Eating Like a Messy Kid at 370
"Welcome to the... ugh."
The most decent-looking lodging in a sparsely populated corner of Gracia Wonderworld: the Silverleaf Hotel.
The moment we stepped into the lobby, the hotel manager's expression soured completely.
It wasn't because of me.
It was probably because of the scruffy red-haired girl standing behind me—Ruby.
"Excuse me, sir. I'm terribly sorry, but peddlers and vagrants are not permitted to—"
"A vagrant? That's quite a harsh thing to say."
A heavy, solid thud of impact split the silence of the lobby.
This was the physical force of fourteen thousand PT points—the weight of a Holy See executive's wallet.
"This woman is my valued guest. We would like your finest suite. Do you happen to have a room available?"
The manager's eyes scanned the volume of the gold-coin pouch and the golden seal of the Holy See in turn. In 0.1 seconds, his expression flipped into a capitalist smile.
"Ah—oh my goodness! I failed to recognize you! Of course we do! For such distinguished guests to grace our humble establishment!"
As expected, power and money were the universal language even in another world.
Ruby, who had been fidgeting behind me, jabbed me in the side with a look of pure disbelief.
"...Hey. What the hell are you really? A fraud, right?"
She had a point. I could easily look like a con man.
Especially since the Holy See was an institution that helped the sick and the needy. There was no reason for someone like me to be walking around with this much money.
But I was a rather different kind of counselor, so I let it slide as smoothly as water.
"Shh. Quiet down and straighten your shoulders. Your face is showing—pull the robe down a little more."
"Ah, yes yes! Right this way, please!"
The manager guided us with exaggerated gestures.
Yet the entire way to the elevator, he kept stealing sticky glances at Ruby and me.
"Um, by the way... is your companion a lady?"
"Yes, she is. Why?"
"Ah, if that's the case..."
The manager sidled up and whispered conspiratorially.
"Sir, I happen to know of an absolutely exquisite room. Full-wall mirrors, and, well... a bed that rotates a full 360 degrees..."
"..."
"The bathtub is a spacious two-person model as well. Heh heh."
Well, a perfectly normal man bringing a woman who looked like a homeless person into a suite—misunderstandings were inevitable.
I swallowed a sigh and cut him off cleanly.
"...Just show us to a nice room with a good view."
"Ah, ahem. Yes... Your tastes are... quite firm. Understood."
Click.
The door to the top-floor suite swung open.
Plush carpet, softly glowing magic lamps, and beyond the terrace a dazzling nightscape.
It was paradise compared to the dank stench of the underground waterways.
"Whoa..."
Ruby's mouth fell open.
She forgot even to take off her shoes, staring blankly around the room.
For all her big talk about living three hundred seventy years, this kind of luxury was clearly a first.
"Alright, sightseeing later."
I flung open the bathroom door and shoved her inside.
"Go wash up first. You reek—I can't do a consultation like this."
"What? Hey! Whether I wash or not is none of your damn—"
"If I say I'll order something delicious once you're clean...?"
Ruby froze.
She definitely hadn't eaten a thing today.
As a criminal who went around terrorizing the city, proper meals would have been hard to come by.
She wrestled with herself for a moment, then grumbled her way into the bathroom.
"...Just you wait. If it tastes like crap, you're dead."
Bang! The door slammed. A moment later, the sound of the shower filled the air.
"Haa."
I threw myself onto the sofa and loosened my tie.
Getting her here had been a success.
While she washed, I might as well catch up on some overdue work.
I opened a gallery window in the air.
Ruby's a personality-broken crazy arsonist, right?
Didn't that bastard already get barbecued well-done?
These bastards. Their words were rough, but they were quietly looking out for me.
I snorted and started typing.
The reactions went past heated and straight into explosive.
I drove the decisive spike in for all to see.
The second I posted that, the board went nuclear.
Sex?
Are they out of their minds?
If you have sex, you die.
No—even falling in love gets you killed. That was a system rule of God of Underworld.
The moment you have sex or fall in love, the heroine hits the Bed Ending.
The game ends right there.
"...Visual shock, huh."
I was quietly looking forward to it.
Even earlier, under all that grime, the curves under her clothes and the lines of her face had been impossible to hide.
Ahem. I'm actually getting excited.
...Just as that complacent thought crossed my mind—
—Creeeeak.
The bathroom door opened.
Click.
Thick white steam billowed out in clouds.
A sweet shampoo scent mixed with the heat washed over me.
And from within that fog, someone walked out.
"...Hey. I'm done washing."
I turned my head from the gallery window and forgot how to breathe.
"..."
There was no longer any scruffy vagrant, no arsonist terrorist.
Crimson hair, heavy with water, settled calmly like fresh blood.
The black soot that had clung to her face was gone, revealing skin so pale and translucent it almost hurt to look at.
The hot water had flushed both cheeks, her collarbones, and her knees a soft peach-pink.
But what truly seized the eyes was her outfit.
A men's hotel bathrobe several sizes too large.
Through the loose collar, a deep collarbone line and the precarious swell of her full cleavage.
Every time she moved, the hem of the robe clung to her wet thighs as if it might slip off at any second.
Her red eyes locked onto me.
"Ha? What are you staring at, you little brat?"
Decadence and innocence coexisting—pure destructive force.
...Holy shit.
WhiteMage hadn't been exaggerating.
This wasn't shock level. This was a disaster. A heart-hazardous, catastrophe-class beauty.
Sensing my dazed stare, she flicked her wet hair behind one ear and snapped at me.
"What the fuck... Eyes off? Why are you staring like some pervert?"
If she just kept her mouth shut she would be a goddess.
But even that vicious tone carried a strangely sensual edge right now.
"Ah... no. You just look... completely different."
"Hmph. More importantly, the food? You're giving me meat, right?"
"Ah, right. I should order."
I hastily averted my gaze and cleared my throat.
If I kept looking, the gallery bastards might be right and the ending would veer in a very wrong direction.
I hurried over to the room-service menu—the Magic Leaf.
Behind me, the soft pat, pat of Ruby's wet bare feet on the floor sounded unusually loud.
Knock, knock.
— Room service. Is there anything you need?
A female staff member's voice from beyond the door.
I quietly ordered the food.
Then, maybe thirty seconds later?
Another careful knock, and the door opened with a natural creak.
"Excuse me."
— Squeeeak.
Wheel noise rolled softly, then the cart stopped with a quiet thud as the dishes were set on the table.
"Please enjoy your stay."
"Whoa..."
Ruby's eyes went round.
She forgot even to clutch the robe closed and drifted toward the table as if entranced.
Steak, pasta, fruit salad, and sweet desserts.
A lavish feast that filled the entire table.
Honestly, even I was surprised by how generous it was.
This much food...?
"Can I... eat all of this?"
"Yes. I ordered it for you."
The words had barely left my mouth before Ruby snatched up a fork.
No—forks were apparently a luxury. She grabbed the meat with her bare hands and started tearing into it with big, messy bites.
Sauce smeared around her mouth; her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's as she stuffed herself without a care in the world.
"...You really can eat."
I leaned back quietly on the sofa.
I waited until she had filled her stomach to a reasonable degree.
Three hundred seventy years old, and yet her meal was pure instinct—nothing grandmotherly about it.
Munch munch.
Cheeks ballooned with meat, she looked exactly like a squirrel stockpiling acorns before hibernation.
The Arsonist...
No—they called her the Crimson Calamity, didn't they?
For that, she looked far too ordinary.
Among the elves, calling her a "half-breed" would have been an insult to the word itself—she was that beautiful.
For an arsonist, she looked far too unthreatening.
A completely defenseless sight that clashed utterly with the moniker of Crimson Calamity.
I watched her quietly and let a lazy smile slip out.
How ordinary.
Anyway, once the stomach is full and the body is warm, people tend to lower the locks on their hearts.
Now was a good time for counseling.
I quietly activated Psychological Insight Lv.2 again and checked her state.
An aura rose above her head like heat haze.
Pink.
Pink meant happiness.
And a vivid, clear pink at that.
She really was no ordinary woman.
A little meat and she was already happy.
At this level, no matter what I said, she probably wouldn't start stabbing.
I picked up a napkin from the table and stood.
"Hey. Granny."
"...Angh? Whuh? (What?)"
Ruby lifted her head with her mouth still full of meat.
I walked over and leaned down.
"You're three hundred seventy years old and still eating messily like a little kid."
"...?!"
I wiped the red steak sauce from the corner of her mouth with the napkin.
Her shoulders flinched hard.
The distance closed. Through the napkin, my fingers brushed the soft flesh of her cheek.
Her red eyes trembled as if an earthquake had hit.
"Y-you—! What the hell are you—!"
"Hold still. You got some on the other side too."
"Urgh...!"
Ruby looked ready to slap my hand away that instant, but her mouth was too full of meat to resist.
I deliberately wiped her mouth slowly, thoroughly.
The way her neck flushed all the way up was quite the sight.
"...There. Done."
The moment I pulled my hand back and sat down, Ruby swallowed the meat with a gulp and shouted.
"Hey! Are you insane?! Who the hell asked you to wipe me?!"
"It was dirty, so I wiped it. I didn't want it on my bedsheets."
"Hah! This—this insolent little brat actually...!"
Ruby glared at me, huffing and puffing, but the menace was nowhere near what it had been in the hotel lobby.
It was closer to a sulk meant to hide her embarrassment.
I snorted and pushed the empty plates aside.
Alright. The atmosphere was loose enough.
Time to get to the main point.
I wiped every trace of a smile from my face and spoke quietly.
"You've filled your stomach, so now we have work to do, don't we?"
"...What?"
"The consultation. Ruby Scarlet. Why you've been running around setting fires like a madwoman."
In an instant the air grew heavy.
The pink aura that had been shimmering above Ruby a moment ago turned a murky gray.
She set the fork down with a sharp clack and fixed me with eyes that had gone ice-cold.
"...Ha. Buy me a little meat and you start climbing up? Why I set fires?"
She smiled thinly.
The cute squirrel from earlier was gone. The witch who had plunged the city into terror was sitting there again.
"Because it's fun. Because watching things burn is thrilling. That's all. Satisfied?"
"...Lie."
I cut her off flatly.
"You're not setting fires because you enjoy it."
"...What did you say?"
"You're setting them because you're cold."
Ruby's eyebrows twitched.
The reaction of someone whose core had been struck dead-on.
I looked straight into her eyes and laid out the card of original setting knowledge I possessed.
While searching for her, I had asked WhiteMage all sorts of things through the gallery.
About her lore.
"The only method a congenital mana-deficiency patient like you chose in order to survive. If you don't absorb the heat around you, your heart freezes solid."
"..."
"So you burn things. Because you want to live."
Silence.
A silence so heavy that even the ticking of a clock would have been deafening filled the hotel room.
Ruby's hands were trembling faintly.
"...You."
Every trace of playfulness had vanished from her voice.
Deep in those red eyes, a truly dangerous flame began to flicker.
"What the hell are you? How do you know that?"