Allen turned his head toward the door.
At this hour?
Who could it be?
The moment the thought came to mind, an image flashed in his head—
A white-haired girl with reddish-brown eyes.
He blinked, quickly stood up, and in a few steps reached the door.
His hand paused on the doorknob for a moment.
Then, with one pull, he opened it.
What met his eyes was—
A white dress.
It was a daring piece: sleeveless with thin straps, loose-fitting, and cut so low it plunged straight to the cleavage, pale skin faintly visible beneath.
The midriff was left bare by a cut-out design, the soft skin of her stomach exposed to the air.
The hemline was even bolder, almost reaching the tops of her thighs, as if one small movement would reveal the bunny tail beneath.
Allen raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.
He looked up at her face.
Arifa's cheeks were flushed, her two rabbit ears drooping along her face. Hands hidden behind her back, she lowered her head, though her red eyes lifted to meet Allen's.
"…Tonight, Allen-sama's formal attire looked very… captivating. If Allen-sama likes long ears… I think I could—"
"You cannot." The rejection came instantly.
Hearing that, Arifa's bunny lips trembled, and she could no longer hold her composure.
With a perfect 90° maid's bow, she blurted, "This was all Lil's idea! Not mine!"
As she spoke, she suddenly produced a pitch-black suit from behind her back and thrust it toward Allen.
"Please, you must wear this tonight! I truly adore how you look in formalwear—it's impossible to look away!"
It wasn't the double-breasted suit Hilda had prepared for the evening, crafted from fine material.
Instead, it was an ordinary evening suit, one Allen could tell at a glance was the work of Alfons.
He looked blankly from the suit to Arifa's face.
"This too was Lil's idea?"
Arifa blinked at him. "This one's my idea."
Allen stared at her without expression.
She fidgeted and then, after a small pause, spoke again.
"Ah… well, fine. If you don't want to wear it, that's okay… But could you maybe use it as a whip to hit me with? Then I could kneel on the floor?"
Allen was dumbfounded.
He stared at the suit in her arms.
Wasn't a suit meant to be worn?
What???
Arifa followed his gaze and realized he was looking at her chest, clad only in a "combat nightgown."
Her ears drooped further along her cheeks.
She looked shy.
Very shy.
And she spoke softly.
"…I'll take it off, but could Allen-sama help me? I could kneel on the floor…"
"The floor is cold."
"The suit has so many buttons—it'll hurt when you hit me."
"You could pull my rabbit ears."
"And then roughly tear off my nightgown."
"You could use some battle aura—you control it so well. Just don't make me pass out."
"No, even passing out is fine… just wake me up after."
"Please."
Allen froze.
He stared at Arifa, utterly unprepared for this turn of events.
This supposedly "quiet and demure" beastfolk maid was actually this… wild.
It took him a long moment to process it, memories of the decadent habits of Asura's nobility flashing through his mind.
Back in the capital, though he'd spent most of his time at the dojo, the one time he'd been exposed to such atmosphere was when he hid in a brothel to evade North Second—but even then, he'd only heard things, not seen them.
Still, he'd overheard plenty from young masters at the dojo, before Isolte's gentle but intimidating gaze would drive them away.
So, yes—he was desensitized to Asura's decadent ways.
But after years of relative peace, apart from Paul's nighttime antics, he'd encountered nothing like this.
(And no, Paul's bed creaking didn't count as decadence—believe it or not, Paul's style was actually plain compared to Asuran nobles.)
Yet here it was again, far from Asura, in Roa.
Fortunately, back in the capital, he'd developed a foolproof way of dealing with such advances.
So now—
Allen rubbed his face, glanced at the expectant Arifa clearly waiting for him to drag her inside, and—
Lowered his gaze.
Then—
Raised it again.
Killing intent burst forth, crashing over the bunny-eared maid like a tide!
This was Allen's go-to method for fending off unwanted advances—and for practicing the control of his killing intent.
Sure enough, Arifa let out a small cry as if startled, stumbling in place.
Allen gave a slight nod and withdrew his killing intent.
But then he froze.
Arifa's knees were knocking—not in fear, but trembling like a leaf. Her bare toes curled, and she looked… not scared at all.
He blinked in shock as she gripped her knees, trembling for a long moment before finally straightening—only to stagger again.
Then, as if realizing something, she looked at Allen in a panic, bowed quickly, and blurted, "Th-thank you! I-I'll stop here for today! I-I can't handle more! Next time! I'll bother you next time!"
And with that, she clamped her legs together and stumbled away.
Allen stood there, utterly at a loss.
What was that?
Sauros… you really are something else.
He scrubbed his face hard, the image of Asuran noble pastimes becoming all too vivid.
Absurd.
After a long pause, he turned toward his room—
And stopped.
He tilted his head, gaze calm but with a faint trace of expectation.
One.
Two.
Three.
At the third silent count, faint footsteps came from the crack of the door next to his—Sylphy's room.
The door opened a sliver, and a white-haired girl peeked out—only to freeze.
Her eyes went down to Allen's feet, then slowly up to meet his gaze.
They locked eyes.
Bang! The door slammed shut.
Clearly flustered!
Allen looked at the closed door and smiled silently.
"Good night."
His quiet words drifted in the hall, unanswered.
Until—after a long while—came a mosquito-like voice from under the door.
"G-good night…"
Pause.
Then, as if worried he hadn't heard—
"G-GOOD NIGHT!"
The emphasis was there, though her tone remained soft.
Allen smiled at the closed door.
"I heard you."
"…Mm."
"Thank you."
"…Hm?"
"I've seen all your efforts, Sylphy. These past times, I know what you've been trying to do.
"Not succeeding doesn't mean you didn't try. I'm grateful, so don't be discouraged.
"All right?"
From under the door came a flurry of sounds—like she was scratching her head or covering her face.
After a long silence, her voice drifted out again, crawling into Allen's ears.
"…Mm, okay."
"Then, see you tomorrow."
"S-see you tomorrow."
This time, her voice trembled slightly—but it was clearly happier.
Allen turned and shut his door, standing silently in the hallway.
Only five minutes later did he hear Sylphy get up and hurry back into her room.
Then—thump!—something heavy dove into the thick feather duvet made from winter Boreas magic-bird down.
She rolled around in it.
A smile spread across Allen's face.
He glanced once more at Sylphy's closed door.
'Good night.'
Then he turned, entered his room, and shut the door—his own steps now lighter.
(End of Chapter)
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