-Arc 1-

  Chapter 6

  “The Lifeblood of the Manor”

  *?*?*?*

  Eris's first day as a maid of Count Schwartzhardt's manor drew to a close, and soon, her first day became her second. The second, the third, and so on.

  It wasn't that she was counting the days like a prisoner, but with such a limited period of existence, keeping track of only four days was effortless, nearing instinctual.

  Indeed, it was her fourth day. However, things had not progressed much. She hadn't gotten to have a serious conversation with Seraphine again to hopefully rekindle a new friendship. She hadn't spoken to Caelia, and she stuck to Aqua’s or Petra’s side most of the time.

  Aqua: “Maybe you should work with someone else today? It’s nice havin’ you around n’ all, but I think it’d be best for ya ‘f ya branched out a bit.”

  Eris: “Ah, sorry… was I bothering you, following you around?”

  Aqua immediately cleared that proposition with a wave of her gentle hands.

  Aqua: “Nah, nah! It’s nothin’ like that. Not like that at all. I wuz jus’ thinkin’ that you should try sum new thangs, nah?”

  Eris: “I get it. I should try to work with someone else today?”

  Aqua: “O’ course, ‘m not forcin’ ya or anythang. If ya want, ya can always work with me or Petra o’ course. I jus’ thought it’d be nice for ya.”

  Aqua’s quality of overwhelmingly convincing philosophies had the tendency to seep under Eris’s skin. Eris didn't like to compare them, but she felt Aqua was a bit more trustworthy than Petra, who would often offer lip service instead of her real opinion.

  Of course, Eris would only trust Aqua’s regards if they were not focused on Eris’s identity. She felt that Aqua, like the rest, was in a state of mourning. She wasn't thinking straight when she said those things to Eris in the bathhouse. If she was, she would not have said them.

  Aqua had the right— the obligation— to be upset with Eris.

  If she was not, Eris hated to say it, but Aqua was incorrect.

  Each thought she considered about Aqua in this manner; that she was foolish or incorrect regarding Eris and ‘Eris,’ she tried to flush out. To think like that about a friend was reprehensible at best.

  Petra: “If you don't want to, it’s fine, but Aíma usually works alone. She’s very skilled, so maybe she could teach you something or two?”

  Eris: “Aíma…”

  The short demon with a hair in a black bun and crimson eyes similar to Eris. She was an adorable girl who, in Eris's limited interactions with her, seemed somewhat detached and unfamiliar with speaking as a whole.

  Different in her unfamiliarity than Mirra, who was apprehensive to speak at all however kind all the same, Aíma appeared scarcely interested in conversation in the first place.

  Even with those qualities aside, Aíma held a far more defining trait. That was her unsettling aura. Perhaps it was due to her demon race, however, Mirra did not carry the same unease as her small companion.

  Another theory was that ‘Eris’ had some sort of horrible relationship with Aíma before being erased by Eris. It was possible, however, not only could she not imagine ‘Eris’ hating or being hated by anyone, she also found it unlikely on the basis that ‘Eris’ and Eris were completely removed on every feature except for their shared flesh body.

  Nothing other than the body had been exchanged over from the swap, so instinctual hatred should not have been exchanged either.

  Aqua: “That's not a bad idea. Aíma’s a bit quiet but, I'm sure ya c’n help each other somehow.”

  So, Eris parted ways with her blue and green companions, and made her way to the west wing, where Aíma supposedly lurked.

  —*—

  Eris’s déjà vu spiked as she searched the halls. Though it was a different wing than when she searched for Caelia, it was a similar principle. Checking every door she saw, peaking in, and searching for a black and white uniform amongst the furniture.

  Her efforts were assisted this time by the fact that she was more accustomed to the manor after four days, that she knew who she was looking for, and that the west wing had significantly fewer doors. The east wing, which was mostly guest rooms, must have had nearly a thousand rooms considering every floor.

  The west’s rooms, while still plentiful, were more dispersed and larger. Oftentimes, they were more significant rooms as well, such as the dining hall and library.

  On the topic of the library, she opened the massive wooden door into the room. The smell of aging paper and wood permeated through her nose. The rain pattering against the glass dome was distorted into a strange, almost musical noise.

  Eris: “Aíma?”

  Immediately after calling out that name, she heard a distant clatter from inside the library. Originating from somewhere on the second level, which wrapped around the high walls.

  Navigating her way through the maze of bookshelves, reading chairs, and desks, Eris ascended the steep wooden steps to the source of the noise.

  She found a toppled ladder twice the height of her, and a black-haired maid sitting next to it, holding her head. A black book spread open on the floor next to her.

  Eris: “Aíma? Are you alright? What happened?”

  Eris floated to the maid’s side, immediately feeling her blood run cold. She ignored the chilly feeling inside of her. Whatever was the cause of it, it was not her business. Nor did it need to interfere with assisting Aíma who had fallen from the ladder.

  Aíma: “I’m alright. I just didn't expect anyone to disturb me.”

  Eris: “Disturb you? Oh— um. Well, I’m sorry to disturb you!”

  Aíma: “If you’re sorry, then I guess I don't mind.”

  Eris’s face would have gone red, if the fluid in them hadn’t drained at the sight of the demon. The lingering sense of dread which clung to every fiber of Aíma’s being made it difficult to reach out and help her up. However, Eris disregarded her instinctual apprehension, and like sticking her hand into fire, she placed her hands on the demon’s small shoulders and helped her to her feat.

  Aíma: “Oooh.”

  Eris: “Oooh?”

  Aíma: “I hit something on the way down.”

  As she said so, her hand caressed her tailbone delicately, wincing as she did so.

  Eris: “Once again, I’m really sorry about that.”

  Aíma: “I said it’s fine, so it’s fine.”

  Many of Aíma’s words could have been considered rude or sarcastic. However, her tone did not betray any such intentions, and instead could only be interpreted as her direct state of mind.

  Nor did her face, which even through her wincing remained stagnant, like frozen in ice.

  Aíma wordlessly gripped the ladder, and began to yank on it in an attempt to pull it up.

  Aíma: “Heh. Heh.”

  She grunted with each attempt. A rhythmic series of pulls, in which she dedicated her entire strength to lifting the ladder.

  Eris, beginning to understand the atmosphere and depreciation of words, took her hands to the side of the ladder opposite of Aíma, and effortlessly pulled the heavy contraption to its original position.

  Eris: “So, you’re cleaning the books? Organizing them… or something?”

  Aíma: “Yes.”

  Her response was immediate and left no room for interpretation.

  Eris: “Would you like some help? I can do the other bookshelf… or maybe I should do the ones up there?”

  Aíma: “I already finished.”

  Eris: “This early?”

  Aíma ascended the ladder with the book she had dropped in hand. Eris wanted to tell her to ‘be careful!’ and hold the ladder steady, but the demon maid had already made her way to the top and inserted the black book into its place. Amongst the sea of colorfully bound covers, the black one stuck out on the shelf.

  Eris: “What were you reading?”

  Desperate for any way to continue the conversation, which Aíma continued to bluntly subdue, Eris posed that question while craning her neck at the descending Aíma. As she ascended the latter, the ice in her veins thawed, and as she descended lower, they refroze.

  Aíma: “I was just cleaning.”

  Eris: “Oh… okay.”

  Aíma fixed her skirt, which compared to the uniform dresses of the other girls, was longer. Hers draped past the knee to her shins. For modesty or other reasons, Eris did not know.

  Aíma: “Eris, why does your heart race like so in my presence?”

  Eris: “Mh?!”

  Eris stifled her startled reaction.

  Aíma: “If I should take it as a confession of your love, I would prefer to hear it from your own mouth.”

  Eris: “It’s— what…? It’s nothing like that, I swear!”

  She waved Aíma’s absurd assumption away.

  Eris: “I guess you just startled me is all…”

  Aíma: “—Okay.”

  Even Eris knew that that answer was not convincing or sufficient. After all, she was the one to startle Aíma, not vice versa. However, not that she wanted to lie, but it would be terribly rude to say the truth; “In all honesty, your very existence causes fear.” So she kept it to herself.

  More importantly than her own answer, the method in which Aíma detected Eris’s racing heart was much more concerning. That only caused her heart to race more. She clutched her chest, kneading the fabric of her blouse.

  Upon receiving her answer, the black haired maid appeared to forget that Eris existed, and simply stepped past her to the staircase.

  Eris: “You’re leaving? I guess you did say you were… done.”

  Indeed, the library was almost immaculate. At close inspection, not even a spec of dust clung to any surface.

  Aíma: “I have other things to do, so I must leave to do them.”

  Eris: “I see..?”

  Eris, bewildered by the small maid’s indifferent attitude, obeyed her legs’ command which compelled her to follow the demon.

  Eris: “Well, if you don't mind, I would…”

  Aíma: “—?”

  Eris: “Like too… well… help, I guess?”

  Aíma: “You guess?”

  Aíma did not stop walking, or even turn her head to acknowledge Eris who pestered her from behind. Her voice betrayed no emotion, positive or negative, and her stride was completely straight and elegant.

  Eris: “I would definitely like to help you.”

  Aíma: “If you put it like that, it would be disrespectful of me to deny you. Since you’re so vehement, I have no choice.”

  Eris: “Not that I’m trying to force you. I just thought—”

  Aíma: “I’m accepting your help.”

  Eris: “Right… Thanks.”

  Aíma: “If you are offering to assist me, then I should be the one to say ‘thank you,’ and you to say ‘you’re welcome.’”

  Eris: “You’re welcome?”

  Saying words like “you’re welcome” and receiving those like “thank you” were rare for Eris. In fact, she couldn't recall the last time that either of them had been said in this context.

  This context, however, would be hard to replicate. Aíma was an enigmatic person. Or, demon? She wasn't sure if it was rude to consider a demon a person or not.

  Either way, she was different from the others.

  The other girls had tricks to them, Eris

  found.

  She could placate Seraphine by avoiding the topic of ‘Eris’ or anything pertaining to memories or nostalgia.

  With Caelia, avoiding her was the best option. During her ‘interrogation,’ she had attempted and somewhat succeeded in being honest and appearing as the smallest threat possible. This was not a sound or future-proof strategy, but Caelia elicited more fear from Eris than Aíma did.

  Petra was very kind to her, so Eris did not have any struggles interacting with her. However, she still avoided the topic of ‘Eris’ and amnesia much as possible.

  She hadn't interacted with Mirra much except in passing.

  Aqua was the strangest because she did not have a particular strategy to ‘deal with’ her. In fact, Eris felt like she did not have to employ any strategy. Out of all the girls, Aqua was the one she felt she could be honest with.

  There was Carlos as well, but she had not formulated a strategy with him. He was unpredictable in her experiences, and she could not decipher him. She pondered their interaction in his office for many hours since then, and still, she could not make heads nor tails of it.

  Either way, with the exception of Carlos, she felt remorse. Each of them had their reasons to act the way they did to Eris, and putting up fronts as she did would not help them overcome their grief.

  Would it even be right for Eris to be the one to help them mourn? It would almost be insulting if she did, would it not?

  Eris: “So, um… Aíma. Where are we going?”

  They had been walking for some time through the wide halls of the west wing, passing multiple doors yet stopping at none of them except the storage closet, where Eris was made to carry basic cleaning supplies.

  Eris was taken to a part of the manor where she had scarcely been, in the far western edge. It was a rather unused part of the manor, which were decorated with Carlos’s least favorite paintings, since they were rarely seen anyway.

  Indeed, they were quite ugly paintings. Odd faces of odd people, and dull landscapes of uninteresting terrain. Eris wondered why talented painters would use their time and energy to make such mundane or awful artwork. It was not kind to call artwork awful, but she believed it was acceptable here.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Immediately upon asking that question to the small demon, however, Aíma stopped at a door at the end of the hallway.

  Aíma: “Here.”

  She opened the door, and doing so, a loud crash shook the hallway.

  “——”

  Dust rolling off like mushroom clouds, a shelf which had been propped against the door before it had been opened was now lying on the scarlet carpet.

  Eris: “What is ‘here?’”

  Aíma stretched her short legs and skipped over the dusty shelf into the dark room. Disappearing into the darkness, the goosebumps on Eris’s skin slowly relaxed, and her blood began to run warmly again.

  The curtains in the dark room were suddenly drawn, basking it in a dull gray light. The silhouette of Aíma, standing amongst the scattered clutter and dust, was backlit by the monochrome light. Rain pattered on the windows, streaking down it like transparent blood.

  Aíma’s illuminated form drew shivers down Eris's spine and shoulders.

  —*—

  Aíma: “It was an old smoking room, but it hasn't been in use since before I arrived.”

  It was evident that it had been abandoned for that long. Dust clung to every surface, and old furniture and scattered junk was strewn about.

  Eris: “So, I’m assuming master Carlos just wants us to clean it up? It’s hard to imagine that he’d want a room in such a state like this in his home.”

  Aíma shook her petite head, horns slicing through the dusty air.

  Aíma: “That is incorrect. He told me to empty the whole room for storage. He is going to put an alchemy lab in here.”

  Eris: “An alchemy lab..?”

  The word ‘alchemy’ was vaguely familiar, but the definition was not even remotely familiar.

  “——”

  Eris: “More importantly, he wants us to empty out the entire room? Isn't that going to be a big chore?”

  Aíma: “Yes.”

  Eris: “Eh…”

  Aíma’s cold replies and monotone voice did little to sooth her apprehension of beginning such a monumental task. Nor did they assist in fending off the impending sensation of inescapable dread which oozed from Aíma’s very existence.

  Though her face, size and voice itself were adorable, almost childlike, though a bit older than what could be considered even the late stages of being a “child,” Aíma presented herself as extremely mature and dutiful. Undaunted by the task ahead, and seemingly ignorant of the effort it will demand.

  As Eris was contemplating the demon maid in front of her, the aforementioned maid had already begun her work.

  Callously rolling up her sleeves, she began pushing an old, dusty couch across the room to the doorway. Grunting as she did so, Eris was still only half conscious from her thoughts.

  Aíma had already pushed the couch half way by the time Eris had realized her inaction.

  Aíma: “Aren't you very strong?”

  Eris: “Not that I have much to compare ‘strong’ too, but from what I’ve gathered, that is one of my redeeming qualities.”

  Understanding the nuance behind Aíma’s question, Eris took over the pushing. Realizing that pushing and dragging it would only create extra work via friction, Eris simply picked it up and carried it out into the hall instead.

  Aíma: “It would be helpful if Caelia was here, as there is a lot of dusting that needs to be done.”

  Eris: “Ah! Eh— I think it would be…”

  Aíma: “Hm?”

  Eris: “I think it’s fine if it’s just us that do it.”

  Aíma: “I agree. I prefer to work alone, which is why I improved my dusting skills.”

  Eris looked down at herself, who was accompanying the solitary Aíma. It was obvious that she was disturbing Aíma in some way hearing that statement, regardless of the completely flat way she put it.

  Regardless of that, Eris thought of her statement. If she too prefered to not bring Caelia into this, then why was she brought up in the first place?

  With the single couch now moved, the two maids began to work in tandem. Of course, Eris was constantly plagued by the unease which permeated from Aíma. Most of the furniture that was not bolted to the floor was extracted from the dusty room, organized into the hallway where Eris would carry them to storage later.

  Eris gazed upon the empty room, which was still only illuminated by the cloudy sky. Rain still pattered the windows aggressively, and dust lingered in the air, which brought scarring memories of a storage closet back to her.

  Eris’s memories of her first day were interrupted by a wooden rod in her face.

  The rod was being presented by a short demon maid, who outstretched her arm to give it to her. Immediately noticing her, Eris’s body ran cold, her hairs sticking up. However, she was growing used to the sense of danger which Aíma carried, and was able to stifle it. She followed the rod down with her eyes, and of course, realizing it was not merely a rod, but a mop.

  The wrist which held the mop, Aíma’s wrist, was blemished by countless white lines across it. Clean, straight lines, as if surgery had been performed on her veins in that very spot repeatedly.

  Surgery, allowing the skin to heal, then performing another incision.

  Eris: “Aíma?”

  Aíma: “We have to clean the floors. It’s best if we don't dally on a task like this. There is still much to do in the room.”

  Eris: “Right, sorry.”

  Eris took the mop from Aíma tentatively, as if it may perform the same repeated surgery on Eris as what Aíma had suffered. She faced no such repercussions, other than her skin which prickled in a sense of danger.

  Eris had become accustomed to mopping in her days working at the manor. Since her first time mopping, with Aqua, she had performed the act at least once, but often more than so, each day.

  She had not become a professional, but at least a practitioner, rather than an apprentice.

  Not only had she grown to be accustomed to mopping, but also with the philosophy of working with her hands.

  Indeed, she had no magic as an alternative to her hands, but to Eris, hard work every day was one of her limited options to build her dreadful character. It could not make up for murder and the following sorrow that it gave birth too, however, her hard work could lessen the workload of others.

  Among that, it also helped her focus on her hands, and not her thoughts, which often drove her to nausea, such as they were now.

  Eris began to mop, and trying to remain focused on her own work, was able to get half of her side of the room mopped in around a minute.

  Taking a break for a moment, she noticed Aíma invading ‘her’ side with her mop. Raising her head to inquire about the intrusion, she noticed the gray tiles on Aíma's side were sparkling. Not only clean, but immaculate. She would feel immensely guilty for wearing even slippers over that floor, and now the same treatment was being applied to Eris’s side before she could say anything reckless like; “actually, I'd prefer to do it myself.”

  As Eris watched the small demon, the room seemed to mop itself. In an instant, the entirety of the floor had been washed, aside from the spot around Eris’s feet.

  As if the floor was lava, Eris feared to move from her spot. If she did so, she would surely track grime over the immaculate cleaning.

  A jab at the side of her shoe snapped her out of it.

  Aíma: “Eris, move.”

  Eris: “Oh, sorry.”

  The room was now completely empty of furniture. Even the curtains and paintings had been removed. The former lounge no longer smelling like must and dust, the sterile scent of cleaning solution permeated the nose.

  It still had a dead feeling, but that could easily be attributed to the rainy lighting or the aura of despair which Aíma distributed.

  The last step was Eris’s job— taking the old furniture to storage.

  As she wrapped her hands under a sofa, piled on with other smaller items for convenience in a delicate balance, a small voice which she had grown accustomed to— yet no less chilled by, interrupted her.

  Aíma: “Thank you. You helped a lot.”

  Eris: “Eh? I did? I’m pretty sure you did everything…”

  Glancing back into the immaculate room, the current state of it could be attributed to Aíma.

  Aíma: “I did most of it, but there were parts I could not do.”

  Eris tilted her head. She was not foolish or self-depreciating enough to not know what she was talking about. Of course, the furniture lifting.

  Eris: “But—”

  She did not feel great about her only useful quality being that of brawn.

  Aíma: “You made this work much more efficient. It is easier working with someone else sometimes, I guess.”

  Eris: “You guess…”

  The same words that Aíma had ridiculed Eris for using, she now used herself.

  Aíma: “I said thank you.”

  Eris: “Oh, um… you're welcome.”

  This was the second time Aíma had thanked her, and the second time Eris had been forced to welcome it.

  —*—

  It took quite some time, but eventually all of the furniture had been moved to storage. It took time, not due to the weight or labor of the task, but rather the distance between the pile and her destination. Eris also took longer than she probably needed to, as she was being extra careful not to bang anything against any walls or knock anything over.

  After completing her task, she returned to the room which she had cleaned out with Aíma.

  Eris: “Aíma?”

  She called into the empty room, only receiving a reply with the echo of her own voice.

  The room was empty, and the halls showed no sign of the terrifying yet adorable demon.

  Eris: “Perhaps she returned to the library?”

  Retracing her steps that she followed Aíma through, she made her way to the library. She had never entered through this angle of the library, so the view was quite foreign, though it was the same room.

  Eris: “Aíma?”

  Again, no voice replied but her own.

  She did not kill the idea that Aíma could still be here, though. She could easily picture Aíma simply ignoring her, her voice being too quiet to hear, or her simply being too engrossed in a book or work to notice.

  Again Eris called out her name as she ascended the stairs.

  Peaking into every hall of shelves, there was no sense of dread or sight of horns.

  The ladder which they had fixed together after Aíma fell from it was in the exact spot it was when they left.

  Eris: “She’s not here either…”

  She muttered to herself, getting a good look at the library from the second floor railing. Rain continued its musical attack on the glass dome above, the muffled notes reverberating throughout the hall of books.

  Eris craned her neck up at the massive bookshelf which Aíma had been reading from. The black book amongst colorful covers was perfectly aligned, yet still stuck out due to its color.

  She gripped each side of the ladder, slowly ascending it with cautious steps, until she reached the highest step. She slid her finger along the spines of the books, until she was pointing at the black one.

  Crimson letters were stitched into the spine.

  “Daemonologie Volume II; Seals and Curses.”

  Eris: “Daemonologie… if she is a demon, shouldn’t she already know everything there is to know about demons?”

  As she flipped the book to it’s cover, she took back her statement.

  Eris: “Actually, no…”

  Even as a human, Eris did not know everything there is to know about humans. Though that could be attributed to her amnesia, it was unlikely she would know even with a full memory.

  Of course, there was the possibility that Aíma really was ‘just cleaning.’ This was the most desirable outcome. Not due to the book itself, but rather Eris did not want to assume Aíma lied to her without a basis for that assumption.

  ???: “Ahhh, dear Eris! Catching up on a bit of reading, are you?”

  Eris: “Ah? Eh!”

  Startled by a sudden voice, Eris lost her footing and nearly tumbled down the ladder like Aíma did. She slid down a step, but was able to catch herself. Indeed, she was in almost exactly the same circumstances as Aíma hours before.

  ???: “Careful now, dear Eris! I apologize for startling you, uhaha!”

  Of course, that voice was owned by the Count and her employer, Carlos.

  Eris: “Sorry, master Carlos. I didn't hear you come in.”

  Carlos: “Ohoho, no worries, dear.”

  Eris slid the book back into place and descended the ladder. This time, purposely.

  Upon disembarking from the ladder, Eris lowered herself in to a bow.

  Eris: “Is there anything I can assist you with, master Carlos?”

  Carlos cocked back a grin, crossing his slender arms.

  Carlos: “Oh, dear Eris. I’m not such a greedy man as to only approach his servants when I require something.”

  Eris: “...Heh?”

  She uttered that quietly, so that the man in front of her did not hear.

  She had hardly spoken with her employer since that conversation about her first day, yet still it haunted her. Not out of dread, but confusion. She could not understand Carlos, no matter how she looked at it.

  Carlos cleared his throat with an ‘ahem,’ before continuing.

  Carlos: “As you may recall, among other things, we spoke about how I wished to become closer with my maids on your first day?”

  Eris: “Yes, master Carlos, I remember.”

  That was the main source of her confusion, after all.

  Carlos: “Well, this is me trying to do that! I’m taking it in my own hands to spark conversation, are you proud of me?”

  Eris: “Erm… Uh, yes, master Carlos. I’m… very proud.”

  Bewildered, her brain went on autopilot to respond.

  Carlos: “Splendid! Thank you dear.”

  “——”

  Carlos: “I appreciate you and Aíma cleaning out that old smoking room. I had no idea what to do with it, so I decided to put all of my alchemy stuff in there! I didn't have a place for it until now.”

  Eris responded with another bow.

  Eris: “Of course, master Carlos. I was really just following Aíma around and that's what we ended up doing…”

  Carlos: “Yes, Aíma… she is quite the woman, isn’t she?”

  Eris: “She’s very interesting. To be honest, I kind of feel overwhelmed around her. She outpaces me in all the work.”

  Carlos: “Uhaha! Yes, Aíma loves to be ahead of the curve when it comes to her duties. Without her, the manor would not be in the state it is now! She truly is the lifeblood of the manor.”

  The Maids of

  Count Schwartzhardt's Manor

  Carlos: “Listen, my dear Eris. Would you be willing to do me a favor?”

  Carlos made that request, even though he claimed he did not need any assistance.

  Carlos: “Before I say it, I want to preface this by saying that I am not asking this between master and servant, but rather between people with mutual interest.”

  Eris: “Mutual interest?”

  Carlos: “You may not know it yet, Eris, but we are very similar.”

  Eris didn't see any similarities between them. Not only were they completely different in personality, but their way of looking at things was different as well.

  But Eris could not pretend to understand their similarities, either. After all, Carlos was entirely nebulous to her still.

  Eris: “I understand… What are you asking of me?”

  She did not understand, but regardless, she was curious, if not a bit confused.

  Carlos uncrossed his arms, clasping them behind his back.

  Carlos: “As I’ve said, I don't know much about my servants. Now, I’ve taken your advice and I am working on that… however…”

  Eris: “——”

  Carlos: “Ahh, regardless of that… Eris, dear, would you be willing to keep an eye on your co-workers?”

  Eris’s lips twitched at that request, and immediately her limbs felt like the muscles were scooped out of them.

  Carlos: “The truth is, I’m quite worried about them. So, anything you notice would be adequate. Of course, I’m not demanding this out of you. Again, it is a request between two mutual benefactors.”

  Eris: “Keep… and eye on them? Can you elaborate?”

  Eris was processing slowly, and she was still contemplating his first sentence.

  Carlos: “Uhaha, yes, yes… I understand the vagueness of my request. I am simply asking for the favor of you to pay extra attention to your comrades, and recount your observations to me occasionally. Of course, if you do decide to help me, I shall reward you.”

  Eris’s heart pounded against her chest. Was this the moment that Caelia had warned her about? That she had pinned her against the wall and demanded that she answer for?

  Eris: “I…”

  Carlos: “I understand it is a strange favor to ask, so if you don't want to help, I understand. No hard feelings, uhaha~! Of course, I’m doing it out of benevolence and curiosity. But it's up to you, dear Eris.”

  Eris: “——”

  She did not know who to trust here. Of course, Carlos’s request was strange at best and disturbing at the most exaggerated extreme.

  However, Caelia had caused scarring in Eris’s limited memory. The fear which flowed through her upon reminiscing on their moment in the dusty storage room sucked breath from her chest. The fear in the moment was able to be stifled, and only after parting with her did the fear reach Eris.

  She knew that it was not just between him and Caelia, though.

  Aqua, Petra, Seraphine, Aíma, and Mirra were factors as well.

  She felt it would not be right to keep secret tabs on them. Not only a breach of privacy, but one more betrayal added to her list of sins.

  Eris: “Master Carlos, may I… think about it, for a bit?”

  Carlos: “Of course, Eris… Take all the time you need. Come to me when you’ve reached a decision.”

  Carlos leaned in as he spoke his final sentence.

  Carlos: “Remember that I never forget favors, Eris!”