This morning, I woke up with a spirit comparable to a hero before a war. The difference is, the hero has battle scars, but I have a mark of love for my brother Max.
"MARY! CLARA! COME HERE!"
My shout echoed throughout the corridor. My two poor maids ran like soldiers summoned to the battlefield—Mary with a stern but desperate face, and Clara with an expression of "my lady is calling me?" (with sparkling, touching eyes). Well, I can't blame her.
Am I not the best Lady in this entire novel world now?
"Milady, what is it?" Mary was still panting.
I pointed at the ceiling with the most dramatic flair I could manage. "I need a WIZARD! for a gift for big brother Max."
The two froze, then glanced at each other, their faces as pale as chicken flour.
"A wizard, Milady?" Mary repeated with a decidedly unenthusiastic voice. "Why does Milady need a wizard? Is Milady going to make the mansion explode again?"
