M, Becoming an Assassin...?

Following Dante's lead from place to place, I finally had time to sort through my thoughts.

First, I understood that I had been reborn as Blanc, and that it was because of the destiny that would make me a maid.

But how...?

If this were before Blanc had ever joined Yeoro, that would be one thing—but judging by the fact that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I was being called M, I was already inside the organization. Between my current appearance and the fact that, in the original story, Blanc had been an executive who received the number Nine, this had to be a long time before the main plot.

Could an assassin already belonging to Yeoro leave the organization and live as a maid?

Probably not.

Unless Blanc had enough raw power to shake Yeoro's people off, there might be a chance. In the chapters I'd played through—up to Chapter 4—Blanc had been one of the stronger assassins even within Yeoro.

But could I call myself strong now?

From the face reflected in the puddle, present-day Blanc looked eleven at the absolute oldest. However strong an eleven-year-old child might be, the ceiling was obvious.

And why was a little girl even in a secret organization like this?

The question flashed through my mind, and I decided not to care about the past. Blanc's future was already decided—as a maid. What did Blanc's past or the original plot have to do with me?

What I needed to think about now was not the Blanc of the past, but the path that would lead to Blanc the maid.

Hmm. First priority was checking my current condition, right?

In that case, there was something I had to try right away.

Status window.

Status?

Nothing?

This is a game transmigration. Aren't you supposed to just hand over a status window?

Do you have any idea how important it is for a maid to confirm her own condition? Checking your specs, identifying strengths and weaknesses, and finding the mansion and master that suit you—that is basic maid etiquette.

In fact, before I ever started working at a maid café, how hard had I worked to build the specs worthy of a maid?

Korean cuisine industrial engineer, Western cuisine industrial engineer, Japanese ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cuisine technician, pufferfish cuisine technician, confectionery technician, baking technician, barista certification, esthetician license, nail technician license, makeup artist license, secretary certification...

Only after stacking up all those qualifications could I finally submit a resume to a maid café—

Oh. Of course. Maid-God had a plan all along.

To confirm a maid's abilities, something like a status window was never appropriate—a resume, for verifying one's specs, was the proper form. Maid-God clearly knew that as well.

That said, the contents of this resume seemed to have been filled out wrong.

Why was I listed as being in a state of Mental Collapse? I possessed Maid Soul. I was a person of the clearest, purest mind imaginable.

And that second skill was obviously the Maid Soul sleeping deep in my heart—and it formed a synergy with Mental Collapse?

Absolute nonsense.

How dare they insult the sacred Maid Soul like this?

This resume was clearly a bungled, miswritten fake. Just watch me never pull it out again.

"We're here."

Dante stopped in front of a massive iron door—the kind of ornate gate you only ever saw leading into a throne room in a fantasy story.

"One is waiting for you beyond this."

One.

The de facto leader of Yeoro, appointed by the boss to manage the organization. Always hidden beneath a vast robe and a mask, so their true appearance was unknown.

"Here. Take this."

Seven drew a pure white mask from his coat and held it out to me.

"Yeoro's pretty individualistic, see. Members prefer to keep each other's identities hidden. That mask has a recognition-dampening enchantment—most of us wear one when we operate."

That detail had come up in the original story as well, during Blanc's interrogation. Yeoro's people kept one another's identities as secret as possible. So long as a member carried out the orders given to them, Yeoro largely left them alone. There was even a line stating that if one executive interfered with another's mission, it was permitted—so long as there had never been an order saying don't interfere with missions.

For a secret organization, the neglect was extreme.

And the person who exploited Yeoro's hands-off policy better than anyone was probably the man standing right in front of me. Dante didn't particularly hide his identity, didn't hide that he was a member of Yeoro, and strutted around without shame. He had no fixed rules of conduct, and sometimes even cooperated with the protagonist's party—so no one could quite tell whether he was enemy or ally. That was Dante.

He was also one of only two people in Yeoro whose face Blanc had ever known.

Though now that I thought about it—wasn't this whole setup just a cheap excuse to put Yeoro characters into the gacha pool? You couldn't suddenly make former enemy units playable without some justification. A reasonable suspicion was that Yeoro's culture of neglect existed purely for that narrative convenience.

"Hmm, the mask is a bit big, but it's working fine. Shall I open the door, then?"

I nodded at Dante's words, and the massive iron door began to swing open with a slow, grinding weight. I'd been bracing myself in case he tried to cut the door open with his sword again, but mercifully, this time he opened it the ordinary way.

Yeoro's Number Seven: Dante.

Real name: Date Kanata.

The reason the third son of the prestigious Eastern Date clan had come to Yeoro was simpler than one might expect. Finding the idea of belonging to a nation tiresome, Dante had endured his parents' nagging only so long before simply walking out. After wandering from place to place, savoring fights with the strong, he had eventually joined Yeoro.

Part of it was that Yeoro made the finest stage for battling the powerful—but the words secret organization had also struck a deep chord in his heart.

Secret organization.

How fun, how cool, how sexy a ring those words had.

The first thing Dante did upon joining Yeoro was discard his own name and invent a new one. In an organization this cool, he decided, his real name simply wasn't cool enough.

Should he call himself Karasu—the black bird? Or Akatsuki—daybreak? As he wrestled with the options, the name Dante happened to catch his eye.

An ancient great who had studied the principles of the world and sung of hell.

The moment he saw that name, he felt a cool destiny settle over him. Date and Dante—two names so similar could not exist by coincidence. Ah, Dante. That resonance was close to perfection. Because it was, in a word, perfect.

Having settled on Dante as his name, he began to travel the continents as Dante, and word of him eventually reached the Date clan as well. But the eldest son, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had inherited the headship, denied Dante's existence and treated him as a man who did not exist.

Dante assumed this was born of fear and jealousy toward him. The truth was rather different. His younger brother had suddenly started calling himself "Dante," roaming around shouting "I am strong!"—and the sheer secondhand embarrassment was unbearable. Every time their elder brother heard another Dante story, he kicked his blankets on Dante's behalf. Dante, of course, knew none of this, and simply continued to believe that he himself was cool.

"Yo, One. Brought M."

"Welcome, Seven. And M."

The iron door opened, and One—still thoroughly concealed—received the two of them. Every time Dante saw One, the urge to uncover that identity stirred in him; but such behavior would not be cool, so he swallowed the impulse and looked instead at Blanc.

Most people meeting One for the first time flinched before the unknown aura pouring off that figure. This little girl faced One with no emotion at all.

What is this kid... she's perfectly cool...☆

Oh, shit.

The moment I saw One, a full-body shudder ran through me. A towering frame that had to be over a hundred ninety centimeters, a low voice that seemed to sink into the cave itself—and the aura radiating from every inch of that form...!

So this is the presence of a mastermind...!

For an instant, pure instinct nearly drove me to my knees.

But I did not yield.

I was a person who would become a perfect maid. Kneeling before just anyone was no different from having no maid's qualifications at all...!

"We meet at last, M."

"So you are One."

I forced my trembling voice steady and answered calmly. Beside me, Dante turned to stare with startled eyes.

Don't look at me like that. This much is basic composure for a maid.

Ah—a maid who stands unflinching and dignified even before a mastermind...

Truly... truly... magnificent...♥