For ten years, I was a corporate Head of Administration.
Then I woke up as the legitimate daughter of a marquis.
Only then did I discover that I had landed in a female-led power fantasy about a maid’s rise to glory.
Blessed with the heroine halo, the maid could do everything: manage a household, run shops, organize disaster relief.
Everyone adored her.
Even my own younger brother and fiance became devoted second male leads who protected her at every turn.
In the end, the senior maid became a legendary merchant queen known throughout the realm.
I, meanwhile, grew jealous of the heroine.
Spoiled and willful, I courted disaster at every step until everyone abandoned me and I died alone in a secluded estate.
After a long silence, my professional instincts kicked in.
Household management was simply a logistics support system.
Running shops was supply-chain management.
Disaster relief was an emergency response plan.
Well, wasn’t that convenient?
She was the all-conquering maid with fate on her side.
I was an administrator trying to stay alive.
And survival began with rules.
