Chapter 8: Hilarious Tea Party.

The tea party’s focus shifts not to me… but, surprisingly, to Silhime.

At first, she’s brewing tea for me and Tarte, but when a girl shows interest in the aroma, Silhime prepares a separate batch for them.
Tarte and I, unexpectedly, prefer straight tea without even sugar, but milk tea is a hit with the girls, so Silhime adjusts the tea leaves and brewing method.
After tasting the new tea, the valedictorian freezes, eyes sparkling, then orders Silhime to take over brewing duties.

Silhime’s grace, from brewing to serving, is mesmerizing.
Her flawless maid-like poise makes the human maid serving beside her teary-eyed.
I wish she wouldn’t cry—a human can’t compete with a maid spirit.

“It’s amazing. I’ve never tasted tea this good,” Dokurobaru murmurs, sipping in awe.
“This is a Silky… the golem research club would be spitting blood,” Kusera adds.

Kusera’s “golem research club” is a group she despises, constantly itching to crush them.
I don’t get drinking tea with milk—it ruins the refreshing taste and subtle sweetness I love, like a devil’s concoction.
But the girls gleefully sip the milk-heavy tea, saying, “Delicious, delicious!”
I’m not reckless enough to rain on their parade.

“We need this at our house—!”

As the valedictorian starts to speak, her servant delivers a swift chop to the back of her head.
It’s not my first time seeing this servant rein her in, so I’m not shocked.
The servant, about twenty, is a lady from a branch of the Pedrorian marquis family and a salutatorian graduate of the academy three years ago.
Her “servant” role is a cover—she’s actually a chaperone and tutor.
That chop was likely for an improper upper-class phrase.
I catch the human maid’s shoulders jump—she must fear being replaced by a Silky.
In a marquis household with many servants, a careless word could be taken as a pink slip.
High status sounds tough when even slips of the tongue aren’t allowed.

Amid the buzz about Silhime, the human maid brings plates of egg tarts from Silhime’s basket.

“Nutonuto, your turn! Come here now!”

Tarte excitedly calls the valedictorian’s honey spirit, Nutorietta, nicknamed “Nutonuto.”
With many guests, we’re split across two tables.
The salutatorian and her sprouting spirit sit with Tarte at our table, while the valedictorian and her honey spirit are at another.
At Tarte’s call, Nutorietta floats over from the valedictorian’s lap like Tinkerbell.
Unlike the sprouting spirit, she doesn’t speak but moves by hovering.

“Drip some honey on this for me!”

Pointing at her egg tart, Tarte demands honey.
Ordering another’s spirit is bold, I think, but Nutorietta, without checking with the valedictorian, drips honey onto Tarte’s plate as instructed.
Is this what Tarte meant by being on a different level?
Even with a will of her own, the spirit obeys Tarte over her master, leaving the valedictorian speechless.
Then, another plate is extended from Tarte’s left.

“Me too…”

It’s the salutatorian’s sprouting spirit.
Nutorietta happily drips honey onto her plate too.
The valedictorian, following her spirit to our table, calls out, “Anyone needing honey, just say so!”
Needless to say, every hand goes up.

“Ugh… so delicious, but… my stomach…”

Dokurobaru trembles, lamenting, but can’t resist the sweet temptation, her plate steadily emptying.
When Kusera teases, “Want me to finish it for you?” Dokurobaru shields her plate, insisting, “I’ll eat it!”
When I mention holding back isn’t healthy, she snaps, “You’re joining my diet, Aray-kun!” and finishes the tart.

– I messed up…

Digging my own grave, indeed.
Dokurobaru, perhaps due to her dwarf blood, has exceptional stamina, especially endurance, unlike me, a Rolling descendant.
I’ve been dragged into her “diets” before, pushed to my physical limits more than once.
Her “join my diet” means “brace for hellish training,” not a sweet, romantic moment.
Thinking of the promised punishment day, I feel faint.
Can I… survive this?

The egg tarts, captivating even the weight-conscious Dokurobaru, are a huge hit.
I thought Silhime made them, but Tarte says no—some cooking god did, apparently.
She won’t say who, adding it’s meaningless to know, better not to, and searching is futile.

“With a proper oven, Silhime can bake equally delicious treats,” Tarte says.

The girls’ eyes gleam like hungry predators—gyupiin!
The valedictorian seems about to speak but swallows her words, likely noticing her senior’s hand poised for another chop.

“Earl, what kind of spirit is she?” Kusera shifts the topic to us.

“Earl” refers to playful noble titles classmates give to notable students, often in a teasing way.
I’m [Goblin Earl], Kusera is [Golem Viscount], and Dokurobaru is [Skull Baron].
Others include [Emperor], [Forbidden Book King], [Violence Duke], and [Giant Marquis].
Assigning titles is a traditional game across grades.

“Her name’s Tarte, a prank-loving kid spirit, I guess.”
“Hehe, a cute spirit perfect for mischievous Aray-kun,” Dokurobaru says.

Stop it—she’s sliding further into guardian mode!
I’m small, but we’re the same age—quit acting like my big sister…
Though, being gently enveloped by a pretty skull-masked sister… might be nice.

“Such a spirit… where was she dwelling?”

The salutatorian, Kusansa Karyua, Kusera’s twin sister, eyes me sharply.
Despite being nearly identical except for her left arm, Kusansa’s calm, refined air contrasts with Kusera’s wild energy.
Her dark brown hair, styled in a half-up like her sprouting spirit, gives a quiet, elegant vibe, making her popular with boys.
She sees me as her sister’s friend—more than a classmate, less than a friend.

Telling the truth would expose my rule-breaking.
I explain I was foraging for potion ingredients in the forest, met her by chance, and contracted.
As expected, the girls press me.

“Met a spirit by chance and contracted?”
“No way it’s that convenient!”
“He’s lying…”
“Lying goblins get strung up…”

This is bad! I’ll be tortured!
The valedictorian and salutatorian’s cute, dainty spirits are the girls’ idols.
Showing off Tarte, a literal toddler, and Silhime, serving delicious tea and treats, ignites their envy, jealousy, ambition, desire, and murderous intent.
They close in like zombies seeking allies.
If they catch me, I’m done for.

“Ladies, spirit contracts are often like that,” the valedictorian says.
“Yeah… same for me…” the salutatorian adds.

The zombies freeze at their words.
It’s news to me, but both say spirits appeared to them suddenly and contracted.
Before enrolling, the valedictorian cherished a maple tree on her family’s land that gave ample sap.
Visiting to say goodbye before leaving for the academy, the honey spirit appeared.
The salutatorian tended a forgotten flowerbed, planting seeds that grew rapidly, her secret haven.
One day, the sprouting spirit popped up.
She says spirit contracts aren’t dramatic like plays—just as casual as picking up a frog by the roadside.

“It feels casual because you’re the chosen ones. Spirits observe you closely before appearing,” Tarte interjects, basking in the surprised gazes with a smug grin.
Definitely an attention-seeker.

“Spirits are drawn to those who share their feelings, revealing themselves.
Searching, capturing, or summoning them leads to bad outcomes.
You don’t choose us—we choose you.”

Ouch… Is she rubbing it in that I summoned [Crimson Thorn] by breaking rules and got tricked into being Tarte’s servant?

“So, Tarte-chan, what drew you to Aray-kun?” Dokurobaru asks.
“He begged, crying, ‘I’ll do anything, even offer my soul.’ I had no choice.”
“Wait—!”

Tarte gives the worst possible answer.
Even if it’s true, she didn’t have to highlight that part!
Imagining me clinging to a toddler, begging for a contract, the girls’ gazes turn icy.

“He swore, ‘I’ll always be by your side, cherish you forever,’ so I agreed to the contract,” Tarte adds, cheeks flushed, hands on her face.
But when our eyes meet, she smirks mischievously.
She’s enjoying this!

“Aray-kun, what are you swearing to a little girl like that?”
“So, Earl, you’re not a goblin—you’re a beast…”
“Pervert? No, sex offender fits better…”
“Goblins are monsters. No mercy…”

The girls’ stares reach absolute zero, some rolling up sleeves, ready to execute me.

“No, it’s not like that! Please, hear me out!”

I recount everything—from summoning [Crimson Thorn] to being tricked into Tarte’s pet—begging for my life.
I omit what I offered; that’s not for 11-year-old girls to hear.
After my story, the girls crouch, clutching their stomachs, trembling with laughter.
The valedictorian slumps over her chair, stifling giggles.
Her servant, who should intervene, is shaking too—laughing.

“As expected of Aray-kun, doing what we can’t,” the valedictorian says, wiping tears.
“I don’t admire it, but my abs are numb,” the salutatorian adds.

Silhime subtly fixes the valedictorian’s disheveled hair and dress.
The maids are crying… from laughter.

“You got what you deserved for breaking rules!” Dokurobaru scolds, sounding like my loli-mom.
Please, don’t become my guardian.
Kusera’s right, though—I did get a spirit contract.
The girls grumble, “Don’t make us laugh,” returning to their seats.
The tea party resumes warmly, everyone enjoying the valedictorian’s cookies, when the door bursts open, and several boys barge in.

“Zoldietta, isn’t it rude not to invite us, fellow A-class students, to your tea party?”