The next morning.
Gojo Satoru was jolted awake by a cacophony of chirping and chatter from outside his window. Rubbing his eyes and sporting a mess of bedhead, he crawled over to look out.
Down in the courtyard, Natsuki Subaru and Emilia were talking and laughing together. Judging by their expressions, the atmosphere between them seemed exceptionally good.
Is this the so-called "protagonist's charm"?
Technically, at the start of all this, Subaru had been on the "enemy" side as part of the thief Felt's camp. Yet here he was, having successfully infiltrated the inner circle. Setting aside the fact that Emilia was naturally pure and trusting, Subaru's "approachability" factor was undeniably off the charts.
"Looks like I need to put in some effort too."
After washing up thoroughly and giving his handsome reflection in the mirror a satisfied look, Gojo headed out. The moment he opened the door, he saw a figure holding a tray, hand raised mid-knock.
"Ah, Miss Rem. Is breakfast being delivered to the rooms now?"
Rem brushed past him into the room and set the tray on the table.
"It is not. Everyone else has already finished dining in the refectory."
"After all, not everyone is capable of sleeping through the morning prayer bells and missing the breakfast window prepared by Ram."
"Is that so? My bad, my bad," Gojo said airily as he sat down at the table.
On a plate with elegant fluted edges, slices of toast were neatly stacked next to a fried egg with perfectly crisped edges. A dollop of rose-red jam radiated a rich, sweet aroma, and a tempting piece of pudding sat to the side. While it wasn't a massive spread, it was the most decent breakfast Gojo had eaten since arriving in this world.
"It's feast time!" Gojo declared, diving straight for the pudding first. "By the way, Miss Rem, what's on your schedule for today?"
"Trimming the courtyard shrubs, cleaning the fountain, preparing lunch, organizing the attic storage, scrubbing the first-floor windows..."
Rem rattled off a list of chores like a tongue-twister. Just listening to it made Gojo's head ache.
"When I was chatting with Roswaal yesterday, he mentioned there used to be plenty of other maids. Maintaining this whole mansion with just the two of you must be exhausting, right?"
"The workload is indeed significant, but for the sake of Lord Roswaal, it is all worthwhile."
"If the guest intends to use 'lightening my workload' as a pretext to invite me to open a dessert shop, please desist."
Rem wore an expression that said I've already seen through you and rejected him without a second thought.
"Well now," Gojo chuckled, polishing off the pudding in three bites. "Miss Rem, you really do have a strong prejudice against me. Actually, I've come up with a new idea. Interested in hearing it?"
Rem glanced at the nearly empty tray. "Please do not delay Rem's working hours, guest. Simply finish your meal."
"You clearly wouldn't want to work for me directly. But what if it were a joint venture? A dessert shop opened in partnership with Roswaal?" Gojo spread jam on his toast, grinning triumphantly.
Rem fell silent. Like a computer program encountering a logic error, she fell into deep thought for a moment.
"I refuse. With only Sister at the mansion, she would be unable to handle the volume of work."
"Why not just recall one or two of the previous maids? Problem solved," Gojo said with a wink, as if he'd found a fun new game to play. "Since it would be Roswaal's property, it would only be right for you to manage it with all your heart, wouldn't it?"
Rem looked at the empty tray, picked it up, and turned to leave.
"Please ensure you arrive at the dining hall on time for lunch, guest."
Gojo didn't try to stop her. He simply hung a piece of toast from his mouth, smiling as he watched her leave, before sauntering out himself.
"Yo! Good morning!"
Reaching the courtyard, Gojo waved to Emilia and Subaru.
"It's not morning anymore; it's practically noon!" Subaru shouted back, looking full of energy.
"If you, Emilia, and Puck weren't out here playing, I probably could have slept a lot longer."
"Oh! Were we being too loud?" Emilia looked at Gojo apologetically.
"It's fine. It was about time to get up anyway. After all, Puck is already 'on the clock,' right?"
Puck flew over to Gojo's side, puffing out his tiny chest proudly. "I'm never late, you know!"
"You just leave early a lot."
"Satoru, you're really asking for a beating! Hyun-hyun!" Puck swung his tiny paws, looking ready for a spar.
"Anyway, where's Felt? I don't see her."
"I'm not sure. She disappeared right after breakfast," Subaru said, scratching his head.
"Forget it. We're eating soon anyway; I'll talk to her then." Gojo turned his gaze toward Subaru. "Subaru, what do you think about Roswaal's offer to reward us?"
Subaru froze at the sudden question.
What do I think? They had already agreed on this back at the loot house: take the money and run. Just as he was about to answer, he saw Gojo—with his back turned to Emilia—lift his sunglasses slightly to give him a pointed wink.
Subaru wasn't stupid; he caught the signal instantly. Realizing Gojo was setting him up for an "assist," he gave a mental thumbs-up.
Normally, taking the cash and leaving would be the plan. But now? This was a golden opportunity to spend more time with Emilia.
Subaru thought for a moment and then said with a straight face, "I think... I'd like to work here at the mansion, just like Ram and the others!"
Gojo: "?"
A massive question mark practically appeared over Gojo's head. He whipped off his sunglasses, leaned in close to Subaru, and even reached out to feel the boy's forehead.
"You don't have a fever..." Gojo muttered, baffled.
No, seriously. Gojo couldn't wrap his head around it. Was the plot taking a weird turn?
Gojo even glanced at the pale blue text of his Supporting Character System. Subaru is definitely the protagonist, right? I didn't pick the wrong guy, did I? How could a "Protagonist" come up with the idea of becoming a servant in someone else's house?
Is it because there's a dozen-year gap between us? Has the meta shifted into something this bizarre?
Gojo fell into a profound state of contemplation, unable to snap out of it for a long time.