The Uninvited Guest -1-

Early morning rain poured down. Perhaps signaling the end of summer, the late monsoon had finally arrived.

Plip, plop, plop... The raindrops battered the window. My already pudding-soft heart melted into soft-serve sentimentality.

'Feels like female hormones kicking in.'

I sipped my cheap green tea and gazed out the window.

'No way she'll make it to work today. It's pouring.'

Watching the swollen river, I thought of the maid preparing for her shift. A middle-aged woman in her forties, no special skills, just an ordinary commoner housewife—but her cooking was delicious, so I'd hired her. I'd told her not to come in if it rained. She wouldn't today.

Sighing at the soiled bedsheets, I muttered,

'Life's bitter.'

I shouldn't have forced breakfast on her. When she said she was sleeping, I should've let her. Trying to think of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the young lady's health, I'd woken her, but the dozing girl ended up face-planting into the table. The soup spilled naturally. Lucky I'd let it cool; if it'd been hot, disaster.

Sip. The cheap green tea tasted even more bitter today.

Adventurer work was off today too. I'd told Hanna we'd skip if it rained hard yesterday. It'd been over two weeks since we started working together. My wallet had thickened up. Now I could afford meat five days a week without it going on strike. The young lady smiled more. I smiled more. I owed Hanna a lot.

About a week left. I'd thought four weeks would be tight, but Hanna was progressing faster than expected—three weeks in, and it seemed doable. Of course, with her current skill, she'd lose 100% to an Elite Orc Swordsman. It wasn't your average monster; the "elite" prefix made it special.

But with a week of training and the right strategy, I was sure she could take it down. Her growth was rapid. Even a tiny compliment made her blush but fired her up, turning it into quick progress. She listened to small advice, improved, and made it her own. It made me proud. Is this what it feels like to be a teacher?

'Technically, she's my first disciple.' First time officially teaching anyone.

Hanna was good with a sword. Loved it, even. In a sword-family, that passion would be a blessing—but her complicated home life was a pity.

'Swordsmanship Lv. 6, though.' Per the setting book, Lv. 5 was the peak for ordinary effort. Beyond was talent territory. It helped to think of post-awakening Mikhail or novel villains starting at 6. Was I entering boss tier now? Nice to have enough skill not to die on the roadside.

Swordsmanship Lv. 6 meant I could match awakened Mikhail. My relationship with Hanna—nearing its end—was bittersweet and exciting.

Plip, plop...

"Raining harder."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Rain makes people sentimental. Water from the sky stirs loneliness. Damp clothes won't dry, yet the heart yearns.

'But rain sounds nice.'

Someone else drowned in sentiment: our lady owner, staring blankly out the window with misty eyes.

"Heh... nice."

I quietly called to Olivia.

"Young lady."

"Hmnyah."

The villainess intently watched the rain. Lost in delusions of sharing an umbrella with Mikhail, maybe. She didn't respond.

I wanted to interrupt. But she grinned at the window. Our villainess wasn't this sentimental—did weather change people? It irked me oddly.

Munch munch?

'Munch munch?'

One second after getting irked, her exclamation came.

"Mmm... tasty."

I cautiously placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Young lady?"

She flinched. Shook her shoulder. But instead of turning, she stared rigidly ahead. Normally she'd snap "What?"—her stubbornness roused suspicion.

"What're you doing?"

"Guarding the house."

Olivia watched outside like a guard dog.

"Why guard the house?"

"My job."

"Huh?"

"Started last week."

"Who's paying?"

"..."

No answer. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠turned to see her face.

She whipped her gaze away. In that instant, I spotted brown something on her lips.

Instinct hit: she was eating chocolate.

Forcing back a laugh, I said,

"Guarding must be tiring, right?"

"Yeah. Sugar crash, so hard."

"Why sugar crash?"

"Raining?"

"Hmm. Need some sugar then?"

She twitched. She'd bitten the bait. No way she'd pass free snacks.

She nodded vigorously.

"Yeah. Lots of sugar needed."

Serious nod, but sweet scent escaped her mouth—zero credibility. Oblivious, she pressed on eagerly.

"If I stockpile sugar, I can guard better."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

I said,

"But, young lady."

"Yeah?"

"Isn't that too much sugar for a crash?"

She jolted. Froze like seeing a ghost. No acting talent.

"What? I didn't eat anything—"

Her all-out denial acting. Thank god she wasn't into it; she'd be a one-trick villain otherwise.

She worked her jaw loudly. I hid a smile, grabbed her shoulder.

"However you stole it, I'm confiscating."

"No! It's my savings!"

"The young lady I know isn't big on saving."

"No, we got close yesterday."

Mumbling, slurred speech. She pushed my face with chocolate-smeared fingers. Sweet on my cheek. Caught red-handed.

"Hand it over."

"Don't have any!"

"Hands say otherwise."

"Oh?"

She checked her hands. Nodded, admitting it. Figured it was too much even for her.

She fumbled in her pocket, pulling out the chocolate bag I'd bought. Her clumsy sleight of hand foiled, she grabbed a handful, met my eyes.

Tried pitiful face, but my stern look made her switch tactics. Swallowed hard.

"Ricardo. If tax auditors come, know what to do first?"

"Huh? Suddenly?"

"Destroy evidence."

Crunch crunch. She shoved the handful in her mouth.

"Young lady!"

"Fuheheheheh."

Her evil-villainess laugh broke me—I burst out laughing.

"No... pffft hahaha, seriously!"

She chomped enthusiastically. Outraged she'd eat alone without offering her butler, I poked her side.

"Eek! Stop that!"

"Didn't I say too much rots teeth? You hate brushing anyway."

"Stop!"

"Not till you cough up the hidden stash."

After tickle-torture, Olivia pouted, surrendering her illicit funds. Like a corporate exec losing embezzled cash—more forlorn than getting dumped by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Mikhail.

Under the pillow. Under the sheets. And...

"No, why there?!"

"Just... seemed hidden."

From between her breasts, she pulled melted chocolate. I shifted position, gently pushed her offering hand aside.

"Don't put it there."

"Why? Perfect hiding spot."

"Makes me uncomfortable."

I couldn't stand for a while.

The young lady and I gazed out again. This time with cheap green tea and cheap cookies, blankly observing.

"Ricardo."

"Yes."

"Tastes bad."

"..."

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, dumped tea in her mouth. I refilled her empty cup, crushing her hopes.

"Good for health."

"..."

Did my concern touch her? Her warm gaze fixed on my hand.

"You bastard."

"Woof."

Time flew. Maybe because two fools clicked so well—the dreary rain wasn't bad.

Still pouring, no visitors. Sipping tea, confessing truths, emptying cups, playing rock-paper-scissors for refills—fun with the fool duo.

"Heavy rain."

"Going out now might crash my sugar."

"No gaslighting works. Snacks today are green tea only."

"Hing."

Outside, downpour. River swelled. Guards headed home, patrols off. After rain, roof repairs—hoping no leaks, I eyed the sky.

"Ricardo."

"Yes?"

"Someone's coming."

She pointed to the village street.

I didn't believe. No one sane visits us in this weather. Probably a wet puppy.

To clear her misunderstanding, I said lightly,

"No. Just a dog."

"Dog?"

"Yeah."

Slight nod. Olivia quiet again. Me too, watching.

"Ricardo."

She pointed again, closer this time.

"Someone's coming."

"Bored?"

"A bit?"

"I'll tell a scary story soon."

"Eek...!"

She clamped her mouth. I followed her finger.

'What the.'

Something was there. Brown thing racing toward our house.

"Huh?"

Then it halted at our mansion's front gate.

Olivia looked at me. I nodded slightly. We both knew: in this weather, visitors were ghosts or thieves.

Heart pounding, I peered at the gate.

'Who?'

A woman, head down, circling the door. Familiar. Brown hair. Leather pants, shoulders slumped like a drowned rat.

"Huh?"

Olivia peeked up slyly.

"Person?"

"Seems so. Be right back."

"Yeah."

I dashed to the gate. Grabbed coat, umbrella, ran to the front.

A soaked woman stood there. Familiar. Saw her yesterday. Remembered her smiling farewell.

She weakly knocked.

"Anyone home?"

"Uh..."

Faint voice.

"Miss the green tea... came for some."

Hanna had come to our house.