The Perfect Maid Counterattack
"Maid cafe?"
Elma's gaze locked onto the women in the photo. Every single one was tall and slender. Long, sleek legs. Mature, perfect proportions. She glanced back and forth between the screen and her own body.
"...."
A height of just around 90cm. Short limbs. Abnormally swollen chest. Whoosh. Her sharp glare suddenly dropped. Her confident shoulders slumped inward. The smartphone quietly rested against my chest.
"Elma, it's really a misunderstanding. This is just an ad, I swear?"
I hurriedly explained, but Elma wasn't listening.
"Hey, darling."
Her voice was lifeless, soaked with moisture.
"You... "
Her small hands tightly hugged her own arms.
"You prefer normal women, right?"
"Huh?"
"Not freaks like me. You like those normal, pretty human girls waiting on you, don't you?"
Plop. A teardrop ready to fall any second. Her lips quivered.
Oh crap.
I'd touched the one thing I shouldn't have.
"What are you talking about? I like you a hundred—no, a thousand times more!"
I quickly wrapped my arms around Elma's waist and pulled her close.
"Even if they gave me a hundred or a thousand of those girls, they wouldn't reach the tip of your toe."
"Liar...."
Elma buried her face in my chest. Sniffle. A wet sound finally escaped her.
"Being with someone as tiny as me must be such a hassle."
"Not at all? I love being with you."
"Liar. You find me annoying, I know it all.... I need so much care, and my temper's awful."
"Come on, I love taking care of you."
My desperate excuses and sweet talk poured out. I peppered her cheeks with kisses, showering her with praise. The cutest in the world. No more perfect proportions exist. So sexy my legs go weak just looking at her. I pulled out every flowery phrase to forcibly boost her rock-bottom self-esteem.
"Really...? Don't leave me for one of those normal girls...."
"Of course. You're all I see."
Her crying finally stopped. Elma clung tightly to my neck and wouldn't let go.
That day, Elma's mood stayed in the dumps. No usual bragging. No weird pranks like always. She just burrowed into my arms like she was dead, breathing in my scent over and over.
The next day. Morning liberal arts class ended. Today was a one-class day. I hurried off.
I wonder if Elma ate well.
Elma had no lectures today either. Normally, she'd hide in my bag. Or sit on my thigh under invisibility magic. But today, she hadn't come along. I figured the yesterday's shock had her resting at home. Maybe grab some dessert on the way? Nah, better head straight home. Seeing her face and hugging her tight would be best.
Click. I opened the front door.
"I'm ho—...."
My greeting cut off. Silence.
The door should've been met with pitter-patter footsteps right away.
"You're home?! My darling!"
Her signature cute yell. A solid, chewy body slam. The usual loving welcome was gone.
"Elma?"
I stepped inside. No signs of life. Even the little golems were powered down in standby mode in the corner.
Where'd she go?
Anxiety hit hard. Did stress bring back her fever? Was she collapsed somewhere? As I turned toward the bathroom in a panic—
Smooth. Wiggle.
In the middle of the living room. On the wolf pelt rug spread on the floor. Looking closer, one corner of the hide was bulging roundly.
Wiggle. Squirm.
"Phew...."
A sigh of relief escaped. I approached quietly, killing my footsteps. Carefully knelt on one knee.
"Elma. What are you doing here."
I grabbed the edge of the hide and flipped it up.
"Hyah?!"
Her hideout discovered. Elma, curled up tight, widened her eyes. Hair a mess. Eyes red and puffy. Full depression mode.
Elma panicked and hugged her head with her short arms.
"D-don't look...."
"What's wrong. Why are you hiding here?"
I reached for her tiny curled body. Slid my hand under her armpit and pulled her out.
"Uuuugh... let me gooo."
"You sick? Fever? Stomachache?"
I sat the dragged-out Elma on my knee. Checked her forehead—no fever. Belly....
Gurgle— just hunger sounds. Normal.
Come to think of it, breakfast was lighter than usual. Normal portions: ten strips bacon, four pancakes. Today: five strips bacon, two pancakes.
"No pain anywhere."
Elma in my arms. Head hung low, eyes tightly averted. Her little fingers fidgeted anxiously, spilling unease.
"Elma. Look at me."
I gently lifted her chin. Freckled cheeks. Wet almond eyes darted around. Her hesitant little lips twitched.
"Um... darling."
Voice barely a whisper.
"Yeah."
"I have something to ask... you won't get mad, right?"
"Have you ever seen me mad at you? Ask away."
I cooed as gently as possible. Elma swallowed dryly. Hesitant lips. The bottled-up question finally burst out.
"Do human guys... all like that stuff?"
"That stuff?"
"Y'know... from that ad yesterday."
Elma's mouth quivered. Like she was holding back tears.
"Tall girls... long legs, pretty... "
Her clenched fists shook too.
"Wearing super short skirts... bowing and calling you 'master'."
"...."
"D-darling... is that your real dream...?"
Drooping brows. Face about to burst into sobs. Was it that painful for her? What to do with this tiny, lovable queen.
I hurriedly brushed back Elma's hair. Cupped her flushed cheeks with both hands.
"You mean the maid cafe?"
"Uh-huh...."
"Places like that? Zero fun even if you go."
I cut it firm. Elma's eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Obviously. It's all just lame gimmicks and upselling."
I wiped the moisture from her eyes with my thumb.
"The quality's way too low to begin with."
"B-but... internet says all human guys dream of that...."
"Don't buy into internet nonsense."
I drove the nail in confidently.
"Besides, you're a hundred—no, thousand times prettier than those part-time maids. Why would I go there or like that crap?"
Smooch. Light kiss on her nose tip.
"In my eyes, the boss right here is the prettiest in the world. For real."
Elma's shaky eyes steadied. It worked. The anxiety weighing her little shoulders melted away.
"D-darling...."
Her face flushed red in an instant. Soon her mouth split into a grin.
She buried her face in my chest.
"Ughhh... you're so annoying. You say the best stuff."
She rubbed her cheek against my chest happily. Her sulky face was a distant memory.
Good....
I secretly swallowed a sigh of relief. Protecting the queen's self-esteem is tough work. But with her cutely snuggling in, it was worth it.
Then.
"Hnnng...."
Elma, nose-deep in my chest. Suddenly let out a groaning hum.
Smooth. She snapped her head up. Her expression suspiciously sly. Lost in thought, her almond eyes rolled rapidly. Then her eyes flashed.
Uh oh?
...This is bad. Trouble-brewing glare.
"Darling."
"Y-yeah?"
"What'd you just say?"
Elma pressed my chest and straightened up.
"That I'm way prettier than maids...."
"No, before that!"
"The quality's too low?"
Clap! Her tiny hands smacked together crisply.
"That's it!!"
"Huh?"
Madness sparked in her eyes.
"You don't go 'cause the quality's low... meaning!"
Her short finger jabbed my nose.
"If the quality was good, you would go!!"
"No, that's not what I—!"
Misunderstanding exploded. My careful buildup crumbled.
Her unique logic circuits whirred to life.
"No! It's not quality, I just hate the upselling—!"
Whoosh! Elma jumped from my knee to the floor.
"Darling!! Don't sleep a wink and just wait till tomorrow!"
"Huh?! What the—?!"
"And until I call you, absolutely don't come down to my secret lab!!"
Secret lab?
"Wait. Does our house even have one?"
I only knew this floor.
"Yup! Basement level 2!"
"When'd you dig under here...."
"Hussein once commissioned me to dig a bunker, remember?"
Elma backed toward the entrance, cheery as ever.
"Tweaked the prototype from back then and been using it!"
"...."
Speechless. Hussein. Bunker.
"Th-that Hussein wouldn't be...."
No way it's that Saddam Hussein, right?
The answer I dreaded stuck in my throat. I swallowed it desperately.
Yeah. Ignorance is bliss. Burying the wife's past is the key to a long life.
"Anyway, just wait! I'll make you feel in your bones how lame human gimmicks are!"
Dokidoki! Her short legs blurred into afterimages.
"I, with four PhDs! Will show you what a real maid is—!!"
Bam—!! The front door slammed shut.
Silence.
"Haa...."
I pressed my forehead. My stomach already twinged.
What disaster is she planning. And that anxiety—
Rumble—!!
Ten minutes later, became reality with vibrations surging through the sofa.
"Gyaaak?!"
The floor shook. Whoosh—! Dust poured from the ceiling.
Ziiing-! Grind! Boom boom!!
"Gonna be a mess again...."
Geology clubs or North Korea tunnel survey teams would swarm the school for sure. I sank into the sofa in resignation.
Yeah... as long as no one dies.
Guess I've adapted to this life too.
The next day. The all-night underground rumble finally stopped. I'd pulled an all-nighter, too anxious to sleep.
Click. Front door opened.
Pitter-patter. Someone entered the living room. I turned, thinking Elma.
No.
A little golem. Red bowtie around its neck.
"You...."
Silver tray in the golem's hands. Gold-embossed invitation on top.
[An invitation from the great and respected pinnacle of magitech, the radiant light of the dwarf world, Doctor Elma Bronzebeer (x4) to her husband.]
Overly grandiose phrasing.
"Let's go."
The little golem bowed politely. Guided me to the secret cargo elevator we rarely used by the entrance.
Clunk—! Whirr—.
The elevator plunged endlessly. Ears popped. How deep did she dig?
The eternal descent finally ended.
Ding—!
Doors opened.
"Haa...."
A sigh slipped out. The sight blocking my view.
A massive steel door like a bank vault. Faded nameplate on one side.
Dusty metal plate.
Crude Arabic engraved. Scribbled-over traces in marker, like a sloppy cover-up. Made it stand out more.
"It really was Saddam Hussein...."
Dizzy, I pressed my temples. My lovely wife's past career. Getting closer to the 'axis of evil' by the day.