Chapter 15 Ambrosia meet her New Personal Maid

By the time Roland brought Lisa after cleaning her up and getting her a new clothing, the dining room was already set. Warm light from enchanted lamps washed the space in a golden glow. A long table stretched through the center, though the family only ever used one end for meals. Lisa paused in the doorway, taking in the room that was bigger than the entire building she’d called home for the last several months.

"Come on." Amos walked past her without concern.

"You'll starve if you keep standing there." Lisa quickly followed.

As soon as she walked in, two sets of eyes locked on her. One was Elena’s. The other was a small pale blonde-haired girl seated beside her. The girl froze instantly, and Lisa did too. For a few long seconds, silence hung between them while Amos glanced back and forth.

"See?"

Elena raised an eyebrow.

"See what?"

"Don't you think they have similar aura."

"I still don't understand what you're talking about."

"They both froze, wide-eyed like frightened rabbits. Pfft-hahahahahahaha."

"Young Master."

"What?"

"You are being a bully."

Lisa lowered her head, and the little girl beside Elena mirrored her exactly. The timing was so flawless that Elena hesitated for a moment. Amos pointed.

"See that, I know you did."

"..."

"..."

Elena sighed.

"I do."

Ambrosia shot a nervous glance at Lisa, who returned it just as anxiously. Neither seemed ready to break the silence, so Amos took it upon himself to resolve the situation.

"Ambrosia."

The little girl immediately sat straighter.

"Yes, brother?"

"This is Lisa."

Then he pointed at Ambrosia.

"This is Ambrosia."

The two girls stared at each other again.

"Hello."

Ambrosia's voice was barely above a whisper.

Lisa quickly bowed.

"H-Hello."

Amos amused.

"PFtttt-hahahaha"

Elena rubbed her forehead.

"Stop it, young master. You are making it more awkward"

"I don't see the problem."

"I know you don't."

Roland silently served tea while pretending not to listen. Amos ignored him.

"Anyway."

He pointed at Ambrosia.

"My little sister."

Then he pointed at Lisa.

"This is your new personal maid."

Both girls blinked.

"Personal maid?"

Lisa looked toward Amos.

"I-I don't know how to be a maid."

"You'll learn."

"What if I fail?"

"Then you'll learn again."

Lisa opened her mouth, then shut it again. That answer actually seemed like something Amos truly believed. At last, Elena broke the silence.

"Young Master."

"What?"

"Stop bullying the child."

"I'm not bullying her."

"You're putting pressure before she has even eaten."

Amos thought for a moment.

"Fair point."

Elena looked toward Lisa.

"You don't need to worry." Her voice softened considerably.

"You may stay here for now. No one expects anything from you immediately."

Lisa stared, the words feeling oddly foreign. Just stay. For a moment, she didn’t know how to react, gave a quiet nod.

"Thank you."

Elena returned a small nod.

Across the table, Ambrosia kept staring with curiosity, as if gazing into a mirror that showed an entirely different life.  

At last, she found the courage to speak.  

"Do..."

She fidgeted with her sleeve.

"Do you like books?"

"A little."

Ambrosia's eyes brightened.

"A little?"

Lisa nodded.

"I can read."

The moment those words left her mouth, Ambrosia practically lit up.

"You can read too?"

"Yes."

"I like books."

"I think I do too."

"You think?"

"I don't remember much."

Ambrosia's excitement immediately faded.

"Oh."

The room grew quieter. Lisa lowered her head.

"I forgot most things."

Ambrosia looked uneasy. She knew the sting of losing things—not memories, but chances, friends, experiences, and the life beyond the estate. After a moment, she rose from her chair and circled the table. All eyes followed her, even Roland’s. She stopped in front of Lisa, hesitating for several seconds as if summoning her courage, before finally extending her hand.

"If you forgot..." She looked away shyly.

"We can make new memories."

Lisa looked at the small hand, the gentle smile, and the total lack of fear, hatred, or pity. A warmth spread through her chest, a feeling she could barely name. Slowly, she reached out and took Ambrosia’s hand.

"Okay."

"Good."

Everyone looked toward Amos.

"What?"

"You have a friend now."

Ambrosia flushed bright red, Lisa almost choked, and Amos calmly reached for a pastry. Problem solved. As far as he was concerned, that was the end of it. The fact that both girls stayed seated together for the rest of dinner suggested that, for once, he might actually be right.

***

Three days passed.

Lisa settled into the estate more easily than anyone had imagined, largely because Ambrosia had practically adopted her. Whenever Amos went looking for his sister, he’d often find Lisa close by—whether in the library, the gardens, or one of the many sitting rooms. They might be reading, chatting softly, or simply sharing a comfortable presence. They got along very well.

Amos sat in a chair near the library window, pretending to read while secretly stalking observing.

The two girls sat at a nearby table. Ambrosia was absorbed in a fairy tale, while Lisa simply stared at an atlas—not reading, just staring. How very cute. If I had only I had a camera to capture the moment. What a shame.

Amos narrowed his eyes. There it was again: small details, tiny inconsistencies, little things that nagged at him.

Lisa said she remembered almost nothing, yet she read with ease. Her handwriting was neat, and she knew proper etiquette better than some noble children. Every now and then, she used words that felt a bit unusual, as if she’d picked them up somewhere else. Still, none of it proved anything.

Amos needed more information without arousing her suspicion. His eyes wandered to the shelves, and suddenly, an idea came to him. Truly a dastard plan by him.

Several minutes later he stood.

The girls glanced up as Amos strolled to a nearby shelf, picked out a book, and came back. Lisa blinked in surprise, it was a blank journal, bound in dark blue leather.

"Here." Lisa stared.

"For me?"

"Obviously."

She carefully accepted it.

The cover looked expensive.

"I don't understand."

Amos shrugged.

"Then try to understand."

"That doesn't explain anything."

"I know."

Ambrosia giggled.

Lisa looked increasingly confused. Amos pointed at the journal.

"Write in it."

"Write what?"

"Whatever."

Lisa looked down at the blank pages.

"Why?"

Amos answered immediately.

"Because sometimes memories can fade away."

His tone was casual, almost indifferent, yet both girls fell silent for a brief moment. Something flickered across Lisa's face—something painful, something uncertain.

"If you remember something."

Amos continued.

"Write it down."

He looked toward the window.

"Dreams, thoughts, questions, things you love, things you hate, anything at all."

Lisa slowly ran her fingers across the cover.

"Thank you."

The words came out softer than intended.

Amos nodded.

"Don't mention it."

However, he saw things differently. A diary was valuable. When people wrote, they revealed parts of themselves—through vocabulary, sentence structure, grammar, habits, and patterns. Often, their writing exposed things they didn’t even know about themselves.

If Lisa truly came from somewhere unusual, the clues would show up eventually—a curious phrase, a language no one quite knew, a memory she jotted down without thinking. Something is bound to surface, sooner or later. And when it did... Amos would notice.  

Of course, he had absolutely no intention of telling anyone that.

Not Elena.

Not Roland.

Certainly not Lisa.

That would completely miss the point. From across the room, Ambrosia leaned in.  

"You should write every day."

Lisa looked uncertain.

"What if I don't know what to write?"

Ambrosia thought seriously.

Then answered.

"Write about your day."

"My day?"

"Yes."

"What if nothing happened?"

Ambrosia tilted her head.

"Something always happens here."

Lisa considered that.

Then slowly nodded.

"..."

The conversation moved on. Amos noticed something. When Lisa opened the journal and touched the first page, her fingers moved automatically testing the balance, checking the paper, adjusting her grip. It was the effortless motion of someone used to writing, done without hesitation or thought, and over in less than a second. Most wouldn’t have caught it, but Amos did. His eyes narrowed slightly. Interesting. He returned to his book, quietly waiting to see what secrets her hand might reveal long before her memories ever could. Of course there is no other reason for giving Lisa the book. Definitely not because Amos wanting to know what she thought about him.