A few days later
Inside Saya's head.
---
"Alright! Emergency session on the topic of What the Heck Is Going On With Us is now called to order!"
Saya announced solemnly, sporting a judge's wig and a monocle, waving a gavel with authority.
"The floor goes to the Chancellor of Sanity—Ms. Saya!"
She nodded gravely to herself in a suit.
"Thank you, Honorable Chairwoman Saya! Over the past few days, the commission has uncovered several troubling facts."
Saya, now in a business suit, stood and spread out some papers.
"First off: we're not dreaming! This is a full-on isekai. Just like in all those disaster survival manuals."
She declared, pushing up a pair of glasses.
"But there was no truck! And not a single summoning circle in sight!"
Saya in a kimono flared her fan, visibly agitated.
"True, but if you wake up on hay, wearing a raggedy maid outfit, and brooms are flying around the house… If this isn't an isekai, then we're in for a really fun diagnosis."
Judge-Saya nodded wisely.
"Second: this body doesn't have a single isekai bonus. No magic, no system, not even a cheat skill to peek at people's stats!"
Saya in a suit coughed, looking a little dejected.
"Worse still, we didn't even get the previous owner's memories. All we have is basic language skills and the right to complain out loud."
Saya sighed dramatically, surrounded by a mountain of books.
"We can't read or write. But hey, at least we're world-class at… talking to ourselves!"
Saya in glasses glared at the ceiling in exasperation.
"Third: in terms of status, we and Evelyn are basically at the bottom rung of the social ladder. No privileges, no special treatment. It's adulthood—just without the paycheck."
Saya in a monk's robe stretched her arms with saintly resignation.
"And this body? Mira's physique can't compare to ours! Walk a hundred meters and it feels like I ran a marathon with a concrete slab on my back!"
Saya in military gear protested indignantly.
"Fourth: we have absolutely no idea where we are. No map, no Google, not even a voice assistant."
All the inner Sayas nodded in somber agreement.
"Right now, our only lifeline is sticking close to Evelyn and her last shreds of sanity."
Judge-Saya concluded grimly.
"My urgent recommendation: gather as much intel as humanly possible about this world. The more we know, the better our odds of not dying in some ridiculous way."
Saya in glasses added businesslike, ready for some investigative work.
"Let's just hope this isn't the kind of story with a bad ending…"
Saya in a kimono nervously gnawed her (virtual) nail.
"With that, this meeting is adjourned!"
Judge-Saya banged her gavel with such gusto she nearly broke a cup.
---
I took a deep breath, returning from my mental courtroom to harsh reality.
Which, for the record, was this: I was a bastard's personal maid, standing with a rag in hand, scrubbing century-old windows in an ancient annex.
The windows looked out on a gorgeous view… of the main estate building—huge, bright, sun-drenched, like something from another life.
I wouldn't be allowed in there without an invitation. Or, you know, an apocalypse.
With those philosophical musings, I wrung out my rag so hard not a drop was left, anger and gloom flashing on the glass like lightning.
Oh, mighty isekai, why do my adventures start with window-washing and not a triumphant ball?
Once I'd finished the last window, I sighed heavily, wallowed in self-pity for a bit, and moved on—trying to save this old annex from entropy and my own invisibility.
After all, this was my new reality now. Might as well try to enjoy it.
And since magic was everywhere here, exploring the place felt like getting to know new household appliances—except instead of microwaves and coffee makers, there were living tools and enchanted gadgets.
I wonder if there's a spell for soda? Or at least a spell for coffee?
Walking down the hallway, I slowed down, unable to tear my gaze away from the local magic wonders. Here, servants handled living tools so nonchalantly, like it was just another Tuesday.
One lazy servant waved a hand and the broom, with an air of independence, zoomed up to sweep dust off the top of a wardrobe.
Convenient. No stepladder needed—endorsed by slackers across the multiverse.
Elsewhere, a maid snapped her fingers and a little whisk-broom herded crumbs and dirt into a bag, like a magical Roomba on steroids.
And a little further along, I saw a mop and bucket twirling together across the floor in a synchronized dance, creaking and whistling as they went. Just point at a dirty spot—and this magical duo got right to work.
Cleaning bot. But with personality. And a sense of dignity.
As I wandered, marveling at these magical housewares, I was suddenly called out.
"Mira, are you done already?"
A familiar gentle voice.
It was Elaine, bucket in one hand, the infamous mop in the other.
Please let that just be a regular mop… please…
"Oh, yeah, I finished up. Decided to have a look around… and, you know, take a little break."
I mumbled, trying to look busy, but really just stalling for five more minutes of not working.
Elaine, sensing something fishy, eyed me like a boss catching an employee goofing off.
I tried to look away, but that's when I noticed something off.
Was it just me, or was that mop… staring at me?
If it had eyes, I'd be walking around with a hole burned in my forehead by now. I've seen less intense looks from humans.
Suddenly, the mop in Elaine's hand started twitching and wriggling, like it was having a full-on tantrum.
"Twelfth! Not again! Calm down!"
Elaine shouted, barely holding onto the tool as it lunged toward me with obvious hostile intent.
"You know, you really should keep that mop on a short leash,"
I muttered, ducking behind the corner.
Not sure what it is, but it feels like all these living tools have it out for me—and not in a good way.
If it's not a broom tripping me, it's a mop making threats with a single ominous creak.
Elaine, seeing me eye the mop like a circus tamer, wrangled it away around the corner, muttering something about "no fights today."
She returned, gave me a knowing nod, and suggested:
"Maybe we should take a short break? Otherwise, we might just end up starting a war with the cleaning supplies."
I nodded right away—finally, a few minutes free of suspicious mops and flying buckets.