When I returned to the manor, what awaited me were shocking words.
"Per Bro's orders, the amount of food served to you has been restricted. We are no longer able to provide as much as you desire, as before. Please forgive us. However, please rest assured. As long as you remain in this residence, breakfast, lunch, and dinner will be provided. The chef will put their full skill into each meal, so I'm sure you'll be satisfied."
In short: We're cutting your meals, so deal with it.
I'm not dealing with it!
Sure, the food here is delicious.
But I need quantity!
How am I supposed to maintain my split body if they cut my food?!
W-What the hell am I gonna do?!
At this rate, the split body will starve to death.
Should I have the split body hunt down some monsters to eat?
No—I can't have someone on a stealth mission doing something like that.
Besides, if I actually started hunting monsters in earnest, the ecosystem would go haywire.
The Great Ello Dungeon's ecosystem has already changed quite a bit because of me, after all.
I might end up breaking the whole system of monsters attacking people.
So then, the minimum option would be to keep the split body alive by having it hunt insects and small animals.
I don't really want to do that either, but beggars can't be choosers.
The other option is to get this Bro character to rescind his order and restore my original food allocation.
Bro—that's the punk from earlier, right?
If he can issue orders like that, it means he's connected to the master of this manor.
So he really is Bart's brother or something, just as I suspected?
With the Demon race, appearance and actual age don't always match up, so maybe he's even a son. Not out of the question.
Well, whoever this Bro character really is, it doesn't matter.
He did something he shouldn't have.
Taking food away from me—it's said that one should fear even the gods, but I'll teach him the true terror of bearing a grudge over a meal.
That said, his reasoning isn't exactly wrong.
From his perspective, I really am just a freeloader.
Even I'm self-aware enough to know I've been eating too much.
Can't be helped, though.
When you've got too many children to feed, you've got to eat a lot.
Since I'm a guest, they've reduced my portions, but it doesn't seem like they'd actually kick me out of the manor or stop serving me entirely.
Does the punk know that I'm connected to the Demon King?
If he did, he probably wouldn't have done something like this... but who knows.
At the very least, this was probably the punk's own decision—Bart probably wasn't looped in.
Bart was terrified of both me and the Demon King, after all.
There's no way he'd have the guts to defy me over something this minor.
So then, the most straightforward solution would be to appeal directly to Bart.
If I did that, I'd probably get my original portions back.
But doing so would probably make the punk look at me with even more contempt.
I just get the feeling—that type has a pretty strong rebellious streak against authority figures.
Maybe it's prejudice.
But if I went crying to Bart, the punk would probably see me as a parasite sucking up to those in power.
Now that would really get under my skin.
I want to make that punk eat his words and then demand my food like I have every right to it.
In that case, I've got no choice.
I'll do exactly what he wants—I'll work for it.
I shut myself in my room at the manor.
The next day, I came to the castle.
When I asked the manor's butler where the punk was, he said the punk was usually at the castle.
Thanks to the pass Bart had made for me before, I got into the castle without any trouble.
But what came after was a pain.
Requesting an audience with the punk took forever, and the actual wait time before I could see him took even longer.
I'd arrived at the castle in the morning, but by the time I finally got to meet the punk, the sun had already set.
This is why government work is the worst.
"What do you want?"
That voice carried barely concealed irritation and fatigue.
W-Wait, this guy's actually working!?
When I was led into the punk's office, he was buried in paperwork—something that looked absolutely nothing like his appearance.
A punk like him, hunched over a desk doing paperwork?!
The laws of being a punk are crumbling!
"Hey, I'm busy over here. Stop standing there mute and spit out your business already."
Oh boy.
That shocking sight threw me off a little.
I'll add a mountain of paperwork on top of the paperwork already burying this punk.
I pulled out stacks of documents from another dimension and slammed them down in a massive pile.
"I did the work. Give me food."
I stated my purpose bluntly.
"Huh?"
The punk furrowed his brows and let out an incredulous voice.
He looked back and forth between me and the mountain of papers, then reluctantly reached for the documents.
He began reading through what was written.
Those eyes that had been looking at everything so suspiciously gradually widened.
The punk leaned forward off the back of his chair, staring at the documents as though trying to devour them with his eyes.
The moment he finished the first page, he hurriedly moved on to the next.
With astonishing speed, he went through every single document.
"You—how did you do this?"
After finishing all the papers, the punk asked in a slightly dazed voice.
And I'm not about to honestly answer that.
No way I'm revealing my hand.
"Secret."
The punk gave me a light glare at my response, but quickly looked away.
Then he pressed a hand to his head as if nursing a headache.
"Fine. Do whatever you want at the manor."
The punk said it as though he'd given up.
Ha. I win.
"Are we done here? Your little stunt just added a whole pile of extra work for me."
Absolutely.
I don't exactly want to keep dealing with the punk either.
I made my exit promptly.
What I'd given him was a compilation of useful intelligence from the Demon race territory that I'd had my split bodies investigate.
See, I really do work properly, you know—mission accomplished on that front.
Now the punk won't be able to call me a freeloader anymore.
If it means maintaining my leisurely lifestyle, I'll do whatever it takes.