CHAPTER 283 The Spring of the Beast-Eared Maid (6)
So, why don’t we think about what Carver would say?
Before Iaar could speak, Will tried to guess, but he pondered this problem… and found he couldn’t come up with an answer. Everything about this person, referred to as “father,” was an unsolvable mystery in his eyes, just as it had always been.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have instinctively stepped back in fear when he encountered Carver in Treya’s “Dreamscape.”
So, what exactly would Carver say…
“He told me that Young Master no longer needed Iaar, that he had abandoned Iaar, so Iaar was free and could do whatever she wanted,” Iaar calmly recounted an answer Will hadn’t expected. Her tone held no hint of deception—of course, she didn’t need to deceive him.
“…”
That’s it? That’s it? That’s it? Is that all he said to Iaar? Was this truly the Carver he knew, the one who would trip him up at every turn?
What Carver said to Iaar seemed “normal,” as if it were bound to happen. Even…
He looked at Iaar before him, her body pressed against his chest, her ears wobbling as if she were intently listening to his every word.
“What’s wrong?”
—These were words he hoped to say to Iaar someday. He wanted Iaar to be “free” because that was her true happy ending. However, with his wedding to Treya approaching, him specifically seeking out Iaar to say such a thing had an unclear motive.
Even more inconveniently… Carver seemed to have employed a conceptual substitution—linking “freedom” with “being abandoned by Will.”
In other words, if he couldn’t break Iaar’s current thought, she would absolutely refuse to relinquish her position as “Hysterm Family maid.”
However, if it were only that, Iaar wouldn’t have become so convinced that he would grant her “love,” even to the point of describing her as so desperately seeking “love” from him.
“It’s nothing. Iaar, did you believe what he said?”
Will reached out, his fingers sliding down the slightly longer hair on either side of Iaar’s cheeks. Because he believed that his maid, the one who truly defined her character, was determined by himself alone.
“Of course, I didn’t believe it! Because that question in the ‘Blackening 300 Questions’ that Young Master wrote for me already told me—Young Master hasn’t abandoned Iaar, Young Master still loves Iaar.”
—Unless I did something wrong.
Wait… that’s right, the number, that number!
“Iaar, what was the number I wrote?”
“Two hundred and ninety-six, what’s wrong?”
Hearing Iaar’s decisive answer, a bad premonition bloomed in Will’s heart.
That’s right. The number he wrote was correct—at least, the number Iaar saw was fine.
“…Recite question two hundred and ninety-six?”
“Huh?”
Iaar showed no suspicion. Like a ruthless machine, she recited: “Question two hundred and ninety-six.”
“If someone you love, colludes with other women or even other ‘species’ to push you into a corner, what should you do?”
Not this—this wasn’t the question he meant to write.
Upon hearing the question, Will realized things had taken a turn for the worse. Coincidentally, he was much more familiar with this particular question than others written more for emphasis or to pad the count, questions purely meant to brainwash Iaar repeatedly.
Because this was the question he used to “command” Iaar’s final actions!
So…
The moment he heard the first sentence, he realized why Iaar had become like this.
Because the answer to this question had reinforced Iaar’s “desire for love”—
But he didn’t interrupt, letting Iaar finish reciting it with a smile.
“First, believe one thing: he couldn’t possibly hate you, he couldn’t possibly shift his affections to someone else and abandon you.”
“Second, find the woman standing beside him and give her a good thrashing.”
“Finally, win back the person who loves you. Protect them well and keep them by your side so they can never hate you.”
“…Okay, okay.”
He sighed deeply. Case closed! Will felt he should be awarded the title of Master Detective in Matters of Love. This was the question *before* the one he intended to ask about “what to do if he disappeared,” and it was this question, combined with the catalyst Carver provided for Iaar, that had turned Iaar into this state—uneasily by his side, craving his love, wanting to satisfy that desire with her protectiveness.
And the cause of all this was that, at a critical moment, due to some mechanical reaction from his “past life,” he had unconsciously applied the very first version of his questions, originally counted from “0.” This resulted in question 296 instead of the 297 he meant to write.
Well, once again, he had dug his own grave—and he was dug in by his own “past life memories” and “game design abilities” that he was so proud of after gaining awareness.
“Young Master, you don’t seem happy. Did Iaar do something wrong? Iaar will fix it right away—”
“No, no, it’s not… mmph…”
Will was now afraid that any action of his would make Iaar more sensitive, so he switched to a plain tone—
“You’ve done very well. So, please continue with your work.”
“Mm!”
He sat back down at the table. He finally understood that perhaps this was also a part of “fate,” woven from various coincidences. In the end, he hadn’t escaped the grasp of those who had “blackened.” Of course, what was controlling him now might not be the original work he had once considered, but the “cause” he had planted himself.
Then… what should he do now?
He raised his head, closed his eyes, and for once, emptied his mind, allowing his brain to remain “blank” for a long time. Stepping away from his usual high-speed thinking, he found respite in the “blankness.”
“Hoo…”
Opening his eyes, he saw the chandelier on the ceiling, its distance difficult to gauge. He realized that perhaps the first thing he needed to do was… deal with his vision, which was blurred on one side and clear on the other.
He lifted his glasses, and about ten centimeters away, he looked out the window again through the lenses. The left frame was distorted, while the right frame showed a clearer garden. Iaar seemed to have already reached the garden. She stood by the clothesline where her maid outfit, which she had washed, was hung. Picking up a somewhat rusty pair of large scissors, she began to trim the weeds behind the clothesline.
Noticing Will standing by the window—
She stopped her work, especially putting down the rather terrifying-looking large scissors. She raised her head. The fur on her cute, brown beast ears, close to her hair color, rustled in the breeze along with the garden weeds.
And then…
She reached out, smiled, and waved at Will.
The gloomy sky from the morning had inexplicably cleared at this moment. Warm sunlight shone directly on Iaar, forming a perfect circle around her. She also seemed attracted by the dazzling sunlight, raising her hand to shield her eyes. Turning around, she squinted and looked at the sun that had just come out.
Then, she jumped in place and pointed at the ray of sunlight. Will couldn’t hear what she said, but he seemed to understand that Iaar wanted him to see it too.
…
He could clearly hear his own heartbeat—it hadn’t quickened, but because of Iaar’s gesture, each beat felt more powerful.
“Strange—no, this seems normal. I’m actually feeling a bit moved…”
He felt as if, if this kind of atmosphere and feeling could continue… even this Iaar, who “demanded love” from him, wasn’t so bad.
