Chapter 7: Masked Dowa Girl.

To move to the open café, I carefully carry the sweet-smelling basket, making sure not to drop it, as we walk through the forest.
Since keeping pace with Tarte would take too long, I took the basket from Silhime, and she’s carrying Tarte.
Tarte threatened, “Drop it, and you’re a toad,” so I’m risking my life here, but carrying both Tarte and my backpack would’ve been impossible with my small frame.
If only it was Tarte I could drop without worry…

We’re in a forest on the academy grounds, used for gathering alchemy and potion-making materials, so it’s fairly large.
It took over fifteen minutes to reach Tarte’s crash site, but we exit the forest in under ten, stepping onto a stone-paved path.
Huh? Were we that close to the edge?
I wonder if I ran farther than I thought while escaping Tarte, tilting my head in confusion.
Nearby, upperclassmen from the specialized courses rush by, making a commotion.

“Something fell? If you find it first, you might score rare materials!”

…All they’ll find is a crater.
I don’t want to get caught by saying anything, so I stay silent, feeling a pang of guilt as I watch them go.
Even a sage wouldn’t guess a three-year-old fell from the sky.
They wouldn’t believe me anyway.

Despite the break between classes, the campus is lively.
The new semester starts next week, with new students arriving, so clubs and research groups are preparing to recruit freshmen, just like in my past life’s schools.

The Arkan Kingdom uses a calendar like my old world: 12 months, 7-day weeks, likely introduced by past reincarnators.
But a year is 395 days, about 30 days longer, so months differ.
It’s late March now, with April starting next week.
The spring semester start is likely due to climate, not reincarnator influence—carriages, the main transport, struggle in snow.

I’m in the animal-taming club, caring for animals and tame magical beasts on a rotating schedule.
The perks were too good to pass up.
They do circus-like performances with animals, so they’re probably practicing somewhere.
As I scan for club members, I notice a problem.

– Oh no… we’re super conspicuous…

Everyone’s staring.
Passersby turn and point.
No surprise—a beautiful, all-white maid carrying a three-year-old stands out.
This is the general education area, where students, even repeaters, are 14 at most.
Silhime must stick out like a Hollywood star among Japanese women…

“Don’t want to stand out too much, right?”
“Are you that bothered by attention? Even with your fourteen-year-old disease, you’re absurdly self-conscious.”

Ugh… If Tarte didn’t look three, I’d give her a knuckle sandwich…
I was being considerate, thinking she’d dislike the curious stares, but she calls out my chuunibyou instead.
I need to teach her about rebellion someday.
She loves surprising people, so maybe she doesn’t mind the attention.
Attention-seeker.

Heading to the welfare building with the cafeteria, store, and open café, we catch up to a dozen female students chatting and moving slowly toward the same destination.

Oh… these are my classmates…
The last people I want knowing I’m a three-year-old’s pet are right here.
I didn’t recognize them in their unfamiliar dresses.
I slow down to keep distance, but their snail-like pace makes it hard.

“Hey, isn’t that Aray-kun?”
“Oh, Earl Mororin, heading somewhere with that basket?”

Oof… Of all people, these two had to spot me…
They’re among the few girls who treat me as a friend.
The first to notice is Panasha Dokurobaru, marked by her cartoonish skull mask, granddaughter of Baron Dokurobaru.
The one calling me “Earl Mororin” is Kusera Karyua, a countess who swings a magic-powered golem arm in place of her lost left arm.
They’re wearing afternoon dresses, I guess—bright, modest, shin-length with sleeves—breaking away from the chatting girls to approach me.
Will they despise me for being a toddler’s pet?
Will we stop being friends…?

“Those two behind you—friends? Not family… right?”
“No way… a mistress and a secret child…?”

They notice Tarte and Silhime, asking about our relationship.
No way, Kusera.
Mistress aside, a kid like Tarte would mean I ‘scored’ at age seven.
Sadly, my chamber’s not loaded with live rounds yet.

“Uh… I made a contract with a spirit…”
“I’m a spirit… or something, contracted to him. This is my Silky servant.”

““Whaaa?!””

The two freeze, processing, then let out unladylike shrieks.
Their loud outburst draws the attention of the chatting girls.

“A spirit? That kid’s a spirit?!”
“A Silky? Only the duke around here commands one!”

Oh no.
Is a spirit that shocking?
The valedictorian and salutatorian have them, so calm down…
Look, the other girls are swarming us now.
They don’t seem to notice, but we’re surrounded.

“A real spirit?”
“Didn’t Aray drop to C-class?”
“No way a goblin’s kidnapping…”
“But that maid could overpower him, right?”

Despite the chatter, the two don’t care.
Dokurobaru peers at Tarte through her skull mask, while Kusera cautiously tries touching Silhime.

“It’s real…”

Two smaller girls emerge from the crowd.
The one calling Silhime “real” is a brown-haired girl my height.
The other, looking like an early elementary kid but half my size with near-yellow orange hair, eyes my basket curiously.
They’re spirits, meaning their masters—the valedictorian and salutatorian—are nearby.

“Aray-kun, we were about to hold a tea party for girls moving to second-year A-class—”

A girl in a medieval-style dress, lavish with fabric and impossible to wear alone, steps forward.
It’s Zoldietta Pedrorian, the valedictorian, granddaughter of Marquis Pedrorian, likely the tea party’s host.
Her quiet voice carries anger.
Fair—she’d be mad if I ruined her event with a surprise.

“—Would you join us? Of course, your companions are welcome…”

Instead of a scolding, it’s an invitation.
Joining a girls’ tea party feels awkward, and I’d rather decline since I’m not great at small talk…
But a glance at Zoldietta’s cold smile tells me I have no choice.
She whispers, “You’ve stolen everyone’s attention. You wouldn’t ruin my reputation, would you?”
I can’t say no.

Tarte, set down by Silhime, is playing with Zoldietta’s orange-haired honey spirit, trying to hug the smaller girl.
The salutatorian’s brown-haired sprouting spirit stands with Silhime, fondly watching the two.
The classmates surround them, squealing excitedly.
Seeing no issues, I tell Tarte about the invitation, and she agrees instantly, saying, “Convenient.”
So, we’re attending.

The tea room is fully prepared.
Zoldietta brought a few marquis servants to the academy, who likely set up the seats.
There’s a maid, a servant girl, and a cook.
When Zoldietta whispers to the servant, seats for us are quickly arranged.
Silhime sits Tarte down and eagerly helps serve.
Zoldietta said her servants could handle it, but Tarte says Silky sulks if her work’s taken, so it’s best to let her be.

“Having tea with Aray-kun feels like our etiquette class days.”

Sitting stiffly among dressed-up girls in my worn academy uniform, Dokurobaru, to my right, speaks cheerfully.
Her loose, mascot-like skull mask, covering above her cheeks, hides her expression, but her juicy cherry lips curve up in a smile.
She was in B-class with me last year, but she’s moving to A-class, while I’m dropping to C-class, separating us.

Early after enrollment, some boys were harassing her to remove her mask, and I stepped in—totally with ulterior motives to look cool and get close.
I ended up useless, treated like a goblin, and kicked out for interfering.
A hot-headed, delinquent, pervy guy stole the spotlight, beating up the boys.
But after that, she started talking to me normally.
She’s my first friend at the academy, so it’s a bit lonely despite my poor grades.

She might not seem attractive to other boys, but she’s my type—number one on my mental girlfriend ranking.
Why?
She’s a half-human, half-dwarf, born to a human father and dwarf mother.

She frets about her “chubby” figure, but to a dwa-kid like me, she’s slim for a dwarf.
Petite yet softly feminine, her dress’s chest hints at boundless potential.
A subtle waist curve is enough—please, don’t slim down more.
In this country, evening dresses are medieval-style, cinched with corsets, so girls value tiny waists and wire-thin limbs.
But as a small guy, tall, skinny women scare me.

She wears the mask not for style but to protect her eyes.
Dwarves, living in dim caves with keen vision, find sunlight blinding.
They leave caves at night, and there’s even a “sunlight punishment” for exposing eyes to direct sun.
As a half-dwarf, Dokurobaru’s eyes are light-sensitive, with dark sunglass-like lenses in the mask’s eye sockets.
A cute skull mask beats old-man sunglasses any day.
She also says it hides her “childish” dwarf-like round face, which she’s shy about.
I, a dwa-kid, always say I’m used to dwarf faces, but she’s never shown me hers.

Still, I have no doubt she’s a beauty.
Dwarves, avoiding sun, have pale hair, eyes, and skin.
Her slightly reddish blonde hair is rare even among dwarves—a heroine’s pink hair.
Usually, her hair flows to her back, but today’s updo bun gives a mature vibe that makes my heart skip.
A mysterious, pink-haired, chubby beauty in a mask is guaranteed to be stunning, yet she calls herself “ugly.”
Those who believe that know nothing.

“Your dress looks great too, Dokurobaru-san. Very spring-like and nice.”

She’s in a bright lime-green dress.
My dad taught me, “Never make an enemy of a woman—just compliment her.”
So, I start with flattery.
Lately, she seems to see me as a mischievous little brother.
Before I’m stuck as her “ward,” I need to climb from friend to something more…