Surviving without God

Gunther did not even have time to use his usual trump card—“observation and reconnaissance of the surroundings.” He was struck with shock because the course of events was completely different from what he had expected.

“Ah...”

He barely managed to hold on to the last scraps of his clouded sanity. However, the final thin thread on which his composure hung...

Bang!

Snapped the moment a massive black maid burst into the room, kicking the door open.

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Why are you swearing out of nowhere?”

“You’re asking that? Isn’t there plenty to swear about here?!”

Parco stood before him in all his “magnificent” glory, dressed in a maid’s outfit that looked ready to burst at the seams. The thin fabric stretched tightly across his enormous pectoral muscles, and every time he moved his arms, forearms thick as ship ropes rolled beneath the sleeves.

[“Art of the Pure Heart” activates]

[Alphonse of Red Street chokes back a gag] 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

[The Ruler of the Oceans watches him with interest]

Perhaps due to the stage’s adjustments, his facial features had become slightly more feminine, but... because of this strange change, Gunther felt not merely the effect of the “uncanny valley,” but something closer to cosmic horror. At the same time, he sincerely felt relieved that Ryan and Eddie had not entered this mansion. If they had appeared here wearing frilled skirts, his sanity would have been destroyed beyond repair. Parco slapped Gunther on the back like he owned the place.

“You look very cute. Seraz will be thrilled when she sees you.”

“Really? I always thought there was only one step between a handsome man and a beautiful woman!”

Tarsha, who had entered behind him, snickered and joined the conversation. The black-and-white maid dress suited her bright golden hair perfectly. Behind her, Blanc timidly peeked out from the edge of her skirt. With her neatly arranged snow-white hair, she looked like a doll. ...The unpleasant shock caused by Parco’s appearance subsided slightly. Meanwhile, Blanc froze the moment she saw Parco’s majestic figure.

“Ah! I-is it truly proper for someone as refined and important as myself to witness something like that...?”

“What do you mean ‘something like that’? How rude!”

“You’re the rude one, Parco! You’re completely unbearable!”

Gunther slowly began to regain his senses and looked around. The structure and style of the mansion visible outside the window looked strangely old-fashioned. They resembled the ancient buildings of the Kingdoms’ Union he had seen three years ago while crossing the continent in search of the protagonist.

“Could it be...”

He remembered that some members of his platoon were originally from the Kingdoms’ Union and spoke up.

“Where’s Levain?”

“I... I’m here, Gunther. But I’d prefer if you didn’t look in my direction.”

Levain stared down at himself with complete disgust. He looked as though he was seriously considering suicide. His cold observation skills and analytical mind were indispensable, but... Gunther decided not to question him for the moment.

About five minutes passed. The platoon members exchanged foolish jokes and light teasing, snickering at one another. They all knew the situation was dangerous, but... none of them could take seriously the fact that they had reunited in a gigantic ancient mansion while dressed in lace maid outfits.

Strangely enough, the first to regain composure was the maid with glasses... that is, Levain.

“So... you all came here after touching that girl without legs?”

“Eek! Without legs? No, she had legs! It was her arms that were missing!”

“Really? For me it was her torso.”

Gunther quietly added,

“...For me she had no face. I think I’m starting to understand what’s happening.”

Parco scratched his head.

“...I don’t understand anything at all.”

“First, I’ll share the information I have.”

Gunther briefly explained the background of the Bellamor family connected to Kate Bellamor. He started with the fact that the current head, Kate, had actually once been a maid. Then he described how she devoured her mistress and stole her identity, and the monstrous lineage that had devoured its own descendants for generations. The platoon members were deeply shocked by the hidden secrets of the Bellamor family.

“...Where the hell did you even dig all that up?”

Gunther simply shrugged lightly in response. Since the fact that “information of unknown origin” constantly came out of his mouth had already become normal, the platoon members did not press him further.

“So that girl we met... was the mistress Kate devoured first?”

“Moretia.”

“Right, Moretia. Looks like this place is where she lived while she was alive. But why did Moretia drag us into this illusion?”

“Th-this is definitely an illusion, right?”

“There’s no doubt about it. Mana flow has completely stopped. Something like this can’t exist in real space.”

Parco added,

“...By the way, it’s not just mana. Our connection with the gods is weak too, and we don’t have our equipment. Right now we’re just ordinary people.”

After those words, silence fell over the group. This realistic illusion seemed quiet and peaceful on the surface, but no one knew what might be hidden beneath it. The situation where they could not use their power made everyone feel a quiet unease.

“...To summarize, we need to figure out what Moretia wanted by dragging us here.”

“You said a maid devoured her. Maybe she wants us to prevent that tragedy—at least inside this illusion?”

“That’s very possible, but... damn it, Gunther, say something. Why have you been silent this whole time?”

Gunther, staring at the message window, tilted his head slightly.

[Personal scenario updated!]

– Perform proper work.

“Proper work... huh.”

There were far too few clues to draw conclusions. Gunther turned to the platoon members waiting for his orders.

“For now, let’s leave the room and investigate the mansion. If this place exists within old memories, we should encounter either Kate or Moretia.”

“Alright, understood.”

Levain agreed shortly, and Parco marched forward, his skirt swishing.

“Alright then, let’s squeeze this place for everything it’s got!”

.

.

.

In short, their investigation failed before it even began. Barely seconds after they stepped into the corridor, an unexpected enemy blocked their path.

“Well now, are you planning to stand here chatting?”

Hair neatly tied in a bun, a perfectly pressed apron, and a stern gaze. A middle-aged woman who looked like a school disciplinarian stood there with her arms crossed, staring at them.

“When honorable guests are about to arrive, the new recruits are slacking off! Where were you even taught your manners?”

Something was strange.

“Young people these days are so disappointing, none of you are to my taste. And ■■■ as well. Now follow me immediately!”

No one could resist the commanding grip of the “Head Maid.” Gunther and the platoon members were dragged somewhere against their will.

Dragged away. Toward somewhere unknown.

***

“...What did we do today?” Parco muttered, staring into space. Tarsha, standing next to him, answered mechanically.

“We scrubbed floors, trimmed candle wicks, cleaned ashes from the fireplace, beat dust from curtains, polished silverware, made beds with ruler-perfect corners, stacked fresh firewood in the fireplace, wiped the stairs with rags, and now we’re watering these damned flower pots.”

All members of the platoon looked stunned. The reason was the endless, absurdly exhausting labor. There was no time to talk about Moretia, maids, or the secrets of the mansion—it simply never came up.

Inside this illusion, the status of all five of them was “new recruits who had just joined the Bellamor household,” and...

“Do any of you have special skills in housework? Any special talents? Hmm?”

“N-no... nothing special.”

“Then you get the dirty work.”

All day long they had done nothing but run back and forth on the Head Maid’s orders, performing endless chores. Blanc had long since curled up in a corner sniffling, and even Levain, staring blankly into space, had collapsed onto the floor.

...That was when Tarsha quietly set down the watering can.

“Alright, that’s enough. Gather quickly. The Head Maid has finally left.”

The sound of the Head Maid’s footsteps in the corridor faded away. Seizing the opportunity, the platoon members quickly leaned their heads together.

“Good. Let’s start by sharing the information we managed to gather.”

They had entered the illusion sometime near dawn. The sun was already slowly setting. They hadn’t spent the entire time working—there had been brief moments even within the packed schedule to gather information and analyze the situation.

“I’ll start.”

Tarsha whispered, lowering her voice.

“As you’ve all noticed, this place has a strict role-playing structure.”

“Role-playing?”

“Exactly. We were given the role of ‘new maids,’ and a certain coercive force operates according to that role. That’s why we couldn’t resist the Head Maid’s orders. Think about it—we’ve been doing exactly what we were told for hours. Without questioning anything.”

That was true. Despite the lack of physical force, they had thrown themselves into housework with excessive diligence. If this were the normal Fourth Platoon, they would have already subdued the Head Maid, turned the mansion upside down, and gone searching for Kate or Moretia. The role of “maid” was slowly poisoning their senses and thoughts.

“We... we need to stay mentally clear,” Levain said, staring in horror at his maid dress. Beside him Blanc clenched her tiny fists.

“Then maybe we should search the mansion right now? While she’s gone!”

Tarsha, from whom agreement was expected, unexpectedly shook her head.

“No. I told you—it’s a role-playing structure. We have to follow the ‘role.’ Don’t you know that in spaces like this, violating rules set by the creator leads to enormous penalties?”

Only Levain, knowledgeable in magic, understood what she meant, and his face immediately twisted.

“Don’t tell me...”

“Exactly. We must behave like ‘new maids.’ If we start wandering around the mansion as we please or defy the Head Maid... I think the consequences will be horrible.”

“...Then how are we supposed to investigate Moretia and Kate at all? The Head Maid will never allow us to leave this place.”

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

At the moment when hopeless silence settled over them, Levain tried to lighten the atmosphere and shared another piece of information.

“By the way, while I was carrying firewood, I overheard the Head Maid talking to the other maids.”

“Wait, there are other maids here?”

“There are plenty of them. Anyway, thanks to that, I learned who will arrive tomorrow.”

That was good news. The Head Maid had tormented them all morning with the phrase “a very important guest will arrive,” and everyone had been dying to know who this damned guest was.

“It’s a priest.”

...

Silence fell again. There was no need to ask which god this priest served. Parco sighed.

“Another bastard from the Luthien Theocracy. That means some kind of incident will start when he arrives.”

“Most likely. And preventing that incident may be the condition for leaving this illusion.”

After finishing, Levain sighed and looked around at the platoon members.

“That’s everything from me. Who’s next?”

“...”

“...”

“Next...?”

Blanc and Parco averted their eyes, pretending not to notice.

“Uh... there were just so many rags that needed washing...”

“A-and if the bed linens are dirty, people won’t sleep comfortably...”

...

Levain’s gaze moved past the two idiots and settled on the final hope—Gunther. Their leader. He had been deep in thought from the very beginning. Levain knew that whenever Gunther fell into such silent concentration, he would inevitably produce some decisive insight.

“...Gunther? Gunther, what about you? You’ll say something different, right?”

Of course something different. Gunther opened his mouth.