The Fake Saint of a Reverse Harem Game

Ares, who sent Edith downstairs without a word, burst open his aide’s office, which had been in the room next to his.

“Hey, are you busy?”

His aide, Mallorca, who was busy finishing the work that was handed over to him as Ares played around with Edith, answered as he ran up the stairs, panting.

“Yes, boss. I’m really busy today. There are so many customers. Boss, you’ll be rich.”

Ares looked at Mallorca’s sweaty face and shook his head. He pointed his finger at Edith as she went out the Red House gate.

“Yes. If you’re free, go see the lady out there.”

“What? I’m busy,” Mallorca frowned at Ares pretending not to notice the dark circles that went down to his chin. “Besides, that’s the person the boss is seeing these days, right? I think you can see her off in person.”

“What? I couldn’t hear you because I thought you wanted to follow me.”

“…No, no. I’ll be back.”

It seemed like something, but Mallorca had no choice but to take his coat out and look at the direction Edith headed to. What can he do? If his superior instructed him to, he had to do it.

“Yes. When you see her off, watch out for what kind of person will come to pick her up.”

“Do I just have to look at it?”

Ares’ eyes squinted at Mallorca’s naïve question. His basic impression was that he was a handsome man, so whenever he smiled like that, he looked warm as the autumn sun.

“Oh, well. That won’t happen, but if you’re more handsome than me.”

Like this.

“You know, right?”

Ares’ blade lightly traced Mallorca’s neck. The aide rushed out toward Edith, a terrifying feeling overwhelming him with the threat his head would be cut off.

“My lady!”

* * *

I liked playing with Valérez.

After the sweet night with him – no, actually it wasn’t that sweet nor was it even just the two of us – was over, and the morning came. I had to pick up the dry dish towel and duster again.

I was in a bad mood since I didn’t get much sleep last night. In addition, Curtis came in the morning, his words made my resentment soar and tears flowed down.

‘What? Don’t make the saint work recklessly?’

She just said that she was going to help me! She wasn’t even helping at all. In fact, she was a hindrance, and it was doubling my work.

For some reason, Curtis completely misunderstood and thought I was handing over my work to Jian. Perhaps maybe because he was prejudiced too.

“I thought you already abandoned your obsession with me, but it seems not at all.”

“If you hate me and make the saint do chores, stop.”

“You’ll only get ugly, Edith.”

‘Do you think people are ugly? This asshole…’

I snorted, recalling Curtis’ smooth face. I wanted to clear his karma quest as soon as possible and obtain holy power. If I leave the Marquis’ residence, I’d be less likely to run into Curtis.

“Ha, my shoulder hurts.”

I had been visiting the Red House for several consecutive days and stayed up all night and didn’t get enough rest. Even though I have accumulated quite a bit of stamina, it was still difficult to dust off the dust today.

‘I’ll just have to hurry and get this done already.’

I quickly moved my hands, looking around the largest study in the mansion that collected the most dust.

“Ah! Cough, cough!”

It seemed that I was in too much of a hurry.

I swung the duster in the wrong direction and the dust got all over me.

“Oh, it looks like the work is quite difficult.”

A dark shadow fell over my head as I sat on the floor and coughed.

“Yes, just be my personal assistant.”

I was having a terrible day today. The owner of the shadow was Marquis Abina.

“Hello, Marquis.”

I closed my eyes at his unsightly belly, which showed no sign of slimming even when the chef had definitely planned a balanced diet.

‘Let’s not see bad things. My eyesight worsens at this rate.’

I felt like my eyeballs were rotting because I only saw beautiful men like Curtis or Valérez. My immunity to ugly was gone.

“How was the work as a maid, Edith?”

“It’s hard. It’s my first time using my body like this.”

I answered the Marquis frankly. I thought that if I lied and said I wasn’t having a hard time for no reason, he’d make me suffer by giving more work to do.

“Then I’ll take pity and give you one more chance to choose,” he said.

“My apologies, but I don’t have enough learning to be of assistance to the Marquis,” I rejected instantly.

The Marquis clicked his tongue at my polite refusal, “I’m not trying to entrust you with that job.”

He bent down, lifted my chin with his thick and gross fingers, and then added, “Come be my mistress, Edith.”

“…what?”

What did he mean? Was he struck by lightning or something?