When I woke I was greeted with a splitting headache. Contrary to health science and everything I anticipated, the pain had barely eased.

  “Fuuudge. I have school today.”

  I couldn’t afford to be late. If I call in sick it’ll bash my grades. Plus, wasn’t I going to hang with Sven before class?

  My head pounded.

  The doorbell rang.

  Sheesh. Who’d bother me this early? I dragged myself up and clomped out of my chamber. It had to be Dad or someone I knew. Years ago, the doorbell’s cover had fallen off which meant a lot of delivery guys knocked on the door, thinking our ringer was broken.

  My ache lightened a small amount as I crossed the hall. I opened the door. “Yo, Dad, thought you’d be out on your case—”

  I froze. It wasn’t my dad.

  It was Vi from the cafe. Dressed as a frickin’ maid.

  I rubbed my eyes. “Uh. Um. The time is 6:50 am, Pacific Standard Time, and I have officially descended into madness. I am currently lying in a hospital being treated for hallucinations due to neural seizures. I am being administered ineffective painkillers, the diagnosis is uncertain, and I am lying in a coma. How close am I?”

  I looked. Vi was still there.

  She bowed. “Good morning, Cecelia. I’m here from Kuro Cleaning Services.”

  “You can pull me off life support. I’ve seen enough.”

  The woman tilted her head. “Are you okay? May I come in?”

  My face flushed. “No. Yes?”

  I stepped back to let her in. Vi—this was Vi, right?—had been carrying a red umbrella, with a fake sword handle. It must’ve been an expensive version since the handle looked realistic. Black sharkskin over metal, complete with a hand guard. Normally that stuff looked tacky on anyone, but somehow she pulled it off. I think her lack of self-awareness sold it.

  The umbrella went down and to a corner. She was hauling cleaning supplies in a cart and had on a rather modest maid outfit. Black-white, with pockets on the sides and the front of the frock. A black folded fan was tucked at her waist.

  I blurted out the first question on my mind. “Vi, do you cosplay?”

  She gave a polite but blank stare. “Cosplay?” I had a mental image of a dog being called “cute” without understanding the meaning.

  I pointed to her uniform. “Which anime?”

  Vi didn’t bat an eye, which unnerved me more than any answer. She pulled the cart with her into the hall. “Where would you like me to clean first?”

  I shot back, “Why are you in a French maid outfit?”

  “Seikatsu.” She smoothed the hem of her dress. “This was serviceable back in the day. Why change?”

  “Huh?”

  Vi was making a beeline towards—oh noooo. “Would your room be a good place to start?”

  “Wait! Wait!” I ran after her. Girl was giving me a heart attack.

  Fortunately, she stopped at the foot of my quarters. Unfortunately, she had already obtained a good view of it. “Ah. I see the problem.”

  I huffed and folded my arms. “My room is not a problem. Just ask Peppy. He loves it.”

  “Of course.” She reached into her pocket. “Aspirin?”

  “Mrgh.” I eyed the small pink tablet. Not an imposter then. Didn’t even ask about Peppy. What a weird delusion. Maybe I’m trapped in a matrix. Well, if it helps, why not?

  When I took it, the maid said, “If it makes you comfortable, I will not throw anything away at first. I will simply rearrange everything so you won’t be harmed.”

  “Won’t be harmed?” I hated how stupid I sounded. Blasted headache.

  The maid took a floral spray from her cart. “Yes. Please, take a seat in the kitchen and rest. You need to be away from the source until geomancy is applied.”

  “What, geomancy? Earth divination?”

  “You’d know it more as Feng Shui. In Japanese we call it Fusui. Same thing.” Spray puffed the air as she stepped in.

  “Rearranging furniture? Wait wait wait.” My mind raced as I thought about Kojiki and the broken mirror. “I didn’t know you were into that jazz. Can I—can I watch you work?”

  That was the best I could think of on my feet. At least I’d see if she noticed Kojiki or the mirror pieces—or tried something drastic, like break a window and dip from the house.

  “If you’d like. You have school soon, don’t you? You should eat breakfast. This shouldn’t take very long.”

  I edged into the kitchen, keeping a watch on Maid Vi. I thought a second and settled into a chair, pouring myself a cereal. I’ll eat fast. She can’t leave without passing the kitchen. The only other option is jumping a window. Hmm. Could she fit? She did say I could come in at any time. That doesn’t sound like a good heist-in-progress. I grabbed milk. I needed a spoon.

  Spoon. Oh yeah.

  I barged into my room and snatched the bronze spoon off my table, stuffing it in my jeans pocket. Did she see? I snuck a shifty-eyed glance at Vi.

  It didn’t appear so. The maid had been busy taking a feather duster from her cart, which was loitering outside my room. She smiled. “Everything all right? I’m sorry if I’m scaring you somehow.”

  “Yes. Sure.” I backed away and ran to the kitchen feeling like an idiot, because only idiots carry metal spoons in their pockets in their own home.

  I jammed the spoon into my cereal and ate while cursing myself. Dummy! What’ve you done? The moment anyone sees Kojiki, they’ll ask about it for sure! Then you’ll have one witness who could rat out that you stole it from Kinokuniya!

  Stealing a normal book, okay, maybe not that bad. I could work out a plea deal. Pay the bookstore. Return the item. Get screamed at.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Stealing a book with a strange lock-box and a ripped-out portion—that, I felt in a cold knot in my stomach, was capital-b Bad.

  My gut churned.

  I got a glass of water for the aspirin. Then I thought maybe I shouldn’t take drugs from a stranger who dressed as a maid offering free services while believing in a cultic pseudoscience disproved for literal centuries.

  I sighed. Sometimes, I cannot believe I was raised by a cop. Dad will be hecking furious.

  The spoon scraped against my cereal bowl. I heard rattling and thumps like books and papers and junks were being moved around.

  Okay, calm down, calm down. My natural floor debris will slow any progress. I gotta stop her before she finds my shock manga and its contents, is all. I will let her leave, while smiling politely, and never ever ever go to her place ever again!

  I tasted copper. The bronze spoon went up and I munched the last few bits of ‘fast. I had to angle the utensil—

  Oh, carrot cakes! The spoon had folded in on itself. My eyes widened. I forced myself to stay silent.

  Thinking quick, I put away my bowl and stuffed the busted bronze spoon in my dishwasher. The washer shut with a bam.

  Whew. One less awkward item to explain. Why, oh why, are so many spoons breaking around me? What’re the chances?

  At that moment Vi emerged and set down a cup of green tea.

  I stood stock-still. My blood pounded in my chest. The throb in my temple had lessened somewhat. This allowed my thoughts to be further immersed in panic. Cuuuttlefishhhh.

  I still refused the aspirin, which sat bare on the table taunting me.

  Her tone was filled with concern. “You won’t take it?”

  “Uh—not yet. Had a big midnight snack, y’know? Gotta let myself—digest.”

  She bobbed her head. “I will work faster. I am sure the pain must be terrible for you.”

  “Never mind that. Lemme see.” Acting as cool as possible, I strolled with her into my room.

  Immediately I howled. “What have you done?”

  The front half had been swept clean. My snacks—they were lined up in rows and columns, army style. My clothes—folded on the bed! My notepads, books—stacked, categorized. Toys and doodads huddled in the back. And my drinks! They sat on my windowsill like victims of a firing squad, backs to the glass, next to Peppy. Reminding me when to water him!

  “How am I supposed to find anything?” I screamed, totally blowing any composure.

  “I’m sorry. I drew you a map.” Vi dipped her head and held out a paper with both arms.

  I snatched it. She had neatly labeled my belongings in a layout of my ruined room. Also, she had drawn four little animal icons in the cardinal directions. A tiger, a dragon, a phoenix, and a snake. “What is this terrible design?”

  “Feng Shui,” she explained with gentle earnestness. “It’s incomplete, but the goal is directing harmonious energy. You can see earth, water, and air are parts of your room which require balance. For example, the azure dragon in the east and the white tiger in the west represent wood and metal—”

  “Stick a pancake in it, Vi! That’s bunk and you know it! Change it! Put my stuff back!” With dumbstruck horror I watched her move even more scattered toys and—organize them.

  Her azure eyes met mine. She sounded hesitant, as if saying anything would cause me to fling myself off the nearest cliff. “You are growing older, Cecelia. Your body and aptitudes are changing. This is healthier for you until you become more adapted.”

  “Crackpot,” I mumbled. “Hold up. Whaddya mean, adapted?”

  Vi made a motion to my head.

  I slapped a hand on my forehead. “What?”

  It was then I realized. As Vi kept on tidying up the place, my headache was becoming fainter and fainter.

  “Are you seriously suggesting—?” I broke off, not even willing to admit how ridiculous I would sound. “I’m having a headache because my room has bad Feng Shui?”

  Vi simply nodded. “This is temporary. Don’t worry. It will become like how it was in time.”

  “I’ve never had this problem before!”

  “You didn’t grow enough.” Her reply was mild.

  I worked my jaw. The audacity. This woman dared barge into my house and mess with my stuff, all while dressing as a maid and babbling on about mystic nonsense? “Prove it.”

  She stopped mid-way through hefting up a textbook. “I’m afraid, given your present emotional state, you are not ready for that.”

  “Prove. It.” I glowered.

  “Ah.” Vi glanced down at herself. She muttered. “I'm not comfortable changing.”

  My eyebrows shot up but I figured I’d misheard. Changing your mind, was what she meant. Even if she didn’t have an accent, Vi was a foreigner after all.

  She met my glare with a gentle smile. “Someone else can do that for you. Talking to your mom is best, though perhaps your dad can help as well.”

  I shook my head. “If this is a prank this isn’t funny, Vi. I’ll tell my parents you legit waltzed in in a ridiculous maid costume and tried to scam me into following a furniture cult.”

  “You can tell them that.” She kept cleaning, humming a little as she worked. A pleasant nursery tune.

  Plan B. Let's scare her off! I can take her. I’ll open a window and push her—

  I stiffened.

  She had stepped to the shards of the mirror on the floor.

  “Oh, Cecelia…” Her voice had gone quiet.

  She sounds sad. Why does she sound sad? I opened my mouth but nothing came out. My stomach flip-flopped. She was looking down at the shattered pieces and fetching a dustpan from her cart.

  “I’m afraid this may be beyond repair. Is it okay if I throw this out?”

  My mind engaged itself in heated debate. Destroy the evidence? Keep the evidence?

  I don’t wanna be fined!

  Destroy the evidence. “Yee. Yeh.”

  It was a hazard anyways. She probably thinks it was expensive. Given the mirror’s intricate carvings and cast nickel-like material, I was surprised it had come out of a manga too. Kinda old-fashioned.

  Coulda sold it at an auction. Way to pay yo bills, Cecelia. Hm—auction. Wasn’t that eagle in Kinokuniya complaining about rich people doing an auction?

  “Okay. Excuse me.” Vi tugged on a pair of white gloves and took a broom.

  Aaaaaah. I watched the pieces get swept up and dumped into a bag. This must be what criminals felt like disposing of their victims.

  Vi moved on, unconcerned. She was plopping a last set of comics and paperbacks away—

  Kojiki! I held my breath. I readied my legs to sprint and grab it. She took hold of my evil manga.

  It didn’t zap her. Bummer.

  My eyebrows furrowed as the maid treated Kojiki exactly as any other text. She slid the manga into a spot in a pile. Alphabetical order. Then she put a secondhand shonen on top of it. Within a minute it was tucked away among my other volumes.

  “I’m done, Cecelia. Do you feel better?”

  I patted my head. The migraine had ceased. Relief hit me like a freight train. I held out my hand and tapped a foot. “All right. What’d you want me to sign?”

  She blinked as if I had spoken an alien tongue. “What do you—?”

  I sighed. “Dawg, I know how this works. You’re gonna make me sign a debt-ridden contract, or make me your assistant, or force me to spread the word about this joy-luck-cleaning abracadabra.”

  Vi yipped and glanced around the room. “Dog? Where? What do you mean?” Her expression was genuinely confused.

  “There’s a catch. There’s always a catch.” I crooked my hand in a silent motion of “hurry up”.

  What I was really gonna do, was give any paperwork she forked over straight to my dad. You did not mess with SFPD.

  Her eyes darted to my hand, then to my chagrined face, apparently making a connection as she mumbled, “Oh.”

  The housemaid set down for me my backpack and Sven’s drink bag. She bowed. “This is a free trial. No strings attached. If you want, please call again. I hope you like it. Take care of yourself.”

  Without preamble she hauled the cart off. My door opened and shut.

  I stood alone for a moment. I put on my shoes. “What. The. Heck.”