ℌ𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔖𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 ℌ𝔬𝔪𝔢

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"I have had it! I cannot take this anymore!" Deep shouts bounced off the walls. It was loud enough to burst every glass pane and window in the grandly decorated manor. Sir Reynolds had become an unstable, enraged man, his bare feet hammering against the floors with violent haste.

What was propelling the furious man forward was something Lady Sutherton was keenly aware of but hadn't expected such speed in the development. It had only been two days since her daughter's arrival.

"Sir Reynolds! Please wait!" She was in eager pursuit of the boiling man. "Sir Reynolds!" Sweat pooled down her flustered face, which was wrought with a haggard and ghastly appearance.

Despite her frantic protests, he made no attempt to slow down. Rather, he moved so fervently that his sloppily packed bags were spilling out personal effects; Out leaked a trail of socks, ties, and shirts from ajar bags. With every progressive stomp of his naked feet, he grew angrier, crashing and heaving as he tore past lavishly decorated halls and extravagant sparkling rooms.

"Sir Reynolds!" she shouted, nearly clawing at his hurrying figure. "Sir Reynolds!"

He was a tornado demanding its escape from the Sutherton manor, that had become akin to home for the mad.

Lady Sutherton knew what was to expect the moment her daughter returned. But even so, the outcome was far too unfavorable.

"Sir Reynolds!" she screeched at him. In a restless cry, she grabbed his shoulder, hoping to stall him.

The split second of pause allowed her to bounce in front of him, blocking his path. "As I've said before," she said, in a frenzied pant. "I am sure we can work something out. You know we're willing to pay whatever you'd like. How does double your current salary sound?"

"Lady Sutherton!" He shook her off, huffing in exasperation. "I am terribly sorry, but I can't stay here a second longer! There is nothing you can pay me to endure that treatment!" He pushed past her, nearly knocking the pleading woman over.

"Wait, hold on, Sir Reynolds!"

Her pleas only prompted his resolve even further. He picked up the pace and thrust onwards, leaving behind another wave of his belongings tumbling to the floor.

"Triple? Quadruple? Quintuple? Sir Reynolds!" Her eyes bulged as she hurried behind him with a wild quickening of her steps.

"Please do not try to stop me, Lady Sutherton!" he puffed, a tighter line denting an already constricted face.

"Sir Reynolds, please!" Her head was bobbing like a chicken. "Please slow down! Let's talk this out! You don't have to quit this way!" She sputtered out fragmented words, desperately trying to keep up.

"Lady Sutherton. Let me state this firmly and clearly. You know well that I come from a long line of prestigious domestic workers, and yet the treatment I experienced? For the highest among us, Magnificent One's sake, look at my feet!" He tossed his hands to his starkly bare feet. "She had all of my shoes discarded, and I only had two!"

"Well?" She gulped hard, brushing away nonexistent stray hairs. "How are you certain it was her?"

"She was looking at me dead in the eyes as she committed her atrocity!" he deadpanned.

"Oh." Her eyes fluttered. "W-well, that's only a few shoes. You know we can compensate you."

"Lady Sutherton, you know as well as I, that is not all." He pointed to the tar on his clothes and swatted at his head, bringing attention to bald and grey patches of hair. "Look at me! That wicked daughter of yours did this!"

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