Useless!!!

"Wash my feet properly!!!"

In the large marble-floored room, Jef sat at the feet of his wife, Syarla Devaki, holding a basin of warm water. His rough, tired hands began to gently wipe Syarla's feet, following the instructions he had memorised. His wife, meanwhile, sat in the makeup chair with her mobile phone in hand, scrolling through social media while occasionally laughing softly.

Several other servants were busy doing Syarla's hair and make-up, making the room feel even more lively. 

"Bring me a comb!"

"Bring nail art, please!"

"Be careful not to tangle Miss Syarla's hair."

Even so, in the midst of the crowd, Jef felt an eerie silence, as if he was isolated in a place that was supposed to be his home.

"Ouch, Jef! What are you doing? The water's too hot!" Syarla's loud voice broke the silence. 

Jef was startled, immediately pulling back his hand that was washing Syarla's feet. 

"I've told you many times that the water should be warm, not hot! What's so hard about listening?" complained Syarla.

The servants dressing Syarla chuckled, exchanging glances with mocking smiles. One of them, a woman with her hair in pigtails, shook her head as she said, "You poor servant. Given an easy job and still making mistakes.”

Jef bowed his head. His hands trembled slightly as he touched the water in the basin again, trying to compose himself. "Sorry, the water may have been heated too long," he said quietly, trying his best not to show the emotions raging inside him.

Syarla sighed loudly, then shot him a glare. "You are so unreliable. Do I have to take care of every little thing? If it wasn't for this marriage contract, I wouldn't have bothered with you."

Another servant, who had been polishing Syarla's toenails, added scornfully, "That's right, Miss Syarla. Who would want a poor bloke like him? It's a good thing Miss Syarla is kind."

Jef bit his lip, feeling every word of derision like a needle piercing his heart. He knew full well his position here, as an unwanted contract husband. Yet, every insult he received still hurt, reminding him of how inferior he was in the eyes of these people.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you how to heat water properly?" Syarla's voice snapped Jef out of his thoughts.

Jef fell silent. His wife's words seemed to insult him that Jef had been living alone without parental love. 

"Oops, sorry! I forgot, you've been relying on your grandfather and the orphanage where you were born," said Syarla.

Jef swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that were about to spill over. He raised his head slightly, looking at Syarla with tired eyes. "I'm sorry, Syarla. I'll be more careful next time."

Syarla raised her eyebrows and chuckled, then refocused on her mobile phone, as if nothing Jef said mattered. "Well, I hope so. I'm tired of taking care of things that you should be able to do yourself."

Jef continued his task, now with a noticeably heavier hand. Every word and laugh he heard made him feel smaller, as if he was a nobody in this world. In his heart, he could only pray that this day would pass soon, even though he knew tomorrow would probably be the same. 

This routine full of insults and ridicule seemed to be an integral part of her life. However, for the sake of his ailing grandfather, Jef knew he had to persevere, trying to stay strong despite his broken heart.

After washing Syarla's feet, Jef stood up slowly. He carried a basin of warm water into the kitchen, poured it out, and placed the basin in the corner of the kitchen with an upset heart.

However, when his eyes fell on the wall clock that showed seven in the morning, he immediately remembered that he had to go to work immediately. Quickly, Jef ran to his room to change his clothes.

Just as he was putting on his work uniform, he heard the voice of his father-in-law, David Devaki, calling him from the living room.

 "Jef! Don't forget your hat!" The voice was full of disdain.

Jef stopped his steps, turned around, and headed to the living room quickly. David stood there, watching with a cold stare. Jef picked up the hat with the logo of David's culinary company, which lay on the table.

David glanced at the hat sarcastically. "Ah, really no talent. You never understood how to work properly. That hat is very important for the restaurant's image."

Jef tried to hold back his embarrassment, then put on the hat. "Sorry for my negligence, sir.”

David came closer and looked Jef up and down. "You know, Jef, don't ever think that I would consider you as a legitimate son-in-law. You're just a waiter at the restaurant, nothing more than that."

Jef bit his lip, feeling the pain in his heart. "I understand, sir."

David smiled wryly. "Of course you understand. We all know that this marriage is just a contractual arrangement. Syarla married you to avoid an arranged marriage scandal. If not for that, who would marry a poor man like you?"

Jef bowed his head, trying to compose himself.

David raised his eyebrows. "Hope you don't get your hopes up too much, Jef. You're probably just a waiter in our restaurant, and that's your place. Nothing more, nothing less. Don't you dream!"

David continued to watch Jef with a mocking gaze. "You better hurry up and get to the restaurant. Don't let our reputation be tainted just because of you. Remember, you're just a waiter, and your job is to look after yourself so that no mistakes are made."

Jef nodded, holding back his anger. "I'll be going now."

As Jef turned to leave the house, David called out to him once again. "Jef!"

Jef stopped and turned around. "Yes, sir?”

David grinned. "Don't expect much. You'll never reach the level we have. Always remember your position, waiter. It's the most appropriate place for someone like you."

Jef swallowed, then stepped out of the house feeling annoyed. Every word David said felt like a stab in his heart. However, he had to stay focused on his goal-working hard at the restaurant to earn money for his grandfather's treatment. 

Despite the insults and humiliation, Jef knew that he had to endure for now, trying his best while hoping that there would be a day when everything would change.

At the restaurant where Jef worked, the place was filled with important guests. Jef was carrying a tray of freshly squeezed juices, trying his best to serve them. However, in the middle of the crowd, his hand slipped and the juice spilled onto the coat of an important guest, Vigi.

Vigi was a 29-year-old man, an investor who had been invited by David Devaki. He shouted angrily as soon as his shirt was hit by the juice. "Hey! What are you doing? It's a designer suit, it's very expensive!"

Jef was shocked and immediately panicked. "I'm sorry, sir! I didn't do it on purpose. I'll clean it up immediately."

Vigi glared angrily. "Sorry? Do you know how much this suit cost? And you think your apology can replace my suit?”

One of the other waiters stood beside Jef with a worried look on his face. 

Vigi ignored them and continued to stare at Jef with a look full of contempt. His eyes glanced at the small nameplate "Jef Nicholas, which was attached to the left side of the waiter's shirt. Look at you. You're just a poor servant who knows nothing about etiquette and manners. You think you're worthy of serving important people like us?"

Jef bowed his head, his face flushed. "I'm really sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

Vigi didn't show the slightest sympathy. "You know, everyone here knows how low status employees are. You don't deserve to be here."

The other guests began to glance and whisper, making Jef feel even more depressed.

Jef was embarrassed and devastated, knowing that everyone around him looked down on him. "Once again, sir, I am very sorry for this incident. I will clean your suit immediately."

Vigi ignored Jef's apology and simply said in a sarcastic tone, "Don't let this happen again. You're just a waiter. And don't ever think that you can be more than that."

Jef felt his heart breaking. He bowed his head as he picked up the bucket and began to mop the floor that was dirty from the spilt juice.

This time he worked carefully, trying to complete the task as quickly as possible. As Jef was busy moving the bucket to reach the harder-to-reach areas, two men dressed all in black with black hats sat down near him.

"Don't worry, young master. We're with you." said one of them.