“Are you sure about this, Arty?” Lily asked hesitantly as she and Arty sat in front of a mirror.
“I’m very sure! Snip away, Lily!” came Arty’s cheerful reply.
The first order of business was a disguise. Arty’s appearance was far too striking, and so they’d decided to use dark brown hair extensions and a large headdress sourced from the black market to cover her pale pink hair, as well as a pair of glasses—also from the black market—to help conceal her distinctive eyes. The glasses had special lenses made of crystalline manastones that could alter the appearance of the wearer’s eye color. Also, the maid uniform Arty had been wearing was, apparently, the standard attire of her former attendants, so they’d replaced it with a plain dress.
But one issue remained: the length of Arty’s hair. Her silken locks fell down to her waist, and couldn’t be fully hidden with just extensions and a headdress. During her escape she’d tucked it all into a large hat, but some strands had stuck out, and that had just made her even more conspicuous. So, they’d decided to cut it.
Arty showed no hesitation at all. Perhaps she’d been ready for that much the moment she’d run away from the palace.
“O-Okay, then...”
With that, Lily began snipping, and strands of soft-pink hair fluttered to the floor like spring blossoms.
“How’s this?” the elf asked.
“You can go shorter,” Arty replied. “No point in taking half measures.”
“Shorter...?”
In the end, her hair went from waist length to barely brushing her shoulders.
“Nice. This way, even people who know me will have a hard time recognizing me immediately. My head feels lighter and easier to move too,” Arty said as she looked in the mirror, happily turning her head from side to side.
But then she placed both hands on her cheeks and let out a deep sigh.
“Oh no! I’m sorry, Arty! Did I cut too much?” Lily asked.
“Not at all, Lily. I was just thinking about how I look good no matter the hairstyle. How sinful of me.”
“Being born into nobility really does wonders for your self-esteem...”
Now that her disguise was complete, there was the matter of actual housework.
“Okay, we’ll start with cleaning,” Zenos said. “Do you know what that entails?”
“Do you think me stupid?” Arty protested.
“No, but I figure royals don’t exactly clean homes.”
“I’ve never done it.”
“I knew it!”
Zenos decided to start by handing her a broom and dustpan.
“The clinic opens in the afternoon today. Do you think you can get the floor clean by then?”
Arty let out a chuckle. “That’s it? Of course I can.”
She rolled her sleeves up enthusiastically, and then—
“Wait, wait! What are you doing?! Why are you scraping the floor with the dustpan? You’ll get it even more scratched than it already is!”
“What? What’s the issue? I figured I’d scrub off the dust.”
“Dustpans are for collecting and discarding dust, not scrubbing! You’re supposed to use the broom to sweep the dust into one spot first.”
“Hmph! I knew that, of course.” Arty brushed her bangs aside in irritation, then stared at the broom in her left hand. “By the way, what’s a broom, again? Is it this?”
“Ah, this is probably hopeless...”
“I-It’s fine! I’m just checking! Just in case.”
“Wait, wait! Why are you brandishing it like you’re about to whack at something from above?!”
“What? I figured I could sweep up more dust by applying more force. See? Hi-yah!”
“You’re just gonna scatter it all over the plaaace!”
In the end, Zenos and Lily had to clean the floor, which was messier than before. Arty sat at the edge of the room, knees hugged to her chest, mumbling with her head down.
“What should I do, Zenos...?” she asked, dejected. “I don’t think I have any talent for cleaning...”
“This isn’t a matter of talent. You just need to get used to it.”
“Get used to it...”
“So,” Lily said in an encouraging tone, “I’m going to go make lunch. Do you want to help, Arty?”
“Yes, of course! I can definitely cook!” Arty exclaimed, pumping up her fist in what was likely unearned confidence, but...at least she had a positive attitude.
But then...
“Arty, let’s peel the vegetables first, okay?”
“The meat is still raw, so let’s not eat it just yet.”
“Ah, it’s boiling over! Turn off the heat!”
“You don’t need to dump all the spices in!”
“If you throw the pumpkin into the pot, you’ll splash boiling water everywheeere!”
“Nooo! Please don’t raise the knife like thaaat!”
Lily’s tone grew more urgent every time she spoke. Finally, a cry rang out from the kitchen—somewhere between a shriek and a death wail. Moments later, the dining table was covered in mysterious and grotesque masses of black, purple, and pink, twisted and tangled and decidedly giving off “Caution: Do Not Eat” vibes.
The three stared silently at the bizarre substance.
“What kind of dish even is this?” Zenos asked.
It looked like some sort of forbidden being born of a failed demon summoning.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know either,” Lily replied.
“I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Arty remarked.
“I figured...” Zenos said.
Arty cleared her throat, then said in an overly cheery tone, “But hey, looks can be deceiving, as they say! There are foods that look horrid but taste incredible. Like...ruby monkfish! They’re hideous, but they’re known as the jewels of the deep sea for their remarkable flavor!”
“Those are a delicacy,” Zenos pointed out. “Only high-ranking nobles could afford that sort of thing.”
“What? Really?” Arty said, looking a bit surprised. Nevertheless, she picked up a glob of the mysterious slop with her fork and brought it to her lips. “I’m sure it’s fine. See? It’s actually quite deli— Guuuuuh!”
And then she threw up. The saintess puked all over the place.
“Ugh! Augh! Gaaaaaaah!”
Arty toppled over in her chair, clutched her chest, and rolled around on the floor.
“Arty!” Lily called out, rushing over in a panic. She began to worriedly rub Arty’s back.
Zenos watched the scene with a serene expression on his face and nodded slowly. “She’s fine. Her noble body just can’t handle anything that tastes foul.”
“Th-That’s not the problem! This is... This is poison! It’s a mass of deadly poison!” Arty exclaimed. Pale-faced, she wiped repeatedly at her mouth.
“You cooked it,” Zenos pointed out as he poked his own fork into the mystery slop and took a bite. He chewed slowly, then swallowed. “Well, it’s definitely not good, but it’s edible.”
“N-No way. Have your taste buds gone on vacation?!”
“Considering what I had to deal with as a child, the fact I can digest this makes it a luxury.”
“Huh?”
“I had to gnaw on tree roots and suck on sour rocks. It’d get me through three or so days. Happened regularly.”
Arty stared at him in silent disbelief.
Lily nodded. “Yeah. I think most poor kids have gone through something similar.”
“Y-You can’t be serious. The poor live like this?” Arty asked.
“When I was a kid, I didn’t even know people were supposed to eat three meals a day,” Zenos explained. “I thought one every two days was the norm. To some kids, this may as well be a feast.”
“This thing? A feast? You have to be joking.”
Arty slowly pushed herself to her feet, then looked down at the vile, foul-smelling slop. She scooped up one of the twisted parts with her fork, stared at it for a moment, then steeled herself and hesitantly brought it to her lips.
“Guuuh!”
She promptly threw up again. The saintess puked all over the place again.
“I can’t do iiit!”
“You’re funny,” Zenos remarked. “Look, you don’t have to force yourself. Here, have some of this fruit that a patient brought.” He handed her a green apple. “Go ahead, eat some to get rid of the taste in your mouth.”
“U-Uuugh...” Arty groaned with tears in her eyes. “Is this edible?”
“You’ve never seen an apple?”
“I-I have, of course! But they’re always served peeled, so I thought perhaps the skin wasn’t edible.”
“The skin is full of fiber. Nothing wrong with eating it. You know, when I was little, apple skins were practically a delicacy—”
“All right, I get it! I get it, okay? I’ll try it!” Arty brought the apple to her mouth and took a cautious bite. “Y-Yes, it’s a bit tough, but it’s completely edible. I see. So you can eat the skin.”
As Arty munched on the apple with interest, Zenos noticed something.
“Hey, your finger’s injured,” he said.
There was a cut on the pad of Arty’s left index finger, with a small bead of blood forming. Perhaps she’d hurt herself with a knife.
“Oh, you’re right!” Arty said, looking at the wound. “I did think it felt a bit tingly.”
She held her right hand over the wound and, the next moment, it was completely healed. Carmilla had said Arty’s healing wasn’t magical in nature, and sure enough, there was no trace of the unique mana wavelength that spells usually had.
“What exactly is that power?” Zenos asked.
“They’re called blessings, but I don’t actually understand them myself,” Arty explained.
“You don’t?”
“Apparently it’s passed down to generation after generation of saintesses.”
“Generations? So there’s always been a saintess?”
“Yes. It’s not widely known, but saintesses date back to the kingdom’s founding. Each saintess inherits her predecessor’s powers and supports the prosperity of the nation,” Arty said with a proud expression.
But there was a hint of sadness mixed in with that pride.
The shadow over her features passed quickly, and she stood up from her chair. “So, what next?”
“Right. It’s about time to open the clinic.”