I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

Chapter 872: No reasonings in front of greed

The effect was immediate.

Wave of pure, unhidden shock washed over the gathered maids.

A maid being intimate with the son of the Duke?

To them, Kraven was not merely a young noble. He was a figure so far above their station that even the crown prince in their cheap novels felt more reachable by comparison. The idea that one of their own had already shared a bed with him struck harder than the original request.

Sera shifted uncomfortably. For a fraction of a second her eyes lifted to his, and the look in them was clear enough.

Was that necessary, Young Lord?

Julian did not care. He turned his attention back to the rest of them.

“So,” he said, “who will join me? I will reward the one chosen with one thousand gold.”

The corridor went dead silent.

Then the silence broke.

“What?”

“Oh my god—”

A sharp gasp escaped one of the younger maids before she could stop it. Surprise flooded every face at once.

One thousand gold was not just a generous tip.

It was a full year’s salary for most of them. They would have never ever dreamed that they would hear those words in their entire life.

Julian watched the shift with quiet amusement. Desire, fear, calculation, and desperation all moved through the group in rapid succession.

Then, one by one, they began to speak.

“Young Lord, take me.”

“I am ready.”

“I will do whatever you want.”

The words tumbled out in overlapping bursts as composure collapsed under the weight of the offer. A maid who had been trembling only moments earlier stepped half a step forward. Another lifted her head. A third pressed a hand to her chest as if trying to steady her breathing.

Even the married maid did not look as firm as before.

Her husband was only a stableman; a man who spent his days looking after horses for nobles who would never bother learning his name.

The two of them had managed to live by, but only barely.

One thousand gold was not merely tempting. It was disruptive. It was the sort of sum that could erase debts, replace tools, buy medicine, and still leave enough behind to make winter less frightening.

For a moment, her lips parted as if she might speak.

Around her, the others had already abandoned their reasonings.

“Young Lord, choose me,” one said quickly. “I am more experienced than her.”

“That is not true,” another cut in. “You only talk more.”

“At least I do not have the chest of a boy.”

“Better small and firm than heavy and already soft.”

The corridor, so carefully polished for the arrival of a king, became the stage for something far less dignified. The maids were no longer simply embarrassed servants caught gossiping. The reward had turned them into competitors.

“My breasts are bigger,” one of them said, almost breathless with urgency. “Anyone can see that. If the Young Lord wants something worth putting his hands on, it should be me.”

“Bigger is not better,” another snapped. “Mine are younger.”

“You are flatter than the board we were dusting.”

“And you look like you have already nursed half the stables.”

A third maid, cheeks burning but eyes sharp with opportunity, forced her way into the exchange.

“Why are you all talking about chests? That is not all a man cares about.” She swallowed, then pushed through the shamelessness. “My pussy is tighter. That matters more.”

The words landed like a second bombshell.

One of the girls made a strangled sound of disbelief. Another stared at her as if she could not believe such a thing had been said out loud in the open corridor of the main castle. The married maid’s ears went red, though whether from pure shock or from the fact that she was still calculating the gold was harder to tell.

“You shameless thing,” someone hissed.

“Shameless?” the girl shot back. “We are already volunteering to please the Young Lord for coin. What is the point of pretending to be modest now?”

“She has a point,” another muttered, then lifted her chin. “Young Lord, I am more obedient. I will not hesitate. I will not make things awkward. Whatever you want, I will give it properly.”

“That only means you have no confidence in your body,” the well-endowed maid replied at once. “Men do not pay a thousand gold for obedience alone.”

“Some do.”

“Not men who already have Sera.”

At the mention of her name, several eyes flicked back toward Sera. She was still bowed, still silent, but the stiffness in her shoulders had grown more pronounced. She had already been chosen. That alone put her in a different place from the rest of them. They were competing for the second place beside her.

Julian said nothing yet. He simply watched.

There was something almost educational about the scene. Give people enough money and the distance between dignity and need collapsed with remarkable speed. These were the same maids who had been whispering about romance novels and handsome princes only minutes earlier. Now they were openly ranking their own bodies in front of him, each one trying to construct a reason she should be worth a thousand gold.

“I keep myself clean,” one said. “Always. That should count for something.”

“I have stronger thighs,” another countered. “I can stay on my knees longer.”

“That is disgusting.”

“And advertising your chest like fruit in a market is not?”

“At least men look at mine.”

The married maid finally spoke, though not to volunteer outright. Her voice was lower, constrained.

“You are all losing your minds. This is still the castle. If someone hears—”

“Then keep your mouth closed if you are not joining,” one of the younger ones cut in. “You already said you are married. This is not about you.”

The married woman’s lips pressed together. The rebuke stung, but not enough to erase the number still glowing in her mind.

Sera finally lifted her head a little.

“Young Lord,” she said carefully, “perhaps this much noise is unwise. The corridor is not private.”