227 He who does not work shall not eat

The words awaiting me upon my return to the manor were a shock.

"By order of Lord Brow, your meal portions have been restricted. We can no longer provide as much as you request. Forgive us. However, rest assured. As long as you reside at this estate, breakfast, lunch, and dinner will be served. Our chef will prepare each meal with care. You shall surely find satisfaction."

Paraphrased: food reduced, okay?

Not okay!

Yes, the food here is delicious.

But I need the quantity!

How am I supposed to maintain my fragmented form if my meals are cut?

Damn it.

If this continues, my fragment will starve.

Should I have my fragment subdue an appropriate monster and consume it?

No. I can't have someone in stealth concealment do that.

Besides, if I begin hunting monsters properly, the ecosystem will destabilize.

The ecosystem of the Elro Great Labyrinth has already shifted significantly due to me.

I might disrupt the system that enables monsters to attack humans.

Thus, I must maintain my fragment by hunting only insects or small animals.

I don't want to do that, but there's no alternative.

Alternatively, I could have the individual named Blow rescind the order and restore the original food ration.

Blow—was that the thug from earlier?

The fact that he can issue commands suggests some connection to the household's master.

As expected, likely a sibling of Balt or similar.

Demons don't always match their appearance with their age. A son might not be out of the question.

Regardless, the true identity of this Blow character is irrelevant.

He did what should not have been done.

Taking food from me—such boldness, one might say, even toward the divine.

I must teach him the fear food can inspire.

Yet his argument is not entirely without merit.

From his perspective, I remain nothing more than a free rider.

I am aware, even I admit, that I eat too much.

There is no choice.

To feed my growing brood, I must consume more.

Whether I am a guest or not, the amount may be reduced, but I will not be cast out from the estate, nor denied meals.

Does the thug know I am connected to the Demon Lord?

If he did, he likely would not have acted thus—but I wonder.

At the very least, this matter appears to be the thug's independent decision. No word has reached Balt.

Balt fears both me and the Demon Lord, deeply.

There’s no way that thug would dare defy me over something so trivial.

In that case, the quickest resolution is to appeal directly to Balt.

That should restore my original food rations.

But if I do that, the thug’s perception of me will harden.

Something about that type seems to thrive on defiance toward authority.

Perhaps it’s prejudice.

If I go to Balt, I might be seen as a parasite clinging to power.

That’s irritating.

I want to make that thug flinch—then demand my food with full composure.

Very well.

Then I’ll work as he demands.

I secluded myself in my chamber at the manor.

The next day, I arrived at the castle.

After asking the household butler about the thug’s whereabouts, I was told he usually stayed at the castle.

Thanks to the pass previously made for me by Balt, I entered the castle with ease.

But the aftermath was unbearable.

Requesting an audience with the delinquent took time. Additional time elapsed before the meeting could actually occur.

He had arrived at the castle in the morning, but met the gangster only after sunset.

That’s why bureaucracy is like this.

What do you want?

There was no hiding the irritation and fatigue in her voice.

H-hey, this guy's actually working!?

When I was brought to the thug’s office, he was in the middle of paperwork—utterly unlike his appearance.

A street urchin, working at a desk like that!?

The law of the commoner is disrupted!

Hey, I’m busy over here. Stop talking and get to the point.

Ott.

A momentary disturbance, caught off guard by the shocking sight.

I will add even more documents to the delinquent buried under paperwork.

A mountain of documents extracted from another dimension is slammed down in a pile.

"Worked. Food now."

I state my purpose directly.

"Huh?"

The delinquent frowns, voice stunned.

He alternates glancing between me and the towering stack of documents, then reluctantly reaches for one.

He scans the contents.

His suspicious gaze gradually widens.

Leaning forward from the chair’s backrest, he stares intently at the documents.

After finishing the first page, he swiftly turns to the next.

He scans through all of them with remarkable speed.

"You, how did you get this?"

The delinquent asks, voice slightly dazed after finishing.

I do not answer honestly.

Wouldn't reveal my hand like that.

"Secret."

The delinquent glared at my reply, briefly, then looked away immediately.

He pressed his fingers to his temple, as if suppressing a headache.

"Fine. Do whatever you want in the manor."

The delinquent spoke, as if surrendering.

F—won.

"Done already? Thanks to you, I’ve got extra work now."

Of course.

I don’t want to waste time on a delinquent like him.

Just leave quickly.

What I handed over was a compiled summary of intelligence from the demon territory I’d had my fragments scout.

See? I’m doing my job properly—this was a successful demonstration.

Now the delinquent can’t call me a freeloader.

For the sake of maintaining a carefree life, I’ll do anything.

Minor adjustment to the Queen’s story from the previous chapter.