Chapter 63 - Chapter 63: Finally In England

A/N:

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Suddenly, mid-shake, the epiphany hit me like lightning.

"Wait a second!"

I blurted, holding up a finger like some genius philosopher.

"This isn't how it's supposed to be!"

Ravel froze mid-shake, glaring daggers at me.

"What now?"

I puffed up my chest.

"You're my maid. Which means I'm technically allowed to see you naked if circumstances demand it! It's your duty as a maid to respond to my orders at any given time!"

I declared with complete confidence, as if I'd just laid down an unshakable law of the universe.

Ravel's face went from crimson to volcanic.

She jabbed a finger at me so hard I actually leaned back.

"Even if that's true," she hissed, "what do you mean by 'dirtying your eyes'?!"

I blinked, realizing far too late what I'd said.

"…Uh…"

I tried to think of a way to recover, but my brain failed me—so I did what any proud man in denial would do.

I pressed on.

"Exactly what I said!"

I snapped, covering my eyes with one hand.

"Go get dressed already—you're dirtying my pure eyes with that indecent outfit!"

…Of course, I left a little gap between my fingers.

You know, purely for tactical awareness.

"You little—!"

Ravel started, her voice trembling with outrage.

Before she could finish, I cut her off with my ultimate defense.

"I'm not a pervert, before you say it! I already told you you're the one dirtying my eyes, and you're still standing there uncovered. That makes you the real pervert here!"

Yes, my flawless philosophy: when cornered, attack even harder.

There's no way I'm getting branded a pervert before I've even done anything perverted.

Her face flushed a deep red, trembling with anger as tears welled up in her eyes.

…Okay.

Maybe I went a little too far.

Then again, why does this feel worse than when I impaled her, broke her jaw, and made her—well, let's call it my maid for now?

I sighed.

"...Whatever."

'Giratina, teleport her clothes as well.'

From my shadow, her maid uniform popped out and landed neatly beside me.

I picked it up and handed it to her.

"Here. Get dressed first. I've got some business to handle over the next few days. You're coming too, so pack both your stuff and mine. I'm tired—I'm going to sleep."

Yes.

When things get too awkward—sleep solves everything.

I climbed into bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin.

"Oh, and Ravel," I muttered, half-asleep already, "turn off the lights. Good night."

She stood there frozen, still in her underwear, face crimson and eyes wide in disbelief.

Ravel stood there for a long moment, fists trembling at her sides.

Her pride screamed to lash out, to yell, to throw something—anything—at my sleeping form.

But instead, she bit her lip hard enough to sting, forcing down the frustration bubbling inside her chest.

With a shaky breath, she wiped the corner of her eyes and began packing in silence.

The faint rustle of folded clothes and the quiet sniffles she tried to hide filled the room.

Meanwhile, I slept soundly.

Peacefully.

Like a man with no regrets whatsoever.

By the time the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, the bags were neatly arranged beside the door.

Morning came.

I yawned as I sat up, stretching my arms.

"Ah… that was a good sleep."

Turning my head, I saw Ravel standing by the dresser—hair tied up neatly, eyes faintly puffy, but her expression composed.

She spoke stiffly.

"Good morning, Master. Your things are ready."

I nodded, completely missing the tension in her tone.

"Good. We'll be heading to the airport soon. You've got the tickets and documents, right?"

She silently handed me the folder, every movement precise and formal.

I got up, showered, and changed into a comfortable outfit—dark jeans, a casual shirt, and a jacket.

Ravel moved efficiently behind me, checking the luggage and making last-minute adjustments.

After a quick breakfast that Akeno had left prepared as they had already left for school, I slung the carry bag over my shoulder.

"Alright," I said with a satisfied smile.

"Time to go."

Ravel gave a small nod, still silent.

The faint redness in her eyes lingered—but I pretended not to notice.

After all, the day was just beginning.

Now that I think about it, this is actually the first time I'll be setting foot in England.

Kinda funny, right?

I've read about it, seen it in movies, even fought people from there (online)—but never actually been here myself.

I tried to recall what the must-visit tourist spots were.

Big Ben?

Buckingham Palace?

London Bridge?

Honestly, I could only remember those because they're on every postcard.

"...I'll just look it up on the flight."

I muttered, brushing it off.

A few hours later, after the dull hum of engines, a couple of snacks, and one annoying crying kid two rows ahead, the plane finally touched down.

The moment I stepped out, the cool air hit my face.

The sky was gray, as if someone had turned down the brightness slider on the whole world.

"So this is England…"

I murmured.

"The land of English, tea, rain, and sarcasm."

I paused, thinking about what I just said.

"...Yeah, that was a bad joke."

Still, I couldn't help but grin a little.

The place had a certain atmosphere—a quiet, old-world charm that felt different from home.

Ravel followed behind me, still trying to look professional, though her eyes flickered around curiously at the foreign architecture.

"Alright," I said, stretching my arms as we exited the airport.

"Time to see what this rainy island has to offer."

My plan for England was simple.

First day: a casual stroll around the city, just wandering here and there, taking in whatever caught my eye.

Second day: the award ceremony.

Third and fourth days: pure enjoyment—sightseeing, exploring, maybe indulging a bit in whatever the city had to offer before heading back.

I'd also heard that London's roads were notoriously complex.

Apparently, taxi drivers had to pass some insanely difficult test to prove they knew the city inside and out—the shortest routes, every alley, every hidden turn.

Some even said it was harder than becoming a doctor.

Now, I was genuinely excited to see what London had in store for me.

But… wait.

Thinking about it now, most of the myths and legends from this world seemed to hold some truth.

What were England's famous ones again?

Jack the Ripper, obviously.

And then there was Sherlock Holmes… though technically fictional, could you even call him a myth if people treated him like he might've been real?

So... maybe he is real in this world?

I frowned a little, trying to remember others.

Excalibur came to mind, but that was already part of my current life mess.

Perhaps the Tower of London had some secrets, maybe Stonehenge had more than just big stones, and the alien theory is correct?

Though Stonehenge is far away, I guess I have to give up on that for now.

The possibilities made my chest tighten with anticipation.

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