Kim Zu Tso's Story

Even though it wasn't that late in the day, time had already been dragging itself along the ground. Everything had to be exactly in its place, and nothing could so much as move an inch from where Tso wanted it, else he'd spazz out and rearrange everything to "fix" the problem and make it right again. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he was more than able to afford a maid, or even a harem, if that was what he wanted, not that he did. He just wanted the tablecloth to be in its place like a tablecloth should have been; explaining how the table cloth was supposed to be was a lot more work than the maid's pay was worth. There would be no point in paying for his work; it was his money. He understood that he had an ideal, but she wasted his time, and, therefore, she wasted his money. Was it really that hard to put a tablecloth on correctly? That was why he had taken it off the long dining table and had wanted her to put it on again, for the seventh time. It wasn't his fault she was incompetent.

Tso hadn't been surprised at all when she left. This routine had become a constant, a normal, and not just with the tablecloth. If he had the time to clean the house himself, he would have, but it was a big house to clean. It went without saying that Tso was more than pleased to hear the arrival of his new maid. Maybe she would have the brains and patience to be the maid he didn't let go, but she might be just as big of a bust as the other had been. There was only one way to find out.

With a friendly smile in place, he went over to meet her by the front door. He completely ignored her lack of following customs. A maid was for cleaning, not for manners, and, as long as she treated his guests with tenfold the courtesy he had received, there was no reason to complain. "Come in, come in!" Tso exclaimed, waving her -- hand up, palm down, almost like pawing in the air -- to follow. "I've never had a maid come on such short notice." He couldn't even remember sending for a new one, and a pretty one at that. Already, he could see several fantasies easily played out with her in a maid's outfit, beside him in bed. It would be all too fun for shameless flirting, and if she flirted back, he'd have a field day. "What's your name?"

"It's nice to meet you too," for now. "I am Kim Zu Tso, but just call me Tso." Tso returned the bow out of politeness and put his hands together in a 'ready' position. The fact that she complimented his house once set a little alarm off in his head, but as long as she didn't do it again, he knew everything would be just fine between them. "And I thank you. I hope the best for you." He smiled charmingly. She was in for a literal hell, and they both knew it, even if their definitions were completely different.

As far as he was concerned, the previous maid wasn't his problem anymore, and, likely, he wouldn't pay her for her 'calling ahead of time', as his new maid claimed.

And now it was really time to get down to business.

Tso pointed to her feet for a full second before giving her directions. "When you enter my house, your shoes go off automatically. There are slippers in the cubes to your left, but I do not want to see any shoes past that tile behind you. You can clean that first as punishment, and then come find the kitchen when you are done." He gave her brief directions on which door was the kitchen door before he scurried off to fix the table cloth.

He had to make sure she saw exactly what he wanted, or there would just be another situation like the previous maid. That could not happen again. If he was sterner with her, instead of constantly flirting -- though inevitable -- maybe, just maybe something would get done. Tso was giving up on that already, but it looked more impressive if he tried, so he was going with the act. Maybe she would fail in an adorable way instead of an unprofessional way, as it if would make a difference. The maid fantasy came back full-blown.

With the floor cleaned -- he would be checking that later to make sure -- and his new maid "eagerly" awaiting her next instruction, Tso was in a very good mood. His day was looking up, he was still in the life of luxury, and Aiyumi hadn't complimented his house again. Compliments were dangerous. As customs dictated, he would have offered her to live there, had she continued to say how nice the house was. There was no way he'd offer her it as a gift, as was the correct tradition, but he would offer her a room in it, if... she complimented the house again.

He went over to her and put an arm around her shoulders, leading her over to the large dining table. "I don't need help right now, but I want you to look at this cloth." Tso paused to let her take in the sight of the tablecloth, to really let her get a good look at what was expected. "It has to be exactly. Like. This. If it isn't, then the lighting effect and the shape of the table set the pattern off, and it looks horrible." Then there was no purpose in having such a pretty cloth on the table in the first place; a white one would have been easier to deal with. Why hadn't the previous maid understood the necessity for everything to be perfect in an extravagant home? "If it's not like this every day, I'll have to have you redo it until it's correct." He kept his arm around her shoulders and looked down to her. She was pretty up close too.

Patience... he thought to himself. Tso hoped that both Aiyumi and he, himself, could be patient. She would have to be patient with his constant feedback on how everything looked, how everything smelled, felt, and the flow of the energy in the house; and he knew he'd have to be patient with her learning the ropes, possibly learning customs and traditions he upheld, and maybe even life itself. She looked pretty young, and she might have been from out of the country. There was no telling what they were both in for. Tso just hoped that they could come to a steady agreement about everything before they ended up in a verbal argument... or she quit. After just losing his last maid, he was prepared to do just about anything to keep her there to help with the cleaning; no doubt, he would help, even if he didn't have the time. Everything had to be just perfect.

Tso watched as she moved away, watched as she faked interest in something else, watched as she faked liking her job; he had seen it in a million coworkers and girlfriends, a thousand business partners and colleagues. He didn't know the underline cause, so he assumed Aiyumi just wanted a big bonus, or something of that nature, or wanted to impress him in some way, possibly to cover up for a lack in cleaning ability. "Oh, no,no. I'm a big boy. I can clean up my own room and study," he said cheerily. "In fact, don't ever go in there without my permission. You might not see what you want to see." It wasn't so much that he wanted to clean it, but he didn't want anyone else to clean it, didn't want anyone else to go in to his room unsupervised. "But I do need a guest room cleaned up for tonight." He was having a lady friend over, and there was no way he was chancing new sheets getting messed up during "extra curricular activities".

The reason he didn't want to let just anyone in his room was that he kept a journal, and that journal did have suggestively incriminating evidence -- a very undetailed account of events, in the case of his father's business, just for his own personal memories -- but that journal was also well-hidden on bookshelves in his personal study. While there was still the chance that someone could find it, he had kept one since the beginning of middle school, and he wasn't going to just stop now. It was his stress relief where other people failed to help, his confidant, and one of the few simple pleasures he partook in every single day. Without filling in the day's events in that journal, he felt lost, like he was forever missing a day in his life. An entire shelf of books had been dedicated to his journal space, organized in his preferred order, not just in time order. Even then, some of the dates were mixed up, an empty page in one journal marked as "filled" sporting the start of another, and so on. He was organized, but he was organized in his own way.