What happens if he detects that odor in his bedroom? Embarrassing...
She even laughed as she said, "It's just a joke, Ija."
I'm not sure if Mrs. Ferrer's assurance that there are two rooms here—yours will be next to my son's room and there is a bathroom inside—would make me irritated or make me feel at ease.
I pretended to laugh as I said, "You like to joke."
She wiped a few tears from her eyes due to the excessive laughter, "The epic of your face ija, I really wanted to laugh a while ago."
I simply agreed and began to go when she said, "All right, I need to get back to the company. You take care of it. Just turn around and you'll find a ladder then go up and you'll see two rooms, don't enter the second one."
I noticed Mrs. Ferrer's son standing in front of the first bedroom door as I down the stairs. He remained motionless as he simply stared at me.
It was only one step up the stairs when one of my feet unexpectedly slipped in the back. I thought I was going to fall, but someone quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me up. I jerked my hand to his chest and looked at him.
I had barely shaken him and gently prodded him when I abruptly awoke to the sound of my baggage coming down the stairs. I instantly sat back down and grabbed it.
He says he wants to help, but how? He can easily see that I'm struggling to carry what I am. Tsk, Mrs. Ferrer's son isn't even a gentleman.
But as I lingered over this Xander, I couldn't help but question if he was that man or not. He still has the appearance of the man on the road even if he is wearing a glass. No matter what he is wearing, including dark spectacles, I can still identify him.
I was still unable to open the door to the other room as it entered his. A short while later, I carefully opened it and entered, but I was startled as something cold and sticky poured on top of me.
A paint can was perched atop the door when I cautiously raised my head to look. I started by moving my suitcase slightly away from me; it was still painted, but since it was small, it was fine.
So, that's your style huh? You greet your new maid in that manner.
It's not a problem with me, all right. You can't fire me, Mr. Xander, even if you treat me this way every day. You can't let me leave even though I'll only grow exhausted! Tsk, am I going after just one day? I haven't even gotten my pay yet!
I exhaled deeply before grinning. I smashed the door down at that point and went to the restroom, saying, "You can do it, Elyse, just fight!"
When I spotted a spider, I yelled "Ahhhhhhhhh!" and slipped.
I sighed and carefully stood up, my eyes riveted on it. I accepted it, but I scowled because it was only a toy.
Is he a child? He's strange, ah, only kids treat maids like this.
I tidy up the mess in the space and the paint on the floor after I take a shower. The space is OK; it just requires some serious cleaning and organization.
It was almost twelve when I looked at the clock.
I slowly opened the door and peeked inside to see if Xander was there. I was surprised to see him standing there staring at me when I looked to the side.
Pretty awful, I thought, "What are you, Xander! Don't get me surprised!" I got stunned because I addressed him by his name—what are you, Elyse?—my eyes grew a little wider. You should call him in a proper way!
"Call me Sir Xander." It stepped on me gradually, and I let go of the doorknob. He moved a step closer to me as I turned back away into the space, widening the doorway.
I nervous said and sang in succession before swallowing, "A-Ahh, what d-did you do?"
I have nothing to hide, which is why my heart is thumping so rapidly.
He gave me a piece of paper before leaving. I felt as though I could breathe easily.
I was surprised as I gazed at the piece of paper he had earlier handed to me and thought, "What is this?"
I gave the paper a presentation since I believe it has writing. It was upside down when I turned it over, but it turned out to be food. "Poo... what poo? Then what letter is that? Oh my, your paper is upside down."
What? He only wants food, so why does he then require this? He can explain to me whether it is necessary for him to continue making me sneeze and moving closer to me.
What the-- tsk? Does he intend to film our life, huh? Next, what? Will we love each other that way if I fall for him and he does the same for me? If Xander is asexual, then I'm sorry but I don't think about getting married or being in a relationship.
I left the room and went in search of the kitchen. When I opened the refrigerator to see what was inside, I saw only meat and no veggies.
Then I started making rice while gradually tidying up the visible areas of the house.
I prepared adobo and fried eggs while debating how many to prepare and whether to include myself. Este I won't prepare meals for myself if I'm on a tight budget? Do I have permission to eat with him? Why didn't I inquire of Mrs. Ferrer while we were in the car earlier?
I set the table with everything ready and groaned; I was a little worn out.
I shouted out to him from here, "Sir Xander! Let's eat- you're ready to eat!" but there was no response.
Going to his room was my only option.
I went there and repeatedly pounded on his door, but no one answered. I asked him out loud, "Sir, are you sleeping?" so that he would hear me.
I asked myself a weak question, "Can I just kick this door?" I was astonished when your door suddenly opened and Xander spat out.
As I stared at him, I bit my lower lip. His hair is still damp, and since he is currently without glasses, it is possible that he has just finished taking a bath.
"Sir Xander, have we met... before?" I questioned as he turned to face me, but I got no response.
I started to say, "It's like you look like the naughty man I battled with," but stopped when he gave me a critical look.
What is the issue? I guess, I was just curious. Why is it bad to ask questions? Does it only resonate with me, or is he guilty?
I simply went after him and sat down with him. We will most likely eat them facing each other because the seats are facing one other.
I questioned him. "Did you pray before eating Sir Xander?" But just like previously, he gave me no response.
He used the fork to sample the fried egg I had prepared. When he spat on it, I scowled and grabbed the egg's container, throwing it in the trash after.
I couldn't help but yell at him, "What... what's the problem?! Why did you toss that food away?!" When it comes to food, I truly can't help but feel upset or angry.
"What the f**k do you call that, food? It's f**king salty!" He's kinda cute, so I'm not sure if I'll laugh at him or find him annoying.