Dear Father,
Please send help! I hate talking to people!! Especially rich snobs like this one!
I haven't written in a while, so you might be soooo worried about me, but long story short—we're in debt now. YAY. One of your employees sent the café into a financial nosedive and now we're so screwed!
But don't you worry, your genius son has created a plan to stop it from getting worse: a pop-up café during the big derby today! Hopefully, we'll wrack up some money by then, right?? Right??
"What are you writing?"
The boy pondered.
Oh yeah, his name is Anthony Greyham. He's one of the many people I had the displeasure of going to school with in this new world…
"Nothing," I muttered as I closed the book and put it away. I'll continue this later—
We sat at a nearby shop, sitting on one of the outside benches with a table between us. Abigale sat on the other side with him as we spoke.
I slouched in my seat, my head hung low, avoiding both their gazes…
Abigale, who somehow managed to look both bored and battle-ready at the same time, sipped her tea with military precision.
"So, you finally came out of your house," he spoke up, causing me to flinch.
Yeah… despite having this time to change myself or whatever, I was practically the same as before I was forced to get a j*b and provide for myself. A complete NEET.
But can you blame me!? I was living in luxury, damn it! I was being pampered and comforted by my darling Meraline. You'd do the same!
God, I miss that woman…
(The feeling isn't mutual…. At all…she really doesn't…)
"That's great. Can't take over the business all cooped up in your room, can you?"
He chuckled. He had the laugh of a rich white boy, and it irks me.
"So I assume you're taking over—"
"Y-yep, that's me… in the maid business—"
I chuckled, my voice cracking at my lie, yet he didn't pick up on it at all. His maid sat as still as a rock. I swear she didn't blink without his permission.
Man, I'd give anything to have my girl be even half as competent and obedient as her…
"By the way," he added.
His sudden shift in topic caused me to raise my head with a confused look.
"What brings you to my Zephandale?"
All movement stopped at his words.
I felt a sudden rush of anxiety crash down on me. What should I even say?! I can't tell him we're in debt! It'd be over for the name of both me and my father! I refuse!
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I was at a loss…
Anthony tilted his head, confused by my silence.
"Well, there's a big derby happening right now?"
Ding ding ding!
There it was! My golden ticket. My lifeline. My one and only hope of saving my café and crawling out of crippling debt like the pathetic worm I am.
Nobles are suckers for these kinds of events!
Zephandale's Derby wasn't just a race. It was an excuse for nobles to flaunt ridiculous hats, bet entire estates on monster women, and get very, very drunk on "aged carrot wine."
"YES," I said a little too loudly. "Yes! That's exactly it. We're doing a special Derby-themed pop-up. Limited time. Premium maid service. Gotta strike while the iron's… hot."
He raised an eyebrow. "And where is this pop-up, exactly?"
"Uhhh… it's…"
I turned my head slowly, scanning the town square like I was some kind of psychic diviner.
"There! That alley—uh, no—beside the alley, by the fountain. It's got character."
Anthony blinked. "So... behind the garbage bins?"
I nodded solemnly. "Premium garbage bins."
"I suppose…"
Oh no—oh no, oh no!
I sweat profusely, trying to think of something fast. I stood up straight, practically speaking out of my ass at this point. My hand rested on my chest as I delivered the douchiest, richest rich boy act I could.
"But of course I won't be there. I need to watch the derby, after all. I'll leave working behind the trash to the maids, you know? Hahaha…"
I peeked to see his reaction. Anthony's gaze widened slightly—you could almost see his red eyes spark.
"I see," Anthony muttered, his voice slightly more accepting. "Well, best of luck with that. Zephandale's Derby does attract quite the crowd. I think it'll do you well. Though they're… interesting."
That's code for preparing to serve drunk nobles, lost tourists, and someone's pet goat in a bonnet.
He stood up, brushing nonexistent dust off his perfectly tailored coat.
"I'll be sure to stop by. Might be fun to see your maids in action."
I smiled weakly, feeling my soul wither like an overwatered houseplant.
"Can't wait."
I can feel my soul dying inside…
He nodded, gave Abigale a snap of his fingers, and with that, he smiled and waved goodbye. His maid followed close behind.
I slumped over the table, letting my head hit the wood with a soft thud.
"Dear Father," I muttered into the tabletop. "I may need a Plan B… or C… or just a miracle at this point. Preferably one that doesn't involve public humiliation, angry customers, or any of us passing out from sheer anxiety."
I reached over and grabbed at my scalp, rubbing my hair furiously as I took in what just happened.
Great! Now I have to deal with thisand that snob breathing down my neck?! How will I ever survive and keep my reputation intact now?!
Man… I know the girls will throw a fit if I'm not there with them.
Besides—
I raised my head and tried to imagine it: leaving Yui and Seri by themselves to run an entire café…
Knowing them…
"Yui's definitely going to do whatever she wants, and Seri won't be able to stop her…"
I groaned.
"It's going to be a long day—"