She had to do something before this ditz of a girl stumbled headlong into disaster. “Melody! Let’s go on a date! You and me!”
The most surefire way to avert disaster? Make sure the heroine goes on that date. The role of guide would have to fall to Anna, her rescuer. No protagonist and no male love interest around. Was this even the same event anymore?
And we’re both girls. Well. The narrative has spoken!
“A date? With you, Anna?”
“Y-yes! That is, we could, er, spend some time together. It happens to be my day off too, and I hadn’t decided how to spend it.”
“Oh, is that so?”
It wasn’t. This narrative was built on lies. Bald-faced lies.
“Seeing as we’re both free, why not get to know each other better? Take a walk around the capital?”
Melody rested her cheek in her hand. She could think of no reason to refuse, but she didn’t want to burden Anna. For reasons unclear to her, Anna had been concerned for her safety, but this was so sudden. The invitation simply didn’t seem genuine to her.
In which case, I ought to refuse, she thought.
For all her maid madness, Melody was still Japanese, with all the aggressive modesty that came with the culture. Perhaps that all-powerful narrative force was bent on tragedy today.
Anna read the hesitation on Melody’s face. Uh-oh. At this rate, she’s gonna have another run-in with those so-and-sos. I’ve got to turn this around before she leaps straight into who knows what!
She had just the thing.
“I thank you for the invitation, but—”
“We can talk about maids.”
“…But I’d be remiss to turn down such a lovely offer. A date it is then!”
An exquisite oral pirouette.
“Shall we, then?” said Anna.
“Indeed.”
They returned to the main street, a touch of red coloring Melody’s cheeks as she fixed her gaze on Anna. Oh so very much like a maiden in love.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear what maid stories you have to tell.” Melody giggled.
“Wh-where to start?”
Anna set them on a route she knew by heart, praying she could come up with literally anything to talk about before they arrived at the first location.
The Debonair Day of Roguish Romance consisted of three stops in total. No variation. The player couldn’t decide the destinations.
Anna guided them to the first: a sophisticated outdoor café near the Upper District.
Melody blinked. “An ice creamery?”
The sign out front read “Ice Cream Café - Dolcettio,” and featured a cone topped with the frozen delight.
“You guessed it. It’s the most famous frozen dessert spot in the Lower District,” Anna boasted. “They’re heavenly, I tell you.” Indeed, every table was full, and a line snaked away from the order counter. Indoor seating was a pipe dream, to say the least. “It’s not usually this packed, but it happens to be their hundredth-day anniversary. There’s a special sale going on.”
“That, um, certainly explains how busy they are.”
This was it. The reason the event had to happen today, and why Anna could never forget it. Melody, decidedly less enthusiastic than her escort, seemed a little stupefied. Overwhelmed, Anna thought, though this presumption missed the mark.
Why is there an ice creamery in a world that’s otherwise akin to medieval Europe? Melody thought.
Ice cream was by no means a modern invention. Frozen desserts and the like dated back to before recorded history, but they were certainly a luxury in more ancient times. What was a modern invention was the easy availability of the treat and the simplicity of producing it, the main obstacle being, of course, freezing the things.
The game’s world lacked refrigerators. You could find primitive ice houses, perhaps, but no freezers that Melody knew of. Yet this shop sold the treats by the dozens. Clearly there had to be some sort of temperature-controlling technology at play.
I thought I was done being reminded of this fact, but I’m certainly not on Earth anymore.
There, refrigeration didn’t arrive until the modern era. This world seemed placed squarely during the medieval era. Anachronisms. Then again, this wasn’t medieval Europe. It was simply like medieval Europe—an important distinction.
“Let’s go in, shall we?” Anna said.
“Right. But is that even possible? They seem awfully full.”
“Ah, but, Melody, this is a date. We’re on one, even as we wait, and dates are supposed to be fun, no?” She flashed her most charming grin.
“That’s true. There’s no shortage of maid-related topics we might discuss in the meantime!”
“Y-yeah. Exactly.”
So they waited. And Anna was stuck. She couldn’t exactly go anywhere. She’d dug her own grave quite thoroughly.
“Apologies for the wait, valued patrons. This way, if you please,” a server said after an agonizing thirty minutes. To Anna, it felt like days. She didn’t know it was possible to talk so much about maids of all things.
Among the subjects Melody expounded on…
“…At least, those are my thoughts on what it fundamentally means to be a maid. What about you, Anna?”
“Goodness me, I couldn’t agree more. It’s so nice to meet another maid who shares my exact feelings about everything you just said!”
“Oh? We’re of like mind then!”
“Say, Anna, have you any rug-cleaning strategies you would be willing to share? I always find myself struggling against stubborn dirt and fine hairs that get knotted in the threads.”
“I’m sorry, Melody. I wish I could tell you, I really do, but House Victillium demands strict secrecy regarding all of our ultimate housecleaning techniques. I mustn’t reveal them.”
“Ultimate?! Housecleaning?! Techniques?! Do all the noble houses maintain such traditions? I-I wonder if House Rudleberg does.”
“Regarding uniforms, Anna, I’m of the mind that any skin shown is a sin sewn. Skirts were made to flow. The longer the better, I say.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. In fact, I’ll prepare something for you next time. I’ll show you the light, Melody. Prepare to be blinded!”
“S-such passion in your eyes. Yes, you feel strongly about this. I can feel it. Well, this maid isn’t giving up without a fight!”
The latter example perhaps failed to demonstrate Anna’s agony. She was a woman of passionate opinions.
A man in a butler’s uniform escorted them to a private booth on the second floor.
“I didn’t realize there was seating up here,” Melody said.
“The privacy’s not unwelcome by any means, but why did they give it to us?”
It might have had something to do with the volume at which they prattled on about maids, maids, and more maids. It did not occur to them that they’d been effectively contained.
The second floor offered a quiet retreat from the low buzz that droned on downstairs. Windows beside the seats looked out over the city. They weren’t so high as to provide a sweeping panorama of the capital but still offered a striking glimpse.
Come to think of it, this might be the first time I’ve sat down, relaxed, and had a cup of tea since coming to this world, Melody realized. Pouring the tea was her pride, but drinking it was her pleasure. In her past life, she’d often visited quaint little cafés, comparing and contrasting, seeking out which made the best cup.
An easy smile flitted across her lips.
“You like it here, I take it. Good,” Anna said with a giggle. “I’m glad.”
“I do. Thank you for bringing me here. It’s a lovely place.”
“Wait until you’ve had the ice cream. Let’s order something.” Anna showed her the menu.
“Vanilla. Of course. Mint chocolate, strawberry, and is that a ‘tea’ flavor? Quite the variety.”
“The one in the Upper District has even more.”
“There’s a branch there?”
“Lord, can you imagine the uproar if there wasn’t? If the blue bloods didn’t have their taste of luxury before the masses, there’d be red blood running in the streets.”
Anna had a point. Desserts were a luxury, and nobles were nothing without their indulgences. According to her, the nobler branch sat near the heart of the Upper District and predated its Lower District sibling by no less than a year.