Chapter 133. Preparation (3)
An old iron door stood before .
I faced it.
I’d received the invitation from Teano in the library and walked back to my room alone.
I recalled leaving the sunlit fortress corridors, walking until I reached a quiet area with no passersby.
The unassuming door, unfit for a Main House direct descendant, was familiar.
“…”
Snapping back, I realized I’d stopped, staring at it without thinking. A strange feeling hit , instantly recognizable.
—Déjà vu.
Why this sensation? Observing myself, I concluded.
I’d perford unfamiliar sword techniques and accessed unknown knowledge before. This could be a remnant of past mories.
“Ughhh, no way!”
A loud clatter and running footsteps burst from inside, and the door flung open.
Looking up, Sirocco, who’d thrown it wide, leaped at with arms outstretched.
“…?”
Reflexively catching the wolf-eared girl gliding like a flying squirrel, she nimbly climbed onto my shoulders, wrapping her bare legs around my neck and pointing inside.
“I’m not wearing that!”
“…What aren’t you wearing?”
Sirocco said earnestly.
“They tried to make wear clothes and shoes.”
“Clothes and shoes?”
She snorted, turning away.
“No way. That stuffy junk? Hard pass.”
Glancing up at her triumphant voice, I asked.
“So, who?”
“Dunno. They just showed up.”
Looking inside, I saw three or four fortress servants at the entrance, staring at us and Sirocco, stunned. One stamred.
“A misunderstanding. We didn’t insist on wearing them.”
“Then?”
“Well… So sent gifts of clothing for Sirocco, your follower family, due to your rising reputation. We were just delivering…”
Indeed, they held wrapped packages—gifts. I stared.
Overhearing the servants whispering behind:
> —That’s Enoch…
> —How’d he get a follower family like…
Teano’s words about my rising reputation hit ho. Including the problems it brought.
I sighed softly.
“My follower family doesn’t seem thrilled.”
“S-Sorry for visiting while you were out. We’ll leave!”
Hurrying, they left the packages at the entrance and retreated. I spoke calmly.
“Gift offensive. Common tactic.”
“Tactic? What’s that?”
“Your exploits are known, and people who value you send nice things to curry favor.”
“Hmph, got it.”
Sirocco pouted, resting her hands on my head.
“They don’t get it. I don’t need this stuff.”
Still carrying her on my shoulders, I stepped forward, asking.
“What do you need, then?”
“Obvious question. Just you!”
She leaned forward, her soft touch brushing my head. Looking up, her bright eyes t mine upside-down, her long hair tickling my cheek.
“Getting stronger, helping my tribe—all I need is you. I’m your follower family, right?”
Her simple logic ward , and I chuckled.
“Not wrong.”
“Right?”
Grinning, she leaned back, wagging her tail and pointing ahead.
“Let’s go in. I’m starving!”
***
“Delicious!”
Dipping bread in steaming soup, Sirocco bead happily.
She bit a chunk of at, chewing and glancing at .
“…Doesn’t that hurt your jaw?”
“Nope. I’m tough.”
Living with her lately, I’d learned Sirocco was far more free-spirited than expected.
I glanced at her, slightly grimy from not washing, and the room. Her sole bed and blankets were crumpled.
The table where she ate was littered with crumbs from eating by hand. Soup, drunk straight from the bowl, splattered the desk. I muttered.
“…As expected.”
“Hm?”
Seeing her with crumbs on her cheeks, I waved it off.
“Nothing.”
For such a sparse room, she’d made a ss.
Her insistence on barefoot and refusing clothes confird her nickna’s prefix—“untad.”
A clink sounded as a gloved hand placed two teacups on the table.
Turning, I saw Lien in her maid outfit.
“Tea is served.”
Morning sunlight glinted off her silver hair, casting a small shadow.
I swallowed, struck by her.
Even as a maid, the Lien who ruthlessly fought with wires in battle was a stark contrast in her duties.
In the Ixion fight, she’d cornered a Rank 9 black mage with Sirocco and .
The more I knew about her, the more mysterious she beca.
I sensed I’d learn her truth soday, but what it was felt daunting.
My reflection appeared in the teacup.
A mory flashed—Lien and Ixion’s conversation during their fight.
When Lien asked about soul-related black magic, Ixion claid ignorance.
‘Could’ve been battle talk.’
But even if it was bluster, sothing felt off.
Worth noting.
“You’ll let it cool? If you’re not eating, gim.”
Sirocco, tearing bread, chided .
“You seem thrilled with the food.”
“Duh! The food here’s so varied and tasty. Good stuff’s always great.”
With strawberry jam on her cheeks, she gleefully munched a small pie.
“One downside’s the at.”
“at?”
“Yeah. Wish it was bigger and more. Tasty stuff’s better in bulk.”
at, huh? Was that in the original story?
Shoveling fried rice, a question struck , and I turned to Lien.
“These als—I’ve been curious. Who makes them? Fortress kitchen rations?”
“No. I made them.”
“You cook? Even pies?”
Surprised, I asked. Her reply was steady.
“Yes. Mostly made here.”
“Here? Is there space for that?”
“There is. Small, but sufficient.”
At her affirmation, I looked around.
I hadn’t known my dedicated maid cooked. Scanning the room, I spotted a kitchen setup on one wall.
A kitchen in this sparse room felt like a studio apartnt.
I muttered blankly.
“A kitchen? Didn’t know that was here.”
“…”
Lien stared silently, then resud clearing dishes.
Had I ever noticed such details? It felt novel.
This room was just for sleeping.
Looking around, I realized I barely knew its layout. I gave a wry smile.
Sirocco, cheeks covered in crumbs, perked her ears.
“What’s with that laugh?”
“…Nothing.”
“Suspicious.”
As she said, I didn’t know my expression, but it felt amusing.
I’d focused on survival, leveling up, and recruiting follower families, neglecting my own room.
I looked at the sunlight outside.
‘A bit better than before.’
Unlike before, clinging to a fragile life, I could now notice my surroundings.
My path, though grueling, wasn’t wrong. It fueled my drive to move forward.
Like now, to the next phase.
“By the way, Sirocco.”
“Hm?”
I pulled out a black-and-blue envelope with Elsyde’s crest, matching the combat mages’ uniforms.
Opening it, I extracted the contents.
“You wanted more at earlier.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Then you’ll want to go to the banquet.”
Sirocco tilted her head, puzzled.
“Banquet? What’s that?”
“Listen well, and you can stuff yourself with at and other delicious things.”
“at!”
Her tail spun, as if salivating.
“When do we go?”
“Not yet. There’s a condition.”
The real point.
I glanced at her.
“You have sothing to do.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll train you personally. Master it, and we’ll go.”
“Training to get stronger?”
“No, sadly, not that.”
Accepting the banquet invitation wasn’t about enjoying food.
My skyrocketing reputation needed adjustnt before it grew further.
But tanking it too much risked disownnt again. This required a delicate situation and card.
Both were before .
“So what is it?”
Sirocco fidgeted impatiently. I smiled, stating the core.
“Your training is, in fact—”
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