Chapter 87

A dog, lazing about all day long in the garden. A big ol’ puppy, covered in fluffy white fur. Getting affection from my lady, every single day. Spoiled by Papa, every single day. Eating as much of the old man’s delicious cooking as I want, every single day. Surrounded by maids who brush me, every single day. Spending my time lounging without a care. That’s what my days look like. I’ve long forgotten about the suffering in my past life. My time as a human who lived each day more dead than alive has faded to oblivion. I’m living my best life now. Liberated as I am from labor, my days have never shone as brightly as they do now that I’m living in dog years. When asked whether or not food I haven’t worked for is tasty, I can confidently reply with the following: “Woof! (It’s the most delicious thing ever!)” I say, sharpening my facial expression, in response to the mouse who posed the question. “…Squeak. (…I find myself dumbfounded at your unabashed honesty.)” The mouse sighs. She’s actually a giant dragon named Lenowyrm. Ever since I visited her lair to pinch a few herbs and we ended up fighting each other over a misunderstanding, the oddball has nested in my fur for some reason. “Mrow. (Your passion for lazing around is something else, Routa.)” A red-haired cat meows from the tree we’re cooling off beneath. That one is Nahura. She’s just a cat from every angle—but apparently her true identity is that of a homunculus. She stands up, unloafing her legs from underneath her, then stretches before jumping down onto my stomach. “Mew. (I should have expected as much from you, Routa. Normally, people can’t be so blunt when they talk. Other people would be too embarrassed.)” “Arwf, arwf. (Ha-ha-ha. Quit trying to butter me up.)” You’re making me blush! “Mew, mew. (Ah-ha-ha. If that sounded like a compliment, then I guess you really are hard-core about it.)” Indeed. I struggle day and night to achieve the pinnacle of petdom. Specifically, I eat, sleep, eat, sleep, play with my lady, eat, sleep—that sort of thing. A pet’s day starts late. It’s no struggle. I do it because I like it. “Squeak… (An awfully pathetic thing to say with such a sharp look on your face… The Fen Wolf Kings of ages past are surely rolling in their graves…)” Fen Wolf Kings? Never heard of ’em. All that’s here right now is a little white puppy dog. “Arwf! (Exactly! Young laaadyyy!)” I let out a saccharine whine for my lady, who allows me to rest my head in her lap. And now I’m having an incredible afternoon doze atop her lovely knees. While petting me, the young lady shows me a letter penned on high-quality paper. “Hee-hee. Routa, did you know Elizabeth is coming over to play soon? She says she’ll have decided on an exact date by the time the next letter arrives.” Oh, of course I know that. I’ve heard as much several times. And I’ve seen her rereading the letter twice as often. She seems really excited about getting to see her friend after so long. The letter’s sender is a preppy, drill-haired—I mean the young lady Elizabeth. She’s a noble girl whom Lady Mary made friends with when the Faulks family visited the Royal Capital. She and my lady have been sending letters back and forth pretty frequently. The kindhearted Lady Mary reads them to me many times, so I’ve perfectly memorized the contents. Elizabeth is doing well. I also know that her parents, who weren’t on good terms, have returned home. I’ve actually met with that drill-haired girl without Lady Mary knowing, but she never wrote about that time. We, along with Hecate and Zenobia, caused quite the stir in the capital, but it looks like she doesn’t intend to tell Lady Mary about that. Lots of things happened in that one night, huh? Less than a minute after we caught the elf thieves, we headed for the Royal Capital to save their older sisters, who had been enslaved. Then we encountered Drills, who was trying to break up an illegal pet business. And it turned out the unlawful business was actually a group of terrorists trying to topple the royals… So yeah, I wasn’t kidding when I said lots of things happened. Looking back on it, that run-in with the terrorists was a major event. I don’t know much of what happened afterward, but Hecate was there. She used to be a big shot at the guild, so I assume she wrapped everything up smoothly. It was an incident on a national scale—and with Elizabeth being the noble daughter of a huge business, she’s probably offering her compliance to the best of her ability. As for me, I can’t have anyone revealing that I—the puppy who was supposed to have been snoozing at the mansion—had been a bad boy in the capital. I’m confident Elizabeth understands this, which is probably why she’s been keeping it a secret. I like that about you, Drills. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure if I used compliance correctly a moment ago. I care so little for the knowledge gained in my past life that it feels like my brain is coming apart at its seams. “I’m so excited to see Elizabeth again. I can’t wait to chat and play with her!” “Arwf. (Me too.)” Elizabeth is the first friend she’s made who is both her age and of a similar social status, which makes Lady Mary happy to no end. And if she’s happy, I’m happy, too. I’d never even considered that the prissy noble and Lady Mary would become such fast friends. She was a real piece of work when we first met. The first thing out of her mouth was basically, “Give me your dog.” Still, maybe I could have seen this coming, given that she’s just as blind as Lady Mary when it comes to my Fen Wolf status. To them, I’m just a big puppy. Birds of a feather flock together, and all that. I’m willing to bet she sees that ground dragon of hers as little more than an oversize lizard, too. According to the letters, that dragon is doing just fine as well. But seriously, what a total weirdo. Listening to her brag about her bottom-shelf food that could have dealt some psychic damage to demons, and hearing her gush about deriving the greatest pleasure from letting Drills step on her… I just don’t get it. Then again, considering there’s another dragon living in my fur, maybe it’s safe to say that all dragons are more or less weirdos. “Squeak, squeak! (Beloved! You’re having rude thoughts again, aren’t you?)” Silence, you thousand-year-old, friendless, cradle-robbing furry. Come at me when you’ve gotten rid of your perv attribute. “Squeak, squeak, squeak! (Mrrrgh! I’ll have you know, only being aroused by humans makes you far more abnormal than I!)” How rude. I’ve never looked at the ladies around me with such lecherous intent. I’ve only ever treated them as objects of beauty and nothing more. Just a gift for the eyes. The only thing in my heart is gratitude for having laid eyes on a pleasant sight. As a pet, I don’t need romance. Just give me someone to raise me and spoil me rotten. For me, that someone is Lady Mary. She’s cute, she’s kind, she smells nice, and, as icing on the cake, she’s rich. She’s freaking perfect! No matter what happens, I’ll devote my whole life to her. Also, I don’t really feel like working. In fact, you could say my job is to have my head on her lap and let her spoil me all she wants. Ah, what a burden. Each day is so fraught with difficulty. I roll over onto my side as I crunch down on the baked goods Lady Mary is sharing with me. I’m currently at peak laziness in my pampered pooch life—and it’s the best. It happened one day while I was enjoying my lazy afternoon with the young lady. “I can’t stand it!!” I hear the crashing of tableware, then a shrill scream. “Arwf? (Wait, what’s all that about?)” I know that voice. It’s Mircalla, the apprentice maid who began working at the mansion last month. “I wonder if something happened. Let’s go see.” “Arwf! (Okay!)” The commotion seems to be coming from the kitchen. Never one to shy away from an opportunity to eavesdrop, I follow after my lady. What in the world could Mircalla be throwing a fit over? I peek into the window on the back door, which gives me a good look at the interior. Lady Mary, for her part, clings to my neck from behind, moving her head up just enough to see. “Day after day after day after day…! Clean this, wash that, peel these vegetables! I shouldn’t be the one doing these dumb chores!” The voice belongs to Mircalla, just as I thought. Her blond hair, done up on either side, bounces up and down—which is cute, but her face is seething with rage. Why, pray tell, would someone hired to be a maid claim that maid work isn’t her job? Was Mircalla once a noble or something? Maybe she was the kind that would say something like, “Oh, but these peasant chores are just so beneath me.” “Oh, great. Mircalla’s throwing another hissy fit.” “Don’t wave knives around like that. It’s dangerous.” “Come here, Mircalla. Your big sister will make it all better…” Betty, the maid with cute freckles, picks up the overturned chair, while Connie, the maid with the pretty, fluffy hair, picks up the knife from the floor. Meanwhile, Mira, the black-haired beauty, tries to soothe the agitated Mircalla. “You’re not my sister! You’re a total stranger whose name happens to be similar to mine!” Mircalla tries to push away the hand trying to stroke her hair, but Mira is so tall she acts like it’s nothing. She continues mussing Mircalla’s hair from above, not showing any mercy. “You say you can’t stand it,” notes Betty, “but only after you properly did all the peeling. You’re an earnest one, aren’t you, Mircalla? You know how busy the chef is, and that we need to help prepare ingredients so things don’t spiral into chaos.” “Wha?!” “You’ve shown so much improvement since arriving here a month ago,” adds Connie. “At first, your potatoes were so small they could have been beans, but now your peels are thin and your speed is almost up to our level. I can see you’re really trying hard.” “W-wha?!” “You’re a good girl, Mircalla,” croons Mira. “Such a good girl…” “Whaaaaa…?!” Mircalla’s face is bright red. A tsundere maid, huh?