The first scent was that of cedar and incense. It was a clean, aristocratic fragrance, a far cry from the stench of rotting wood and fresh blood from the loot cellar. I opened my eyes slowly, finding a white ceiling decorated with intricate moldings that screamed opulence.
I tried to move, but a whip of pain ran through my right side. My shoulder. Elsa's blade hadn't just sliced the flesh; it had carved itself into my memory as a reminder that, in this world, the "System" efficiency came with a biological price.
"Look, look, sister. The patient is trying to perform reckless movements," a high-pitched, monotonous voice said.
"Look, look, Rem. The patient seems to ignore the limitations of his own body," another voice replied, identical in tone but subtly different in its cadence.
I turned my head carefully. There they were: the blue and pink-haired Oni twins, dressed in their impeccable maid uniforms. Their expressions were masks of professional courtesy hiding a lethal vigilance. Rem, on the left, kept her hands folded over her lap. Ram, on the right, showed a slightly more relaxed posture, her eyes scanning every one of my gestures.
As a fan, seeing them in person was a hit of dopamine I had to suppress immediately. But as a strategist, my mind processed a critical variable: I hadn't died once. I hadn't come into direct contact with Satella in the shadow garden, which meant the Witch's Scent on me was practically non-existent.
My system possessed an absolute technical purity. Without Satella's foul scent, Rem was a predator with no trail to follow. Her blue eyes scanned me with cold suspicion, searching for a threat her senses could not find. The board was clean of blood.
"I apologize for the trouble," I said, my voice sounding raspy from dehydration. I tried to smile, a soft expression without hidden intentions. "Thank you for treating my wounds. I know it couldn't have been a pleasant task."
The twins exchanged a quick glance. They didn't expect immediate gratitude, much less from someone who had just woken up from physical trauma.
"It is the duty of the maids of the Roswaal Mansion, guest of Emilia-sama," Rem said. Her light blue eyes were cold as the ice from the slums, but I detected a slight tension in her shoulders. She was tired. She had spent the night watching over me and, likely, handling the morning chores before Ram relieved her.
"Even so, duty doesn't take away the effort," I replied, managing to sit up a bit. "Rem, right? You have subtle dark circles under your eyes. I guess my recovery has stolen some of your rest. I am truly sorry."
Rem blinked, bewildered. In the original story, Subaru used to be loud, confusing, or too familiar. My approach was different: direct observation and validation.
"My rest is none of your concern, guest-sama," she retorted, tightening her tone.
"Perhaps not," I admitted calmly. "But I was raised to notice when someone puts in effort for me. If there's anything I can do to make your work easier while I recover, let me know. I'm quite efficient with manual tasks."
Ram let out a small snort. "Look, look, Rem. The guest has awakened with delusions of servitude."
"Look, look, sister. The guest seems not to understand his position," Rem seconded.
But the atmosphere had changed. The hostility was still there, but it had blended with an analytical curiosity. I had introduced a variable that didn't fit their "common suspect" profile.
Shortly after, the door opened with a soft creak. Emilia walked in, bringing with her a gust of fresh air and relief. Seeing me awake, her amethyst eyes shone with a genuine emotion that made my shoulder hurt a little less.
"Subaru!" she exclaimed, approaching the bed. "You had me so worried. Reinhard said you lost a lot of blood, but your will to stay awake until he arrived was what saved you."
"I couldn't let the job finish halfway, Emilia," I said, giving her a warmer smile. "I'm glad to see you're okay. What about Felt? And Old Man Rom?"
"They are safe. Reinhard took care of everything," she explained, sitting on a chair next to the bed. "We are in the mansion of my benefactor, Margrave Roswaal L. Mathers. You've been asleep for almost two days."
Two days. Valuable time in terms of data processing, but necessary for cellular repair.
[System: Authority of the End][Soul Essence: 25] (Milestone: Arc 1 Survival)
The system was ready for the next step. I had enough to improve my physical base or purchase a Tier 1 utility. However, my current priority wasn't power, but the social infrastructure of this place.
"Emilia, if this is your benefactor's home, I want to be of help," I said seriously. "I don't want to just be a guest who consumes resources. Once my shoulder allows it, I'd like to work here."
Rem, who was in a corner, slightly squeezed the cleaning cloth in her hand. I was watching her out of the corner of my eye. I knew she saw all strangers as a potential threat to her sister and the Margrave. Being a guest meant being under constant surveillance; being an employee meant I could integrate and prove my value through results, which would eventually dissolve her guard.
"Work? But Subaru, you're still injured..." Emilia began.
"I'm a tough guy, Emilia. Besides, I like to keep my hands busy. It helps with thinking," I paused and looked directly at Rem. "And I suspect the twins could use an extra pair of hands. Managing a mansion of this size couldn't be easy for just two people, no matter how competent they are."
Rem didn't look away. Her eyes searched for a lie, a trace of malice or lust common in men his age. She only found a pragmatic calm and a professional sincerity.
"The guest speaks too much," Ram declared, breaking the moment. "If the guest wants to clean hallways so much, he will have to speak with Roswaal-sama first. He will decide if your hands are useful or if they just get in the way."
"Fair enough," I agreed.
The rest of the morning passed with magical medical checks by Emilia and the grand entrance of Roswaal. His theatrical appearance and sing-song way of speaking were exactly as I remembered, but my mind didn't let itself be distracted by the staging. Roswaal was a high-level player, and he was the one who brought me here.
However, my attention constantly returned to Rem. Every time she walked in to change the water or the bandages, I made sure to follow her movements, not with desire, but with attention. I noticed she favored her left leg slightly; she had probably bumped herself during the morning preparations or simply the accumulated fatigue was taking a toll on her joints.
"Rem," I said quietly when Emilia and Ram left the room for a moment.
She stopped, the tray in her hands.
"Yes, guest-sama?"
"Next time you bring water, don't be in such a hurry on the stairs. Your left step is a millimeter shorter today. You're tired. If you get injured, your sister's work will double, and I know that's the last thing you'd want."
Rem stayed frozen. No one besides her sister usually noticed such minute details in her performance. Much less a stranger who could barely move. Her expression became more guarded, but for the first time, I saw a crack in her professional mask. It wasn't fear or hatred. It was confusion. A short-circuit in her perception of me.
"I don't need your health advice, guest-sama," she said, turning around and leaving the room with a firm step.
I smiled to myself as I leaned back against the pillows. The code of her distrust was complex, but it wasn't perfect. If I kept pressing the right keys of genuine kindness and useful observation, she would eventually yield.
I decided to be the person who reminded her that her value is independent of her perfection, rather than a hero who died for her in a forest.
[Passive Skill: Environment Analysis (Tier 1) - System Optimization in progress]