Chapter 26: The Maid and the Heir

“Ha, having a maid whip up breakfast first thing in the morning? Absolute perfection.”

“I’m glad it meets your standards.”

“No, seriously, maids are the best. That outfit? Kinda spicy, don’t you think?”

“How does your mind even leap to something erotic?”

Morning light spilled into the Kiyomiya family dining room, where Hisaka Sayaka, dressed in her maid outfit, and Sogano Maki, in her crisp school uniform, sat together. Just a few days ago, the idea of two girls my age sharing breakfast in my house would’ve been unthinkable. Yet here we were, the three of us finishing our meal without a hitch.

Leaving them to linger at the table, I slipped away to my room to get ready for school.

“Keiji-kun, all set for school?”

“Whoa!”

Sayaka’s voice caught me off guard. She’d followed me, still in her maid outfit, standing rooted by the door.

“Sayaka, you’re off maid duty for now. Go change into your uniform.”

“No rush. If it comes to it, I’ll just sprint to school. Did I mention I took first in the long-distance run at the sports test?”

“Uh, yeah, but… sprinting through the streets? People might wonder what’s up with the cute high school girl dashing like that.”

She tilted her head, unfazed. “So, did you need something from me?”

“Isn’t it natural for a maid to check on her master? I’m getting paid, Keiji-kun. I take this seriously.”

“Fair point.”

“Keiji-kun? Something wrong?”

As expected, Sayaka was sharp, catching the shift in my mood before I could mask it.

“There’s something I need to talk about, Sayaka. I could’ve waited, but… sooner’s probably better.” I crossed the room to the bookshelf and pulled out a thick children’s book, its cover worn but familiar. “Sayaka, you know this book, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Wow, lying with a straight face, huh?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

Sayaka had always struck me as cool, mysterious, maybe even surprisingly honest. But that impression was starting to crack.

“You’re a liar, Sayaka.”

“…What are you talking about?”

Sayaka tilted her head slightly, her expression as unreadable as ever. The gesture was almost cute, but I knew better—it was a trap.

“This children’s book was my favorite when I was a kid. Bulky, heavy, but I went out of my way to bring it from my family home.”

“So even Keiji-kun had a cute phase, huh?”

“Hard to believe, right? Here’s an embarrassing tidbit: I used to tuck a photo of my mom into my favorite scene. I know, I’m in high school now, and it’s mortifying.”

“Feeling embarrassed about cherishing your mom’s photo? That’s what’s truly embarrassing.”

“…You’re right.” I nodded quietly. Looking back, there was no reason to hide it like that.

“You saw the photo tucked in this book, didn’t you, Sayaka?”

“…Why would you think that?”

“Just a guess, but you dropped the book, and the photo slipped out. You couldn’t tell which page it belonged to, could you?”

“Even I can be clumsy sometimes.”

“If you just fumbled it while cleaning, that’s one thing. But here’s another guess—you were so focused on looking for something that you dropped it, weren’t you?”

“What, are we in a mystery novel now? A little treat for a mystery fan like me?”

“I’m no detective, and I’m not chasing a murderer, so it’s nice to know I can slip up without stakes.”

But Sayaka wasn’t denying it, which told me I was on the right track.

“Since you didn’t know the exact page, you flipped through the book, figured out a rough spot, and tucked it into the climax—the tearjerker where the protagonist reunites with his long-lost mom. Am I right?”

Sayaka fell silent, her blank gaze locked onto mine, giving nothing away.

“Yeah, I kept the photo on my favorite page. But that’s not it. My favorite isn’t the reunion scene. It’s the moment just before, where the boy thinks he’s found his mom, only to watch her board a ship and sail away, leaving him in despair.”

“…Your taste is awful. They reunite in the end, so why not just pick the happy scene like a normal person?”

“I grew up with everyone looking down on me. The despair hit closer to home than the hope.”

That page felt like the perfect place to keep a photo of my mom, gone forever, out of my reach. I thought so as a kid, and I still do.

“I looked at that photo countless times. So why didn’t I notice?”

“I’m sorry for looking at it without permission.”

“No need to apologize. You desperately wanted to see this photo, didn’t you? No—there’s a chance you came to this mansion just to find it.”

I pulled the photo from the book and held it up toward Sayaka. Then I flipped it over, my eyes shifting between the young woman in the picture and the girl standing before me.

“You know this person’s name, don’t you, Sayaka?”

“…Why would you think that?”

“This is Wakura Honoka. The poor woman who was forbidden to marry Kiyomiya Takatsugu.”

“I see…”

A shadow of sorrow flickered across Sayaka’s face, dimming her usual composure.

She has to know this person’s name. No, it’s more than that. Sayaka likely knows far more about her than I ever could.

“This person—Wakura Honoka—is your mother, isn’t she?”

Seriously, how did I not notice?

Now that I look closely, the resemblance is striking—their refined beauty, the quiet intellect in their presence, almost eerily alike. Thinking back to when I first saw Sayaka under the cherry blossoms, I felt an inexplicable pull, like meeting someone I’d longed for without knowing why.

That instinct was right. In her face, free of glasses and framed by falling petals, I’d glimpsed the shadow of this photograph—one I’d studied countless times.

“It’s not strange for me to have a photo of my mom, is it? You got the master key, slipped into my room, and couldn’t resist snooping, could you?”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t bother hiding it too carefully. Checked the desk drawer first, then the bookshelf. Found it faster than I expected.”

“You’re not even a bit ashamed, are you? Impressive.”

My maid’s always so composed, so unshakably reliable.

“But that doesn’t prove she’s my mom. She could be a relative, or just someone who looks similar.”

“That’s what I’m trying to unravel. Hisaka Sayaka—who are you?”

“You’re the son of Hisaka Tsukasa.”

The words hit like a sudden, heavy blow, stealing my breath.

“To me, Hisaka Tsukasa was my foster mother. She gave her newborn son to the head of the Kiyomiya family, whom she served.”

“…Why?”

“The head of the Kiyomiya family—laughable as it sounds now—was forbidden to marry the woman he loved because of their ‘difference in status.’ But if a child was born, it could carry on the Kiyomiya main family’s bloodline. The catch? It had to be a ‘male’ heir.”

“Huh? Even if I’m a Kiyomiya son, a bastard can’t inherit. I know that better than anyone.”

“Really? Or is that just what you’ve convinced yourself to believe?”

Her words pierce deeper, and I falter, unable to respond. She might be right—but it’s not that simple. It’s not just that I’ve convinced myself; I’ve forced myself to believe it. Scorned by the Kiyomiya clan, treated as the family’s outcast, I’ve carried that weight. Yet neither my father nor the relatives ever outright declared I couldn’t be the heir. I was simply despised, shunned by those bearing the Kiyomiya name.

That’s why I’ve rejected the idea of being their heir—not because I can’t, but because I won’t. I’ve kept my heart steady by clinging to that resolve.

“A bastard who could become the heir… that’s why they despised me?”

“Assumptions can be scary, can’t they?” Sayaka replied, her tone light but carrying a subtle weight. “Still, you could absolutely become the head of Kiyomiya. It’ll take effort, though.”

“Sayaka, were you… trying to push me to become the heir?”

“Who knows? Maybe it was just a whim.” Sayaka shook her head lightly, her gesture almost playful, yet it left me grasping for answers. My thoughts churned, grappling with the implications of her words.

“And yet,” she continued, her voice softening, “my foster mother gave her newborn son to her master and, in exchange, took in and raised a Kiyomiya daughter.”

“Switched children…” I murmured, the words heavy on my tongue.

Until yesterday, such a possibility would’ve never crossed my mind. The idea felt like a distant, impossible dream—yet now it loomed before me, undeniable.

“And—” My voice wavered as the realization struck harder. “Not a hospital mix-up. We were deliberately switched as babies…!”

I’d half-expected this outcome, though admitting it felt like stepping into a void. Ever since the terrifying thought had gripped me—that Sayaka might be the true Kiyomiya daughter—my mind had been spiraling. My imagination, sharper than I’d expected, had ruled out one possibility after another, piecing together the most plausible theory.

It made sense now. The way even Maritsuji had acknowledged Sayaka’s poise, her effortless grace. It wasn’t just upbringing—it was the blood of a prestigious family, refined over a millennium, coursing through her. That lineage had shaped her elegance, her unshakable demeanor.

And yet, it was still unbelievable.

Sayaka and I, switched at birth by our parents’ design. The truth settled over me like a weight I wasn’t ready to carry.

“By the way, this old manor was assigned as Wakura Honoka’s residence, and Hisaka Tsukasa served her here as a servant.”

“I knew Wakura Honoka lived in the old manor,” I replied, the words heavy with the weight of what they implied. My mother—the woman the world regarded as my mother—had never been permitted to reside in the Kiyomiya main residence.

“Did you know this?” Sayaka continued. “To the Kiyomiya clan, the old manor was seen as the head’s mistress’s residence.”

“…I never even considered that,” I admitted, the revelation sinking in like a stone.

“You’re the one who dug all this up. Impressive work, Keiji-kun.”

“You found out from your foster mother, didn’t you? But yeah, the photo was the key. It’s why I understood your fixation on the Kiyomiya family. And one small thing…”

“What?”

“‘Sayaka’—I wondered if your name took a character from the Kiyomiya surname.”

Her eyes widened slightly, as if the thought had never occurred to her. “Oh, I see. I didn’t know that. Maybe my name, Sayaka, was chosen by your father—no, my real father.”

“I’ll ask him next time, though I’m not sure if I should call him ‘Dad’ going forward.”

With that, I placed the photo on the nearby desk, its edges worn but its secrets sharp. My eyes lingered on it for a moment before turning back to her. “So, what’s your goal, Sayaka? It’s not just about seeing your real mom’s photo, is it?”

Her expression shifted, a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. “I grew up struggling in a cramped apartment, while you lived in luxury at the Kiyomiya main residence. My goal? You already know. I’m going to knock you down and take over as the true heir of the Kiyomiya family.”

“Wha…!”

“Just kidding, obviously.”

“Choose your time and place for jokes like that!” I snapped, my heart still racing. For a split second, I’d almost believed her.

Her jest didn’t entirely erase the unease her words had stirred. They clashed with her earlier push for me to become the heir, yet I couldn’t shake the possibility that her true aim lay elsewhere. What if a surprisingly capable bastard like me was being maneuvered by an even more capable true daughter, orchestrating control of the Kiyomiya family from the shadows?

The mind could conjure all sorts of dark possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.

“At the end of the day, you’re the Kiyomiya son, Keiji-kun. Always have been, always will be. I’m a Hisaka daughter. I don’t have the slightest desire to return to the Kiyomiya family,” Sayaka said, her voice steady, as if the matter were settled.

“If you did, they’d cover your tuition, no problem.”

“I’ll earn money working as a maid. A contract’s a contract.”

“You’re saying I should keep you as a maid even after all this?”

If this was true—I, the son of a servant, and Sayaka, the real Kiyomiya heiress—could I really keep her as a maid?

“Keiji-kun, you cornered me like a detective, and now you’re the one in a bind?”

“…I’m not thick-skinned enough to brush this off.”

Kiyomiya Keiji, not just an illegitimate child, but the son of a servant. Hisaka Sayaka, not merely a commoner maid, but a genuine ojou-sama. There was no way we could continue living these swapped lives as if nothing had changed.

“Watching Keiji-kun struggle like this is fun and all, but—” Sayaka’s voice cut through my thoughts. She strode briskly, stepping out of my room and into the hallway, her movements graceful yet purposeful. “Seeing off the master is a maid’s duty. You’re heading out first today too, right?”

“Wait, wait, don’t just carry on being a maid like nothing’s changed!”

“Hisaka Sayaka is a maid—your one and only maid,” she declared, turning to face me. Her radiant smile lit up the dim hallway as she pinched the hem of her skirt and dipped into a flawless curtsy, every gesture the epitome of a perfect maid.

“Have a good day, sir. Your exclusive maid will be waiting for you at the manor.”

I stood there, speechless, caught in the tide of her unwavering resolve. It seemed Sayaka was dead set on maintaining this dynamic—me as the master, her as the maid—no matter what truths had surfaced.

“…I’m heading out,” I finally muttered, the words heavy with resignation. Her flawless maid act was so overwhelming that my will to resist was crumbling.

The truth we’d uncovered weighed too heavily to confront any longer.

“I’ll always be waiting here. So, come back to me, okay?” Sayaka’s voice softened, and before I could respond, she stepped forward and hugged me from behind, her chest pressing tightly against me.

I swallowed the urge to retort, You’re leaving the house soon too, and we’ll see each other at school, right? The overwhelming sensation of her embrace shattered the serious mood entirely.

“Yeah, you’re my maid. We made a contract, after all.”

“Yes, make sure you honor that contract properly,” she replied, her tone playful but firm.

Even if Sayaka was a true ojou-sama, right now, she was my maid. My adorable, one-and-only maid. For now, I’d let myself believe that.