The tailors were looking at us with awe and reverence now. Even the tailor who took my measurements bowed low when he was done. They said that they would work twice as fast and I heard one even pushing back the order of a noble. That person said that while smiling. Fortunately, simple clothes as well as underwear will be given after lunch while our official clothes will start to arrive by tomorrow.

  The king gave us permission to explore the castle, explaining that he needed to speak privately with the tailors and the servants. That gave us some time, though after Haruto’s offhand remark, that meant now, more than a few people in the castle were aware of our status as heroes. Not officially announced, of course, but enough to make the tailors and servants whisper among themselves.

  I don’t exactly know what will happen. But going with what I’ve read from manga, people will still talk whether we are ready or not.

  After our measurements were taken and the tailors busily noted down every detail, the next order of business became clear, baths and cleanliness. Even if we were going to save the world, or fight monsters, or whatever other heroic deeds were ahead, none of that would matter if we got sick—or, had a toothache pre-battle.

  We filed out of the room and turned to the two knight captains for guidance, only to learn something surprising.

  “Most people bathe almost every day,” Captain Godwin said flatly. “I would say that some people bathe every other day.”

  I blinked and exchanged looks with Arthur and the rest. “Almost every day? That’s surprising, of how frequent or how seriously the people here take hygiene, I mean.”

  “Yeah, in our world, people took longer to take hygiene seriously,” Arthur added.

  “We cannot allow disease to spread in any place,” Captain Aldric said firmly.

  Captain Godwin nodded. “It may seem excessive to some, but there’s a reason.” He paused, glancing around to make sure we were listening. “Hundreds of cycles ago, there was someone who tried to take over a large portion of this kingdom and even the neighboring one. He was called the Reviled Lord, and he had a class that allowed him to control disease itself. Buboes, pus, rot, you name it.”

  A shiver ran down my spine while a few looked horrified.

  “Entire towns were decimated in days,” Godwin continued. “The kingdom locked down. The surviving cities quarantined themselves. From that time onward, paranoia about hygiene became law. Regular bathing, sanitation inspections, strict handling of food and water—all of it was enforced to prevent anything like that from happening again.”

  Trayn muttered, “So that’s why lady Celestia’s maids were making such a fuss over clean towels and baths earlier.”

  “Exactly,” Aldric said. “Heroes or not, no exceptions can be made. Even a minor lapse could be catastrophic. Here in our kingdom, cleanliness is part of duty.”

  It made me look at the bathhouse and the waiting servants with a new respect. In this world, even a simple act like washing yourself was a small but essential shield against disaster. Weirdly enough, that made it feel heroic in its own quiet way.

  Still, the line of questioning pretty much led us to ask about the toilets. The question earned a few snickers, but Captain Aldric and Captain Godwin exchanged a knowing glance.

  “Follow us,” Aldric said, his tone patient. “We’ll show you where everything is.”

  The bathhouse was closest, so we headed there first. From the looks of it, it was unlike anything I had expected. The design reminded me of the Roman baths I’d seen on TV—wide stone floors, flowing water, and several pools and basins at different heights. Steam curled from the hot water, and faint floral scents drifted through the air. It was the same for the girls’ bath several meters away.

  “It’s… impressive,” I muttered, glancing around. “Feels like we stepped into a history documentary.”

  Captain Godwin chuckled. “It’s meant to be functional and efficient. Cleansing oneself properly here is considered part of preparation for anything—training, combat, or hero work. The water is changed every two or three days depending on how many times people bathe, and the castle maids always keep it from getting too cold.”

  “After the last chime at night, that’s the only time they stop and let the embers die out,” Captain Aldric added after the girls had returned from checking out their side of the baths. “The way we bathe here is to wash yourself with soap first, rinse, then take a dip in the pools.”

  “Oh, that’s the same as our country,” Taka remarked, much to the astonishment of the two captains.

  Next, they gestured toward another corridor. “The toilets are that way.”

  We followed obediently, not sure what to expect. To our surprise, the design was shockingly familiar, complete with individual stalls and porcelain bowls. It was almost exactly like the ones back home.

  Captain Godwin’s grin widened. “One of the good things previous heroes have brought to our world,” he joked. “Apparently, some practical things travel well.”

  Captain Aldric rolled his eyes but didn’t comment further, instead he continued in a more measured tone. “Though the toilets are flushable, there are still people tasked with collecting the waste at night. It’s considered a duty, part of the maintenance of the castle.”

  Captain Godwin chimed in, jabbing a thumb behind his back. “The castle has twelve large, deep pits for storage. Each pit corresponds to a month for the current cycle.”

  I blinked. “Twelve months? That’s like a year in our world. Wait, so that means, a cycle is equivalent to a year?”

  Trayn tilted his head. “I thought it was like a month. Like a lunar cycle.” More than a few murmured in agreement to what he said.

  Captain Aldric confirmed, “Here we call it a cycle, and yes, it is twelve months.” He gave a small shrug, as if it were obvious. “The system is old, but efficient. Nothing goes to waste, for example, the ashes from heating the bath are used to cover the waste, which helps prevent diseases.

  Captain Godwin added with a smirk, “And yes, despite what some may think, heroes have been responsible for introducing more ‘modern’ conveniences. Flushable toilets, proper bathhouses, small things that make life easier. Small victories, but victories nonetheless.”

  We all laughed quietly. It was strange to think that amidst all the grandeur and danger, the mundane realities of hygiene and waste management were still something we had to learn about. Yet somehow, it made this world feel more real.

  No one talked for a bit as we moved to another drawing room. The silence was broken by Haruto, he tilted his head, frowning slightly. “What about the common citizens? Do they handle it the same way?”

  Captain Aldric exchanged a glance with Captain Godwin before replying. “Same principle, yes, but on a much larger scale. For our kingdom, the waste collection is done house by house per district in rotation. Disposal is done outside the settlements, usually at night.”

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  “Nighttime,” Captain Godwin added, “to prevent accidents, fewer people you see, and ensure that the streets stay clean during the day. But it’s not a small task—there’s usually a contingent of three to four hundred people involved. It’s a combination of collectors and guards. Think of it as a small army dedicated solely to maintaining sanitation.”

  I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Three to four hundred?”

  Trayn whistled. “Damn.”

  Captain Aldric nodded. “Yes. Without them, disease would spread quickly. Even with magic, the sheer volume of people and the city’s size makes it necessary. It’s one of those things that most people don’t think about until something goes wrong.”

  Arthur leaned back slightly, a mix of awe and disbelief on his face. “So even in a world with magic and dungeons, someone’s still gotta deal with poop?”

  Captain Godwin let out a small chuckle. “True. Some battles are never fought with swords or spells. But the mundane ones are just as important.”

  Captain Aldric continued. “After about six months, the accumulated waste isn’t just left sitting. A mage specializing in earth manipulation comes in to churn it—mixing, breaking down, and preparing it for fertilization or other uses.”

  Captain Godwin added, “It’s a common profession, actually. Those who can control earth are highly sought after, and the work pays surprisingly well. Not glamorous, but steady income and highly respected for keeping the lands fertile and the kingdom healthy.”

  Trayn raised an eyebrow. “Wait, people actually get paid to—stir poop—with magic?”

  Captain Aldric let out a low laugh. “Dried poop with earth, but in our world? Yes. Skills like that don’t grow on trees. And without them, the consequences are far worse than handling raw waste for six months.”

  I had to admit that I found it sort of fascinating. Weirdly enough, everyone seemed to think so. Even if the conversation was about poop. Even in a world with heroes, dungeons, and magic, there were practical jobs that kept the world running. The mundane and the magical intertwined in ways we never expected.

  Captain Godwin grinned at our reactions, clearly enjoying himself. “You’ll find that many professions in this world—even ones that sound trivial—have layers of importance. Magic or not, our society can’t function without them. And earth mages in particular?” He lifted a finger. “Have many applications other than sanitation work.”

  Captain Aldric nodded, picking up the thread. “Anyone who can control earth with that level of precision tends to get recruited almost immediately by nobles or city councils. Churning waste is only one application. Earth mages can raise walls, reinforce foundations, shape roads, and even assist in mining.”

  Arthur’s father frowned thoughtfully. “Mining must be easy for them, then. If you can move earth at will.”

  Captain Godwin shook his head. “That’s a common misconception.”

  Captain Aldric crossed his arms. “It would still be hard because a person can only manipulate a given amount of earth a set amount of distance. However, extracting stone is one thing. Finding ore is another. Veins are unpredictable. Even if an earth mage can excavate it quickly, they still need surveyors, prospectors, and a fair amount of luck to locate anything worth pulling out. As well as guards in case they find some monsters within the tunnels.”

  “You can’t use earth mages in tunnels as much as you think. They might collapse the passageways if they move the earth too much. So, you need another kind of mage and guards. And that’s only the beginning,” Captain Godwin added. “Once you have the ore, it still needs to be processed—smelted, refined, shaped. Then comes transportation. Moving tons of metal from a mountain to a city isn’t trivial, magic or not.”

  “So, it’s still hard work,” Arthur muttered.

  “Very,” Captain Aldric agreed. “Magic makes things possible but it doesn’t make them effortless.”

  Captain Godwin glanced back at us with a wry smile. “Welcome to the less glamorous side of our world. Heroes save kingdoms—but it’s professions like these that keep them standing afterward.”

  I found myself oddly comforted by that. Even in a world with heroes and dungeons, there were limits—systems, labor, people whose lives were built on steady effort rather than grand destiny.

  “There are similarities back in our world. I suppose,” I said quietly, the thought settling into place, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

  Both captains glanced at me, then nodded in unison.

  Captain Aldric smiled faintly. “A lesson every world learns sooner or later.”

  We kept talking with the captains, and to their credit, they answered our questions without impatience. So, we asked about their world, about how people lived, how they built things, how they endured. It felt less like a lecture and more like a slow unveiling, each answer peeling back another layer of this place we’ve been dropped into.

  We learned that their months were called months because the word itself was a contraction—two older terms merged together, referring to the way the two moons overlapped in the sky and briefly became one. After that, another month began. It was their calendar, their solar calendar.

  Then came the topic of settlements. There were no places smaller than towns. None.

  Also, every settlement was walled. Every single one had at least an outer wall that was five meters high. Mostly built of stone but larger more important cities add enchantments and other kinds of magic. For others, it was whatever they could afford, but walls were non-negotiable.

  We mentioned that in our world there was no magic, and that our preconceptions came from fantasy novels—where small villages without walls are inevitably attacked. As we spoke, the air seemed to shift.

  The captains’ answers were somewhat cold. Although they said they were sad about the loss of life, they also said those people deserved what happened to them. No hesitation. No apology.

  To them, building an unwalled settlement in a world where dangerous beasts roamed freely wasn’t tragic—it was idiocy. The height of it. To knowingly expose children, elders, and the helpless to monsters was seen not as innocence, but as negligence.

  As they spoke, I realized something unsettling.

  This wasn’t a world that romanticized survival. It didn’t have room for the gentle fantasy of pastoral villages and carefree lives. Safety here wasn’t assumed, it was worked on and engineered, paid for in labor, stone, vigilance, and blood. Walls weren’t symbols of fear. They were symbols of safety and proof of survival.

  Back home, walls were often about exclusion. About keeping others out. Here, they were about keeping everyone alive. And for the first time since arriving, I understood that this world wasn’t just cruel. It was also honest to a fault.

  Our conversation carried on—questions drifting, answers following—until a knock interrupted the flow. Three servants stood by the door.

  I recognized them at once. They’d been present during our measurements earlier, hovering at the edges with careful eyes and stiff posture. Which meant they knew exactly who we were. Or at least, what we were supposed to be.

  They didn’t speak right away.

  Instead, they whispered among themselves, glancing at one another, then at us, then back again. Their unease was so palpable it drew everyone’s attention. Curiosity got the better of Captain Godwin. He rose from his seat and crossed the room toward them.

  After a brief exchange he gasped.

  “You actually let—!?” he exclaimed, cutting himself off mid-sentence, his expression scandalized in a way I hadn’t seen yet.

  Before anyone could ask what was wrong, he wheeled around and marched straight toward my parents.

  “Uhm—Lady Anna,” he said, clearly struggling to keep his voice even. “The servants said that you were made to cook in the kitchens?”

  The moment he said it, Captain Aldric’s head snapped toward the servants, then to my parents. His brows drew together sharply. He looked just as affronted—if not more. My mother, for her part, simply nodded. Calm and unbothered.

  “Made, no. Volunteered, yes,” she corrected. “Since the master of the kitchens was nowhere to be found, I volunteered to make breakfast.”

  “Nowhere to be found?” Captain Aldric echoed, disbelief plain on his face as he looked between my mother and the servants.

  One of the servants finally gathered her courage and stepped forward. “Yes, Knight Captain. Gone by morning. No hide nor hair of him was seen.”

  Captain Aldric pressed two fingers to his temples, massaging slowly, as if physically trying to keep a headache from forming.

  “Alright,” he said carefully. “So, the master of the kitchens is absent. And you allowed Lady Anna to cook.” He paused, then looked directly at the servants again. “Are you telling me he still hasn’t returned?”

  They shook their heads in unison.

  “Uhm Captain, he is not absent,” Shizuku’s mother said and both Captains turned their attention to her. “The servants said that he was gone, even though his belongings were still in his room.”

  The two captains looked at the servants who nodded in unison.

  My mother gave a small, understanding smile—the kind that said she already knew why they were here—and inclined her head graciously.

  “I understand,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

  At that, the tension visibly eased. Our fathers rose as well, along with Shizuku’s mother and Arthur’s teacher. The two captains also went with them to check on the disappearance of the master of the kitchens. As they prepared to leave, my mother turned back, her tone casual but firm.

  “Check on your older brother before lunch, will you,” she said to me. “If you don’t, he’ll sleep straight through until dusk.”

  Somehow, in a castle full of kings, knights, and heroes, that felt like the most absolute command issued all day.