HER POV "What the heck!" she suddenly became angry and growled at his malicious orders to her, thinking that she had escaped being his muchacha. "Are you full? Why are you still worrying about that, it's a good thing I cooked you something to eat," Franz corrected her. "I thought you wouldn't bother me, look, the cut on my finger isn't even healed yet," she growled, holding out her finger that was still bandaged. "That's fine and it's far from dangerous!" she said without any hesitation. "Ganern, you weren't the one who was injured, why do you know how I feel!" she retorted. "Stop it, whatever you say doesn't matter anymore! do what I say, move now, clean up and wash my dirty clothes!" he ordered before standing up and turning his back on her. "One more thing, clean the table and wash the dishes, I don't want the kitchen to be cleaned, do you understand?" he turned back to her and stared at her seriously, without a trace of pity or any emotion, as if he were some poor servant
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