CHAPTER 68: CLEANING DUTY [II]

Nanny chuckled darkly. "The way you bicker, you’ll either kill each other or marry each other. Either way, the floors won’t clean themselves."

I groaned. "This is cruel and unusual punishment."

Freya sighed, shoulders slumping as she dipped her mop into the gray water. "I can’t believe this."

I gave her my brightest smile. "Don’t worry, Freya. Misery loves company. And now—I have yours."

Her mop slammed against the tiles with deadly force, water splashing everywhere. "Stay out of my way."

I twirled mine like a baton. "Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it."

And so it began: two sworn enemies, side by side, united not by destiny or glory... but by buckets, mops, and an old woman’s cruel sense of humor.

Nyx’s laughter echoed in my skull. "This is already my favorite Chapter of your tragic life."

The mop was heavy, the bucket heavier, and my pride the heaviest of all. I dragged everything down the hall like a prisoner being marched to the gallows.

And then—fate struck again.

Because Freya was there.

The noble princess of light herself, sleeves rolled up, holding her own mop like it was a royal staff. She had a fresh bucket of clear water at her side, already making the floor shine.

I froze. She froze. Our eyes met.

"...You?" she said, voice flat as a blade.

I tried my brightest smile. "Surprise! Teamwork makes the dream work."

Her mop squeaked against the floor as she leaned on it. "This is a nightmare, not a dream."

I set my bucket down with a splash. Water sloshed over the rim and spread across the clean tiles she had just finished scrubbing.

Her jaw tightened. "...Did you just—"

"It’s called... pre-washing," I said quickly. "Advanced technique. Only true cleaning masters know it."

Her glare could’ve burned a hole through the wall.

I shoved the mop into the puddle, swishing it around like I knew what I was doing. The result? Dirty streaks spread over her spotless work like mud tracks across snow.

"Stop!" she barked.

"Relax," I said. "Art takes time. Look at this stroke, it’s—"

The mop slipped from my grip, swung sideways, and slapped against her skirt. Water splattered up her leg.

I froze. She froze.

"...That was an accident," I whispered.

Her nostrils flared. "You’re dead."

She swung her mop at me like a sword. I ducked, the mop head smacking the wall and leaving a dark wet blotch on the wallpaper.

"Hey!" I protested. "That’s property damage!"

"That’s justice!" she snapped, chasing me down the hall.

I tried to retreat, but my bucket betrayed me. My heel caught the rim, and the whole thing tipped over. Gray water gushed across the tiles like a flood, soaking everything in its path.

The clean hallway? Ruined. The stairs? Dripping. Freya’s face? Absolutely terrifying.

"Oh no," I said. "Our floor. It’s broken."

Freya stood in the middle of the mess, gripping her mop so hard the handle creaked. Drops of dirty water ran down her stockings. Her eye twitched.

I lifted my mop like a peace flag. "Truce?"

She jabbed the mop forward, poking me in the chest hard enough to shove me back into the puddle. My shoes squelched. My dignity drowned.

Nyx’s voice purred in my head. "You are a natural disaster. I approve."

"Not helping," I hissed.

Freya sighed, rubbed her temples, and muttered, "I don’t know what sin I committed in my past life to deserve you as my punishment."

I grinned. "Something amazing, clearly."

Freya pinched the bridge of her nose, staring at the spreading flood.

"Move," she said, pushing past me. Her mop dipped gracefully into the water, wringing out in neat strokes. Precise. Efficient. The floor actually started shining again under her hands.

It was unfair.

She looked like a painting of some saint cleaning the world of sin, while I looked like the sin.

Naturally, I had to even the playing field.

"Two mops are better than one," I said, plunging mine down beside hers.

"No—" she started, but it was too late.

I pushed forward, hard, sending the dirty water splashing back across the clean strip she’d just polished. Brown streaks smeared across the perfect shine.

Her jaw dropped. "...What is wrong with you?"

"Collaboration," I said smoothly. "Look, teamwork!"

"Teamwork?" she snapped. "You’re spreading dirt!"

"It’s called redistribution," I said. "Everyone deserves equal access to filth."

That’s when my mop snagged against hers. The wooden handles crossed, clacking together like swords. We froze.

Her eyes narrowed.

My grin widened.

Then we both shoved at the same time.

Water sloshed, streaks went everywhere, and before I knew it, we were fencing with mops in the middle of the hall. She lunged. I parried. Dirty drops sprayed against the wall, leaving a long dripping trail.

"En garde!" I shouted.

"This isn’t a duel, you idiot!"

She tried to shove past me, aiming for another patch of floor, but I stepped in front of her. My heel skidded on the wet tile, and I went sliding straight down the hall, mop flailing like a spear.

I smacked into the wall with a loud thud. My bucket, which I’d abandoned, tipped over again. The little bit of water left cascaded down the stairs like a waterfall.

Freya’s scream of frustration echoed like thunder.

"I swear, you’re— you’re—!!"

I raised a finger. "Charming?"

"Infuriating!" she barked.

But she slipped, too. One foot lost its grip, and she yelped, arms windmilling. She landed flat on her back in the puddle with a splash that soaked both of us from head to toe.

Silence. Only the drip-drip-drip of water down the stairwell.

She sat up slowly, her hair plastered to her face, eyes burning through strands of wet gold.

I, on the other hand, gave her my most innocent smile. "Well. At least the floor’s wet."

Her mop swung at me again.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Freya froze mid-swing, her mop raised like a sword about to decapitate me. I was crouched low, ready to block, water dripping from my hair into my eyes.

Then the door at the far end banged open.

"NORTH STAR!!"