Originally, after completing Leo’s assessment, Ian had already packed his luggage and was prepared to set off back to the Academy that very afternoon.
But when Lady Elsa learned that her son had miraculously passed the assessment, she decided to host a small thank-you banquet at the Estate that evening.
This was to express gratitude for Ian’s diligent teaching over this period, to celebrate Captain Garrick’s improving health, and also to mark Leo’s progress.
Unable to refuse such earnest hospitality, Ian had to put his luggage back in his room and stay one more night.
The master’s decision often spelled disaster for the servants.
Because the decision was made so last-minute, the preparation time for the banquet was severely compressed.
From cleaning the Hall, polishing the tableware, and hanging decorations, to the mountain of ingredients piled up in the kitchen, Kastian manor was instantly thrown into a state of chaotic, frantic activity, with a severe shortage of hands.
And as the only person in the entire Estate with nothing to do today, Young Master Leo was whistling with his hands in his pockets, planning to slip out to the streets while everyone was busy and show off the magic he had just learned.
However, the moment one of his feet crossed the threshold of the Hall, his mother’s authoritative voice rang out behind him.
“Leo, where are you going?”
Leo stiffened, turning back with a forced smile. “Uh… Mother, I’m just going out for some fresh air. My head feels a bit stuffy.”
“If your head is stuffy, then get your body moving.” Lady Elsa rubbed her temples and pointed at several maids who were on ladders hanging decorations in the Hall. “We’re short-handed today. Don’t just stand there idle; go help Anna and the others.”
“Huh? Me? Help with chores?” Leo’s eyes widened, his face a mask of resistance.
But under his mother’s stern gaze, he dejectedly rolled up his sleeves and joined the labor force.
However, it turned out that having a young master who had never lifted a finger in his life and was severely lacking in common sense help with work was absolutely a mistake.
“Anna, is it okay to put this vase here? Whoops, it’s too slippery!”
“Young Master, be careful! That’s Madame’s favorite antique vase!”
“Martha, is this rug crooked? Let me give it a good tug…”
“Young Master! The rug will get dirty!”
***
In less than half an hour, the Hall was a scene of constant near-disasters. Leo’s clumsy actions not only failed to help but also made the already busy maids tremble with anxiety.
Because he was the Young Master, the servants didn’t dare scold him. They could only work twice as hard behind him, silently cleaning up the messes he made.
Anna was so anxious her eyes were red, almost on the verge of kneeling to beg him to stop.
Elsa stood at the top of the stairs on the second floor, watching her son below pacing around like a headless fly, frantically hindering more than helping. She sighed helplessly.
“Leo.”
“What is it, Mother? Look, isn’t this ribbon hung pretty well?” Leo, holding a tangled mess of ribbon, was still trying to claim credit.
“Go to the kitchen,” Lady Elsa said, having seen enough. “Go help Ailiya with the side dishes.”
And so, the unwanted Young Master Leo was banished to the steamy, bustling kitchen.
Inside the kitchen, the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of knives hitting chopping boards was as dense as a rainstorm.
Ailiya stood before a massive chopping board, her hands a blur. Amidst flashes of the knife’s edge, onions and carrots were sliced into perfectly uniform shreds and thin slices.
The experience values for handicraft and culinary arts on her system panel were rapidly ticking upwards.
Chef Carter was wielding a spatula in front of two large iron woks, sweating profusely from the effort.
Ahem. Leo pushed open the kitchen door and walked in with his hands clasped behind his back, trying to adopt the air of an inspector.
“Well, you know, Mother said you’re very busy here and asked me to come lend a small hand.”
Chef Carter jumped, nearly dropping his spatula into the wok. “Oh, my Young Master! The kitchen is full of smoke and grease! You shouldn’t be here! This really won’t do!”
Ailiya didn’t even look up, her knife still flying.
She glanced at Leo out of the corner of her eye, a flash of undisguised contempt flickering in her gaze.
A nuisance like this who only creates trouble… He has no value here except taking up space.
She was just about to open her mouth and dismiss him in the most indifferent tone, but when her gaze swept over the large basket of unpeeled potatoes in the corner and the pile of unwashed vegetables beside it, she fell silent.
The workload was indeed a bit heavy. Even if she was an efficiency machine, she needed someone to handle these menial, unskilled tasks.
“If the Young Master is so inclined,” Ailiya stopped chopping and pointed at the potatoes in the corner, then at a small peeling knife nearby, “then please peel those potatoes. The requirement isn’t high; just get the skins off cleanly.”
“That’s it?” Leo glanced at the basket of potatoes and snorted disdainfully. “You’re underestimating me. Watch this.”
He pulled over a small stool, sat down, picked up the peeler and a potato, and started peeling with an air of competence.
To Ailiya’s surprise, Leo’s potato-peeling movements were actually fairly nimble.
Although he peeled a bit too thickly at first, taking off a good chunk of the flesh with the skin, after a few potatoes, his hands gradually steadied.
The blade glided quickly against the potato skin, sending a long, smooth peel curling into the trash bin.
Hmm?
Ailiya continued slicing meat cutlets while observing him from the corner of her eye.
It seems the recent magic training and basic combat practice have at least improved this kid’s wrist stability and focus a little.
He didn’t even cut his own fingers. Not completely hopeless, I suppose.
She gave a fair, internal evaluation and was about to open her mouth to offer a small word of praise, to encourage this free labor to speed up a bit.
However, before the words could leave her lips…
Leo, sitting on the stool and looking at the bowl of perfectly peeled potatoes he had produced, felt his confidence instantly inflate like a balloon.
“This is way too slow. At this rate, how long will it take me?”
Leo muttered, threw down the peeler, and turned his gaze to the pile of muddy leafy greens and carrots in the sink nearby.
“Perfect timing. Let me show you the practical application of magic!”
Leo stood up excitedly, drew the short staff from his waist, and pointed it at the large sink filled with water and vegetables.
“Watch closely.”
An extremely ominous premonition suddenly rose in Ailiya’s heart.
“Wait, stop—!”
Leo shouted, pouring his magic power into the sink in a rush.
But he had clearly overestimated his control over the magnitude of his magic output.
BOOM—SPLASH!
The water in the sink instantly went berserk. It was no longer a gentle cleaning vortex but transformed into a miniature water jet.
Accompanied by a loud noise.
Water, mud, several carrots snapped by the water pressure, and a few rotten vegetable leaves erupted from the sink like an explosion, creating a localized, artificial downpour right in the middle of the kitchen.
“Aiyo! My wok!” Chef Carter cried out in agony, drenched to the bone. A good amount of muddy water splashed into the pot of thick soup he had just finished stewing.
Leo, caught in the direct path of the jet, was hit head-on. He was sent flying back, landing hard on his rear end, his short staff flying out of his hand.
“Cough, cough, cough… M-miscalculation. The magic output was just a tiny bit too strong…” Leo wiped the muddy water from his face and offered a weak, guilty defense.
Drip… drip… drip…
The last few drops of water fell from the ceiling.
A deathly silence fell over the kitchen.
Ailiya stood in place, still holding the kitchen knife.
A few rotten vegetable leaves were stuck precisely in her silver-white hair. Several drops of murky, muddy water were slowly sliding down her expressionless face.
Her previously clean maid’s uniform was now a tragic sight.
Leo gulped, looking at Ailiya’s dead-fish eyes that seemed capable of murder. He scrambled backward toward the kitchen door in fright.
Ailiya slowly put down the kitchen knife. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, wiped the muddy water from her face, plucked the vegetable leaves from her hair, and threw them into the trash bin.
“Hold it. You’re not going anywhere.”
“You are going to clean up this kitchen!!”
And then, in her heart, she let out a deep sigh of exasperation.
‘I actually…had even a fraction of a second of expectation for this guy.’
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