Romane von Rohesia Keona

When I arrive, Margaret is there to receive me. She greets me professionally, offers to have someone help with my belongings, and directs me towards the area where I will be staying.I thank her, relieved that she is considerably easier to approach than the man who interviewed me, Mr. Scowlface.Margaret explains that she will show me around the household and introduce me to the people I’ll be working alongside. Her manner is polite and composed, and although she doesn’t immediately treat me like a friend, she makes an effort to ensure I understand where everything is and whom I should approach if I need assistance.As she leads me through the estate, I begin to appreciate just how large the residence is. The corridors seem to stretch endlessly, several rooms are considerably more elaborate than anything I’ve encountered in my previous living arrangements, and the number of doors makes me wonder how long it will take to become familiar with the entire property.Margaret shows me the s

I tried not to let my employer's cold reception bother me. It wasn't as though the man had given me much reason to expect a warm welcome. His face seemed permanently set in a frown, and he had barely shown any emotion throughout our conversation.Still, I had more important things to worry about than Mr Scowl Face.I stepped out of the cab and looked up at my apartment building. I had only two days left before I was expected to leave, so I couldn't afford to waste time. Securing the housekeeping position had given me somewhere to stay and a steady source of income, but I still needed to organise my belongings and make sure I didn't leave anything important behind.As I entered the building, I passed two moving trucks parked near the entrance. Several tenants were carrying boxes and furniture outside, while others stood around the landlord, who was seated near one of the corners. Their conversation sounded heated, but I didn't stop to listen. I had enough problems of my own.I went str

"Did I stutter?""No, sir. I heard you perfectly.""Then I don't see the need for repetition."I pressed my lips together. "I understand the security arrangements, but I'm not sure why I would need permission to leave the property during my personal time.""You won't need permission. You'll need to inform the household manager.""That sounds very similar to asking permission."His eyes narrowed slightly.I straightened in my chair. "I don't mind following reasonable household procedures. I understand that this is a private residence, and I respect your need for security. But I'm applying for a housekeeping position, not asking to become a prisoner."Silence settled between us, and I immediately wondered whether I had just ruined my chances.He leaned back, studying me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "You seem to have a great deal to say for someone who needs a job."My cheeks warmed, but I kept my voice steady. "Needing a job doesn't mean I have to agree to everything witho

By six forty-five, I was standing outside a pair of enormous iron gates, wondering whether I had made a terrible mistake.The address in the email had led me well beyond the busy streets of central London, into an area where the houses seemed to have their own postcodes and the driveways were longer than some roads. The property in front of me was no exception. Tall stone pillars supported the gates, security cameras watched from either side, and a small booth stood just inside the entrance.I checked the address on my phone again. This was definitely the place.I adjusted the strap of my bag and approached the intercom. A man's voice answered after a few seconds."Yes?""Good morning. My name is Hozier Pruitt. I'm here for the housekeeping assessment."There was a brief pause. "Wait there.” Followed by the intercom clicking off.I stood beside the gates, trying not to look as nervous as I felt. The whole arrangement was rather excessive for a housekeeping interview. I had expected

By the time I arrived at Edmund's place, I was exhausted enough to consider turning around and going home. Not that home was much of an option anymore. I had spent the entire day dealing with one disaster after another, and the thought of explaining everything to Edmund made me feel even worse.He had already done so much for me over the years. I hated the idea of showing up at his door with another problem, especially one I had no idea how to solve. Still, I couldn't bring myself to leave without seeing him.The orphanage was quieter than usual when I walked through the front entrance. A few of the younger children were gathered in the common room, watching television, while one of the older girls helped a little boy with his homework at the dining table. I greeted them and continued towards Edmund's office, but he wasn't there."Looking for someone?"I turned at the sound of his voice. Edmund stood near the doorway leading to the kitchen, holding a dish towel in one hand. His expres

I had sent out eleven job applications the previous night, and by the time I settled into my seat this morning, I had received responses from almost all of them. Unfortunately, none contained the good news I desperately needed. Every single application had been rejected, including the ones I had spent hours researching because they seemed promising. I refreshed my inbox again, hoping I had somehow missed a reply, but the same disappointing messages stared back at me.Was it really that difficult to find a job, or had the universe decided that losing the coffee shop wasn't enough punishment for me? I rested my forehead against my palm and scrolled through the rejection emails, trying to understand what I was doing wrong. Some hadn't even bothered to give me a reason, while others had sent the usual polite messages about moving forward with more suitable candidates. I was beginning to hate that particular sentence.My phone vibrated against the desk, and I glanced down at the screen,