I was eating a meal at House Cerclie's mansion in Aramsass.
Usually Novem does the cooking, but today the sharp-tongued Automaton had stubbornly insisted she would prepare the meal and wouldn't back down.
She seemed to be burning with rivalry toward Novem, but something about the whole thing felt off.
This clumsy maid—the moment she set foot in the mansion, she had tried to attack Novem.
She picked up a broom that was nearby and was about to swing it down on Novem, so I stopped her—
"How is it? The taste of this meal I painstakingly made for that wimpy little Chicken."
"Chicken" apparently referred to me.
It seemed that because my energy wasn't the same as when we'd first met, she'd taken to calling me a wimpy Chicken.
"No, it's delicious. Better than I expected, actually, but—"
"But? But what? Is the Chicken going to complain about my cooking? Go on, say it. Tomorrow I'll prepare an even better meal using your feedback."
I looked at the dishes spread across the table.
They looked appealing.
The taste was fine. In fact, it was delicious.
I genuinely hadn't expected the Automaton to go this far.
"...There's an extra dish for me compared to the others, though?"
I had one more plate than anyone else.
The clumsy one looked at me and scoffed.
"I was wondering what you'd say. I made an extra dish for my master, the Chicken. It was within the budget I was given, so there shouldn't be a problem, right?"
There was very much a problem.
"Hey, this is Miranda's mansion. We're guests here!"
At that, Miranda, who was eating with us, spoke up.
"Oh, don't worry about it. Why not become the master of this place instead?"
Miranda, with her light green hair, looked at me with her green eyes.
Her playful nature was plain to see.
She was clearly enjoying this.
I'd always thought of her as cat-like, but after what had happened in the Dungeon last time, that side of her personality had become even more pronounced.
I glanced at Novem, who had her brown hair tied in a side tail.
Novem didn't seem to notice my gaze.
She was eating, and then—
"If it were to Lord Lyle's preference, the flavor is a bit bland."
She just came out and said it.
Aria heard that and let out a sigh.
Aria, with her red hair, looked at me with her purple eyes.
"Make sure you stop her this time."
The reason Aria was exasperated was because of the clumsy one.
After all, this clumsy—
"Hmph! Is this the 'bride bullying' I saw in the data? Do you have complaints about my cooking? I put careful thought into the nutritional balance and aimed for perfect taste, you know!"
She was clashing with Novem.
For some reason, she only directed hostility-like emotions toward Novem.
The Fourth Generation, who could speak to me alone from the blue Jewel hanging around my neck, was the one who called out as I watched this unfold.
The Fourth Generation head of House Walt, Marks Walt, was a man with long blue hair parted in a 7:3 ratio and wearing glasses.
Inside the Jewel, everyone appeared in their thirties.
The Fourth Generation's distinguishing feature wasn't just the glasses.
"What a weird Automaton. Picking a fight with little Novem—what is she thinking? Come on, hurry up and stop her, Lyle."
The Fourth Generation was quite the nag when it came to women.
No, more precisely, when it came to handling women.
"Alright, clumsy, that's enough. Why are you being so harsh toward Novem?"
I relayed the Fourth Generation's words and tried to stop the clumsy one.
But surprisingly, it was Novem who—
"Lord Lyle, calling her 'clumsy' is really too harsh. She's become our new companion, after all. We really ought to decide on a proper name for her."
How kind of you, Novem...
In contrast—
"To show mercy to an enemy... that carelessness will cost you your life one day. I am, after all, a one-of-a-kind masterpiece built as the highest-end model. I cannot afford to show mercy to—"
The clumsy one started spewing incomprehensible words once again, and Miranda said:
"Then, would you rather stay as 'Clumsy'?"
"...Chicken, look up at me with those puppy eyes and beg me to give you a name worthy of me."
That was no way to ask a favor.
But despite her foul mouth, she was someone who gave her all when it came to things involving me.
The household chores that had been so difficult with just Novem had become much easier thanks to her, or so I'd heard.
"...I was thinking, since those twin tails move the way they do."
When I said that, the clumsy one seized on it.
"Oh! You have excellent taste to be aroused by these twin tails! Even my creators used to fight over whether the black-haired bob or this golden-haired twin tail was the better look. Twin tails truly are the strongest, aren't they?"
"Something about the way you move is all wobbly, so how about I call you [Poyopoyo]—"
When I got that far, the normally expressive clumsy one's face went blank.
And one person was clutching her stomach, trying to hold back her laughter—Shannon.
She used to be a frail, blind young lady, but with her older sister Miranda being the way she was, this younger sister turned out to be quite the character herself.
"That naming sense is atrocious."
Shannon burst out laughing, and it was Miranda who reached toward her.
With her left hand, Miranda grabbed Shannon's head and squeezed.
Creaking sounds could be heard.
"S-Sister, it hurts! It really hurts!"
"Don't be cute about it, Shannon. You're being rude to Poyopoyo, who just received her name."
At that, Aria pressed her hand over her mouth.
Only Novem was eating her food while seriously contemplating something.
"...Chicken. I'll allow a name change if you offer now."
Poyopoyo said that to me, but I shook my head.
"No changes, Poyopoyo."
At that, the Fourth Generation, who had been speaking angrily from the Jewel—
"This is going too far no matter how you look at it! You should be kind to girls!"
That's what he said.
(I guarantee something was done to his wife at some point.)
Based on my ancestors' words and actions, I'd guessed that the Fourth Generation was a henpecked husband.
Though he was this naggy about how to treat women, in the history of House Walt, he had served as head the longest.
When the Third Generation died in battle in his thirties, the Fourth Generation had taken over as head in his teens.
From there, he'd mainly been active in domestic affairs, or so I'd heard...
"By the way, does this thing really not cost anything to maintain? She just drains Lyle's mana, right? If there were maintenance costs, wouldn't that be a hassle? A regular servant might be better."
He got a bit naggy about money.
I'd heard he'd been active in financial matters as well, and actually talking to him, he'd give nitpicky advice about spending.
If you put money and women side by side, he was the type to choose money.
But when it came to his wife, he was apparently weak.
The Fifth Generation, the Fourth Generation's son, said:
"Hey, didn't you just say to be kind to girls? Besides, she might look like a woman on the outside, but isn't she made of iron or something on the inside?"
The Fourth Generation responded:
"Oh, right... but Poyopoyo really is something else."
Even he acknowledged that Poyopoyo was something else.
The expressionless Poyopoyo (tentative) looked at me and kept muttering for me to change it.
"Master, couldn't you think a little more? Use that empty brain of yours to come up with a name for me. I'll cherish it, you know—if it's a proper name, I'll truly cherish it..."
She was scary. This Automaton was really scary.
"Hey, that's kind of creeping me out, stop it. Fine, I'll think about it. I'll think, so just give me a little more time."
When I said that, the troublesome clumsy one's face lit up with a smile.
"As expected, the Chicken is weak to a girl's push!"
I smiled back and said:
"Even if the outside is a girl, the inside is different. Let's face reality."
The clumsy one, now angry, fired back:
"What are you talking about? Nothing is impossible for me, a Special Model of the highest rank! If I put my mind to it, even a man's desires could be—"
When she got that far, Novem said:
"We're eating, Poyopoyo."
Poyopoyo bit into her handkerchief and glared in frustration.
"You... you woman!"
The meal at the lively House Cerclie mansion had become exhausting lately.
"So, that's how I ended up here."
The library.
I'd come here to stock up on knowledge, and today I was reading with Clara again.
We were the kind of friends who read together and occasionally chatted.
Before, I'd taken on a commission from Damian, a famous professor even in the academic city of Aramsass, and had worked together with him on the job.
Clara was a support specialist but an excellent adventurer.
She had dark blue hair cut to around her shoulders, but it was messy—whether she'd cut it herself, I couldn't tell.
She loved reading at the library, so if I came here, there was a high chance of running into her.
Now I'd ask her what books were interesting, and occasionally we'd chat about other things too.
"That's right. The clumsy one keeps insisting I give her a name, and she keeps clashing with Novem."
"That is strange. Clashing with Novem—as fellow maids, perhaps?"
I didn't really know the details either.
After all, that clumsy one... was broken.
She didn't remember important things, and her way of speaking to me was just terrible.
"According to her, she recognized me as an enemy or something like that."
"She's an ancient Automaton, so just the fact that she moves is remarkable. Oh, that reminds me."
Clara seemed to remember something and told me:
"At the academy, apparently Damian activated an Automaton. He actually started up three Automatons and observed their behavior."
Damian was now the same person he'd been in Aramsass.
To activate an ancient-technology Automaton and control it—that must have been quite impressive.
Hearing that, I thought:
"Why is my clumsy one like that... Can't I exchange her for another?"
Clara said:
"She's doing her job, isn't she? Is there some problem?"
"Her way of speaking, mostly. Other than that, she's perfect. Cleaning, laundry, cooking—she does everything."
She really was perfect in every other way, which was exactly why I wished something could be done about her speech.
"Well, give up on that. It's a kind of contract, I hear, and since there's no known way to sever the connection, she'll stay that way for life."
"Don't remind me of unpleasant things..."
The contract with an Automaton required using your own blood as a catalyst.
But I'd only just "grown," and my excitement had been so high that I'd kissed the Automaton to activate her.
(Was that what caused the problem? No, but she'd said she was broken herself...)
"Anyway—"
Clara looked at me.
"Hmm?"
"You certainly take on troublesome things. Restricting your use of Skills to break through to the 30th floor of the Dungeon, of all things."
Last time, when we'd challenged the Dungeon, the six of us had defeated the boss on the 40th floor.
An enemy that would normally require fifty adventurers to tackle.
The result was good, but what my ancestors had imposed on me in response was "break through to the 30th floor without using any Skills."
Judging that my own strength was vastly insufficient, they had forbidden me from using any of the Jewel's Skills.
Because of this, I had to break through to the 30th floor of Aramsass's Dungeon with our strength alone.
Easy to say, but that was still a challenge that twenty to thirty adventurers would typically take on.
"It's a personal matter. Relying entirely on Skills is dangerous when your mana runs out."
I explained the reason my ancestors had given me, and Clara looked slightly surprised.
"...I had thought you would eventually make a major mistake without ever realizing it, Lyle. But it seems I need to reassess my evaluation."
"H-Harsh."
When I said that, I thought Clara smiled just a little.
"If anything comes up, let me know. When it's a request from a well-paying client like you, it's no loss to listen."
Materialistic, I thought—but for us as adventurers, money was important.
We risked our lives to make a living.
If we lived off the money earned through that risk, we needed to be diligent about it.
Though now, I was in a position where I had to earn enough to support two women and an Automaton.
(But what should I really do?)
Simply increasing numbers and charging in would certainly make conquering the Dungeon easier.
But I'd already put on a shameful performance during Damian's commission.
(Novem had to carry me back to the Guild, so my reputation... is pretty low.)
Yes, at the very end, my body had given out, and I'd been seen in that sorry state by the other adventurers.
As a result, my personal credibility was low.
While I wanted to assemble a party, my middling reputation in Aramsass kept getting in the way.
(Maybe the only path is to build up my foundational strength more gradually after all.)
The reason I'd been able to grow so rapidly and produce results was thanks to the Skills of the successive heads of the family recorded in the Jewel.
Without them, I was truly stuck.
(I need to figure out a way to break through to the 30th floor.)
With that thought, I read books in the library and accumulated knowledge.