Chapter 15: Admission Restricted, Milady
After that dinner of smoldering rage and bitter sorrow over Course A, I barely exchanged a single word with Jona for days.
"Did you perhaps have a quarrel with the head butler?" Leaf asked.
"It wasn't anything like that."
"You appear to be in quite a foul mood, Milady."
Was it so painfully obvious that even Leaf could tell? Well, no. After giving him the cold shoulder so brazenly for days on end, there was no way she wouldn't notice. Looking back on the past few days, I realized how childishly emotional I had been.
"I felt hurt," I admitted. Now that I put it into words, the sincerity behind my feelings laid itself bare. "Even if it was an outright lie, I guess I was hoping Jona would tell me he'd stay by my side forever."
"Milady..."
"I know, though. Adults have their own adult circumstances. Throwing a tantrum will only put Jona in an awkward spot."
Perhaps that had something to do with why I had thrown myself so relentlessly into training these past few days. It was like I was demanding an answer from him: Are you still going to throw me away even if I become this strong? Could you really bear to leave?
And why wouldn't I? In games, a butler was supposed to be an account-bound item, an irreplaceable companion who never left the player's side. To discover that such a butler wasn't eternally in my corner... how could I feel anything less than sheer, gut-wrenching anxiety that ran far deeper than petty disappointment?
"It's the same for you, isn't it, Leaf?"
"That is correct. I, too, am an employee hired by the Master, ordered to attend upon Milady. Should the Master summon me, I have no choice but to return to the main estate."
"I knew it..."
There really wasn't anyone truly on my side. Just like all my human relationships back in reality had vanished into a blank slate in an instant, bonds formed within this world could turn to absolute nothingness just as quickly.
"And what of it?" Leaf remarked calmly.
"Doesn't it bother you at all, Leaf?"
"Flowers are meant to wither when their season ends, and servants naturally seek out new employers when the coin runs dry. Call it coldhearted if you wish, but that is simply the way of the world."
"...I hate you, Leaf."
"Which is precisely why I hope Lady Orknodi does not fail. There is no one else in this world with the knack for hiding in the most absurd corners, nor anyone who pretends stale candy tastes delicious quite like you."
Even if life was callous and unforgiving, the quiet wish for a connection to endure didn't simply evaporate into thin air.
"Look at this candy basket, Milady."
"I'm looking."
"How many pieces of candy remain?"
One, two, three...
"A whole lot?"
"Until I give you every single one of those candies, I will never leave your side."
"Really?"
"Yes. Truly."
"Even if the main house orders you to return?"
"Even if I receive orders for reassignment, it is simply a matter of claiming the dispatch never reached me."
Look at her talking tough. Knowing full well how absurdly unreasonable such an excuse was, I felt all the more grateful—and a little guilty.
"When I said I hated you, Leaf... that was actually a lie. I'm really, really glad you're my maid."
Where had her usual frosty, assassin-like expression gone? A soft, gentle smile touched Leaf's lips.
"Then will you make peace with the head butler as well?"
"Mm... Aw, what the heck, I'm in a good mood! Just this once, out of respect for you, Leaf, I'll let it slide."
Time to make amends. I'd treat Jona to an evening full-course Set A meal. That was my grand plan, anyway. Still, paying for all of it out of my own pocket felt agonizingly steep. Which meant there was only one solution: exploit an unlimited money glitch event!
"Leaf! Take me to the gambling den!"
Direct entry into the casino.
In the game, the gambling den had been a delightfully convenient time-skip mechanic that burned one in-game hour per visit. If you just stood in front of the cheapest slot machine pulling the lever over and over, hours flew by in the blink of an eye. And while enjoying that convenience, players inevitably succumbed to temptation: If my luck is good enough, can't I just print infinite money? Could today be my lucky day?
Of course, the fate of bums dreaming of striking it rich was always painfully predictable. Nine times out of ten, they crashed and burned spectacularly. However, a tiny handful of hardcore veterans possessed secret techniques to defy pure luck. Just as I had bypassed RNG during the entrance exam by exploiting the Special Menu strategy to force a guaranteed test, the casino also had an exploit that guaranteed infinite cash generation.
"In order to prevent gambling addiction among minors and foster healthy gambling habits, our establishment does not permit entry to anyone under the age of fifteen or under 150 centimeters in height."
...I just hadn't expected to get hard-countered by a height restriction.
"This is a scam! What kind of rule is that?!"
"It is casino policy, customer. We apologize, but we would be delighted to welcome you back once you have grown a bit taller."
"I can gamble too! And hey—if I stand on my tiptoes, I'm way taller!"
I strained with all my might to push up onto my tiptoes, but the casino clerk casually pressed down on the crown of my head, flattening my heels back against the carpet, and slotted a wooden marker into the height chart right where my skull rested.
Leaf lodged a deadpan protest. "Though our lady may be petite, she is sufficiently mature to sit for the academy entrance examination this year."
"Customer, are you aware that the average height of a nine-year-old child is 132.6 centimeters? No matter how lenient the academy is in accepting anyone under twenty, I highly doubt there are nine-year-old freshmen."
"Nuh-uh! I'm not a kid!"
"Is that so? Then pray tell, what business brings a non-child customer such as yourself to a gambling establishment?" The clerk beamed at me with a look that screamed aww, look at the precious little toddler throwing a fit.
Who are you treating like an incompetent fool?!
"I'm here to dupe money, obviously! What, are you scared? Scared you're gonna get cleaned out by a kid?!"
I squawked and kicked up a furious storm. The result? I got thrown out on my rear.
"Milady possesses remarkably little talent for persuasion."
"Hmph. And here I was, trying to win big so I could pay back my debts."
"Could you wait for a moment in a safe area? I shall attempt to arrange a method."
"Really?"
"You must place your absolute trust in me."
Speaking with the icy composure of a seasoned professional, Leaf seemed strangely reliable.
"I believe in you, Leaf!"
"Then please wait quietly here."
"Leaf?"
"I shall take my leave now."
"Leaf! Hey, you wicked maid!"
The place Leaf had unceremoniously dumped me:
[Kids Zone — Children Only]
Admittance Restricted to Heights Under 140 cm
An uncharted frontier that had never once permitted the footsteps of a veteran player who had only ever rolled hulking, muscle-bound male characters. The Kids Zone.
Seriously, this is way too cruel.
If I lingered around the entrance and happened to catch the eye of Jona, Giselle, or that massive Monkey Beastman, I'd probably spend the next several months violently kicking my bedsheets in sheer mortification. Having zero desire to write a fresh chapter in my dark personal history, I reluctantly shuffled past the gates. Who knew the airship had trap zones like this? Having spent my entire past life playing giant, meathead barbarians, I had been completely oblivious.
Yet once I stepped inside, my gamer's exploratory instinct began to tingle. An uncharted territory I had never explored before. What hidden secrets awaited within this mysterious Kids Zone?
"Waaaahhh!"
"Abububa-bubububba!"
"Kee-hahaha! Kyaaaaah!"
Babies. Screaming toddlers. Drooling infants.
I hate it here. Let me out.
Back at the entrance, Leaf pressed the casino clerk.
"I will take full responsibility for Milady and accompany her as her guardian. Will that still not suffice?"
"Mmm... as you are well aware, maid, young ladies from noble or wealthy households are hardly known for listening to servants."
"Our young lady is different."
"'Our lady is an angel,' 'Our dog doesn't bite'—we hear those very words every single day. That 'angelic lady' flipped over a roulette table, and the dog that 'doesn't bite' left someone with sixteen stitches."
The staff had their reasons too. These rules had hardened into ironclad policies precisely because of the catastrophes that ensued whenever they let someone slip past with a warm smile. Leaf knew Orknodi, but the staff did not. No matter how deeply she thought, Our young lady truly is different, swaying the staff was an impossible task.
I will have to find a workaround, Leaf thought, pausing to deliberate. Was it truly wise to leave the young lady alone in the Kids Zone for an extended period? Whenever left unattended, the young lady's usual routine consisted of...
Crouching and hiding in the deepest, most shadowed crevices of the room.
Lighting a fire to smoke out a wild beehive in pursuit of the 'Bee Slayer' title.
Accepting and happily munching on strange candies of unverified flavors handed to her by random middle-aged men.
...To be frank, it was a little concerning. No, that was an understatement. In truth, it was deeply, profoundly terrifying.
I must resolve this as swiftly as possible. Leaf's pace quickened down the corridor.
"Ugh, little kids are so annoying."
"Ew, there's drool on my pants."
"Argh, my hair! Seriously, give me a break."
In the dead center of the Kids Zone lay a playground carpeted wall-to-wall with tiny colorful plastic balls—a giant ball pit. On a nearby bench sat two mature elder children (average age: ten), stranded in the Kids Zone under strict orders to babysit their younger siblings, sighing like weary old men who had seen far too much of the world.
"Max. Your brother's taking the academy entrance exam this time, right?"
"Who knows? We won't know if he passes until he actually takes it."
"Still, getting admitted at fifteen would be insane."
"People would definitely call him a child prodigy."
Anyone under the age of twenty was eligible to sit for the Gift Academy entrance exam. Naturally, the closer an applicant was to twenty, the higher their chances of passing, as their physical traits matured and their combat techniques sharpened. For that reason, applicants who managed to pass at an exceptionally young age were hailed as peerless talents endowed with monstrous potential—often celebrated as Exceptional prodigies.
"Do you think anyone our age could ever pass?"
"As if. Jessie, you believe baseless rumors way too easily."
"Why not? I want your brother to be a prodigy. He's handsome and smart."
"Ugh, gross. Drop it already. What do you even see in that obnoxious jerk to obsess over him like that?"
"Hmph! He's a hundred times better than you! Who do you think you are, badmouthing my oppa?!"
"What do you mean, your oppa? He's my brother! Actually, you know what? Take him. Please, take him off our hands for good."
"Hmph!"
Pouting in frustration, Jessie kicked violently at the pile of plastic balls. As the colorful sea scattered, her eyes locked dead onto another little girl buried beneath the surface.
"Kyaaaah!"
"Wh-what's wrong?!"
"A-a person?! There's a person in there?! Wait, why?!"
Rising slowly out of the sea of plastic balls was a girl of similar age, shaking out long, shimmering golden hair. The true identity of the child who had just scared Jessie out of her wits was none other than the enlightened master of the Kids Zone, the hermit of the ball pit, who had just discovered that children's playgrounds were shockingly optimal for grinding stealth skills—Orknodi.