That evening, Phaga stayed up late helping Ellen with her studies. Glancing at his phone, he realized it was already ten o'clock.
"Time to head back to bed, huh~~. By the way, you have a great memory—so why do you always just scrape by on your exams?"
"You're so annoying!"
"Fine, I won't ask. Good night."
"Oh, good night."
After saying goodbye, Phaga kicked off with his legs and slid away on the chair—one he'd moved from his own room.
"Oh, right."
As he passed the doorway, Phaga suddenly braked. The momentum spun him around three times before he came to a dizzy stop. He held up one finger, forming the gesture for [nine].
"Nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Help me move. You'll be up, right?"
"Of course I'll be up! Stop bugging me. And close the door on your way out."
Click—Clack!
The sound of the metal lock snapping into place.
Only then did Ellen sigh helplessly, toss her phone aside, and swivel her chair toward the wardrobe.
The phone screen still glowed beside her. Before dimming automatically, it faithfully recorded her final action before discarding it.
Alarm set. Six o'clock.
"What should I wear?"
Ellen flipped through her clothes, fingers brushing from one piece to the next.
Not satisfied. Still not satisfied.
"Don't I have anything decent to wear?"
She muttered under her breath, then froze, her eyes drifting to a black outfit tucked in the corner—its shoulders adorned with a cutesy bubble curl.
"Tsk!"
Her mouth twitched. She slammed the wardrobe shut, then flopped onto her bed.
Hmph! Sleep!
...
At dawn the next day—
Knock, knock, knock!
Knock, knock, knock!
"Coming, ha~~~"
Phaga lazily threw on clothes, slipped into a pair of slippers, and shuffled to the door, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.
"Who's bothering me this early... Ellen?"
He blinked, focusing his vision. Sure enough, Ellen was standing outside.
But what truly shocked Phaga wasn't her presence—it was her outfit.
A maid's hair bun rested on her head, a collar shaped like shark teeth wrapped around her neck, and a short maid skirt flared out. A black-and-white corset cinched her slim waist, sharply dividing her figure.
Above, proud snowy peaks rose high, daring anyone to climb.
Below, beneath the shadowed bridge, delicate flesh whispered danger—nonsense best left unsaid.
This... was a maid outfit?
"Wh-what's wrong?"
Ellen, uncharacteristically flustered, glanced aside.
Phaga stared, dumbfounded. "Didn't you say yesterday...?"
"Outside of work, I don't wear maid outfits."
Ellen puffed her cheeks, turning away from his expression. Her small leather shoes tapped softly as she twirled a lock of hair.
"But today I'm helping you move..."
She'd been up since six, inventing excuse after excuse just to put it on. Two hours later, here she was—yet standing in front of Phaga, her voice grew weaker and weaker.
Realizing her own hesitation, she bit her lip hard, forcing herself to snap out of it.
"Don't doubt the professionalism of Victoria Housekeeping. I accept this commission."
"...Alright."
Phaga lowered his voice. "So what should I be mindful of?"
After all, he was also a member of Victoria Housekeeping.
Ellen's shoes clicked softly as she explained, "You're my client now. By Victoria's rules, you're the [Master]. You can request anything within the scope of the commission."
"Oh, within the scope of the commission..." Phaga muttered, sounding disappointed.
Ellen's brows furrowed in irritation. "What are you thinking? Careful, or I'll throw you out!"
"N-nothing."
Phaga checked his phone—it was only eight. No wonder he felt so sleepy.
But thinking about it wouldn't help. After switching shoes and grabbing his parasol, he headed out with Ellen, ready to catch the bus to Sixth Street.
Awkwardly scratching his cheek, he mumbled, "It's just... I thought if I commissioned you early, then brought you along on a higher-paying commission, I could skim some of your dennies."
Ugh...
Ellen glanced around, suddenly overcome with the urge to string Phaga up on a streetlamp!
No wonder this guy had no friends!
The bus arrived. Ellen boarded with Phaga, sitting beside him. As soon as she sat down, she slapped her forehead, puffed her cheeks, and muttered, "Vampires... so they don't just suck blood."
Phaga leaned closer. "What did you say?"
"Complimenting your intelligence."
Ellen turned her head, staring out the window, ignoring him.
The bus rattled along, passengers boarding and alighting like currents of Ether, fueling the vehicle onward.
Eventually, Phaga nudged Ellen's shoulder. She stirred from her daze, realizing it was time to get off.
The moment they stepped out, Phaga opened his parasol and checked his phone.
They'd planned to leave at nine, but it was only eight-thirty—and they were already on Sixth Street.
He'd intended to cook breakfast at Victoria Housekeeping as a thank-you, but that would have to wait.
Phaga led Ellen, who was glancing curiously around. She'd heard rumors about this street but rarely visited. What kind of place had Phaga grown up in?
Soon, they stopped in front of a noodle shop. Phaga shifted the umbrella behind his head and called out, "General Chop, one bowl of ice noodles."
Then he turned to Ellen. "What kind of broth do you want?"
"Bone broth noodles..." Ellen hesitated, then answered.
Learning her choice, Phaga ordered another bowl. General Chop rushed to prepare them—yesterday's school explosion had brought in a flood of customers, leaving no time for small talk.
"Hey, Phaga."
Before the noodles arrived, Phaga—passing time on his phone—turned at Ellen's call.
He caught sight of Ellen pulling out her earbuds, her cheeks flushed, looking uneasy. "Can I have a bite of yours? I really love ice noodles."
Phaga raised a brow. "Then why didn't you order your own?"
"Because a whole bowl upsets my stomach."
Ellen puffed her cheeks, patting her uncooperative belly, even the two moles beneath her eye looking pitiful
Feeling awkward about eating his portion, she added, "If you want some of mine, I'll share."
Just then, General Chop set down two steaming bowls before them.
Phaga nudged his bowl toward her, propping his chin with one hand. "It's just noodles. Go ahead."
"Thanks."
Ellen murmured her thanks and scooped a small portion into her bowl.
...
Ten minutes later, Phaga wiped his mouth clean and raised a hand. "General Chop, the bill!"
After paying, he rose with his umbrella. "Come on. My temporary apartment isn't far."
With that, he stepped toward the residential buildings across Sixth Street.
Suddenly, chaos erupted in the street!
"Move! Out of the way! I'm in a hurry, don't block me!"
Ellen's eyes sharpened. A pink-haired girl came barreling through, shrieking at pedestrians until they scrambled aside.
She charged like a runaway bull—straight toward the unsuspecting Phaga in the road.
Ellen didn't think twice. She activated [Roaming Hunt] and dashed headlong.
Thud!
The pink-haired girl was knocked flying, staggering before crashing to the ground.
"Damn it! Who the hell are you?! Don't you know who I am? You actually dared to ram into Nicole, boss of Sixth Street?!"
Clutching her head, Nicole gritted her teeth, glaring at the maid-costumed girl who had struck her.
But then she saw her—standing protectively in front of a boy, body poised to strike at any moment.
"Huh?"
Ellen stepped forward, one arm shielding Phaga behind her. Her gaze bore down on Nicole, sharp and predatory, like a shark ready to tear into its prey.
Nicole's heart lurched instantly. She knew this was bad.