Unfathomable Phantom (COMPLETE)

VIII. conceited to violent?

Chapter 8

"Clementine, Mr. Augustus is asking for two cups of tea. He wants it now." Martha hollered at me in the kitchen as I washed a mountain of dirty dishes.

Does this household own like a thousand and one plates? I think I've been washing dishes for about an hour straight.

I almost dropped the delicate plates when I heard Martha's deafening shout. Perhaps Martha is in a hurry.

I can't manage to break things here. First is because I don't have any single coin and second, I don't want to get fired. That is why I was so nervous a while ago when a maid which by the way, I don't know the name of approached me and told me to go wash the dishes.

Tell you what, I almost fainted to death when I saw all the unfamiliar and questioning faces of the kitchen staff. I truly did feel their uncomfortable stares as I gently snatched the yellow rubber gloves in the side.

One male cook, probably in his late forties, asked me if I was okay and why I drowned myself last week. I just simply smiled at him and thanked him for his concern.

Anyways, all the kitchen staff didn't seem to take notice of Martha because they continued with their task.

The room really is chaotic. Shouting is the advisable form of communication here. The rhythmic sounds of chopping can be heard everywhere. The satisfying and soothing sound of running faucets is somehow music to the staff.

I was about to reply that I can't do the job because washing the dishes is one hard task but Martha was already gone somewhere.

Besides, I don't want to serve my stupid employer and his awkward soldier friend.

I quickly put the plates down the sink, removed my yellow rubber gloves, and wiped my wet hands to my white apron. And with that, I released a soft sigh.

I slowly went towards the side of the kitchen, near the door and grabbed the delicately-made teapot along with two teacups which I placed in the golden tray.

"Be careful with those, child! Those are much more expensive than your annual salary." the head-cook angrily warned me as I balanced the golden teapots and teacups in the golden tray. Everything is made of gold.

How I wish my employer's heart was made of gold as well.

I winced at Chef Florentino's warning. Chef Florentino has his eyes on other kitchen staff now as he quickly shook his head and hollered again. His face turned crimson. Goodness gracious, I hope he just really had a bad day.

Chef Florentino, as I've noticed, is pretty much dedicated to his work. He makes sure that every single dish is tasty. Somehow, that made me wonder if he has a wife, don't get me wrong, I have zero intention in wooing him. I am just a bit curious.

Chef Florentino's gray hair is tied up and his beard is perfectly shaved. Hygiene definitely is prominent in the kitchen.

And with that, I am off to hell.

For the nth time, I almost dropped the tray halfway down the never-ending stairs. Let's just say I am no good at balancing things and also, walking in ankle-length dresses is a struggle.

In fact, regardless in dress' length, wearing a dress is not my cup of tea. Don't get me wrong, I find them really, really beautiful. It's just that, I don't have the guts to wear them.

Speaking of tea, would you guys call me stupid even though I already am if I tell you that I don't know how to make a tea?

I knocked on the door thrice and began tapping my foot on the marbled-floor as I impatiently waited for the two annoying Victorian men to open the door.