While Vampille was clashing with a member of Heinichen, another woman was walking through the town. Her silver hair, which usually glistened mysteriously under the moonlight, was now hidden under a hood to conceal her ears. Her tanned skin, different from a sunburn, contrasted with her typically expressionless face, which now held a faint smile.
“I’ve obtained Master’s favorite spices. I hope he will be pleased,” Schwarte, dressed in a maid’s outfit, murmured as she cradled a paper bag filled with spices. Despite often being annoyed by the members of Yerkchira, thinking about Master always brought her peace. She had been particularly irritated just moments ago.
“Honestly… tagging along only to disappear without a word… that fake lady,” Schwarte muttered, recalling Vampille’s obnoxious laughter and her gaudy dress. When Schwarte had discovered they were out of Master’s favorite spices, she immediately set out to buy more. Unfortunately, she had been caught by the troublesome Vampille, who insisted on knowing why she was going out. When Schwarte reluctantly explained, Vampille decided to tag along, claiming it was because it was for Master. Had it been for anyone else’s ingredients, Vampille wouldn’t have bothered.
“Taking care of Master is my responsibility…”
Even though she allowed Vampille to accompany her out of sheer irritation to avoid her tantrum, she certainly did not do it out of pity or affection. Schwarte, who devoted all her emotions to Master, had no compassion left for the selfish lady.
Despite Schwarte’s begrudging permission, Vampille had gotten lost.
“If only she would get so lost she couldn’t find her way back to the guild and just die in a ditch,” Schwarte muttered coldly. The already chilly night air seemed to drop several more degrees.
Of course, searching for the lost Vampille never crossed her mind. Schwarte had to get back to the guild headquarters quickly to start preparing dishes with the spices Master liked. Just like Laladie was a Hero Observer and Soulgros was a Guild Observer, Schwarte also had the duty to observe something.
This duty often took her away from the guild, limiting her opportunities to cook for Master. She always wanted to make the most delicious meals for him whenever she could. This was her constant thought.
“Therefore, I can’t waste time dealing with you,” she said, turning around and letting her short silver hair sway under her hood. A skinny man leaned against a nearby building wall, a thin sword—a katana, a rare weapon in this kingdom—hanging at his waist.
“That’s a shame. Since I came all this way, how about giving me some attention, Maid-san?” The man grinned, swaying as he stepped in front of Schwarte.
He clearly had no intention of letting her go. Schwarte, eager to get back to the guild and start her preparations, exuded an air of irritation despite her unchanged expression.
“You’d be better off dealing with the loud, pretentious idiot noblewoman. Unlike me, she’s a combat-specialized idiot,” Schwarte said, selling out the hopelessly lost Vampille without hesitation. Despite bringing her along unwillingly, she thought this was the first time Vampille had proved useful.
The skinny man shook his head. “It’s you I want to fight, Maid-san. Besides, one of my comrades is already with that noblewoman, so don’t worry about her.”
“Damn,” Schwarte muttered, clicking her tongue in annoyance. She quickly returned to her usual stoic expression.
Her mind buzzed with annoyance. Not only was Vampille useless as a decoy, but she was also a constant source of frustration. In her mind’s eye, a tiny Vampille and her entourage loudly protested, but Schwarte ignored them.
“May I ask why you are so fixated on me?” Schwarte asked in a bored tone, despite her expressionless face.
The man chuckled ominously and caressed the katana at his waist. “My blade craves blood, especially the blood of a strong swordswoman like yourself.”
Great. A bloodthirsty idiot, Schwarte thought as she watched him draw his sword and stroke it lovingly. She wasn’t afraid, but rather, her own embarrassing memories were resurfacing. She shook her head to banish them, not wanting to recall those moments that made her want to grovel at Master’s feet for forgiveness.
Having successfully suppressed the memories, Schwarte focused on the man. He wasn’t one to seek a peaceful resolution; he barely listened to anything she said.
“May I ask about your comrades?” she inquired.
“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.” The man shrugged. “I’m going to kill you anyway, so it won’t hurt to tell you. We’re from Heinichen, the Steel Matriarch, another dark guild like yours. Our Master wants the title of the strongest, so we’re here to take you down.”
Schwarte’s body twitched at his words. “Ah, Steel Scraps, is it? What a foolish guild to defy our Master.”
“What did you say?” the man growled, veins bulging on his forehead. He glared at Schwarte with a murderous gaze, but she remained unfazed.
“Very well. As a maid, it is my duty to eliminate Master’s enemies. I shall engage you,” Schwarte declared, stashing the bag of spices into the folds of her long skirt with a deft motion. From the same skirt, she drew a sword. The wonders hidden within a maid’s skirt were numerous.
“If I win, I want to see what’s under that maid uniform,” the man sneered.
“Unfortunately for you, I only lift my skirt for Master,” Schwarte retorted.
The man drew his katana, the two now ready for combat. He sought the blood of a formidable swordswoman, while she aimed to eliminate Master’s foes—and perhaps to quell the irritation of having her embarrassing past pricked at.
In the dimly lit streets, the two dark guild members clashed.