Now that Ellen's induction was confirmed, Andrew let out a quiet breath of relief.
He looked at Ellen, still wearing her middle school uniform, and then at the chainsaw Corin had set off to the side — a weapon that was a full head taller than Ellen herself. Something clicked in Andrew's mind, and he turned toward Von Lycaon.
"Von Lycaon, does Victoria Housekeeping Co. take on a lot of commissions that require going into the Hollows to fight?"
Von Lycaon blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question.
"That is indeed the case, Esteemed Manager."
He wasn't sure what Andrew was getting at, but he nodded without hesitation and replied:
"Victoria Housekeeping Co.'s cleaning services have never been limited to rooms alone."
The words had barely left his mouth, however, before Von Lycaon made an assumption — that Andrew must be worried about Ellen's safety now that she would be joining the company. He immediately moved to offer reassurance:
"That said, please do not concern yourself with the matter of danger. As the head of Victoria Housekeeping Co., I will take every possible precaution regarding Ellen's safety when assigning her commissions — ensuring she is always matched with the most appropriate tasks."
"I will not allow any commission with a high risk factor to be assigned to her alone."
Hearing the explanation, Andrew immediately realized what Von Lycaon had assumed — and immediately waved his hand to cut him off.
"No, no, no — of course I trust you to keep them safe, Von Lycaon. That's not actually why I'm asking. There's something else on my mind entirely."
Andrew rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he worked through it out loud.
"If I remember correctly... Ellen doesn't have a proper weapon yet, does she?"
"Please set your mind at ease on that front, Esteemed Manager."
Von Lycaon dipped his head slightly and answered with the quiet confidence of a guarantee:
"Once Miss Ellen officially joins Victoria Housekeeping Co., I will immediately commission the finest workshop in the city to craft a new weapon tailored to her preferred style."
"These very legs of mine were designed and built by them, so the quality of anything they produce is absolutely guaranteed."
The moment he heard that, Andrew knew Von Lycaon had misread him again. He waved his hand.
He scratched the back of his head and explained:
"No, no, no — what I mean is, since she doesn't have a weapon right now, why don't I use the time we have before I set off to make her one?"
"Think of it as a gift from me."
After all, when it came to keeping someone safe in dangerous situations, a powerful and reliable weapon was one of the single greatest factors in improving their odds of survival. No matter how skilled that workshop might be, at the end of the day, what they produced were ordinary weapons.
Andrew had every confidence in himself. He was certain that whatever he forged would leave their work in the dust.
What he didn't expect, however, was what happened next.
As Andrew's words settled, Von Lycaon — quite unusually — did not immediately nod his agreement.
Instead, he let his gaze drift sideways, scanning the colossal weapons mounted on Andrew's workshop walls. Weapons so enormous that even Von Lycaon himself, standing at nearly two meters tall, would find them cumbersome to wield — and that was ignoring the weight entirely.
After a brief pause, Von Lycaon spoke with the most tactful tone he could manage:
"Esteemed Manager, the exceptional quality of the weapons you craft is something I have heard spoken of at great length."
"However... while Miss Ellen is a remarkably rare Shark-type Thiren, and her physical capabilities far surpass those of an ordinary person, she is still, at the end of the day, a perfectly normal human girl who has just started middle school."
"The weapons you craft, as formidable as they are — given Miss Ellen's size and physical constitution, I fear she would have considerable difficulty using them under normal circumstances..."
Andrew listened to about half of that before his expression started to crumble. He held up a hand and interrupted Von Lycaon's well-meaning attempt at diplomacy, caught somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry.
He gave a helpless sigh and explained:
"Relax, Von Lycaon. I do know how to make normal-sized weapons. I'm not going to forge something Ellen physically can't use."
"...Ahem."
Von Lycaon — realizing he had, once again, jumped to conclusions entirely on his own — raised a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat softly, using the sound to mask his embarrassment. He lowered his head in a small, apologetic bow.
"That was terribly presumptuous of me, Esteemed Manager. I allowed my own assumptions to color my judgment, and as a result I subjected you to entirely unwarranted suspicion. I am most sincerely sorry."
But Andrew knew better than anyone that he had no room to blame Von Lycaon for this one.
In the time since he had come to New Eridu, Andrew had not once crafted a normal-sized weapon from scratch — every single thing he had built had been either a modification of someone else's gear or something that could generously be described as 'gargantuan.' Under those circumstances, the more someone actually knew about him, the more natural this kind of misunderstanding became.
He had zero intention of holding it against Von Lycaon. Not even a little.
The brief misunderstanding was swept aside with a laugh, and Andrew and Von Lycaon moved together into the work area to lend a hand.
This gift — it was definitely better to have it finished and given before he left.
And, as expected.
Although Andrew's earlier behavior had helped ease Corin's nerves enough that his own presence no longer sent her spiraling, Von Lycaon's appearance immediately wound her right back up again, just when she'd started to relax.
Knowing that this couldn't go on indefinitely — and thinking of the long-term coexistence ahead — Von Lycaon made a deliberate choice this time not to retreat to a safe distance.
Instead, he quietly took a seat at one section of the work area and began to sew in silence.
What happened next genuinely surprised Andrew.
Von Lycaon — who, for all appearances, belonged firmly in the 'Beast' column of 'Beauty and the Beast' — turned out to have sewing skills that were, against all odds, remarkably exceptional.
The tiny needle and thread moved with fluid, practiced ease between his fingers, darting up and down with impressive speed — his pace actually keeping up with Rina's, and Rina was the Head Maid.
Andrew could only shake his head in quiet admiration. Truly worthy of a butler who could call himself a master of all trades.
The shared work filled the air with a relaxed, easy atmosphere. Even Corin, who had been wound as tight as a spring at the start, gradually melted into it. Before long, even facing Von Lycaon no longer made her seize up the way it had before.
And Rina, it turned out, had not been exaggerating in the slightest.
The moment Corin shifted into work mode — the moment she stopped shrinking into herself — she showed exactly what she was made of. Her sewing was effortlessly precise, her hands moving with the ease of someone who had done this ten thousand times. And the pieces she was responsible for constructing? Not a single flaw to be found, no matter how closely you looked.
Watching the group work together so seamlessly, Andrew felt a swell of genuine admiration.
As Victoria Housekeeping Co., it wasn't just Von Lycaon — the professionalism of the other two was equally beyond reproach.
With Andrew and Ellen already there, and now the full force of three Victoria Housekeeping Co. members added on top, the outfits that had originally been projected to take at least another full day to complete were finished in just a matter of hours.
Andrew looked at the three immaculate, flawless sets of finished clothing laid out before him and gave a slow, deeply satisfied nod.
And that wasn't all. Andrew had even found the time to prepare a lavish late-night feast for everyone as a little extra thanks on top of the commission.
The barbecue he made from the Diablos meat left over from a previous hunt drew nothing short of astonished praise from the group. A single Diablos rib — just one — was more than enough to leave everyone completely and utterly full.
Even Von Lycaon, who rarely let his emotions show in any obvious way, had his tail swaying gently — and entirely involuntarily — behind him the whole time he ate, all while maintaining his perfectly dignified, composed manner.
Ellen, for her part, looked genuinely dumbfounded.
She honestly hadn't seen this coming at all. She had known Andrew was a blacksmith, but the idea that he could also cook like this had never even occurred to her.
The man who ran the roadside shop she had wandered into on a whim kept doing things she never expected, every single time.
With everything wrapped up, Von Lycaon offered his heartfelt thanks and then departed with the others in tow, all of them leaving Seliana Smithy together.
Ellen was taken along with them — Von Lycaon mentioned she needed to go through the formal onboarding procedures at the Victoria Housekeeping Co. base.
Andrew watched them go, then turned back inside, scratching his head with a mildly puzzled expression as he recalled the weapon design Ellen had described to him over dinner.
It wasn't that it would be difficult to make. It was just that the weapon Ellen wanted was... uniquely, spectacularly, one-of-a-kind specific.
Specific enough that Andrew was fairly confident nothing like it existed anywhere else in all of New Eridu.
A weapon that functioned as a pair of scissors in its open state — but when closed, could be used as a long-handled curved blade, like a glaive or a great scythe? And ideally with some shark motif worked into the design?
Each individual element was manageable enough on its own. But combined? This wasn't just some exotic specialty weapon anymore.
This was the founding of an entirely new and singular school of combat in the history of New Eridu.
Still — it was what Ellen wanted. Andrew had no intention of talking her out of it or strong-arming her into some bland, conventional weapon type instead.
If it was Ellen's weapon, then it should be built around Ellen's vision. Simple as that.
That said, today had already been an absolutely packed day, and forging was a task that deserved its own time and focus. That could wait until tomorrow.
By now, it was deep into the night.
Andrew loaded up an extra-generous portion of the barbecue feast he'd specifically made more of and carried it next door to the Random Play Video Store — where the two siblings had been grinding away at Rift analysis so relentlessly that they had completely forgotten to eat. This was their lifeline delivery.
The sight of Belle made Andrew's heart ache a little. Her hair was disheveled from hours of intense work, and dark circles had started to shadow her eyes.
He reached out and gently ruffled her head.
"How about taking a break before pushing on?"
She and her brother had spent the entire morning running Proxy support for every squad that had participated in the Nineveh intercept operation, and then spent the whole afternoon combing through an enormous number of Rifts, searching for that rare needle in a haystack.
Because finding just any Rift wouldn't be enough for Andrew to make the return trip.
What they needed was a Rift that remained sufficiently stable over a short period — one that wouldn't shift or collapse unpredictably.
High-intensity mental labor like this was exhausting in a way that was genuinely brutal.
But the moment Andrew tried to convince the two of them to rest, the siblings pushed back with a seamless, almost choreographed efficiency — one picking up exactly where the other left off, covering every angle Andrew tried to argue from.
When the two of them had the same goal in mind, this pair — who spent every ordinary moment of their lives dreaming up new ways to mess with each other — produced a level of teamwork that was frankly staggering.
And so Andrew was firmly and physically pushed back out the door by Belle.
Faced with Andrew's worried eyes, Belle smiled and gave a casual wave, then planted both hands on her hips and said in a reassuring tone:
"Don't stress so much, Andrew. This is a special situation — it won't last. Stinky Bro and I will make sure to rotate our rest properly, I promise."
She flexed one arm, showing off the muscles on her slender forearm with a proud little grin:
"Back in the day, Stinky Bro and I once pulled off three straight days of high-intensity Rift data compilation without stopping! And that was before we had your Energy Drinks to help. We'll be fine!"
"That said," Andrew replied, not backing down, "Energy Drinks can only ease fatigue to a point — they're not a substitute for actual sleep. You still need proper rest. That's non-negotiable."
As a Hunter, Andrew knew better than anyone that no stamina potion in existence could replace genuine sleep. He still wasn't comfortable leaving the two of them to grind away at full intensity indefinitely.
Seeing that he still wasn't fully convinced, Belle decided to pull out her trump card:
"In the time we've been working through these Rifts, Stinky Bro and I have actually started to pick up on some patterns."
"Tomorrow — the day after at the absolute latest — we'll have a guaranteed, solid lead on a suitable Rift."
As she said it, a confident, knowing smile spread across Belle's face.
"As your personal Proxy, this is my battlefield. What you need to do right now is rest up properly and get yourself ready for the battlefield that'll be yours."
"Besides — it's only a short while. Nothing's going to go wrong."
Knowing that Belle had made up her mind and nothing he said was going to change it, Andrew had no choice but to concede.
Before he left, Belle also issued him a firm order: he was not to come back and disturb them until they sent word that they had found a suitable Rift.
As for meals — she told him they had already arranged for General Chop to deliver ramen at set times.
Still, before he listened and quietly made his exit, Andrew left two Max Potions behind as insurance.
With those there as a safety net, at the very least, nothing could go seriously wrong.
The night passed without incident.
The following morning, Andrew had just finished resting and came downstairs, intending to use the waiting period to get Ellen's weapon started.
He also had preparations to make for the return to the Monster Hunter world. As Belle had said — once she found the path, everything after that would be his battlefield.
The wilderness was nothing like the city. Out there, there were no convenient supply channels just a short walk away. Everything you needed had to be obtained by your own hand.
So the list of things to prepare for outdoor survival was not a short one.
He was still in the middle of a yawn as he padded down the stairs — and then he stopped.
Something was different about the workshop today.
The workshop, which should have been completely empty at this hour, had an extra presence in it.
Still half-asleep, his brain not yet fully booted up, Andrew's first instinct was that Ellen had come by early to help.
But that thought collapsed almost immediately.
The Legiana set — hadn't they finished that last night, with Von Lycaon and the others' help? Which meant Ellen had no reason to be here today.
So who was in the workshop?
Wariness snapped into place. Andrew lightened his footsteps, descending the remaining stairs slowly and silently until he reached the doorway to the first-floor workshop without making a sound.
He leaned around the frame and looked.
The full scene inside the workshop unfolded before him.
Standing perfectly still at the center of the workshop — surrounded on all sides by tools, equipment, and rows of raw materials — was a slender, cold-looking figure.
Her eyes were closed. She looked for all the world like someone deep in meditation.
Silky black hair, long and smooth as fine silk, cascaded down her back. A pair of fox ears sat atop her head, twitching faintly in small, unconscious movements — the soft, rippling tremor of those ears saying more than words could about how soft they were.
Combined with the Section 6 uniform she wore.
That combination — all of it together — was achingly, unmistakably familiar to Andrew.
The only difference was her scabbard. What had once been a dark charcoal-grey had been replaced with something that gleamed white, as though glazed with a layer of fine lacquer. And the ornamental locking clasp on the tsuba had been redesigned into something far more intricate and elegant — enough to make the whole blade feel like an entirely new sword.
Andrew stared at the utterly familiar figure standing motionless in his workshop, and the words left his mouth before he could stop them.
"Miyabi? What are you doing here?"
____
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