Chapter 88

That’s good. That’s really good… All right, Mircalla, you go ahead and be as tsundere as you want. “Such… Such insolence! You think you’ll get away with talking to me like that?! Who, exactly, do you think I am?!” “A maid?” “Yes, a maid.” “…A little-sister maid?” Mira really wants to make Mircalla into her sister, doesn’t she? A little-sister maid… Yeah, that’s good, too. If I had opposable thumbs, I’d be sticking one up right now. “No! I’m not some dumb maid! I’m a general of the De—” Oh, it looks like Mircalla just noticed me. The moment our eyes meet, her sentence trails off. I look at her with my big, round eyes—then break out in a cold sweat. “Arwf? (General of…the what? ‘De’?)” Was she about to say, “Demon Lord’s army”? The only ones I remember from that group are the giant skeleton and the busty, blond vampire. But why would Mircalla say something like that? “N-never mind. I’m just a maid…,” says Mircalla, stating the obvious. Her eyes darting madly from side to side. Yep, you’re a maid. That’s common knowledge. The other three, baffled by her words and actions, all tilt their heads in confusion. And then, they finally notice what’s out the window themselves. “Ah, crap!” curses one of them. The maids hurriedly form a straight line—not for me, but for the young lady. “Oh no! They found us!” Lady Mary climbs off me and opens the door, embarrassed. “I’m really sorry for interrupting your work, everyone,” she says. “N-not at all! We were just at a good stopping point anyway.” As Lady Mary bows to them, the maids wave their hands to deny her interruption. Well, you did just get caught slacking off. If Miranda knew about this, she’d have a few choice words for you all. Lady Mary would never tell on you, though, so rest easy. In fact, she’d probably try to slack off with you. Oh, I get it. I just figured out why Mircalla’s been acting so weird. She wasn’t flustered because she spotted me, but because she saw the young lady. I must have been mishearing her when she mentioned all that “general” stuff. I’ll have to get them to add an ear-cleaning to my grooming routine. “Squeak, squeak… (I believe they say that pets take after their owners, and your blindness makes me truly believe that…)” Len is muttering something to herself. Well, golly, I wonder what she means by that? How could I possibly be blind with these big, round eyes of mine? “Squeak. (Round eyes? They’re the exact opposite right now. That sharp glint in them would make anyone who sees you start to tremble.)” That’s mean! How could you say that to an adorable pet like me? …Maybe I’ll have to practice opening my eyes wider. “Lady Mary! It’s almost time for afternoon studies!” Toa appears, out of breath. She must have been going around looking for us when she noticed we weren’t in the courtyard. “Oh, is it already that time? I’ll be right there! Routa, see you—I mean, good-bye for now!” The young lady pats me on the head, then goes off to her afternoon studies. Then old man James returns through the back door to replace her. “Ah, is the peeling already finished? You all do good work as usual. And Mircalla, you’ve gotten much better, too. That’s excellent,” observes the old man, checking over the vegetables that the maids peeled and nodding with satisfaction. “Thanks for always helping out. You’ve been a great help.” “H-hmph. Yes, I should hope you’re grateful.” Mircalla just folded her arms and pouted! So cute! Yes! Blond tsundere little-sister maids are definitely good! “Hold on. All of you, have a seat for a moment.” “Ooh, what is it?” asks Betty. “Are you gonna give us a tip, chef?” “Well, something like that,” says the old man, moving over to the cutting board. He picks up a bright-red tomato. As he smoothly runs a knife along it, the tomato rapidly falls into six pieces, with even the skin peeled off. I didn’t know you could cut the skin off tomatoes! How incredible. As I look on in admiration, the old man continues to cut more of them. Then he mashes them and uses a cloth to strain them, and in the blink of an eye, his goal has been accomplished. He pours the liquid into glasses, then adds a slice of lemon on the edge of each. “Arwf! (It’s tomato juice!)” “Drink up. I picked these tomatoes fresh from the fields earlier today.” “Wow! Thanks, chef!” “Your tomato juice is so delicious, Lord James.” “I’m so excited…” The maids take their juice from the old man and immediately savor the flavor. “What…? What the heck is this…?” In spite of her words, she’s clearly interested. Mircalla cradles the glass in both hands, hesitantly puts it to her lips, and takes a sip. And then her cheeks droop. “Haaahhh…!” That’s really not the kind of face a young lady should be making, Mircalla! “It’s somehow better than anybo—anything I’ve ever tasted before…! How is that possible…?! Now that I’ve tasted this, I can’t drink from anyone anymore…!” she says in praise of the juice’s taste, her expression one of ecstasy. I feel like she’s wording her thoughts really weirdly, but it must just be my imagination. “Arwf, arwf! (Old man! Me too! Give me some, too!)” “All right, all right. I promise I’m not gonna leave you out.” The old man fills a flat dish with juice just for me. “Arwf! (This is delicious!)” The bright-red juice, meticulously strained, isn’t sour in the slightest. It has a natural sweetness, and the added salt and lemon provide beautifully contrasting bitterness and tartness. I get just a hint of basil, too, which helps create a flavor my tongue never wants to stop tasting. It has such a deep umami it’s almost like I’m drinking chilled soup. Yeah, I totally get why Mircalla looked so enraptured. “Thanks for the hard work. There won’t be much to do here for a while, so go ahead and take a short break. Oh, and you can just put the glasses in the sink when you’re done.” “Woof, woof! (Thanks, old man!)” The old man waves to us as we thank him, then heads for his next job. The maids take seats around a small kitchen table and spend their break relaxing. In the meantime, Mircalla, who finished her juice before everyone else, starts shooting glances my way. “Arwf? (What is it? You interested in me?)” If so, then feel free to come over and pet me! I lie on my side, then give her my irresistible belly-up pose. After looking down at me in loathing, Mircalla goes to talk to the other maids. Being ignored sure doesn’t feel good. “Hey, about that…ummm, that dog… What do you think of him?” “Hm? You mean Routa?” Betty notices I’m sad and comes over and starts rubbing my belly. I’m so happy. Heh-heh. “Right here? Does this feel good?” Ahh, noooo…! It feels too goooood…! After being petted to my full satisfaction, I collapse in a heap. “Routa’s cute! He’s also a really good boy, see?” “He helps with our work occasionally, too,” adds Connie. “Like when there’s something high up and out of reach, he’ll appear out of nowhere and let us climb on him.” “What a smart boy… Pet, pet…” I know, right? Keep those pets coming. “To tell you the truth, I was a little afraid of him at first,” continues Betty. “He grew up really fast. And his face is kind of mean-looking.” “But then Toa, who was more scared of him than the rest of us, became friends with him. That set our minds at ease.” “Yes… He was very obedient when we brushed him, too…” Ever since then, the maids have put brushing me into their schedules. Thanks to them, my fur never has any knots in it, and it stays fluffy and shiny. Speaking of which, I wonder what happened with all that hair that fell off me. Maybe I recently finished growing a new coat. I’m not losing that much fur anymore, but for a while, it was coming out in huge clumps. “Anyway, I guess that’s what we think of him. Mircalla, why don’t you come over and pet him, too? I promise he won’t bite.” “Arwf, arwf. (Yeah, I don’t bite.)” But I will lick you! Now bring those delicate hands over here. I’ll make them slimy with saliva. “…How carefree.” After glaring at our invitations for a moment, Mircalla rises from her chair. She washes the glass she drank from, wipes it, then puts it on the drying rack before leaving the kitchen. The old man said they could just leave them in the sink, too. How considerate of her. “She’s so earnest about certain things, isn’t she?” “She’s definitely a good girl.” “I know… I want to make her my little sister…” In the end, Mircalla only increased her affection rating with the maids even further. There was another servant hired to serve at our mansion along with Mircalla. Unlike her, this new guy is an elderly butler with lots of experience. If I recall correctly, his name is Richmond. He’s in Papa’s good graces, too, since he handles anything needed of him with ease. Still, I’ve never really had much to do with him. Neither he nor Mircalla ever approaches me. I guess they must be scared. It’s all because of my huge body and scary face. Damn that airheaded goddess. I’m walking down a hallway with this on my mind when I hear a quiet conversation coming from Papa’s study. “Yes, it is good. I had no idea you could get such a different flavor out of the same tea leaves.” That’s Papa. “You can tell the difference even just by the smell,” adds Miranda. “Would you mind teaching me how to make it like this later?” “Oh, I’m only drawing on past experience. If you’d like, I would be glad to teach you anytime.” Papa is briskly handling his clerical work with Miranda assisting him. In addition to those two, who are likely exhausted from long hours of work, is the butler Richmond, treating them to some black tea. His posture—standing straight up with a porcelain pot in one hand—is really butlery and cool. Papa was right, too. The pleasant aroma of the black tea is drifting my way. I wonder if I can get them to share with me. But still, first tomato juice, now black tea. I wonder if that’s too much water. I half expect it to start sloshing around in my stomach, but I can cancel that out if they share some snacks with me, too! “Arwf, arwf! (Excuse me! I’d like to join teatime, too, please!)” I open the door with my front paw and barge into the study. “Oh, Routa?” says Papa. “I see you’re in the mood for tea as well.” Yes! And some snacks, too, please. “Richmond, I’m sorry, but could you prepare some tea for Routa as well? And seconds for me… Richmond?” Richmond doesn’t respond, so everyone’s eyes fall on him. “Arwf? (What’s wrong, Richmond?)” He’s frozen like a sculpture in the position I first saw him in. I approach him, mystified. He starts to tremble. “What’s wrong, Richmond? You’re sweating quite a lot.” “N-n-n-n-n-n-n-nothing, i-i-i-i-i-it’s nothing, a-a-a-a-a-a-at all. You’d like s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-seconds, yes? P-p-p-p-p-p-please leave it to m-m-m-m-m-m-me.” It doesn’t look like nothing. Actually, isn’t all that trembling going to cause the tea to spill? Aaaand just as I feared, the nose of the teapot veers away from Papa’s cup and hot black tea pours onto the paperwork. “N-noooo! The… The documents!” “Richmond, what are you doing?!” Papa cries out, and Miranda hastily wipes off the desk. “I’m terribly sorry! I’m terribly sorry!” The peaceful teatime has turned into a total disaster. “A-arwf… (Oh no, oh no… Is this my fault?)” If he got like that when he saw me, I must really be scary in this form. Mircalla was acting kind of the same way, too. Everyone else in the mansion is completely used to me, but maybe I still come off as terrifying to the two new employees. In that case, I’ll have to further polish my cute woof-woof style. I don’t have the guts to remain in the study, so I flee to the garden. “Arwf, arwf. (Can’t do much about it. Guess I’ll take a nap.)” I wander in search of a good spot for an afternoon nap. Summer is over, but it’s still not exactly cool out. Maybe under a garden tree, in the shade, is the best. Being under the bushes would probably keep me cool, but I doubt this huge body of mine could fit. Even now, I’m smaller than I should be thanks to the shape-shifting technique. If I got any smaller, it would be sure to draw suspicion. And then I hear someone talking in the garden. “The incinerator is acting up?” “Yes, that’s right.” It’s James and the old gardener. “It isn’t, well, burning as much,” says the gardener. “The flames don’t seem to be working as well. I’m wondering if embers have clogged it. With my poor eyesight, I can’t see inside.” “In that case, I’ll have a look at it.” “Thank you.” Do they get rid of the mansion’s burnable trash by putting it into an incinerator? Now that I think about it, I do occasionally see a smoke column. I hadn’t paid it any mind until now. “Arwf. (I’m interested, so I’ll go check, too.)” I change my afternoon plans and meet up with James. “Oh? What is it, Routa? Do you want to help me?” “Arwf. (No, I just want to watch.)” “I see. That is mighty kind of you.” James pats me on the head. As always, I can’t get my point across. He investigates the incinerator, which is set up in a corner of the garden. After confirming that nothing seems especially damaged on the outside, he opens the thick double doors. “Ahh, he was right,” says James. “Looks like something’s stuck in the back. I’ll have to find a longer poker.” He starts off back the way we came. “Arwf. (Hmm. I wonder what’s in there?)” I probably wouldn’t know what it is even if I saw it, but I’m interested, so I give a peek anyway. “Arwf. (Huh. It’s too dark to see well… Also, it’s really dusty in here…)” There must be really small ashes floating around; my nose is getting itchy. Oh, crap—I’m gonna sneeze. I can’t stop it! “Ah, ah, ah-chooo!!” That was a powerful sneeze, if I do say so myself. And the sneeze came out right inside the closed incinerator. It must have been considerably forceful; every last one of the cinders flies right out of the thing. “Arwrwaaah! (Ack! Now I’ve done it!)” I start coughing madly in the middle of the cloud. “…Arwf? (…Wait, what’s this?)” Amid the blackened cinders is a bright-white clump. It’s fluffy and has a sheen to it. A luster—it’s like it would never allow any impurities whatsoever to taint it. And I recognize it. “Arwf! (Hey, that’s my fur!)” They must have been burning all the fur that comes out when I get brushed. But it seems even the incinerator’s high heat wasn’t able to burn it. In fact, it’s not even singed. “A-arwf! (Oh, crap! If they find something like this, they’ll get suspicious of me!)” “Hmm, this poker might be a bit too short… Oh well, I’ll give it a try anyway.” Oh no! And now the old man is about to come back! There’s no time left. I push all the white fur into the bushes to hide it for now. I push, and push, and push some more. “Hm? What are you up to, Routa?” “W-woof, woof! (N-nothing! I’m not up to anything!)” I sit in front of the bushes to help the facade and make it look like nothing’s behind me. Keep calm, fur! Don’t go fluffing out of there now! “You’re a strange one. Anyway, let’s see what we can do about the clog.” Looks like I was able to pull the fur over his eyes. The old man reaches into the incinerator with a poker. When he doesn’t feel anything, his look turns to one of confusion. “…What?” He peers inside and appears to realize the obstruction is gone. Then he turns around. I look away from him. The cinders are all scattered around me. “…” The old man’s careful gaze on me is scary! But then he breaks out into a broad smile. “Not bad, Routa!” “A-arwf? (H-huh?)” “You dug it all out of there, right? I didn’t think you’d actually help out! You can look forward to tonight’s dinner!” I thought he’d be angry, but instead he showers me with praise. I kept the fur thing a secret, and now I can expect an extra-special dinner tonight. I did it! Hooray! Now I just have to go and bury the fur in secret—somewhere far away, probably. And I should do it at night while nobody’s looking. My heart singing, I decide to take a nap in the shade. Afterward, with everybody gone and all the scattered cinders swept up, that corner of the garden was now empty. A woman showed up, a sword hanging from her waist. Zenobia Lionheart: a freeloader living at the Faulks estate and a former SS-Rank adventurer. The area near the incinerator was her daily training spot. She started with a proper posture, her movements slow and exploratory, before rapidly speeding up. She looked like she’s fighting a shadow opponent. The way she moved resembled a raging current crashing into a clear stream. Truly the motions of a master of the blade. Her training stretched out over an hour. Despite swinging the heavy sword for so long, though, she wasn’t even out of breath. Her stamina lived up to her reputation as one of the strongest adventurers out there. After defeating all her imaginary opponents, she remained on alert for a bit, then returned her sword to its sheath. She reached for the towel she’d brought with her, meaning to wipe the sweat that had appeared on her brow. And then she noticed, sitting next to the towel, a stuffed animal. It looked a lot like the large dog living at the mansion. It sat there patiently, as though watching over Zenobia’s training. “Heh-heh.” A smile played across Zenobia’s lips when she saw the adorable thing. But then it flopped over onto its side, limp. Maybe the cotton inside wasn’t as springy anymore. “…Hmm. Perhaps I shouldn’t have washed it? But it would get dirty if I carried it on me. I wonder if it’ll go back to normal if I stuff it with new cotton…” It had been a little fuller when she bought it. She wanted to restore it to its former glory. As she brainstormed ways to repair it, she noticed something white sticking out of the brush. “What’s this?” She pinched it and gave it a tug, and her hand came away with a clump of white fur. “Is this his fur? What would it be doing here…?” Zenobia stuck her hand back into the bush and pulled out even more fur. “Is this all shed hair? What a strange wolf, hiding it in a place like this. I’ll just put it in the incinerator.” She scooped up all the fur, then realized something. “Or, I could use it to…” Fur still in her arms, Zenobia turned around…to the slightly thinned stuffed animal. “Heh-heh-heh. Prepare yourself. I’ll get you nice and plump, just like him!” Suspending her training, Zenobia headed off to borrow some sewing supplies from the maids.