Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World - Volume 3 - Chapter SS2

An Ashen Soliloquy

I like the cool scent of morning. It means my diligent tenant is close to waking; it marks the beginning of a new day.

I like the ice-cold well water. It makes my hands feel like they’ll crack, but that’s perfect to start working; it marks the beginning of a new day.

I like the sound of my knife on a cutting board. My tenants can’t hear me, but this is the sound that guides them to waking.

The rolling boil of beans in a short pan. The sizzling of an egg right beside. The whistling of the kettle for a pot of red tea. I like all of these sounds.

But my favorite sound of all is the creaking staircase. That’s the sound of my hardworking tenant coming down from his bedroom to start his day.

But today he hasn’t come down, even though I’m already cutting the black bread into thin slices. I can hear anything in this house from anywhere, so I listen...and hear him snoozing.

Come to think of it, he came home late last night. Maybe he’s tired.

I go upstairs to find that he really is tired—he’s still sleeping. But his breathing is shallow. He’s probably half of the way to waking up and is just clinging to the warmth of his sheets.

I like the window and the rays of dawn shining through it. They bounce off his golden hair to make another sun indoors.

I like his gentle breathing. It’s proof that he’s cozy in the bed I made.

I want to let him keep sleeping, but I can’t; he has work to do. I don’t know the outside world, but I heard him mutter about how servants don’t have any time to themselves. I have to wake him up.

Besides, I had readied a pail of water for when he always wakes up. I don’t want it to go cold. It’s better for him to wash his face before it does. I even went out of my way to put herbs in the bucket, so I want him to enjoy it at its best.

I gently rock his shoulder and he moans quietly. I secretly put a bit of honey on his lips during the night so the dry autumn air won’t crack them.

Is he still asleep? I try again by poking his cheek. It’s very soft. I know most like his hair, but I think to myself that his cheek is nice too.

He finally finds the willpower to crawl out of the covers. He opens his eyes and pulls off his blanket. He stretches and sits up and lets out a great big yawn.

I hurry to the stairwell to not be seen. As I do, I hear a word of thanks.

Oh, I know I’m not supposed to accept too much gratitude, but I can’t help it when he’s so nice. Silkies aren’t supposed to accept praise from the tenants we care for. We’re not supposed to take candies that they forget on purpose either.

And worst of all, we’re not supposed to be happy when someone names us the Ashen Fraulein.

I’m supposed to get a little bit angry and scold him.

Alfar have rules to follow. We follow these rules out of instinct, and we can’t break them if we want to stay in the world. They help make up the core of our being, and they’re supposed to bind us so tightly that we can’t resist.

Ah, but maybe I’m soft on him because he’s our Beloved One.

The sound of the creaking staircase officially heralds a new day. He comes down freshly dressed.

Warm breakfast lines the table—I can’t believe people of this country can eat cold food!—and he sits down. He eats so neatly that it makes me happy to cook.

He was sloppy when he first moved in, but he perfected his table manners before I knew it. The way he handles his silverware is like an elegant prince. He carefully chews every bite and is careful not to get his mouth dirty. Seeing him perfectly clean the whole plate makes me feel very pleased.

Nothing can make a cook happier than having someone finish a whole meal.

I pour him the red tea I’ve been keeping warm in the pot after his meal. He drinks it and says that the food was good. He makes sure to speak to himself in a way that anyone else in the room can hear.

This is allowed. The way he tiptoes around our rules shows how truly kind he is.

Every now and again, I see mensch try and talk to fairies on mortal terms. Sometimes we get angry. Other times...they mistake my actions for courtship and I have to expel them. The unmannered persons who once lived here are perfect examples.

Oh, but he is such a good boy—so good that I want him to stay here forever.

But you know, I can’t help it. I know he’ll leave one day, but sometimes I wish I could keep him this way for all of time.

This fey desire is one I can’t deny. Hair and eyes are pretty, but we can’t help but be drawn to those who treat us well. So much so that I’m a little bit jealous of my sistren dancing with their favorite boys and girls on the twilight hill at the back of my mind.

But I have to fight the urge. Serving honest tenants and protecting their homes is a silkie’s job.

Besides...I think he’s prettier living his life like this than dancing for all of eternity.

“Thank you, Ashen Fraulein, for your kindness and the wonderful meal.”

These words are supposed to vex me, but I can’t help but be happy. They linger long after they’re said, and I chew on them as I lap up the delicious sweet cream on the stove.

I smile. I wonder what I should make for dinner...

[Tips] Attempts to excessively praise or honor a silkie can trigger unbridled fury.