"Take this to the table, Linie."
"Got it, Eisen."
Linie shuffles between kitchen and table, arms full of dishes, following Eisen's orders. He watches over her—not monitoring, but indulging. He's soft on her, maybe not just her.
(This should settle things…)
I sigh, reflecting. After sealing the master-servant contract with Linie, we returned. I briefly explained to Himmel and Eisen. It worked—Linie blends in, no longer calling me "Mother" or clinging, nor calling Eisen "Father" at his request. Eisen might understand her better than Himmel.
Linie's helping Eisen, but really obeying me. A servant's duty. She's too young to be much help, but it's better than playing family.
"Cute subordinate, Lady Aura?"
"Shut up. Say it again, and I'll ignore you for a week."
"Sorry."
Himmel's teasing hits at the worst time. I silence him. He never changes. Making her call me "Lady" invited this, but does he ever learn? Accepting that accessory was too soon.
"Need help, Linie?"
"You're in the way, Himmel."
"Rebellious phase?"
"Same as always."
Himmel tries to engage Linie, maybe craving attention, but she shuts him down. He mutters nonsense, confused. I don't know "rebellious phase," but it's nothing good. He's the most feared, highest in hierarchy, yet doesn't seem it. Linie claims she's copying me, but I doubt it's just that. Her hierarchy might shift soon.
"Dinner's ready."
It's not the usual fare—not just because Eisen cooked. The culprit: absurdly large hamburgers. Ridiculously huge. I've made them, seen them, but these are obscene. Four, not two, amplify the shock. I expected it from the smell, but this exceeds.
"Figures."
"Nostalgic. You made these for birthdays, right?"
Himmel's delighted, numb to the absurdity from past journeys. Eisen cooked these for birthdays, apparently. Even Frieren ate these monstrosities? Adventurers' stomachs are unreal. But—
"Whose birthday is it? Not yours."
I ask the obvious. These are for birthdays. I made them for a special day—a humiliation. There's no reason for them now. Not Himmel's birthday. Eisen's?
"Yours."
"What?"
Eisen says it like it's obvious. Did I mishear?
"Do you know your birthdays?"
"Of course not."
He asks a pointless question. Demons don't track birthdays. We live solitary lives. Without someone telling us, we'd never know.
"What's a birthday?"
"The day you were born."
"Don't know. What's the point?"
Linie echoes my confusion. Why care about your birth? It's meaningless to us.
"It's a day to thank you for being born. Hard for you to get, maybe. It's a day celebrated once a year."
"That's a sloppy summary…"
Himmel tries explaining, then gives up, maybe mindful of last night. He's less reserved with demons now, in his own way. Linie's left puzzled, but that's fine. It's a human quirk we just accept.
"Why today?"
I steer back. Fine, it's a birthday, but why ours, today? Neither Eisen nor Himmel knows our birthdays. Why now?
"I decided it. Today's your birthday."
Eisen declares it confidently, as if it's final. Nonsense. I forgot, thanks to Himmel and Heiter, but Eisen's one of them—pointless to reason. His brain's all muscle.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Works out, right? Easier to remember together."
"I'm hungry."
I'm dumbfounded, but Himmel jumps in with a trivial reason. So much for "special." Linie, indifferent, just wants food. What a chaotic bunch.
"Delicious. Great job, Eisen."
"Apples are better."
"Don't worry, apples are mixed in."
"Then I'll eat."
Dinner's as noisy as ever, louder even. Linie speaks freely, per my orders, but they don't care. I expected issues, but it's unnecessary. They don't need such concerns.
This is our impromptu birthday dinner, unchanged yet unique.
"Here, Linie."
Cleanup done, we're resting when Eisen abruptly hands Linie something. She, Himmel, and I are stunned.
"What's this?"
"Birthday gift. Your current one's too big. Come back when it's worn out—I'll make another."
A wooden sword, sized for training, tailored for Linie. Eisen likely crafted it. Dwarves are dexterous, and he's no exception, despite appearances.
Linie takes it, frozen, blinking at the sword. Familiar. I might've looked like that too.
"Why do this? It doesn't benefit you."
Linie voices the demon's question. Why act without gain? Gifts are incomprehensible to us. She faces the same wall, but—
"It's my hobby, like you chasing magic."
Eisen answers in terms we grasp, a non-human approach.
"…So I should use you?"
Linie asks, pure and honest—a contradictory demonic stance, risky with humans.
"Right. But say 'rely on' instead."
Castle
He accepts it, understanding her nature, encouraging it. A different kind of deception.
"Okay. I'll rely on you, Eisen."
Her phrasing's off, but something's changed. It's a form of deception, unique to Eisen's way with her.
"Hm?"
"What, Linie?"
She scurries to Himmel, hand outstretched.
"Birthday."
She doesn't get it but knows it means gifts. She expects something from Himmel, like Eisen.
"Uh… I don't have anything."
He's empty-handed—our birthdays were just decided. Linie doesn't care.
"…Useless."
Deemed worthless, she walks away—a cruel, demonic, childlike act.
"That's not—! It's not like that!"
"Idiot."
"Idiot."
Himmel panics, explaining, but Linie ignores him, deeming him valueless. Very demonic. Maybe she's not just mimicking.
"Here's yours."
Eisen hands me something. My birthday too, huh? He's thorough. Are all heroes like this?
It's a book—a familiar grimoire.
"Really? Not for that elf?"
It's likely meant for Frieren, like Himmel's gift. Is this okay?
"No matter. It'll suit you better."
He's smug, as before. Once, I found him creepy, unreadable. Now, he's transparent, despite his stoic face. The title reads:
Magic to Extract Alcohol from Liquor
Perfect for me, not Frieren. A jab at Himmel and Heiter—our ties will continue.
"Fine. I'll rely on you."
"Do it. I'm a warrior."
I retort sarcastically, mimicking Linie. He responds naturally. What's a warrior? Neither demons nor humans would get it.
Scolding the noisy "big kid" and my subordinate, the night deepens. This is the end of our fleeting, endless days in the warrior's home.
Postscript: Himmel sent a letter to the village to avoid Eisen's mistake, but it backfired. Welcomed like a hero, he was dragged into a private meeting with the chief.
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