By morning, I knew something was wrong. The palace halls were louder than usual.



Murmurs followed me as I walked, maids whispering behind their hands, guards glancing in my direction. Even the royal attendants—normally as stiff as statues—looked at me like I was some kind of rare exotic creature.



I caught snippets of their gossip:



"I heard His Majesty personally refused to let her leave!"

"She's the only one allowed to serve his tea."

"Do you think she's... favored?"



I stopped in my tracks.



Favored?!



"WHO IS SPREADING THESE LIES?!"



And as if summoned by my pure outrage, a familiar voice chuckled behind me. "Wow. You sound so ungrateful."



I spun around, glaring. And there stood Cassian.



Smug. Relaxed. And definitely guilty.



I jabbed a finger at him. "YOU. This is YOUR doing!"



Cassian tilted his head innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"



"You KNOW what I mean!" I seethed. "You're spreading rumors!"



He shrugged, completely unbothered. "I just told a few people what I overheard. It's not my fault the entire palace found it interesting." I groaned loudly.



"Cassian. You CANNOT go around telling people that I'm the King's favorite."



He grinned. "You mean His Majesty's most prized tea maker? The one he refuses to let go? The one he **personally claimed as his own—"



I whacked him with a rolled-up napkin.



Cassian laughed. I, meanwhile, was reconsidering my entire existence.



"Great," I muttered. "Now I'm officially a walking palace scandal."



~~~



I thought things couldn't get worse. I was wrong. Because later that afternoon, right in the middle of scrubbing the grand staircase, a royal attendant appeared.



"Thalia." I froze, mid-scrub.



"Y-Yes?" The attendant sighed, rubbing his temple. "His Majesty requests you." I felt my soul leave my body.



"...Right now?"



"Yes."



I glanced down at myself. I was covered in dust, sweat, and floor wax. This was not the appearance of a royal tea maid.



"Uh..." I licked my lips. "Is this... urgent?"



The attendant's eyebrow twitched. "It's the King." I sighed. Of course it was urgent.



When I arrived at the royal study, I found the King exactly as I expected:



Imposing. Regal. Exuding an aura so strong that even the air felt like it was standing at attention.



The moment I stepped inside, the guards outside straightened to near-perfect posture. Everyone in the room averted their eyes, heads lowered.



Except me.



Because, apparently, I never learned self-preservation. I blinked at him. "Uh... Your Majesty?"



The King, without even looking up from his documents, calmly stated—



"I require tea."



I frowned. "...That's it?" He finally looked at me. Sharp, golden eyes locking onto mine. The room felt colder.



"You question my orders?" I felt several people mentally screaming at me.



(Lower your head! Don't look him in the eyes!)



But I just squinted harder. "...Sir, it's the middle of the afternoon."



The King tilted his head slightly. "And?"



"And you had, like... six cups at the banquet last night!"



He set his quill down, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Your point?"



I gaped. "Are you... addicted to tea?!"



The entire room froze. The guards subtly glanced at each other. The royal attendants sweated nervously. Nobody had ever dared to question the King's personal habits. I had just committed social suicide.



But the King?



The King just smirked. "That's not your concern, maid."



My eye twitched. "This feels like my concern."



He waved a dismissive hand. "Less talking. More tea." I resisted the urge to throw a sugar cube at him. Instead, I gritted my teeth, bowed stiffly, and turned on my heel.



This man. Was going to drive me insane.



~~~



Just when I thought I was done suffering, the head steward found me ten minutes later. And that's when I knew. I was in trouble again.



"You," he said, arms crossed.



I gulped. "Me?"



"Yes, you." His expression was unreadable. "Since you are supposedly an exemplary maid, we have a new task for you." I did not like the sound of that.



"...What kind of task?"



"You will be in charge of reorganizing the Royal Pantry." I stared.



The Royal Pantry. The massive underground storage vault of all palace ingredients. A never-ending labyrinth of supplies.



"...All of it?" I whispered.



"Yes." I felt lightheaded. "You do realize," I said weakly, "that will take days."



The steward shrugged. "Then you'd best get started."



And that was how I found myself, standing in front of shelves upon shelves of ingredients, wondering—



Was it too late to fake my own death and flee the kingdom?



As I mentally prepared to spend the next century organizing royal spices, my system pinged.



[New Skill Acquired: Inventory Management (Lv.1)]

Your ability to categorize and organize supplies has improved. Sorting ingredients will now be slightly easier.



I blinked. Then, for the first time today— I actually smiled.



"Finally," I muttered. "Something useful."



Mara, who had just walked in, raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Feeling inspired?"



I grabbed the nearest bag of flour. "No. Just mildly less depressed."



She snorted. "Good enough."



And with that, I rolled up my sleeves.



It was time to tackle the most absurd challenge yet.