The Once-a-Day Miserable Service Time Begins Again

“Leader… are you there?”

Outside the leader’s bedroom, I tapped on the door, timidly.

Of course, I knew she was in.

Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.

After eating the crab, I’d rushed home, changed into clean pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and came straight to the mansion.

But my leg was injured.

Even though I’d tried my best to hurry, it was already 11:30 PM by the time I arrived.

If I’d been half an hour later, I would’ve missed my daily “service”—and probably died for it.

My mood was bleak.

I stood at the door, my body swaying slightly in the cold night wind that blew through the hallway window, awaiting my sentence.

What kind of life is this?

I hate it.

But I have to keep living.

“Come in.”

After what felt like an eternity, a faint, emotionless voice came from within.

She’d left me standing in the cold long enough for the wind to seep into my bones.

“…O-oh. Coming.”

I’d been rubbing my hands together, trying to stay warm.

It took me a few seconds to react.

Slowly, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“You’re late.”

The moment I entered, a thick novel flew at me, its corner striking me squarely in my bruised right side.

I stumbled—then collapsed.

“Ehh… I’m sorry. I was out foraging today… my leg got injured…”

My brain took a moment to catch up.

I glanced at my watch: 12:01 AM.

So that’s it.

She’d deliberately left me outside, just so she could have a reason to punish me.

Normally, I’d be furious.

But I couldn’t be.

The one playing with me was a warlord who held my life in her hands—and had a personal grudge against me.

It was my own fault.

I should’ve researched my targets more carefully.

I’d accidentally cuckolded a leader.

No matter how I was treated now… I deserved it.

But even so… a tiny sliver of grievance pricked at my heart.

“Don’t make excuses. Late is late.”

The heartless leader sat in bed, wearing a fluffy white nightgown, her lower body tucked under a soft brown quilt.

Her long hair was a mess, scattered around her shoulders. She looked disheveled, unkempt.

“Hah… I understand.”

I didn’t have the energy to play the victim tonight.

Quickly, I stripped off my clothes and hobbled toward her bed.

I probably wasn’t a very appealing sight.

The bruise on my side from Qin Dai’s kick hadn’t faded.

The dark purple mark stood out starkly against my pale skin.

For some reason, the leader’s gaze seemed more predatory tonight than before.

“Um… can I rest here for the night?”

Kicked out of bed—again.

Only this time, I was in much worse shape.

My lower body ached. My back was sore.

The leader hadn’t asked about the bruise, but she’d deliberately, maliciously, pinched and twisted the skin there, bringing tears to my eyes.

The wound on my calf from the mutant crab hadn’t been spared either.

It had reopened and was now bleeding steadily.

Everything hurt.

So, so much.

If I had to walk home now, in this state… it would be morning by the time I arrived.

“Do you want to leave your filthy blood on my bed?”

She frowned, her words dripping with scorn—but also revealing her intentions.

She didn’t want me here.

This time, however, I didn’t just obediently leave.

I tried to bargain.

“I can sleep on the floor… It’s okay. I just need to rest a little. Please, Leader… let me stay.”

Her room was heated—much warmer than outside.

I didn’t expect a blanket or a pillow.

If I could just warm up a small patch of floor, I could survive the night.

I glanced at my watch: 4 AM.

The coldest part of the night.

My clothes were thin.

If I were healthy, I wouldn’t mind the walk.

But I wasn’t.

I could barely stand.

I think… I might be sick.

“You know what I want to see? Not your fake tears. Your real ones. If you can cry for me, genuinely, I’ll let you rest on the floor.”

Her words offered a glimmer of hope—but I knew it was impossible.

She wanted to see me truly break down and cry?

She’d be the one to judge if it was “real.”

Even if I sobbed like a little girl, she’d probably just punch me twice and throw me out.

“…Hah… I understand your meaning.”

I pushed myself up from the floor, my body trembling, and slowly put on my scattered clothes.

Then, I staggered toward the door.

“…Tch. Boring. Get out. I hope you’re more entertaining tomorrow night.”

Just as I reached the door and turned the handle, a heavy object flew through the air—striking my bleeding leg with perfect accuracy.

I collapsed to one knee, biting back a scream of pain.

I turned to look at her.

Her expression was unreadable.

“…Yes. I’ll try.”

I pulled myself up, nodded obediently, and left, closing the door carefully behind me.

Inside, I heard her burst into laughter—loud, unrestrained.

She was laughing at me.

At my clownish, pathetic state.

It was fine.

I thought so too.

I was just a clown.

Limping out of the mansion, I silently joined in her mockery.

But for some reason, my nose stung.

I never felt this way when I was the one playing with others’ emotions.

Now that I was the one being played with… is this what it feels like?

Outside the mansion, on the dark, empty street, a gust of wind made me shiver uncontrollably.

The weather was getting colder.

Spring was ending.

In winter, foraging would be impossible.

I probably wouldn’t survive the winter.

“…”

Suddenly, a dull pain exploded at the back of my head.

I touched it.

My hand came back covered in red.

“Tch…”

I looked up.

The leader had opened her window and was leaning out, a faint, mocking smile on her face.

The next moment, I fell forward, and the world went black.