Ira found herself alone, standing before a tent that seemed to be designated for maids. This was a puzzling sight for her, as she had believed that only men were allowed on this journey. The tent's purpose and the presence of other women raised questions in her mind.
As Ira approached the tent, she noticed its occupants-five other maids. They were all women, their figures slender and their presence commanding. Their eyes, filled with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, met Ira's as she opened the tent.
Ira did some deep thinking for a minute and came to the conclusion that these women were invited personally by maybe the Emperor. Why else would there just be a tent for maids?
"So, Kathryn, you were finally found, eh?"
The intimidation in the maids was still apparent, but they all sounded kind and calm.
The maids, their curiosity piqued, began to inspect Ira. They ran their hands over her waist, her hands, and even her hair, as if trying to uncover some hidden secret. This scrutiny made Ira feel uncomfortable, but she tried to maintain her composure.
"Your hands are incredibly soft for a maid! What is your secret?" One maid said.
"I- uhm-"
"Your hair is soft, too; the last time I saw you, it was scorched! It was like you bleached it!" Another maid said.
"Well, about that-"
"Hey, why did you run away?"
The room went silent as if everyone was avoiding that question. They probably thought it was too sensitive for Kathryn to answer. But thankfully, Kathryn isn't Kathryn.
Ira took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "You know," she began, "I thought I'd try something new for a change. That's how I got my hair and hands so soft! Yeah!" She tried to sound confident, but her voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.
The maids took a deep sigh of relief, but the discomfort in the room was still there.
"Reira is probably going to give you extra hard labour when you come back to the palace. So brace yourself because she's not going to go easy on you!"
Ira's heart sank as she contemplated the daunting tasks that awaited her at the palace. The thought of washing dishes, scrubbing floors, and mopping relentlessly until every spot was eradicated filled her with a sense of dread. It seemed as if life itself was conspiring to punish her.