Ren led Kimihito into the break room, where he tried to wipe away the mess with a damp towel. Unfortunately, wiping just spread it further without really removing any, which meant he wouldn’t be clean until he got home and showered.
Luckily, Salmon had some replacement clothes with him. Why he’d brought them was a mystery. When asked, he said that an Interspecies Coordinator needed to be prepared for anything. Maybe it was just standard protocol.
“I sincerely apologize for this, Milord.” Centorea had trailed after him to make sure he was okay.
“No, seriously, it’s fine.”
“Thank you, but it was an unacceptable blunder, and I must find a way to atone,” she asserted.
“It’s just a little ketchup! Don’t worry about it.”
Still, she had such a long face. “I am unfit for this industry.”
“Hmmm.” It was close to their opening time—this was the type of café that was only open in the afternoons. If they didn’t hurry, Centorea would be stuck working with real customers without any more practice. He’d thought Ren could help with some special training, but as long as Centorea was worked up like this, he wasn’t sure how to suggest it to her.
“What kind of a knight,” she said, “is incapable of a simple task like this? I can’t do a single part of this job to satisfaction. On top of that, I caused you trouble, Milord! Today is irredeemable.”
“Don’t say that, Cerea.” He shook his head. Centorea tended to catastrophize, but this was worse than usual. If she kept beating herself up, she’d completely crush her own spirit. But how could he stop her from doing that? He lowered his voice and spoke as gentle as he could. “Hey, everybody’s got skills and problem areas. If the café isn’t a good fit, we can ask Ms. Smith to find a different work placement.”
“Oh, Milord.” She looked at him with complete relief, but midway through her nod of agreement, she stopped herself short. “I couldn’t possibly do that.”
“Huh?”
“Miia, Rachnera, Papi, and Mero have performed admirably. I refuse to be the only failure.”
“W-well, I mean, but—” Centorea’s self-serious personality was usually charming, but right now, her inflexibility was the source of all her problems. If she kept putting pressure on herself to perform perfectly as a maid, she would make similar mistakes when she actually started serving. “Hmm.” Was there no solution?
As he looked around the back room for inspiration, he noticed the door had swung slightly ajar. It seemed someone was peering in—a certain someone with a single, large eye.
“Just a sec. I’ve gotta go ask someone a question,” Kimihito excused himself and went for the door.
“Hm? Yes, take your leave,” Centorea said.
Kimihito left the room and found Manako standing outside.
“Ah—!” Manako startled.
“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his mouth, gesturing for her to be quiet. If she’d been trying to hide, she hadn’t put much effort in.
“I’m sorry, I was just…worried about Miss Centorea,” she sighed.
“Thanks. I’m sure she’d appreciate it normally, but at the moment, she’s pretty upset. Let’s not push her, okay?”
Manako nodded. “I thought she’d appreciate some help with the ketchup, but of course it was a bad idea.”
“Come on, you know that’s not true. It was a kind gesture. She’s just sensitive that she’s struggling when you’re doing well—”
“No, it’s because I’m serving people I already know. As soon as there are strangers…” She frowned at her lack of self-confidence.
Due to her one-eyed nature, Manako was met with a lot of fear when she first arrived in Japan, but she built a life for herself and persevered—up to and including this attempt at being a maid. “I think it’s incredible the amount of effort you’ve put into this,” he said.
“What? No, no, I’m no good. My social anxiety just keeps getting in the way.” She lowered her head to hide her face. “That’s part of why I don’t think we should push Miss Centorea too hard. Everyone has things they’re bad at, you know?”
He nodded. “You’re not wrong…” Centorea’s stubbornness made her reluctant to admit her mistakes, which meant she wouldn’t get help, which meant she would repeat them over and over. How could they stop her from spiraling? “Hmm.”
“Sir?”
“But if you don’t keep trying the stuff you’re bad at, you’ll never improve.”
“Well, sure.”
Centorea’s personality wasn’t suited to playing a maid, but she did do a lot of acting; the knight routine was mostly a performance. Unlike Ren, who pursued impossible challenges and somehow overcame them, Centorea was the kind of masochist who’d throw herself on the sword and stay there. Which meant they needed to change the obstacle in front of her to something she could get past.
“Hey, Manako, your maid outfit—do you like that style of clothes?” Kimihito asked, formulating a plan.
“Hm? It’s a bit too frilly, but I do like wearing cute stuff.” She pushed the petticoats down absently.
“So it’s not distracting you from your work.”
She tilted her head at him uncomprehendingly, her eye opening wide.
“Maybe we should let Cerea do the job in her own style?”
“Oh.” Now Manako got it. “I see.”
The back room, typically for Akihabara, had a lot of different reading material scattered around. Doujinshi—the self-published books endemic to the area—filled the shelves, an exhaustive list of popular fetishes and interests. Surely, somewhere in those…
“Manako, give us a few minutes. I’ll figure something out for her,” Kimihito said decisively.
“That sounds like magic. What’re you going to do?” she asked.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” he said, scratching his head bashfully, “but I’ve got a few ideas.” Despite the hazy details, his voice had a certain conviction to it. “This might just work out.”