We’re running low on water.

“Anyone there?”

I called out from the office.

I waited for one of the five slaves to come in, but no one showed up.

“Hey—no one here?”

I tried again. Still no answer.

Unusual. Usually someone comes when I call.

I opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Called once more. Still nothing.

…….

No, I can feel it.

One presence. Definitely a slave inside the palace.

“Sleeping?”

I had work to do, so I went looking for her.

Following the faint trace, I moved down the corridor.

I ended up at the far end of the building—dark, where sunlight barely touched.

There it was. A presence. Someone stirring.

I narrowed my eyes, staring hard.

“…Arisa?”

“—!”

The slave flinched.

She turned around. Of course it was Lisha.

The only slave still without a collar.

“Nng—”

She turned toward me, then suddenly clutched her throat.

“What’s wrong?”

I pressed my palm against her neck, patted her chest.

Something was stuck in her throat.

Closer look—there, at her feet, was a Pusini.

That’s what it was.

“Menu open.”

Rather than go fetch, I made it here.

No water. So I conjured juice on the spot with magic. I handed it to her.

She took it, hesitated, face twisted in discomfort.

“Just drink it.”

I pushed it harder. Finally, she sipped it, trembling.

“—Pfah!”

She swallowed, finally getting her breath back.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t worry. Hell, I’m the one who startled you from behind. You’re not at fault. In fact…”

She finally calmed down and took another look at the situation.

There was a Pshinyi rolling at Liasa’s feet—but upon closer inspection, it wasn’t just one. Five others were scattered around her.

"Why do you have so many?"

"..."

Liasa’s face turned red. Instantly. Like a boiled octopus.

Embarrassed? …… Maybe.

"I—I’m eating them."

"…All of them?"

"Yes…"

"Five? Really?"

"No."

Still looking apologetic, she shook her head.

"I’ve already eaten half."

"Ten?! You ate ten?!"

I gaped, genuinely shocked. That made Liasa sink even lower.

Pshinyi.

One of the most iconic things made from magic. In my mind, it’s officially classified as strategic rations.

Tastes like nothing—absolutely awful—but it’s dirt cheap to produce, and one is enough to fill a human belly for a full meal.

At least, no one’s ever complained about it being insufficient—only that it tastes awful.

“Sorry… I used your master card to make and eat it without permission.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s fine.”

She made it herself with her slave card.

That only uses ten mana points. No problem at all.

“…Just take that and come with me.”

“…Yes.”

I start walking. Lirya follows, still holding the leftover Pshiny.

We backtrack to the reception room. I sit on the sofa and tell Lirya:

“Sit over there.”

She sits silently across from me.

Looks like a kid caught sneaking sweets.

“Menu open.”

I make juice again and set it on the table.

“Here.”

“Eh?”

“Drink it slowly while you eat. Don’t choke.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just eat it already.”

Arisa hesitated, then nodded, and resumed eating her half-eaten pshiny.

Not touching the juice. Shy. Holding back.

“Drink the juice too.”

“But….”

“Disobeying a command, even as a slave? Hmm?”

Said it with a slightly sharper tone.

Of course, not angry. Wouldn’t get angry over something like this.

In fact, kind of fun—learning the pleasure of forcing a shy slave to indulge, just for the hell of it.

Predictably, the moment “command” was said, Arisa’s expression changed.

“Y-yes!”

She grabbed the juice frantically and downed it in one gulp.

I suppressed a laugh.

That’s not the point, drinking it all at once.

“Done.”

“…Finish the rest.”

“Y-yes! —gurgle!”

Hastily eating—naturally, choked again.

I pulled out DORECA and prepared the third glass of juice.

Placed it in front of Arisa.

A hesitation, just a flash—this time she took it before being told, and drank.

“Pwah….”

Calm down, Arisa.

Staring back and forth between Pshiny and the juice, and then me—her face twisted, on the verge of tears.

Damn, this is kind of fun.

I pulled out DORECA and set up the magic circle.

“Arisa, make this right now.”

“Yes!”

Arisa stood, flustered, and dashed off.

Just as she passed through the doorway, I caught a glimpse of her profile—relieved, even happy.

The classic look of an Eternal Slave, thrilled to be given a task.

I waited a moment. Then she returned, holding the ingredients.

She placed them into the magic circle—something formed.

“Is this… a cake?”

“Yeah.”

The table was buried under cakes. A full-blown cake buffet.

Arisa blinked, stunned.

I took the half-eaten Pshiny from her and pointed at the cake.

Come on, eat this way.

"Wait, but..."

"Master's?"

Y-yes!

Lysa hastily sat down and started eating the cake.

The cake was a considerable amount.

Four psiny remained. The cake was made for four people.

Lysa was eating it, glancing at me now and then, just a little.

A face that looked genuinely sorry.

I pulled out my DORECA and checked the status.

Normally, her magic charged at one unit per second. Now, it was barely keeping up—about three units every second.

Good good, you're happy then.

Her expression says sorry, but she’s clearly delighted.

Slaves are meant to be loved. Seems I’m starting to catch on to what pleases her, a little.

"Oh! You’re here, master!"

The door bursts open and Mira walks in.

A flustered expression.

"Risha, eat. What’s wrong?"

Standing up, I walk toward Mira.

Fire! There's a fire in the town!

"Fire?"

It's definitely a problem.

"Situation?"

"Um, the people living there fled, but the houses are packed too tightly—spreading fire’s already looking likely. What should we do, master?"

"Right... I could take you in as True Eternal Slave—ah, no."

I’d almost reached for the power of the Water Sword, but then another idea struck me.

"Destroy it yourself."

"Eh? But I—"

"Use 'Dismantle.' Everyone’s evacuated, right? Even around the burning buildings?"

"Yeah!"

"Then dismantle the area around the flames. That’ll stop the spread. The fire should go out on its own. When it does, rebuild it."

"Oh! Right! I’m going!"

Mira dashed off with the same urgency she’d shown when she’d returned after finally understanding how to use her slave card for demolition and fire suppression.

Fire… this time, that method’ll work. But I’ll have to think of something different next time.

I was still thinking that when I turned around.

Speechless at the sight before me.

Lysa, having just cleared the cake, was once again clutching her throat, tapping her chest softly to stifle any noise.

In her hand: a Pusini.

"Hey now..."

I hastily conjure juice and hand it over.

Lysa takes it, drinks. Takes a breath.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Fine, but was it not enough?"

"No, it's not that..."

She fidgets, stammers.

I glare. She gives in, finally speaking.

"Food's a separate matter..."

"…pfft."

I can’t help it—I burst out laughing.

The fifth slave. Lysa. Seems like quite the amusing one.