Chapter 42: I Desperately Averted My Eyes and Scanned the Lab
I desperately averted my eyes and scanned the lab.
……Oh.
It was sparkling clean. This place used to be a dusty wreck, with cobwebs in the corners and dirt everywhere.
The floor gleamed, the desk was so smooth a fly would slide right off. The windows were so spotless I almost thought there were none.
Did she do all this by herself?
The guy used to eat snacks on dirt floors without a care for dust pits. He'd never even touched a cleaning rag since moving in.
Must've been a ton of work. And on weekends, no jerky from me—he must've been starving.
"……You did a full move-in deep clean, huh."
I muttered, running my finger along the desk edge.
"Pardon? Move-in clean?"
"A total overhaul. Spotless."
"……!"
Lily's head snapped up.
"Yes! I worked hard so you'd feel good coming here, Kasian!"
"Yeah. Good job. Now I can relax in comfort."
"Hehe."
I plopped into the chair and asked, "But did you eat while doing it?"
"Uh…… well……."
Gurgle.
Her stomach rumbled in reply.
"Heh."
Just as I thought. I set down my bag and pulled out a massive pouch.
Lily and the small animal trio's heads whipped around instinctively. Yeah, figured. Seasoned to perfection—the smell was killer.
"Come here. Sit and eat. You lot too."
Thud-thud! Flutter-flutter!
The sparrow-head and two others reacted first.
Rustle.
I pulled out a few small wooden bowls—meant for my drinks, but whatever. Gotta entertain guests.
"Line up."
One on the desk: sparrow-sized. Two on the floor: squirrel and rabbit.
I piled shredded jerky high in each.
"Eat."
Tap-tap! Peck-peck!
They dove in like vacuums the second I said it. Possessed by starvation ghosts or what?
I watched the absurdly heartwarming sight, then turned to Lily.
"……."
Her face was glitching again. Pupils shaking like a 7.0 quake, lips quivering. One wrong word and she'd burst into tears—pure aggrieved misery.
"Ha…… what now?"
I pinched my forehead.
"What, you think after this 'last supper,' I'll kick you out?"
"Gasp!"
Lily inhaled sharply.
"……H-how'd you know?"
"Obvious."
"……."
"Why not go full? 'Let's call it even for cleaning costs and end clean.'"
"Eek!"
She stumbled back, nailed.
I clicked my tongue. This saint had paranoia-level trust issues. Trauma so deep it'd twist "goodbye" into "get out."
Time for the surefire, no-side-effects cure: facts.
"Last weekend, your mentor Muller Viscountess paid me handsomely for looking after you."
"……Really?"
Her eyes went wide.
"Yep. Generously. I hate unpaid charity, but now you're paid-up—no more burden."
"Ah……."
"You're here by right. Pre-paid customer."
Finally, relief bloomed on her face. One fact about money and she's golden. So simple—once logic clicked, defenses down. Easy to handle.
"Anyway, relationship reset."
I snapped my fingers.
"From now on, you're my client. No more cleaning tomorrow. What shop makes customers sweep?"
"No!"
She waved her hands.
"I want to clean! Let me! And…… the pay might not cover it, so I'll make up with body labor if needed!"
"……."
Phrasing's risky.
"I mean work!"
"I know. Who said otherwise?"
Lily underestimated Muller Viscountess's wallet. That lady's payout? Even if I piggybacked Lily ten laps around the academy track, it'd still profit.
Time for truth—minus the 30 billion gold bars.
"Payment? Overpaid massively."
"Really?"
"No bullshit. Beyond imagination—no debt guilt. I should be bowing to you."
"Still wanna clean…… Sitting idle makes me anxious."
"Fine. Cleaner the better for me."
I shrugged, grabbed the huge jerky pouch whole.
Thud.
"Here. Yours."
"……Pardon?"
It landed heavy in her lap.
"Yours now. Portion it, carry whole, boil, grill—whatever."
"A-all this……?"
Handing food sovereignty to the starving. Her eyes sparkled.
"And."
I leaned on the chair arm, chin in hand, eyeing her.
"Cravings? Speak up. Three meals a day on me. Contract perk—no stress."
No specifics in the contract, but hey. Gotta ease my conscience on that 40 billion haul.
"N-no…… how can you every time……."
"Hesitate and I pick? You know my taste—jerky 24/7. Pass if that's it."
"……Y-yes! Thank you! I'll dig in!"
No refusal, huh. She clutched the pouch like treasure, beaming like she owned the world. Hard to believe this was the teary mess from seconds ago.
I swallowed a pleased smirk.
She'll loosen up more, start asking herself. Chicken today, pizza tomorrow.
Fattening her up right. That's the joy of pet-raising.
"Then, dinner time, customer."
"I'll dig in!"
She bellowed, chomping a huge bite.
Crunch!
"……Mmmph…… amazing……."
Seeing the pink retriever blissed out, words mangled, I chuckled bitterly inside.
One jerky scrap and she's in heaven. See that? I just became her sky with a scrap.
"Starved all weekend? Eating like possessed."
"N-no! Didn't starve. Just…… one bowl of soup total."
"Two days?"
"Y-yeah……."
Crazy old bastard. That Barneo Archbishop—right in the head? Thinks saints live on dew? Starving her to death?
"Saint needs famine sim to get the poor?" Bet that geezer's fat as a pig. Stake my toenail.
Maybe not. As I inwardly cursed, Lily flinched, hand to mouth.
"Gasp! I-I didn't complain! Just stating facts……."
Scared she'd spilled her abuse. Worried I'd report or gossip.
Exhausting life.
"Chill. Not some big secret."
"……Huh?"
"That archbishop grinding you? I know, Muller Viscountess knows. Open secret in intel circles."
"H-how……."
"Palace Count's second son and capital guild head—what, no info net?"
Original story knowledge, really. Muller probably legit intel. Blame family—best cover.
"And I said: paid by her. Gotta deliver, so unless it's treason, your slips stay here."
I twirled my index finger.
"I do full value for pay."
"……Ah."
Relief spread. Money logic? Ironclad for her. Back to nom-nom bliss.
Desk and floor bowls licked clean in seconds by the trio. Now eye-fucking Lily's mega-jerky slab. Squirrel rubbing paws, rabbit twitching nose, sparrow timing shoulder-hop.
……Gangster punks.
Eyeball threats. Lily looked ready to choke under the stare.
As she hesitated to share—
Shhhrk.
I silently refilled their empties from her pouch, piled high.
"Eat yours. Don't steal human food."
"……!"
Gazes locked on me—my hands. I tossed casually, leaned back.
Lily shot grateful eyes. Wrong. Not kindness. Ensuring client comfort—pure service.
Yeah, that's it.
Meal over, peace settled the lab. Belly-full Lily at 100% happy, humming tunes. Animals napping huddled in the corner.
This is the healing life I dreamed of.
I stretched, stood.
"Bellies full? Prep for class. Oh, right. Desk and chair not here yet?"
"Nope."
"Then rug on floor, chill till class. I'll nap."
I balled my coat for a pillow.
But.
"……Class?"
Lily tilted her head at me.
"Yeah."
"But…… no classes this week."
"……Oh?"
No classes? Holiday? Anniversary? My lip twitched.
"Sweet. Profs on workshop?"
"No."
She cocked her head, dropping the bomb.
"It's Region Tour week."
"……."
Region Tour. What's that? Familiar…….
Twenty-year-old past life memory fused with fuzzy novel lore, flashing ominous fact.
Region Tour. "Tour" nearby areas, learn terrain—forest/mountain field training with combat.
Fancy name for—
'Military camping boot camp.'
Fuck.
"……Ah."
Sigh escaped. Face paling, Lily worried:
"Kasian? You okay?"
"That…… shit."
Curse slipped.
"'Field training' excuse to chariot-spin ass-busting laps around academy zones, then night-crash in woods for night hikes?"
"Phrasing's rough but…… yes. Builds teamwork, basic monster hunts…… You knew?"
She blinked curiously.
"Then why act clueless?"
Why? Denial.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
I clutched my head, howling.
"At my age, a 24-man military tent?! At my age, camping?!"
"24-man…… tent?"
"That moldy-stink, finger-smashing, leak-fest shitshow!"
PTSD tsunami. Huddled in A-tents. Blisters burst on marches. Waking clutching cold packs like dead balls.
In this fantasy world—as noble heir—again?
"No way! Can't do it! Tell 'em to fuck off!"
Here knights yap equality but girls in cozy tents, boys get junk and hike hell!! Damn rofan world!! Pitchforks! Need pitchforks!!
Nah, no pitchforks. Medieval rofan—waving one gets you revolution suspect.
"Depart!"
Post-headmaster's yawn-fest speech. Escort Wilhelm von Kreutz's shout, and massive newbie-packed mega-carriages rolled in line.
This. This tax-and-tuition black hole?!
Mana stones to haul this size?! "Your taxes and fees spilling down the drain!"—comedian's hallucinated yell.