Somehow, Living Life in Another World is Wrong, as I Expected Ch. 9.3

I remember hearing of a quote once. It went along the lines of: ‘The only constants in life are death and taxes.’ Respectfully, I disagree with this notion.

There are many constants in life that exist. The need to breathe, the gravity-that-shouldn’t-be on a flat world, and the ever-presence of money. These are constants that will never change, no matter what world we might find ourselves in.

I should know, seeing as I’ve experienced two already, something that not many others could say. Unless they were sent on an all-expense paid trip by Truck-kun.

However, it’s not necessarily true for all of those. An alien could eventually develop physiology that made breathing a non factor. Gravity is bullshit already considering this world was fucking flat, and confirmed to be so. And money only exists as a product of civilization, which itself is an artificial construct made by sapient and sentient creatures.

In short, constants are only constant if they already exist.

The same cannot be said for the singular true constant of them all: work.

No matter what, work will always exist so long as someone is there to think of it. By its nature, any action could be considered work. Walking a distance, picking up a bucket of water, even just standing up, these are just the simplest examples of work that I could think of. Not everyone thinks this way, of course. To them, work is the act of earning money, of earning a living.

Then what of those people that don’t get any compensation? The favors that a friend will perform for another? While they could argue that this isn’t any trouble, this is still work, at the end of the day.  You don’t get any compensation, aside from the small fluffy feeling that exists deep inside.

Or, if you’re like me, a deep seated resentment that screams at me that I should have been paid.

No, the problem with this is that people only associate work with money, when in reality, the money-work connection only exists when said work is considered ‘hard work’. Any amount of skill that accompanies the act of working is viewed as being deserving of compensation. I don’t disagree with this, as this is how things should function.

Take for example, the years that we spend in education. We learn from anywhere from eighteen to thirty years of our lives, paying exorbitant fees to the institutions we call school, all in order to get a fancy piece of paper that says we’re good enough to work a certain job.

Anyone with any idea of the modern world would want to be reimbursed for the multitude of painful experiences that they went through.

I am not an exception to this. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am today. I am entitled to at least some form of compensation, wouldn’t you agree?

So why then, does it feel like the universe is determined to make sure I never get paid for any of the work I do?

Every time I turn around, there’s another crisis, another disaster, another thing that demands my attention - and not a single one of them comes with a paycheck.

Take this situation, for example.

Here I was, gearing up to march straight into a supernatural storm that was probably the result of some ancient Witch Cult bullshit, all because a bunch of people - some of whom I barely tolerated - had decided that I was the best person to handle it. And what was I getting out of it?

A headache. A bigger headache than the one I already had. And the distinct possibility of getting mauled, cursed, or otherwise obliterated by forces beyond mortal comprehension.

Fantastic.

In fact, doesn’t this all mean that I would have to pay the same taxes that I would have, regardless of the amount of work I did? Considering that not even Karsten was excluded from taxation, the answer was an almost resounding ‘yes’.

Goddammit, death and taxes aren’t the real constants, are they? No, the quote should never have gone the way that it did. Rather, it really should have been, ‘Work to death so that you can pay taxes’, cause at the end of the day, even if I died now, the government wouldn’t care and still send me a damned tax notice.

Give me a damn break! I’m working hard to save this damn country, the least you could do is give me a tax break!

…

With those cheerful thoughts in mind, I opened a portal straight to the Mathers mansion. Everyone was already prepared, only waiting for me to open it anyway. As much as I wanted otherwise, I knew that delaying would only make things worse.

The relatively mute storm outside, already starting to recede from the capital, was suddenly replaced by the sound of the howling storm beyond the portal. Even though I had opened it inside the actual mansion, the effects nearest the epicenter were almost unreasonably strong.

The moment we stepped through the portal, the sheer oppressive weight of the unnatural storm hit us like a physical force. The air was thick with mana so dense it felt like wading through syrup, and the howling winds rattled the mansion’s ancient foundations like a beast trying to tear its way inside.

However, the scene that greeted us was far less conspicuous. Instead of a wrecked mansion that I was expecting, we found ourselves staring at an unfamiliar blonde demi-human. She wore the same maid outfit that the Oni twins wore, but I swear I hadn't seen her at all during the time I spent in the mansion.

Of course, she was also crouched low and glaring at us with obvious hostility, so maybe we should deal with that first.

The blonde maid’s golden eyes flickered between us, her stance tense like a coiled spring. Her claws, because of course she had claws, were half-extended, and the low growl in her throat made it clear she wasn’t in the mood for visitors.

Which, fair. We had just teleported into the middle of her workplace unannounced.

"Identify yourselves." She demanded, voice sharp, "By what right do you intrude upon the Mathers domain?"

Karsten, ever the diplomat, stepped forward smoothly, "My apologies for the abrupt arrival. I am Crusch Karsten, candidate for the royal selection. We’ve come in response to the unnatural storm-"

"Lady Crusch Karsten," Barielle drawled, lazily fanning herself, "is being far too polite. We’re here because something’s clearly gone wrong, and you’re in the way. Move."

The maid’s eyes narrowed.

I sighed. Great. This is going well already.

Before things could escalate further, I stepped between them, raising my hands in what I hoped was a placating manner, "Look, we're not here to cause trouble. The storm-" I jerked a thumb toward the rattling windows, "-is probably Witch Cult-related. We’re here to help. Or, at least, figure out what the hell is going on before it gets worse."

The maid's gaze flicked to me, her suspicion unwavering, "And you are?"

"Hikigaya Hachiman. Unfortunate bystander dragged into this mess." I shrugged, "You’ve got a better chance of getting answers out of the others, though. I’m just the taxi service."

Her ears twitched slightly-ah, right, demi-human hearing. She’d probably caught the sheer exhaustion in my voice. Good. Maybe she’d take pity on me and let us pass without a fight.

A tense silence stretched between us before she finally straightened, though her guard remained up, "Frederica Baumann. Head maid of the Mathers household, in Lady Ram’s absence."

Head maid? I blinked. Since when was there a third maid?

Had Mathers been hiding her this whole time? Or was she just that forgettable?

No, scratch that. Knowing the personality of that particular margrave, she was probably another piece in whatever convoluted scheme he had running.

Baumann’s sharp gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she exhaled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders, "…Ram mentioned you. She said you were ‘an eyesore, but marginally less useless than most.’"

I snorted, "High praise, coming from her."

Baumann’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but not quite, "Be that as it may, I cannot simply allow you free rein of the mansion without proper cause. Lady Ram and Lord Roswaal are absent, and the estate is under my care."

Karsten stepped forward again, this time with a more authoritative tone, "Frederica, was it? The storm outside is not natural. It reeks of Witch Cult interference. If they are involved, then every moment we waste increases the danger to everyone in this territory - including Lady Emilia and Margrave Mathers themselves."

Baumann's expression darkened at the mention of the Witch Cult, her claws flexing unconsciously, "Lady Emilia and the others have already departed for the Sanctuary. If the Cult is involved, then they may already be in greater danger than we realize."

I frowned, "Then why are you still here? Shouldn't you be with them?" I pressed somewhat. Honestly, it did make sense that someone would be left behind to defend the mansion, but that someone would have been Beatrice, who I doubt had even left the confines of her library.

Unless Mathers wanted a perfectly curated lawn despite the situation, which, to be fair, I couldn't exactly rule out with his brand of eccentricity.

Her golden eyes flickered with something unreadable - guilt? - before she answered stiffly, "Lord Roswaal recalled me to secure the mansion. I cannot abandon my post, even if..." She trailed off, jaw tightening.

Even if she wanted to go help them. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

Barielle let out a derisive snort, snapping her fan shut, "How very convenient for the margrave. His prized maids scattered, his candidate out of reach, and now a storm conveniently cutting off pursuit. Almost as if he planned it."

I could almost feel my frown dig into my skull from how hard I did so. Barielle's instinct was...surprisingly in line with my own thoughts. Frankly, it seemed too much of a coincidence that so much of this happened when he wasn't around. Almost like it was preplanned. Even our arrival, Baumann's prescence, seemed too coincidental to be anything other than a deliberate move.

After all, he had been gone since the very beginning of the subjugation of the White Whale and the subsequent Witch Cultist attacks. How could he have possibly sent a message to Baumann, who was likely far, far away from here, in that time?

Unless he had Beatrice portal the message, which wouldn't have worked anyway since they didn't know where Baumann was, Mathers would have needed to send a message days, if not weeks, in advance.

Karsten was clearly thinking the same, with how she narrowed her eyes. Barielle already let everyone know what she was thinking. Aldebaran didn't show any recognition under his helmet, nor did Felt, who likely didn't even catch onto what was happening.

Curiously, Rom was the last one that seemed to have an inkling as to the possible problem with Baumann's words. Ha, looks like old Cromwell still had it in him from time to time.

Regardless, we couldn't do much. With the storm still raging outside, attempting to venture through an unfamiliar forest would be the death of us. Indeed, it was even stronger that we had expected, and the gear we had on hand would not be conducive to our survival.

Instead, seeing as Karsten and Barielle were with us, Baumann offered us to stay the night, if only to wait until the storm receded enough for us to travel into the forest without that much problems.

Naturally, Barielle accepted for us before we could even discuss it among ourselves.

How annoying. I've spent way too many nights here anyway, so I prepared myself to portal back home to wait until the storm was clear. I say prepared, since I never actually got to do that, as Felt practically leapt to claim a room as her own, even getting another maid - one too young in my opinion - to guide her around. And with Felt staying, so too did Rom.

I will admit that part of the reason that I didn't want to stay the night was that I was dreading what meal we would be having. I did not want any more steamed potatoes, thank you very much. Without Ram though, the risk of that meal had considerably lessened, and I let myself acquiesce to the offer.

I at least would save on the evening meal expenses, and who knows, if the storm lasts till morning, I might even get some free breakfast. Regardless of the free food, though, why was it that I feel like this was the wrong option here?

...