The Black Mage's Wardrobe Catastrophe (6)
Light was leaking through the gap under the door. Idwild carefully pushed it open and slipped inside, with Pelle following lightly and indifferently behind her. There sat Della on a chair—but she was slumped over her desk, fast asleep after studying too hard.
Idwild tiptoed in so as not to wake her, and Pelle trailed after without a care.
"All those clothes are yours?"
The wardrobe door hung half-open, overflowing with garments like it was vomiting clothes. It was all because Idwild had gotten hooked on shopping lately and hoarded every kind imaginable.
"Ugh... no matter what I do, it won't close..."
It wasn't just the wardrobe stuffed with clothes. Unopened boxes teetered in piles on top, and shoes and outfits crammed the space under Idwild's bed.
Pelle glided over and picked up a few pieces spilling out—a tacky floral-print dress and a garish green skirt.
"You picked these out yourself?"
"Uh... no...? The shop owner recommended them, said they were hot sellers..."
"Figures."
Pelle flung the clothes aside and yanked open the wardrobe. A precarious stack inside came tumbling down in a heap. She crouched, rummaging through, holding items up to inspect before tossing them onto the bed one by one: ripped-knee bell-bottoms with absurdly wide ankles, a blouse like granny's lacy curtains, a tunic emblazoned with "Loan Default" in huge foreign letters, a turtleneck sweater whose neck stretched nearly two meters, a fur coat that'd make you look like a monkey, a fox-head stole with the whole head intact, platform sandals you "mounted" rather than wore, ribbon shoes that startled Pelle like a giant moth, a dress like a log cover, a wide-brim hat topped with a taxidermied bird, and more.
With each circus-tent or traveling troupe reject piling on the bed, Pelle's sighs grew heavier.
"This might come in handy someday."
The one thing she reacted positively to was a skimpy string bikini—it went on Idwild's desk instead of the bed.
"How much for this monstrosity of a jacket?"
Idwild scratched her head at the leather jacket with horn-like protrusions on the shoulders, mimicking Pelle's own.
"Fifty silver coins..."
"Are you out of your mind?!"
For the first time since joining the inn, Pelle raised her voice. Startled, Idwild shrank back, and Della mumbled in her sleep from the desk.
"Master... you can be rougher..."
Pelle glared at the cowering Idwild, eyes blazing.
"Crazy? You blew half your paycheck on this garbage?"
Idwild sweated bullets under Pelle's low growl. To Pelle, who funneled every coin into debt repayment, this was incomprehensible.
"Don't tell me that shop owner pushed all this crap on you?"
"Uh-huh... Said my figure makes anything look good... hehe... you think so too...?"
Idwild's beaming smile faded under Pelle's sharp gaze.
Pelle pointed coldly at the bed's mess.
"Load all this trash on the cart."
"Wha...? But I haven't even tried them on properly yet..."
"They're not wearable anyway. I'd love to see the face of that shopkeeper selling this as human clothing."
Idwild nodded meekly, deflated.
"Black mage. You can't interfere in the innkeeper's relationship with the regular mage. So the only way is to make him turn from her to you, the black mage, on his own."
"Uh-huh... yeah..."
"But what do you have over that mage?"
"Me...? Um... cheap labor...?"
Pelle eyed Idwild's chest with pitiful disdain. Following her gaze, Idwild looked down at her hefty fat pouches.
"Clear your schedule tomorrow. We're going into town together."
"Town...? For what...?"
"Got it or not?"
"Uh-huh... got it..."
Pelle stormed out. Idwild scratched her head for a moment, then gathered the bed's clothes and stashed them in a corner. She picked up the string bikini from the desk, pondered, then retrieved her secret box from deep in the wardrobe—a treasured collection only she could open with special measures—and tucked it away safely inside.
"Too bad to toss it all..."
Idwild muttered, holding up the hat with its taxidermied bird poised to take flight.
A splitting hangover throbbed in my skull. I cracked my eyes open to hands shaking my shoulders. A classic golden-haired, blue-eyed beauty knelt by the table, matching my eye level.
"Della...?"
"Time to get up, sir. Breakfast is almost ready."
I lifted my head slowly and scanned around. I'd passed out on the hall table after drinking all night. Empty bottles and glasses littered it, with Idwild and Pelle cleaning up. Right in front of me, red-haired Marim with her long ears was facedown on the table, snoring away.
"The administrator...?"
"She headed to City Hall. Seemed fine."
I turned to roughly count the empties—thirty or so, all brutal honey mead and whiskey straight from the oak barrels. And the beer keg? Drained dry, from what I recalled. Yet Hildeva made it to work. Impressive woman.
"Ugh, so heavy."
Brione grunted up the stairs, piggybacking the passed-out Celereja, who dangled like wet laundry.
I shook my head wildly and chugged the cold water Della brought. Sober enough, I stood and headed upstairs, taking Celereja from Brione and dumping her on a third-floor bed. She sprawled limply, her out-breath reeking of booze. She'd held out till the end, but crashed hard. Temple duty today? No chance. As the city's only cleric, no one to complain anyway. Say she's in secluded prayer if asked.
In the kitchen, breakfast ingredients already lined the counter. Water splashed from the back door to the yard. Outside, Pelle washed last night's glasses and dishes, her brow furrowed in irritation.
I hesitated—sorry for making her clean up after my guests, but not bold enough to say nothing—when she glanced over.
"Planning to head to town with the black mage this afternoon."
"Oh? Yeah, sure. Go ahead."
A twinge of guilt made me approve hastily. Pelle said nothing more, wrinkling her nose back into the dishes. I returned to prep breakfast.
Last night's vibe had been surprisingly good. Marim was all grins with beer and snacks. Hildeva and Brione matched drinks and clicked somehow. Only Celereja sulked silently, chugging away. Might as well mingle since her goal flopped—but she's prickly to everyone but me, all tsundere. Unlike Pelle's cold edge, her youth made it cute.
"Hey, Bertrand!"
As I started cooking, Brione bear-hugged my waist from behind.
"Cut it out. I'm cooking."
"Heh. When you free today?"
"Why? Gonna cool the inn with ice magic? It's heating up—wanna do one?"
"You know it'd take all day mana to chill this place."
I peeled her arms off with one hand, grumbling.
"Then quit bugging me. Gotta serve guests soon."
She clung again.
"But shouldn't we, y'know, do it once?"
"Do what."
"Seriously? I gave you my virginity, and you're still playing hard to get?"
Pelle entered just then, dishes done. Brione greeted her brightly, unfazed.
"Morning, skinny demon!"
Pelle ignored it stone-faced and left. Brione muttered at her back.
"Hey, she knows you wiped out the Demon King's army, right?"
"Yeah."
"And she works here? What happened? You two... y'know? Grabbing horns..."
"Fuck! Horny much? All you ask is if I fucked her!"
"Why yell! Either you did or didn't!"
Her shout startled Idwild into the kitchen—she spotted Brione and bolted.
"Her tits look even bigger than before. Bet she can't see her feet going downstairs, trips all the time."
I started to snap at the gossip, but picturing it cracked me up.
"Listen, fake adventurer. I let you stay for old times' sake, but keep needling my staff and you're out."
"Let me? Sounds like you're comping my room. Tch."
"Go. Upstairs, sleep."
I shoved her out. She resisted, but couldn't magic me anyway. Banished, she yelled about whether I still had the Holy Sword. Wish she'd leave already. Fun yesterday, awkward now. Poking my girls like that.
Afternoon, I made sauerkraut—pickled cabbage, great side for greasy dishes. Simple: shred bite-sized, salt and squeeze till volume shrinks to a quarter, jar with brine, ferment.
Della, Marim, and Brione(...) sat shredding cabbage. Idwild and Pelle had gone to town post-lunch as planned.
Brione chanted some spell—cabbage exploded into shreds everywhere. Della swept the shrapnel.
"No magic!"
"Weird. Thought it'd work."
Brione puzzled over another head; Marim snatched it nimbly.
"Mage, maybe just watch?"
"Nah, I can do it right."
As they bickered over cabbage, hungover Celereja descended, clutching her temples.
"Aigoo... my head... holy power can't touch this booze haze..."
She groaned, hand glowing on her forehead.
Then Kali barked sharply outside—rare for him. What now?
"I'll check."
Della dashed out broom in hand—then shrieked, fleeing back inside.