Master's Practice
The young master strolled through the mansion, taking in its grandeur.
The second floor housed Lady Albedo's dining room, the residents' chambers, and more. His room. An empty room next door—later revealed as a peeping room. Solution's room. Lupusregina's room. Guest rooms, a VIP suite, a freely used atelier, and a study designed by Lord Ainz himself, blessed with protective magic. The long corridor gleamed, spotless. From the window, the vast courtyard sprawled—rented to adventurers for night training, or so the excuse went. Meticulously arranged trees bloomed in their seasons. One corner held an open space, established after Solution and Lupusregina's sibling spat, designated for "fights." He'd swung his sword there every three days, honing his Square Horizon Killing Tech.
The first floor's back held the maids' and servants' quarters and necessities, while the front boasted parlors and dining halls for socializing. The maid instructor, not permanently residing, used a second-floor guest room. Maids were forbidden from lingering upstairs after their tasks, retreating to the bustling first floor. As the nominal young master, he was greeted with pauses and bows whenever he passed. His frequent comings and goings disrupted their work, but he lacked the finesse to notice. The maids, though, found his presence a delight despite the delays.
A maid bowed deeply as he passed. Slipping behind her, he playfully tapped her protruding rear.
"Eek! Young Master, you naughty man!"
"Nice butt."
Such was daily life.
But this was his last day of such antics. Tomorrow, he'd leave E-Rantel. With a pang of nostalgia, he wandered the mansion. His memory palace had expanded, housing every detail of this place—each room a vault of moments. Lady Albedo's dining room, especially, was a sacred space, home to over ten of her divine selves.
Nothing new remained to see, yet he roamed, tethered by affection for the first place he'd truly lived since escaping that cramped stone cell.
"Young Master?" A maid, clutching the touched spot, cheeks flushed, sidled closer, voice hushed as if sharing a secret.
"What is it?"
"Lately… are you, um, handling your nightly emissions alright?"
"Guh…!"
Her single question flipped the dynamic, his cheeks now burning.
"I-I'm fine!"
"Really? No need for… measures to stop them?"
"No, that's—"
Maids rarely broached this, but her beauty and shy blush made it disarming. There was intent behind it. Measures meant intimacy—a chance, however slim, to become his mistress, if not his wife. Many maids dreamed of such a leap, paycheck or not.
"I'm inexperienced, but I'm sure I could please you," she pressed.
E-Rantel's maids, regardless of birth, were young and attractive. The mansion's lavish meals—too fine for servants—improved their health, though their work was grueling. The young master was their respite; the young lady and maid instructor, mercilessly strict. Whether by birth or effort, their figures were ideal—curves where they counted, as the young master's "nice butt" verdict confirmed.
"That room's freshly tidied," she said, pushing harder, knowing he'd leave tomorrow. Her last chance. "I can slip away for an hour. Let me assist you."
"I don't need—"
"Leave it to me!"
As she grabbed his hand and reached for the door, a sharp clap echoed.
"You there! What are you doing, detaining the Young Master? Back to work!"
"Yes, Instructor Sixth!"
The maid replied brightly, then scurried off.
"No running in the halls!"
"Sorry!"
She speed-walked away, leaving the young master with Instructor Sixth.
Guided to the room the maid had targeted, Sixth crossed her arms under her ample chest, emphasizing it—not for allure, but to project sternness.
"What were you about to do?"
"Don't ask me. Ask her."
Sixth sighed deeply. The young master was leaving for the Empire tomorrow, and this behavior wouldn't do.
"I've debated saying this, but now's the time. You're too open to temptation. Be more cautious."
"Temptation?"
"How do you not see it?!"
"I'm asking because I don't."
"Ugh! You're the Young Master! The maids' master!"
"Well, technically, yeah."
Lady Albedo was the true master, Solution the nominal lady, but he was still their superior.
"Then why let maids outwit you? They think you're soft!"
"I'm not bothered."
"That's the problem! Be a stricter master!"
The Empire's life was uncertain, but Sixth guessed he'd have a mansion with staff—maids included. E-Rantel's maids were a profession, trained from varied backgrounds. But noble maids in the Empire or Kingdom were different—aristocratic daughters, educated as ladies, serving as pre-marital training. Poor noble girls often took such roles, but they remained nobles, unlike E-Rantel's commoner maids. He couldn't treat them the same.
He should know this, having summarized imperial texts for Lord Ainz. Yet, Sixth saw too many openings in him, too worrisome to ignore.
"Learn to scold maids. I'll help you practice."
"No need for—"
"We're practicing."
"…Fine."
To avoid embarrassment in the Empire, he'd train to be a proper master.
"I'll play the errant maid. Scold me as the master. No shouting or hitting."
"Got it."
"Oh no, I spilled tea on Master's trousers! My apologies!"
He cleared his throat, testing his voice, furrowing his brow for gravitas.
"You incompetent fool. Can't you handle something so simple? Useless!"
Sixth's eyes narrowed. She raised her polished silver tray and whacked his shin.
"Ow!"
"I said scold, not insult! Try again."
"Ugh… I'm fine. You didn't burn yourself, did you?"
"That's your usual kindness! It's good, but I need you to scold. Again."
"When carrying a tray, your center of gravity shifts, so—"
"We teach that. Again."
"My trousers are wet. Can you fetch a change?"
"That's an order, not a scolding. Again."
"Better, but too soft. Be stricter."
"Not so extreme! Find a balance."
"Words like this."
"Expression matters. Stern, but with kindness."
"Arms like this, now my—"
After a dozen retries and Sixth's coaching, he was shaping up.
Pinned against the wall, Sixth couldn't escape as he slammed a hand beside her face. Their faces close, she blushed, looking down—until he lifted her chin, locking her gaze with his red-and-blue eyes.
"Naughty kitten. Craving punishment?"
"P-Please forgive me, Master…"
"No. You wanted this, didn't you, Sixth?"
"N-No, I—"
"Be honest."
"Ah! Don't touch my breasts…"
"You're ordering me? This is your punishment."
"I'm sorry… Please, touch Sixth's breasts as you like…"
"Such a lewd kitten. I'll punish you thoroughly."
"Oh… Sixth is a naughty kitten, wanting Master's punishment…"
He kneaded her ample chest, her maid dress swaying with each motion. Her chin still held, she couldn't look away. Her misty eyes closed, anticipating a kiss. As his warm breath grazed her lips—
"Gotta say, you can't do that when scolding maids. That'll definitely cause misunderstandings."
"!?" Sixth's eyes snapped open, her vision filled with his face as he sealed her lips.
"Mmph! Mmm! Nn! Nnh… Hah… Lick…"
His lips pressed hers, his tongue slipping through, teasing hers. Reflexively, she responded, their tongues entwining, lips nibbling, saliva slurped noisily. When they parted, Sixth was dazed, mind blank.
"That's your taste, Sixth?" Lupusregina's voice cut through.
"L-Lady Lupusregina!?"
"Been here a while. Didn't notice?"
"Why didn't you say anything!?"
"Thought you knew."
"Ughhh!"
Sixth's face burned. Her secret fetish, ingrained by forbidden books, exposed—and being seen kissing! If Lupusregina knew, why not warn her? How long had she been there? Asking was impossible—Lupusregina, a Pleiades, outranked her.
"More importantly—"
"More importantly!?"
"You not noticing me."
"He's got zero tact," Lupusregina sighed. "No growth at all."
"What!?"
"Totally hopeless. I'll scold him later, Sixth. Bear with it."
"…Yes, ma'am."
Unlike the second floor, the first floor's thin doors hid little, but only someone like Lupusregina could eavesdrop so easily. Intrigued, she'd slipped in silently. Sixth, absorbed in coaching, hadn't noticed. Lupusregina pieced together the "scolding practice."
"Let me say again: don't do that when scolding maids. That's begging for trouble."
"Trouble?"
"Explaining's a pain… Just don't."
"But Sixth taught me—"
"That's my scolding style," Sixth interjected. "Use a different one for other maids."
"What…?"
All that effort, wasted.
"Just look a bit scary and say 'be careful,'" Lupusregina suggested.
"Scary face, huh?"
He pursed his lips, furrowed his brow, and glared.
"Pathetic."
His flat emotions made his "scary" face more serene than stern, his handsome features softening it further. Lupusregina had a plan.
"Listen close. I'll say something to make you scary. Memorize that face."
"Alright."
Sixth, never having seen his scary face, stepped back. Lupusregina grinned.
"Here goes… You're an idiot!"
"...?"
"Huh?"
Both he and Sixth tilted their heads. He didn't care about insults, tuning them out like birdsong.
"Weird. Last time, calling you an idiot got a terrifying glare…"
She'd once insulted him as he contemplated jumping from a window for Albedo, enraged by her dismissal. Her mistake: his anger stemmed from devotion to Albedo, not the insult itself.
She tried "fool" and "pervert"—no effect. Sixth, listening, grew scarier than he did. Lupusregina considered her trump card, risky but potent.
"If—if—someone badmouthed Lady Albedo…"
Lupusregina shivered. His face twisted with fury, hatred, and a righteous urge to eradicate the offender, his beauty contorted. Despite his human frailty, his intensity overwhelmed her.
"Hm… This face?"
Sixth thrust her silver tray between them, its polished surface a mirror. He studied his reflection, reset his expression, then recreated the glare, muttering, "Got it."
Sixth and Lupusregina watched from a distance.
"Worse than my method, right?" Sixth whispered.
"Maybe…" Lupusregina admitted.
Both bore blame. A scary face without emotion lacked impact.
Thus passed his final day in E-Rantel.
Solution, meanwhile, had been meditating since last night. As a shoggoth, she could absorb a grown man without changing form. Yesterday, she'd taken in multiple limbs from "Big Brother," exceeding six men's volume—delicious meat. A slight nudge risked her body collapsing, a lapse in focus melting the limbs. She needed them intact for Entoma's souvenir and her own snacks during Big Brother's absence. Three legs had already liquefied. It'd be a while before she could move, possibly missing his departure tomorrow.
Solution's out, Lupusregina's tagging along. What to do with the maids?
On another note, my cigarette stockpile from before the price hike's gone. Up nearly 10%, so I'm quitting. Two successful quits in ten years—I'll manage. Might take time, though, so the next part could be delayed.