The sun burns my skin as I shovel away at the excrement, the almost toothpick-like tool barely chipping at the large mess. My hands find difficulty at grabbing at the metal due to sweat causing my hands to slip constantly.

Wiping my face with my shirt, I groan in exasperation. This collar really pisses me off.

Right now, it’s about the next day, and the sun seems particularly happy today, ignoring my feelings in the process.

So far, I’ve found out the order of this wonderful cast of faces. Ms. Kaen is the leader/Supervisor, Navi Highergald is like the captain of her small company which consists of Arivia and Meiko Asakawa. And Kors is.. I don’t know.

Kors is the best, man.

But regardless, I’ve figured out their hierarchy, something I can take advantage of when I make my eventual grand escape.

I’m in the backyard of the mansion, a couple of meters away from the training field. The grass stretches out endlessly, brushing up against a distant treeline that sways gently under a too-blue sky.

Located to my right is the companionship of Asa and Arivia, both of them sipping on what I assume to be tea and playing the same board game I had seen them play on day zero.

A radiant white umbrella looms over them, protecting their fair skin from the sun. Underneath, the umbrella table holds their tea and something else I can’t really make out, given that well, everytime I stop, I receive approximately 7000 volts shot into my ass.

Right now, curiously enough, they’re wearing regular outfits one would expect girls their age to wear in hot weather. Short tops as well as…

Hah…I don’t really care all too much to describe that.

Serving is the Kratt, a strange, tall creature made of various tools, lacking everything but a mouth filled with sharp teeth.

Now that I think of it, I’ve heard of the Kratt before. If I recall correctly, it’s a creature in Estonian folklore, a sort of butler that does chores for you. That’s not the scary part, though. In order to make one, you need blood and give it to the DEVIL. I wonder, is ‘he’ a real thing in this world?

As soon as that last word crosses my mind, I shudder and go back to doing my work.

In this world, it seems that monsters seen in typical fantasy exist. Yet not your typical dragon, goblin, skeleton. These are true fantastical creatures that the typical person would never even dream of.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this world were filled with more H.P. Lovecraft types of monsters rather than ‘basic’ ones. Well, they’d all probably not hesitate twice before killing you.

Speaking of killing…

What was that conversation last night? A hit job?

Well, I guess that’s to be expected from mercenaries. They’re morally ambiguous people, only chasing monetary value. They have no purpose, just for the highest bidder. They will do virtually anything to just gain an extra dollar, whether it's burning down a village or protecting a boy on his way to school.

But to be honest, I can understand. I don’t know about this world, but in my world, money was god. Unfortunately, that was the case for almost everyone, as you needed money to do virtually anything, an issue I personally took heavy displeasure with. I wouldn’t consider myself belonging to any major religion, but I believe there is a god. I heavily disbelieve the fact that we humans were created to chase our own desires like a dog chasing its tail, an endless loop of suffering, momentary enjoyment, then suffering again.

“Haha… Look who’s talking..” I mutter to myself.

Continuing my thoughts about the conversation earlier, I recall Ms. Kaen stated they’d go somewhere before sunrise. It’s about 2 hours after the sun rose, pretty early in the morning, so why are they still here?

I swivel my head towards the training area, my eyes widening at the sight.

Kors and Kaen are playing tennis.

Actual tennis. A proper game of volleys, footwork, sweat flying. I watch as Kors barely catches one of Kaen’s smashes.

“They’re playing tennis!?”

They have an operation, and they’re wasting time playing a game of tennis?! A pretty good one too!?

“Tennis? Sounds like some kind of food.” Arivia says, moving her piece 2 moves up the board. She’s resting her face on her hand, a bored expression on her face. Asa, on the other hand is focused, yet distant at the same time.

I watch Kors barely catch a smash by Kaen.

“No, that’s clearly tennis!!”

“Please stop shouting, I am trying to concentrate.” Asa says.

“That’s not tennis. That’s Sinnet,” Arivia says with the straightest face I’ve ever seen on a person.

“You just said it backward—!”

I sigh.

“Okay, let me guess the rules; You hit the ball with the racket back and forth, and if it bounces more than twice on the ground on one side, it’s a point. Also, if one player hits it towards the area outside the white line, the other player gets a point.”

“No, actually. The ball cannot touch the ground, no matter what.” Asa says.

“....Tch. It’s like someone came here knowing what tennis is, but went: ‘Oh no, we do things differently around here!’ and changed like, 2 things.”

“Sinnet, not tennis.”

"Are you making nuf of me?!"

“That was a trap space.” Asa states nonchalantly.

“Hah?! You’re joking!!”

Keeping my eyes on the ‘Sinnet’ match, I yell. “Amazing serve, Ms. Kaen!” Of course, she ignores me, but it’s understandable.

I turn back to my work, only to be interrupted by two sharp jolts of electricity running through my spine. Not strong enough to drop me, but annoying enough to remember.

Navi.

I’ve memorized the number of shocks corresponding to each person. 1-6 is Arivia, 2 is Navi, 3 is Asakawa, 4 is Ms. Kaen, and 5, I’m assuming, is Kors, although he’s never called me. Kors, you’re the best, man. Anyway, the process took not even a couple of hours, given that they were calling me constantly to deal with various issues. I thought I was limited to outside, but even household issues were to be dealt with by me, despite the presence of the Kratt.

Wait, I can’t waste any time.

I drop the shovel, rinse my hands with a hose, and dash inside, boots thudding through the grand hallway. Taking the stairs two at a time, I barely stop to breathe. I’ve seen what Arivia does when I’m late. Navi might be worse.

I knock twice at her door.

“Come in…”

I do. And nearly fall over.

Her room is chaos. Swords, daggers, and other medieval murder instruments are scattered everywhere. The curtain flutters with the wind. Her bed’s massive. It's got a black frame, gold accents, the kind of thing royalty sleeps on.

And there’s Navi. Sitting up in bed. Completely uncovered aside from a lazily clutched bedsheet.

“Yawn… I’m surprised you’re not reacting,” she says through a sleepy grin.

“What, you want me to flail my arms and scream or something?” I groan, covering my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Fix my room, slave.” She mutters, flopping back onto the bed.

I sigh, getting to work.

Each sword I lift is heavier than the last, making me wonder how a girl with her stature can carry them with ease. I’m sure she’s proficient in all of them, too, which adds to my wonder.

Her snoring doesnt help either, it feels like everytime she inhales, I slowly get sucked into a vaccum, then spitted out. Cute girls aren’t supposed to yawn like middle aged men! Well, I can’t really assume that, since that’s placing unrealistic things on people. What the hell am I talking about?

After five minutes, I’ve gathered everything into the hallway, stacking them in fives to carry down later.

Her room really is nice, beneath all the clutter.

Glancing at the curtain, I make my way towards it, to allow some sun in the dreary room. As I Place my hand on the curtain, Navi suddenly awakens, jumps over the bed and grabs my hand.

“Are you some kind of vampire?”

“Pull it and you’ll find out.”

Now that I get a good look at her, she’s only a few inches shorter than me, and her hair’s quite messy. Her yellow eyes bore into me, like some kind of dog that’s a couple of seconds away from biting down on my poor hand.

I let go of the curtain.

“What’s with the light allergy?”

“Don’t like it, simple.”

“There’s gotta be a reason, y'know?"

“You really do a lot of prying, y’know?”

“But don’t I deserve at least some kind of compensation for working my ass off with no wage? I’m literally a slave, mentally, and physically.”

She folds her arms under her chest.

“I don’t owe you any kind of explanation. You take orders, and follow through. There’s no kind of reasoning required for you to do your job.”

She pushes a sword into my chest.

“And here, you missed one.”

Damn it, I was trying to make conversation, but I guess she’s not really interested. Maybe she’s not ready or something? It’s completely understandable, yet at the same time, being treated as nothing more than a tool kind of hurts.

I’m about to leave the room, sword in hand, when I remember something.

“Oh yeah, I heard you guys were heading somewhere.”

Her head spins towards me.

I can tell she was about to utter something along the lines of ‘How the hell’d you know?’

But right now, she’s shut the door, I assume to dress- Oh, and she’s running down the stairs already.

I walk to the window and lift the curtain. Outside, Navi is sprinting toward the field, yelling. The others panic, scattering like kicked-over chess pieces.

…Did these elite, paid mercenaries forget an appointment?

“These guys… are idiots,” I mutter. I cover my mouth. “They’re just like me…”

The sudden sound of creaking behind me startles me, causing me to fall.

The fabled Kratt!

“I apoll-logi-zzzeeee.”

“Wait, not any closer!”

“Serv-viiiiice pro-ccess... staaartiiing... nowww...”

I crawl backwards on all fours like a man facing a bear.

“Wait! WAIT! I’m off-duty! I clocked out emotionally an hour ago!”

The Kratt raises what could be generously called a hand, a rusted claw-joint thing with a spoon duct-taped to one finger.

It shuffles closer.

“No—no touching. That’s Rule Number One.”

“Obj-j-j-jecti-on: Con-sennt givennn upon contrac-ctt acccepta-nce.”

“I didn’t accept crap! And she put that collar on me—”

The Kratt reaches forward and gently—gently—boops me on the forehead.

“DING.”

I flinch so hard I hit the wall behind me.

“What was that?!”

The Kratt produces a crumpled list. In bright red ink, written in terrifyingly neat calligraphy in this world's language. Well, actually, I can’t tell if it’s neat or not, given that I can barely read this language. Anyways, it reads:

“TO-DO FOR HUMAN BOY:

1. Unclog watermites from the basement drain.
   
   

2. Emotionally support Lady Highergald(denied).
   
   

3. Dust chandelier (death risk: 87% (90% (100%)).”
   
   

"Why say 87 percent if it's 100?!"

“Task immmpossible.”

A long pause. I glare at the Kratt. It stares back, whirring faintly.

“…Fine. Let’s just get this over with. Where are the gloves?”

“Rec-ommended pro-tective gear: None. Increasess spiritual toleranccce.”

I groan, dragging myself off the floor.

“Yeah. Great. Let’s build up my tolerance. Maybe if I suffer enough, I’ll become immune to this entire household.”

As I trudge toward the hallway, the Kratt follows close behind, humming some warbled lullaby.

“You know,” I mutter, “you’re the second creepiest thing in this place.”

“C-clarifyyy?”