The Scum Emperor's Redemption System

Chapter 137 The Cleansing Begins (2)

The grand hall of the palace echoed with the clattering of plates and the occasional thud of someone tripping over their own feet.

The "test" for the new girl—who Argider now learned was named Maeve—was in full swing, and it was already proving to be as entertaining as it was unorthodox.

Maeve stood at one end of the room, her wild ginger hair barely tamed into a loose braid and her cheeks flushed from nervousness. Her opponent? Agnes, the head maid-in-training, a stoic and sharp-eyed woman with an aura so intimidating it could cut glass.

"Begin the table-setting challenge!" barked Brimley, the butler, waving a hand dramatically like a game show host.

Argider, sitting on a cushioned chair off to the side, couldn't help but snicker at the absurdity of it all. This was hardly the formal recruitment process she envisioned, but it was entertaining.

The rules were simple: set a proper tea table with precision and speed. Agnes moved with mechanical precision, her every movement calculated, while Maeve was... less graceful.

"Let's see," Maeve muttered to herself, fumbling with the teacups. "Plate here... or was it there? No, no, definitely here—oops!" A spoon clattered to the floor. She scrambled to pick it up, only to knock over a sugar bowl in the process.

Agnes huffed audibly, her hands gliding over the table as she placed each item in perfect alignment. "Careful there, Maeve," she said, her voice clipped. "This isn't a barnyard."

Maeve shot her a sheepish grin. "Yeah, well, I'd like to see you milk a cow with this much pressure!"

Argider almost choked on her tea. "Alright, let's not turn this into a barnyard showdown," she called out, biting back a laugh.

Brimley, who was keeping score with a quill and parchment, squinted at Maeve's side of the table. "Miss Maeve, the spoons are supposed to go on the right side of the plate."

Maeve blinked, looking down at her work. "Oh... oh, that makes so much more sense now!" She quickly rearranged everything, accidentally knocking over a teapot in the process.

Agnes let out a sigh so dramatic it could have been heard in the next kingdom. "If I may, Your Majesty, I think it's clear who the more competent candidate is." She gave Maeve a pointed look, her expression smug.

But Maeve wasn't deterred. She grinned, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Competence is one thing, but personality counts too, right? Right, Your Majesty?"

Argider tilted her head, smirking. "Oh, absolutely. If we're grading on entertainment value, Maeve's winning by a mile."

Agnes stiffened, her composure cracking for the first time. "Entertainment value?" she muttered, as though the words were an affront to her very being.

The second test involved serving tea. Agnes went first, pouring a flawless stream of tea into the delicate porcelain cups without spilling a single drop. She handed it to Argider with a practiced curtsy.

"Perfect," Brimley said, jotting down notes. "As expected."

Maeve stepped up next, holding the teapot like it might explode at any moment. "Okay, okay, I can do this," she whispered to herself. She tilted the teapot, and for a moment, it seemed like she might actually pull it off.

Then her hand slipped.

"Ah! Hot, hot, hot!" Maeve yelped as the tea splashed over the edge of the cup and onto her own hand. She hopped in place, shaking her hand wildly, which only resulted in more tea spilling everywhere.

Agnes watched with a horrified expression, as though Maeve had committed a crime against humanity. "This is a disgrace," she muttered under her breath.

But to Argider's surprise, Maeve didn't crumble under the embarrassment. Instead, she grabbed a napkin, wiped up the mess, and poured another cup with exaggerated care.

Agnes stood ramrod straight in the middle of the room, her hands clasped neatly in front of her apron. Her expression was unreadable, as always, like a marble statue brought to life.

"Agnes," Argider began, tilting her head with a mischievous glint in her eye. "You've passed all the tests with flying colors—though you could stand to smile more."

Agnes didn't flinch. "A smile has no bearing on my performance, Your Majesty."

Argider chuckled. "Fair point. But I have one final test for you. Don't worry—it won't involve tea sets or card games."

Agnes raised a single, perfectly arched brow. "Very well, Your Majesty."

With that, Argider closed her eyes, letting her empathic powers unfurl like a net. She reached toward Agnes's emotional core, the very essence of her feelings. Normally, Argider only skimmed the surface of emotions, sensing them like ripples on a pond. But this time, she dove deeper, curious to uncover what lay beneath Agnes's stony exterior.

At first, there was nothing but cold steel—a wall of discipline so solid that Argider almost bounced off it. But as she pushed further, she began to sense... cracks.

The first thing Argider felt was anxiety, tightly coiled like a spring. It wasn't the frantic, scattered kind she often picked up from people like Maeve. No, this was sharp and controlled, a constant undercurrent that drove Agnes's every action.

"What if I fail? What if I'm not good enough? I cannot falter. Not here."

Argider frowned, surprised. Agnes didn't look like someone riddled with self-doubt.

Next came a wave of pride—not arrogance, but genuine satisfaction in her work. Agnes cared deeply about her role, about doing things right.

"Perfection is my duty. If I'm to serve the Empress, I must be flawless."

Then, something unexpected: a flicker of affection. Argider paused, startled.

"Her Majesty... she's strange, but oddly kind. I didn't expect this warmth. Perhaps..."

Argider's focus wavered as she fought the urge to giggle. So, beneath all that stoicism, Agnes had a soft spot!

Argider snapped back to herself, blinking as if waking from a dream. Agnes was still standing there, utterly composed, though her brows knitted slightly.

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"Your Majesty?" Agnes asked, her tone polite but tinged with curiosity.

Argider grinned, resting her chin in her palm. "Oh, nothing. Just getting to know you better."

The stoic maid tilted her head, clearly puzzled.

"Well, Agnes," Argider said, her tone playful. "I think you'll make a fine lady-in-waiting. But first, let's work on that anxiety, shall we?"

Agnes stiffened. "A-Anxiety, Your Majesty?"

Argider smirked, enjoying the rare moment of catching Agnes off guard. "Don't worry. I have a feeling we'll make a great team."