I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the changing room.
Silent.
A complete, inescapable silence.
The figure in the mirror was wearing an orange-and-black little devil-style maid outfit.
The skirt was so short that one had to question whether it truly qualified as clothing with any actual covering function.
The waistline was deliberately raised high, and beneath the skirt were black stockings printed with cat-head patterns, with tiny bow decorations tied around the ankles.
The upper body design was even more excessive.
The lines from the shoulders to the collarbone were fully exposed.
Several small vampire bat decorations with fangs hung on the chest, swaying gently with movement.
The hem and cuffs were covered in colorful star sequins that reflected their presence unapologetically under the lights.
On the head was a slightly tilted witch hat.
Below the brim was a purple bow tie.
Tsundere, mysterious, devil-type.
This was Shop Manager Aoi’s official description of the outfit.
My definition was much simpler.
This counts as mental damage, more or less.
“How is it?”
Kuroha Aoi stood behind me with her arms crossed, her tone filled with unconcealed satisfaction.
“It suits you perfectly, right?”
I didn’t answer right away.
Because I was in the middle of a difficult self-confirmation.
Confirming that the person in the mirror was indeed me.
The version of me who used to be only in the game was now in reality.
“…Shop Manager Aoi.”
I spoke with difficulty.
“This has gone beyond the issue of whether it ‘suits’ me or not.”
“This is a direct challenge to my male dignity!”
“Hmm?”
She tilted her head.
“But you’re already wearing it properly, and you even refused the makeup I offered?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t that mean you yourself approve of this image?”
I opened my mouth.
I wanted to refute it.
But I found that logically, it was completely indefensible.
Indeed.
To avoid system abnormalities caused by “tactile and visual inconsistency” during work, I had already disabled the AR appearance overlay.
What was currently appearing in reality was the Night Witch’s true appearance.
The character’s ink-black long hair fell naturally, her skin tone appeared cool under the lighting, and deep within her pupils lingered the unique witch-like luster that had yet to fully fade.
That luster was somewhat like wearing star-shaped cosmetic contact lenses.
As for makeup.
It was almost unnecessary.
“I only slightly adjusted the facial contours using AR technology.”
That was my explanation to Aoi.
After hearing it, she let out a heartfelt sigh of admiration.
“Technology is amazing.”
That statement left me momentarily unsure where to even begin complaining.
Outside the changing room, the maid café had officially opened for business.
Through the door, I could clearly hear the sounds from outside.
Laughter, ordering voices, camera shutters, and—
A certain extremely focused, completely unhidden pressure of gazes.
“Yorumi-chan, are you ready?”
Haori’s voice came from outside the door.
I took a deep breath.
If I back out now, all the points will be gone.
Besides, I already agreed.
And it’s five percent.
Stay calm, Yae Yoruichi.
This is just a social experiment.
I pushed open the door.
The gazes converged in an instant.
It was the kind of attention that made my back instinctively tense up.
It wasn’t hostility.
It was far too pure and unabashed interest.
“Welcome home, Master♡～”
I almost reflexively recited the line I had been required to memorize during training.
The moment the words fell, I clearly felt my mental defenses take a heavy blow.
This was harder than fighting.
The work itself wasn’t complicated.
Taking orders, serving plates, making omurice.
And—
Casting a “spell” on the omurice in front of the customers.
“To make the omurice delicious, it needs love and magic, okay♡～.”
I raised both hands with a blank expression.
“Moe, moe, magic♡～”
My heart pounded wildly in my chest.
I could feel my face burning red-hot.
This was the first time in my life I clearly realized.
“Shame” was not an abstract concept.
It was a quantifiable mental value.
And right now, my shame value was rising exponentially.
Even worse.
Because it was my first time doing this, I seemed to have severely underestimated what being a “maid” actually entailed.
No, a server.
Sorry, I apologize to all the servers in the world!
The tray would shake.
Teacups would tip over.
Plates would slide out of the safe zone from an unnecessary turning angle.
But the customers weren’t angry.
On the contrary—
“So cute…”
“Her clumsiness actually makes it better…”
“Is this the new maid’s selling point?”
“Look at her name… Yorumi-chan! I’m going to stan Yorumi-chan. Starting today, I’m her fan!”
“Ohhh, me too!”
I couldn’t understand it.
I completely couldn’t understand it.
Why were these mistakes being categorized as “cute”?
This seriously violated my understanding of how society operated.
And just as my mind was gradually approaching its limit.
I heard a voice that was far too familiar to ignore.
“Let me tell you, that match with ‘UNKNOWN NAME WARRIOR’ was seriously ridiculous.”
“I’m not exaggerating, that’s my bro.”
“Really, he won so beautifully.”
Makura Heita.
I froze.
I turned my head.
Blonde hair.
Dazzling.
That face that I would never mistake even in a crowd.
He was chatting animatedly with a boy I didn’t know, his face full of excitement.
No!
My heart resisted with extreme intensity.
I’m not your bro, at least not for this entire afternoon!
They walked into the maid café.
“Welcome home, Masters.”
Aoi went up to greet them.
She took their orders and seated them—doing everything with practiced skill.
Then she turned around and looked at me.
“Yorumi-chan.”
I knew it.
This was like a joke arranged by the heavens.
Even with such extremely low probability, I still ran into it.
“Please go attend to that table.”
The moment I took a step.
Only one thought remained in my mind.
This was no longer maid work.
The difficulty level was comparable to actual combat.
I walked over to their table.
I tried my best to maintain a professional smile.
“May I take your orders, dear Masters?”
Heita looked up.
His gaze met my face.
Then, this guy completely froze.
His mouth opened slightly, as if his brain was performing some impossible calculation, while his face looked like it had been hit with solid glue.
“…This is…”
He murmured to himself.
“The way I imagined… the Night Witch would look.”
No, it’s not!
I kept a blank expression.
“Please place your order!”
The other boy snapped back to his senses immediately.
“One black tea and one omurice.”
Heita reacted as if triggered by reflex.
“S-Same for me.”
“Understood.”
I turned around.
At that moment, I was grateful for the existence of the kitchen for the first time.
But while I was heading to the kitchen with the order slip, another person appeared in my field of vision.
It was an aura completely different from everyone around him.
“Leave that to someone else.”
A low, rational voice—one I recognized—
Ameno Yotsuba.
DEATH LORD.
He stood there.
Even though he wasn’t a student at Blue Sea Academy, he made it seem as if the campus naturally belonged to him.
“You.”
He looked at me.
His gaze was steady and completely polite.
“Come serve me.”
Aoi seemed to notice the situation on my side.
She was stunned for a moment before speaking up to help resolve it.
“Master, that table over there has already…”
“Four hundred thousand points.”
He said calmly.
“The highest tip here so far is one hundred thousand points.”
“I’ll cover the rest as my investment in your maid café.”
“I have only one request: Let Yorumi… come serve me.”
Aoi’s breathing hitched.
Then, as expected, she nodded.
“Yorumi-chan, hand the previous table’s order slip to me! Go attend to that guest over there…”
After speaking, Kuroha Aoi leaned close to my ear and whispered.
“I’ll split the tip money with you half-and-half… Yoruichi-chan, do your best!”
“This way, please.”
I picked up the tray.
I could feel the veins on my forehead throbbing violently.
Then, I walked over to Ameno Yotsuba’s table.
And spoke the business line.
“Welcome home, Master♡～”
Damn it, why is Ameno Yotsuba so bad?!