The next morning, I was sitting at the long dining table with Stacy. The sun had barely pushed through the curtains, and yet plates upon plates of food had already been piled in front of me. I was halfway through demolishing them when I noticed her staring at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Where are you even putting all that food?" she asked, chin propped lazily on her palm. "Don't tell me you're secretly using dimensional storage just to stash it away."
I swallowed the mouthful of eggs and meat, wiped my lips with the back of my hand, and shook my head. "Nope. Don't know why I eat so much. But hey—it's getting less."
"Not by much." She gestured at the battlefield of plates around me. "You just ate more than two entire tables of food."
"It's only two and a half tables, thank you very much."
"That would be fine," she said flatly, "if the table you were eating on wasn't one that can seat twenty-two people. I think that's why you made that crater outside last night." She jabbed a finger at me accusingly.
I froze, fork halfway to my mouth. "Are you calling me fat?"
"No," she said sweetly. "I'm calling you heavy."
"…What's the difference?" I muttered, glaring at her. "Anyway, talking about last night, where's Rebecca? I want to get back at her for throwing me." I glanced around the cavernous dining hall, half-expecting her to appear just from hearing her name. But nope. No angry Rebecca in sight.
"She doesn't even care about her weight," Stacy sighed, shaking her head. "Rebecca locked herself inside her room. Said she's never coming out again."
"Tsk. Hiding just because her secret was exposed," I clicked my tongue. "Not owning up to it, huh."
Before Stacy could respond, a muffled voice drifted from just outside the door.
"I personally would love to be punished by Rebecca-sama… hehe."
Both of us froze. My fork hovered in the air. Stacy's eyes widened, mirroring my shock. Slowly, we turned to look at each other, disbelief written all over our faces. Then, in perfect synchronization, we both nodded. No words were needed—we had reached a silent agreement. Whoever had said that was not escaping.
"Whoever said that," Stacy called out sharply, her voice slicing through the room, "come inside. And don't bother hiding—we will find you."
There was a long pause. Then, with the sound of hesitant footsteps, a maid entered. She had brown hair tied neatly at her nape, dark blue eyes, and a face that would have been perfectly composed—if not for the blush dusting her cheeks. Pretty, yes. But clearly… a masochist.
"So, it was you, Lily," Stacy said, gesturing her closer.
"Yes, milady," Lily admitted, bowing her head, though her ears were pink. Her hands twisted nervously at her apron hem.
Stacy's eyes flicked from me to Lily, a sly smile forming. "Okay. You'll do. A good sacrifice."
"Milady?" Lily's eyes widened, and she instinctively took a step back. "What do you mean by… sacrifice?" Fear flickered in her gaze, though the blush stubbornly remained.
"For Rebecca, of course."
"O-Oh?" Her blush deepened. "Why do I need to be given to her?"
"Because," I said bluntly, pointing my fork at her, "she didn't get her joy last night and was exposed by me. Now she's hiding away from everyone. We need bait to lure her out. Congratulations, that's you."
"Wait—what?" Lily sputtered, but Stacy was already circling her like a predator.
"Kitsuna, put her on your shoulders," Stacy ordered casually. "We're going to Rebecca's room."
Before Lily could protest further, I stood, scooped her up, and tossed her over my shoulder like a sack of grain. "Got it."
"W-Wait! Am I really being used as bargaining to get Rebecca back to work?!" Lily kicked her feet, but I tightened my hold.
"Yes," Stacy and I replied in perfect unison.
"At least give me a raise for this!" Lily tried desperately, clinging to the last hope.
"No," Stacy replied flatly without missing a beat. She started leading the way through the endless halls of the mansion, and I followed, Lily groaning on my shoulder like a martyr.
After what felt like ten minutes of walking (seriously, this mansion was absurdly large), we stopped in front of a pair of grand double doors. Rebecca's room. Stacy rapped her knuckles on the wood.
"This is her room," Stacy said, then leaned forward. "Open up."
From inside came a muffled shout. "Leave me alone!"
Stacy smirked. "We have a present for you. Or… a toy. However you want to take her."
Lily stiffened on my shoulder. "Wait, am I really a toy now?!"
"Yes," Stacy said again, utterly unapologetic.
"Am I still not getting a raise?"
"No," Stacy repeated, eyes on the door.
I couldn't help it—I snorted. Lily groaned dramatically.
Stacy banged on the door again. "Open it! We just want to deliver her, that's all!"
"NO!" Rebecca's voice cracked through the wood like thunder.
Stacy sighed, turned to me, and whispered her plan. "Alright, I'm going to bust the door open. You throw her in and seal it shut with your ice magic. Got it?"
"Got it," I whispered back, adjusting Lily, who was now whimpering softly.
Stacy counted down. "One… two… three!"
With a resounding crack, Stacy slammed the doors open. I didn't hesitate—I flung Lily inside like a sack of potatoes, and before Rebecca could even scream, I froze the doorway shut with a wall of ice.
Just before it sealed, Stacy yelled through the gap, "You have until tomorrow with her, then be back at work, cleaned up!"
The ice sealed with a final shhhk. Silence.
I looked at Stacy. "Do you think she'll survive?"
"Probably." Stacy shrugged and walked away as if we hadn't just offered a maid as tribute.
I followed quickly, shaking my head. "So, where to now?"
"To the library, I guess," Stacy said over her shoulder.
"Cool. I wanted to learn more about this world anyway."
The walk to the library only reminded me of one thing: this mansion was ridiculously oversized. By the time we arrived, I was already annoyed.
'It took us ten whole minutes to get here. Just to the library. Who even designs a house like this?'
The moment the doors opened, though, I was struck silent. The library was massive. Floor-to-ceiling shelves, neatly ordered rows of tomes, the faint but comforting scent of parchment and ink. And three entire floors of nothing but books.
"Don't you think the library is a bit far from everything else?" I muttered, craning my neck to see the top floor.
"My Amari wanted a big library," Stacy explained. "So Dean made her one. Sadly, that meant building it far from the mansion's center."
"Haha. The ice queen is a bookworm," I teased.
"Yes," Stacy admitted without hesitation. "She loves her novels. But rarely history."
"That's weird," I said, genuinely puzzled. "If I were reincarnated into a new world, I'd want to know everything about it."
"She already learned it all in the academy. That's probably why she doesn't bother now."
"Ahh, I see." I looked up at the daunting rows of books again and sighed. "So… where do we start?"
"The first and second floors are just novels. The third floor is what you're after—study materials." Stacy smirked. "Good luck."
She actually turned to leave. "Wait," I called. "You're not helping me?"
"I was planning to, but seeing this place gave me chills." She gave a fake shiver. "Too many books."
"At least show me where everything is," I groaned. "I'll learn on my own."
"Fine," she relented. We climbed to the third floor together, the sound of our steps echoing on the polished wooden stairs. Stacy went straight to a shelf and began pulling books, stacking them carelessly. Then she plopped the heavy pile in front of me at a nearby table.
"Here. Don't know what I was thinking yesterday when I said I'd help you study. I hate books. Or more precisely—paper." She scowled, muttering about her poor life choices.
But I was already flipping open the first book. The title read: Basic Knowledge About Planet Nibiru.
Time here was similar to Earth—60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour, 24 hours in a day. But then I read the line that made me nearly choke.
"Seven hundred and twenty days in a year?!"
Stacy chuckled at my face. "Amari reacted the same. And before you ask—you still only get one birthday a year."
"In other words—"
"You lived ten Earth years' worth of torture," she finished for me, her tone casual.
I leaned back, the weight of that hitting me. Twenty-two years of torment condensed into what felt like a nightmare. My stomach twisted.
"I see… What's the maximum age someone can reach in this world?" I asked, trying to push past the thought.
"You don't need to worry about that."
"I died early in my past life. I want to live properly this time."
"I meant you wouldn't die of age," she corrected, her expression turning serious. "Do you remember what you can become? If you accept that race as your own, you'll be immortal. The only way you'll die is if someone stronger kills you."
I blinked. "That's… nice to hear, I guess. But what do you mean by accepting my true race?"
"Well, that's something only you can figure out," Stacy said, folding her arms. "I don't know how to help you. But I can explain a little. If you check your status, you'll see it says Demon-Fox. That's not your true race. Next to it, you'll see Nine-Tailed Demon Fox Primordial. That's your real race."
I frowned. "So it's… a mindset thing?"
"Exactly. You're clinging to the last scraps of humanity you think you have. If you accept your true form, you'll lose that."
"Huh. But I'm already a Demon-Fox. What's human about that?"
"A Demon-Fox is humanoid. But a Nine-Tailed Demon Fox Primordial's true form is a fox. A monster, technically. That's the difference."
I leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Who wants to be a monster, right?"
Stacy didn't answer. She simply gestured at the pile of books. "Well, here's your basic world knowledge. Oh, and one thing you won't find in those pages—our kingdom goes to war every five to ten years."
She said it so casually.
I froze. "…Excuse me?"
But she was already halfway to the stairs, fleeing like a coward. "Good luck studying!"
I slammed my forehead into the table. "Damn it. Dropped into a kingdom that's always at war. Just my luck."