Chapter 92: The Reluctant Head Maid Takes the Initiative.
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Kihara had been drained by the vampire sisters until his head spun and his ears rang. Too dazed to catch whatever Remilia had ordered, he lay back in the lounge chair with his eyes closed, complexion ashen.
Shinobu, being his kindred spirit, had absolutely no intention of clearing up the misunderstanding for Izayoi Sakuya. A mischievous glint flickered in her eyes as she announced she wanted a tour of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, dragging Remilia and the others away to chaperone her.
Izayoi Sakuya was no ordinary person. She was the Scarlet Devil Mansion's fiercely loyal head maid — one of Remilia's most trusted right hands.
She had never once deceived Remilia, who appeared easy to manipulate and, frankly, was easy to manipulate. No matter how absurd the young mistress's demands, Sakuya carried them out without question.
And so, with that same unflinching loyalty, the head maid now fully intended to follow her orders — to help Kihara "recover from his adverse reaction."
That sort of thing can't be done in the lobby.
Izayoi Sakuya let out a slow, measured breath, clasped her hands at her waist, and walked toward Kihara with unhurried, elegant steps. "Mr. Kihara. Can you hear me?"
"Hm? Sakuya?" He tilted his head toward her voice. "Sorry, speak up — my ears are really ringing right now."
He doesn't seem to have heard the young mistress's order. But is he pretending, or…
Her thoughts raced for a moment before she composed herself. "Do you still have the strength to move?"
"Yeah. I'm just a little unsteady on my feet."
"I'll take you to a guest room to rest. Shall I support you?"
Kihara heard her out and waved her off with a tired smile. "I'm not that far gone. Just lead the way — slowly, though."
He didn't try to take advantage of the situation. His manner suggested he genuinely had no idea what she had been ordered to do. He probably didn't hear it after all.
Confirming that he was completely in the dark, Sakuya exhaled quietly — equal parts relieved and unsettled. For a fleeting moment, the thought even crossed her mind to let the whole thing quietly pass.
She stamped it out just as quickly. Shinobu had been standing right there, listening to every word, and had even gone out of her way to send Remilia and the others off. If Shinobu later mentioned it to Kihara, it would look as though the head maid had deliberately defied her mistress's instructions.
The fallout wouldn't just embarrass the Scarlet Devil Mansion — it would cast doubt on both her competence and her loyalty. Entirely not worth it.
With a heavy heart, Sakuya led Kihara into one of the guest rooms. Whatever else one might say about the Scarlet Devil Mansion and its extravagance, even a room with no practical purpose had been fitted out with extraordinary luxury. Absent a refrigerator and television, it might as well have been a presidential suite.
"Please wait here while I prepare some refreshments."
"Sure."
It wasn't long before Sakuya returned, wheeling in a cart laden with an assortment of sweets and cakes. The moment Kihara spotted the classic tiered stand and delicate porcelain tea set, the style was unmistakable — traditional English afternoon tea.
He glanced down at his outfit: the monster-print short-sleeve Niijima Arata had picked out, the khaki cargo trousers Boudou Rokka had recommended, and a pair of sturdy black work boots.
He scratched the back of his head. "Should I go back and change into a tailcoat before eating?"
"Pardon?"
Sakuya paused, then realized he had actually recognized the style of afternoon tea she had prepared. Something about that pleased her in a way she couldn't quite name. "Not at all. This is simply how I prefer to serve it. If you'd like something different, I can change it now."
"No need. This is fine."
"Very well."
She arranged the spread neatly before him, then gave a small, composed bow. "I need to make a few preparations. Please bear with me a little longer."
"Hm? What else are you doing?"
He stared at her blankly over the rim of his teacup, genuinely lost.
Sakuya offered no explanation. She pushed the cart out and quietly closed the door behind her.
Mysterious as ever… Kihara thought, sinking back. It's not like Remilia went and made some weird demand while I was feeling terrible, is it? He plucked up a ham sandwich and bit into it. Oh — this is actually really good. I should ask Sakuya where she sources these from.
As the food settled in, the hollow weakness of blood loss began to ease.
Exactly one minute after he had finished every last thing on the cart, there was a knock at the door — as though Sakuya had been timing it precisely.
"Mr. Kihara. May I come in?"
"Go ahead."
The door swung open.
The first thing to enter the room was a leg — long and pale, wrapped in black lace thigh-high stockings, its white skin made all the more luminous by the contrast, the foot arched in a silver stiletto heel. It snagged Kihara's gaze before he could think to look away.
Then the other leg followed. Unlike the left — black lace over-the-knee stockings — the right was dressed in white knee-high stockings. And fastened around her right thigh, with a small decorative dagger tucked into the band, was a pale pink garter.
There's an old saying that only those with truly fair legs dare to wear white stockings — because only black can make skin appear paler by comparison.
Sakuya had no such limitation. Both black and white suited those long, perfectly proportioned legs without effort, the contrast between the two only making the sight more striking.
Following the bewitching expanse of bare skin upward, he took in her maid's uniform — blue and white, like always, yet subtly different in a way Kihara couldn't quite put into words. All he knew was that the usual cold, untouchable air about her had softened considerably.
Where she had always carried herself like a sharp, capable head maid, she now looked far more like the kind of girl at a maid café who would bow her head and sweetly call you master.
Wait. This isn't right.
Didn't I come to the Scarlet Devil Mansion to get drained by the young mistress and her sister? Why does this feel more like a succubus casting a spell on me?
Beneath his stunned, glassy stare, Sakuya crossed the room and sat down beside him — close enough that her arm nearly brushed his. The warmth of her presence carried the faint, clean scent of bath soap, and it was immediately obvious she had gone off to shower and change before coming back.
Gulp.
The sound of him swallowing cut through the silence of the room with embarrassing clarity. His mouth opened, but his mind had gone completely blank. He stared at her, looking altogether helpless.
Sakuya's gaze drifted downward for just a moment. Inside, she felt nothing but resignation — and an endless tide of embarrassment she had absolutely no intention of letting reach her face.
Her crimson lips pressed into a composed, flat line. Without a word, she reached over, took his right hand, and placed it on the warm, black-stocking-clad surface of her thigh. Her voice was perfectly even.
"The young mistress asked me to help you recover from the adverse effects of blood loss. Please cooperate."
Kihara's eyes went wide as saucers. The smooth, warm give beneath his palm had him cooperating on pure instinct before he could even form a thought.
"Just so we're clear —" Sakuya's voice cut in, cool and firm. "I am only doing this because the young mistress ordered me to. You may be an honored guest of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, but that does not mean I have any particular feelings toward you."
She caught a glimpse, from the corner of her eye, of him cooperating with markedly more enthusiasm at those words. She immediately fixed him with a withering look — expression flat, eyes radiating disdain — and got to work with pointed displeasure.
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Thank you for reading.
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(T/N: Translation style is different from here.)