Chapitre 6: chapter 6: Your Personal Maid, Azaria

If someone asked me how many anime I've watched.

Or how many novels I've read.

Or how many movies I've seen.

Or how many TV series I've completed.

My answer would be: If you can count the number of hairs on your head, I'll be able to give you the number.

I'm not exaggerating. I had nothing to do but occupy myself with these things to distract myself from physical pain and to forget my personality flaws.

I've read everything: the good and the bad, the great and the ordinary, the creative and the clichés.

I haven't heard of a specific type without trying it, to the point where I ended up following and completing even the worst works.

I supported every writer whose story I read with comments, money, and of course, time.

My happiest moments were when an author replied and thanked me for my kind comment.

I fought many wars in the comments section with the hateful people who left empty comments just to lower the rating of a certain story because it wasn't their favorite genre, or because the writer was asked to do something they didn't intend to do in the story.

(Author: He's the one who says it's not me)

I didn't have the courage to fight for my rights in real life, but I had the courage to do so for the works of people I've never seen and will never see in my life.

Why? The feeling of living with a character, whether fictional or real, makes no difference to me.

In fact, I can assert that living with a fictional character is better.

I lived with them in their most miserable moments and their happiest moments.

I felt their frustration and hopes, and lived through their ups and downs.

I got angry when they were angry and happy when they were happy.

I was the first supporter of every story I read.

Some of my online discussions took a turn towards insults and profanity, anger and madness, but some took a rational and analytical approach.

It sometimes got to the point where when discussions happened at the comment level, I would be messaged to come in for defense.

I discussed all topics: plot, main characters' motivations, theories, everything.

It even got to the point where many writers proposed to me.

Because of my predictions, which were often correct, some might consider it spoiling events.

I got the title of the dumbest in school, but in the virtual world, specifically in the world of stories and novels, I got the title of the man who knows everything.

You heard me, the man who knows everything.

I don't know why I failed in school, but in terms of predictions and story analysis, I was on another level, there was no competition.

It was rare for me to fail in a discussion or analysis, and if I did fail, I would stay up nights analyzing my shortcomings.

I would reread chapters I had already read just to learn a new word or piece of information.

I learned two things in my previous life: noticing people's looks, pity, mockery, anger, contempt, fear, all negative emotions, I see them in their eyes at a glance.

The second thing is my extensive knowledge in the worlds of the stories I've read.

And of course, I read about the mafia and gang wars.

No matter how the plots change and how the world's change, humans don't change.

Greed, fear, love of control, these are the same motivations with little difference here and there.

To summarize, mafia means power and cruelty.

If they know your weakness, you're dead.

If they know your secrets, you're dead.

Unlike heroes who have a family to protect them or a background that makes everyone hate them but can't touch them, the owner of this body has only himself and his knowledge to protect him, at least that's what I've gathered so far.

I'm not afraid of them knowing I'm not their master, I'll find the perfect excuse which is memory loss, but my fear lies in someone trying to exploit the situation.

The maid stands before me with her face and expression that I find hard to decipher.

Trembling, my mind works at its maximum speed to get me out of this unenviable situation.

"What makes you say that?"

I ask my question with utmost coolness, trying to buy time as I step back towards the desk.

"I've been suspicious since you yelled at the servant."

Yelling at the servants? Don't tell me the body's owner has never yelled at the servants before.

I don't believe it. From my analysis so far, it's impossible. I've seen the fear in their eyes.

"Haha, just because I yelled at them, I've become amnesiac?"

Once again, I ask her a question that makes her doubt her analysis as I take another step back.

"Sir, I've never seen you love anything in your life as much as you love admitting guilt, whether they were wrong or not."

Admitting guilt whether they were wrong or not? Damn, he really is narcissistic. I take another step and say:

"Is that all?"

"You made me walk in front of you."

What's the problem with making her walk in front of me? I was confused and found no response to that except silence to make her explain.

"Sir doesn't like anyone walking in front of him."

What? He doesn't like anyone walking in front of him? Are you serious?

I don't know who came up with the term narcissism, but they need to redefine it or come up with another term for this madman.

He's not narcissistic, he's mentally ill and needs treatment.

One last time, I stepped back to reach the desk, putting my hand behind my back to feel the surface of the desk to pick up the scissors I saw earlier.

"You're smart for just a maid. Is there anything else you've noticed?"

I no longer care how the body's owner used to address her, all I care about is extracting as much information about him from her as possible.

Finally, my hand reaches the scissors, and I step forward towards her. She bows with all humility.

"Sir has always had high standards when it comes to the subordinates around him, and in response to sir, sir has always loved to shower with cold water."

"..."

I found nothing to say except that he was indeed a penguin.

At the same time that I was trying to find something to say, I found myself having reached the maid where there's only one step between us.

"What do you intend to do with this information?"

A voice came out of me in a pitch I didn't know I had before, with a glow coming from my eyes. I notice her body trembling as she immediately bows.

"I dare not do anything. I dare not do anything."

She repeated it to try to convince me.

But without my command, my body moves to grab her neck and push her to the wall, taking out the scissors and placing them on her neck.

From the force of my pressure, a red dot of blood starts appearing on its edges.

With my face close to hers, my eyes on her blue ones, and contrary to what you'd expect from a beautiful girl like her, I see neither fear nor pleading, but that look that's hard to identify.

And as I'm thinking about my next move, I feel my hand holding the scissors moving to press on her neck, but luckily this time I was aware of my actions and stopped it from its endeavor at the last moment.

The more I look at her, the more confused I become.

"Why are you so calm? Do you think I can't kill you here and now, or is there something you're relying on to save your life?"

"No sir, I have no doubt in your ability to do as you please. You can kill me. As for the reason, you can say I betrayed you, you can even say that you no longer like my appearance. All that will happen is an increase in their terror and respect for you, sir."

Without changing her expression, she replies, talking about her death as if it's something that doesn't concern her.

What's wrong with this maid? Is she the type who loves the protagonist no matter what he does to her?

What do I do now? If I leave her there, there's a chance she might exploit me or betray me.

What should I do?

"Sir, don't hesitate, this servant understands your position."

Her sweet voice brings me out of my thoughts, but her words only increase my confusion.

"Why are you so submissive?"

I focus all my attention on her face in hopes of noticing any expression that would help me understand her intentions, but to no avail, she still has the same features, which makes me suspect she's being honest.

"In response to sir, I had no life before sir and will have none after him. If my death will ease sir's mind, then I will have completed my mission."

"What is your mission?"

"In response to sir, my mission is to do everything sir commands."

I know this scenario, it seems to me that the body's owner saved her from some event, which made her infatuated with him and even worship him as her only purpose in life.

With these thoughts, my hand relaxes a little.

"But sir, if you allow me, I don't think it's wise to kill me while you've lost your memory."

"Why?"

Even though I know the answer, I'm interested in what she's going to say.

"With sir's memory loss, he will need someone he trusts to help him understand and know his position so he doesn't make mistakes and everyone finds out."

"And do you know everything about me?"

"In response to sir, I only know what sir has allowed me to know about him, but in my opinion, it's enough to help sir succeed until he regains his memory."

Her words are logical, I know that, but the risks are high.

"What guarantees that you won't betray me or take advantage of the situation?"

"In response to sir, there is no guarantee except killing me."

Once again, she talks about her death as if it's a game.

If I rely on my analysis, her personality is the type that would die with you.

As for the look in her eyes, it seems to be a kind of feeling I've never experienced in my past life, it could be either loyalty or love, whatever it is.

I released her neck and she started coughing hysterically. It seems she had been enduring the pressure for a long time.

I couldn't help but admire her determination for not showing it on the surface all this time.

I won't lie, I felt guilty after seeing the mark on her neck, asking myself what I was doing now.

She wipes her neck with her soft hands and takes a deep breath to be able to speak, and without taking a moment to rest, she returns to her routine work.

"Sir, the bath is ready and the guests will arrive within an hour."

She quickly returned to work, just for me to praise her in my heart.

But I must maintain the master's position so as not to increase any suspicions.

It's better to continue pretending, I don't know what she would do if she discovered that her master had died and a stranger had taken over his body.

"Show me the way."

"Yes, sir."

She leaves the room and I follow her.

With her slender figure and killer curves, I felt as if she was trying to seduce me, but I removed these thoughts from my mind after remembering that she was walking the same way before.

She's not trying to seduce me, she's not trying to seduce me, I repeated these thoughts in my head until a question appeared in its place:

"What was your name again?"

As if lightning had struck her after hearing my question, she turned to me to give me a bow, and without missing her expression filled with disappointment for not remembering her name.

She really loves the body's owner, but this fact doesn't make me drop my guard, remembering all the honey traps I've read about.

She introduced herself with a dazzling smile.

"Your personal maid, Azaria."