Chapter 15 – The Meddlesome Master
“Sorry. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t been able to do much of my work as your personal maid.”
My personal maid appeared in my room wearing her short-skirted maid uniform.
Just a few hours ago at school, she’d coldly informed me that I wasn’t to speak to her.
Now, after taking one look at my face, she fixed me with an exasperated stare and immediately issued a warning.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. This isn’t school, and it’s not as if I wanted to come here. I merely said I’d stop by whenever I had free time. I’m only here because the contract requires it. I’m simply fulfilling my obligations faithfully.”
“Is that so?”
When I answered absentmindedly, she swept her gaze across my room without changing her expression.
“My, my. It seems my master is kind enough to provide his maid with plenty of work.”
The atmosphere alone told me I was being hit with one of those roundabout insults—like being served plain tea over rice when visiting someone’s house, or being told, “The piano next door has certainly improved lately.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I mean, what is this room?”
Arms folded and brows furrowed, she looked genuinely appalled.
“Still, a clean room really is nice. Yep. Very nice.”
“That’s not the point!”
Apparently, I’d guessed wrong.
Yuki Oohira crouched down and pinched one of my T-shirts off the floor.
“Clothes belong in the closet.”
“I’m the type who only opens the closet occasionally.”
“Then start opening it!”
Her response cracked through the room like a whip. With practiced movements, she folded the shirt in midair.
“And these convenience-store containers! When you finish eating, throw them in the trash!”
“I’m the type who doesn’t own a trash can.”
“Then buy one!”
Another sharp retort.
She pulled out a forty-liter garbage bag and swiftly dumped all the trash scattered across my kotatsu table into it.
“We haven’t even been that long since the last cleaning. How do you manage to make such a mess in so little time? Honestly, it’s almost a talent.”
“So I’ve got a hidden gift after all.”
“Would you like me to clean something else? For example, your head?”
She tried approaching me with a used cleaning rag.
I politely declined.
♢
Compared to the disaster zone it had been after summer vacation, the room was still relatively tidy, so the cleanup finished quickly.
“As I’m cleaning, I can’t help wondering—are you really okay financially, eating convenience-store food every single day?”
She had a point.
Nutrition was one thing, but money was another. A growing high school boy like me easily spent over five hundred yen per meal at the convenience store. I usually skipped breakfast, but lunch and dinner alone cost more than a thousand yen a day.
Simple math put my monthly food expenses above thirty thousand yen.
For a high school student living alone, that hurt.
“My parents send me money, but… honestly, it’s still rough.”
“An allowance from your parents, hm? How fortunate for you.”
She gave a small snort of laughter before letting out a quiet sigh.
“Don’t tell me you don’t get any support from yours?”
“I would never rely on my parents. I can take care of myself.”
The answer made it easy to guess there was some kind of family situation behind it.
Maybe something complicated.
I had no intention of prying. Even if I asked, she’d probably brush me off.
“You can handle all the housework, and you earn your own money at the maid café. Honestly, you really are living on your own.”
That was probably why she worked in the first place—to support herself without help from her parents.
Still, I couldn’t help wondering why she didn’t just report it properly to the school and work somewhere ordinary, like a café or convenience store.
Then again, it was probably connected to her love of maid uniforms.
When forced to choose between the things she loved and a peaceful school life, she’d chosen what she loved.
And now that I knew her secret, she was desperate to keep it that way. Without her job, living alone would become impossible.
At least, that was my guess.
Still, looking at her daily schedule, it felt like she was pushing herself to the limit.
“Maybe it’s none of my business, but aren’t you working too hard? As student council president, as a maid, and now you’re looking after me on top of all that. It’s a lot. You don’t have to force yourself, you know?”
“You really are meddlesome.”
The response stabbed straight through me.
“Hearing that from someone who only pretends to live independently makes it even more unnecessary.”
A direct hit.
There was no recovering from that one.
“I’ve been living like this for two years already. I’ve never once gotten sick because of it. Everything has become routine. It isn’t difficult at all.”
I could understand that.
Once something became part of your routine, even things that looked exhausting from the outside stopped feeling like a burden.
In fact, not doing them would feel strange—like going to bed without brushing your teeth.
“I assure you, adding ‘taking care of you’ to that routine changes nothing. A contract is a contract. If it keeps you from revealing my secret, it’s a small price to pay.”
She spoke firmly, her expression composed and dignified.
Then she quietly added:
“I can’t quit my job at the maid café.”
There was something in those softly spoken words.
Conviction.
Determination.
A belief she refused to compromise on.
“The meddlesome master—does he have any requests for tonight’s dinner?”
As if she’d realized she’d revealed a little too much, she abruptly changed the subject.
And honestly, I didn’t want to get wounded any further, so I gladly followed her lead.
“You’ll cook for me?”
“It’s part of the contract. Besides, watching you survive on convenience-store lunches every day is making me feel malnourished.”
The words were reluctant, almost grumbling.
But beneath them, I thought I could feel a trace of genuine concern.
“Go ahead. Request anything you’d like. I have ingredients at home, so I can probably make most things.”
The comment was clearly aimed at the fact that my refrigerator contained absolutely nothing.
Unfortunately, it was true, so all I could do was laugh awkwardly.
“Then I’ll leave it to the maid’s discretion.”
“Very well. In that case, I shall prepare tonight’s dinner using whatever ingredients I have at home.”
When I ordered the maid’s special surprise dinner, what appeared before me was goya champuru.
Since it wasn’t something I normally ate, it tasted especially good.
It had been a long time since I’d eaten a meal with actual nutritional value.
Seriously.
This maid was an incredible cook.
