Arata energetically wiped the damp cloth along the mansion's long corridors, humming little carefree tunes to keep boredom at bay.
"I'm finally starting my real job! Let's go, Arata!" he thought to himself, filled with determination. "Show them what you're made of as a true Isekai protagonist and perform this cleaning absolutely flawlessly!"
Excited by his own thoughts, he continued scrubbing every inch of the wooden floor with all his strength, focused on making it shine.
Distracted by his rhythm, he failed to notice when Sumire appeared at the beginning of the corridor, carrying a vase of ornamental flowers toward a nearby shelf.
When he raised his eyes to look at the black-haired twin, Arata lost focus for a millisecond.
His feet slipped on the wet, soapy floor, causing him to lose his balance and crash onto his back.
The fall was nasty.
To make matters worse, the impact caused the bucket filled with water and cleaning products to tip over completely, flooding the area he had just cleaned.
As the final touch of pure bad luck, the empty bucket bounced and landed directly on Arata's head, completely blocking his vision.
"Hey! Who turned off the lights?! I can't see anything!" Arata's muffled voice echoed from inside the plastic.
Sumire stopped what she was doing, staring at the pathetic sight of the boy sprawled in the middle of the puddle with a bucket over his face.
She let out a heavy sigh and massaged her temples.
"Good grief... You can genuinely be terrible at this."
Arata felt around in the air, removed the bucket from his head with a snap, and looked up at the ceiling indignantly.
"Hey! Writer of this world! Where's my Isekai protagonist bonus for household chores?!" he shouted at nothing in particular.
"What the hell are you talking about now, you weirdo?" Sumire asked, raising an eyebrow, completely unable to understand any of those strange words.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
As he began cleaning up the mess in the corridor, Arata tried to recover what little dignity he had left in his thoughts.
"Don't listen to her comments, Arata... You'll still become the perfect protagonist of this Isekai! You just haven't awakened your true hidden potential yet. Return by Death is only my initial overpowered ability. The rest will come with time!"
He leaned against the handle of the mop, staring at his own reflection in the soapy puddle as his chest filled with renewed conviction.
"I'm no longer the old Arata from Japan... That boy who lived as a passive, isolated, lonely, weak, pathetic hikikomori, suffering from partial amnesia! Definitely not. I'm a new Arata! The protagonist with an overpowered ability that's going to evolve in an absurd way in this world! This is the new version of me!"
Moments later...
Arata was now in the kitchen, tasked with helping Loiry peel a bowl full of potatoes.
Beside him, the white-haired twin handled the blade flawlessly, removing the skins with millimeter-perfect precision and speed, then immediately chopping the food with the perfection worthy of a culinary prodigy.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the counter, Arata was engaged in a true battle against the vegetables.
When he tried to imitate the girl's speed, the blade slipped awkwardly, inflicting several small cuts on his own fingers.
Within a few seconds, drops of blood began trickling from his hands.
"Ahhh!! That hurts!!!" Arata exclaimed, dropping the knife and shaking his injured hand.
"You're genuinely very bad at this," Loiry commented without taking her eyes off her precise work.
The boy felt his eyes burning and nearly cried from the mixture of pain and frustration, but he blinked repeatedly and wiped away the tears before they could fall.
"Sorry about my mistake! I'm just a little clumsy, okay?!" he quickly justified himself, forcing a confident smile.
"But just so you know, I'm great at household chores and actually very useful around here!"
Coming down the corridor to put away some dishes, Sumire gave a nasal laugh when she heard the boy's protest.
"Your practical achievements so far tell me the exact opposite, Atara-kun," she teased, crossing her arms.
"Honestly, I don't know how the hell someone like you managed to help Miss Emma recover that necklace."
"Hey! Don't doubt my abilities!" Arata immediately retorted, puffing out his chest proudly.
"I'm insanely good at almost everything I do, and I'm extremely useful to this mansion! You'll see!"
Determined to prove his point, he grabbed the knife again and tried to peel another potato.
The result, however, was a miserable failure when the blade slipped once more, opening another cut on his thumb.
"Ow, damn it!!!"
Later, already during the night...
The silvery glow of the crescent Moon illuminated the skies of Karramagi, causing the various constellations to glitter like diamonds across the dark horizon.
Inside his private quarters, Joseph sat in an enormous high-backed chair, observing the calm night through the windowpane.
On his lap, Sumire sat while assisting the nobleman with his end-of-day notes.
"Tell me, Sumire..." Joseph broke the silence, his voice echoing in a slow and mysterious tone.
"How was young Arata's first day of work?"
"To be completely honest with you, it was terrible," Sumire promptly replied, letting out a tired sigh.
"He's completely clumsy when it comes to cleaning, managed to cut himself all over just trying to peel some potatoes, and doesn't seem to have any talent for ordinary household chores..."
"The only bizarre exception is that he knows how to fold clothes with millimeter-perfect precision and seems to have a great talent for sewing."
"Other than that, he's a disaster."
"I see..." Joseph murmured, lightly tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair.
"And during the time you were watching him, did you find any clue or suspicious behavior suggesting that he might be an infiltrated spy from the Cult of One? If he happens to be one, don't let Loiry know under any circumstances."
"If she discovers something like that before we're certain, we could have a little disaster on our hands."
"He didn't seem like a spy in the slightest, Master Joseph," Sumire assessed seriously.
"The boy is excessively carefree, loud, and annoying. He doesn't show the slightest bit of caution, strategy, or malice in his actions."
"To me, he just seems like a strange and rather useless ordinary boy... I still wonder how someone like him had the strength to save Miss Emma."
"That... Is something that deeply intrigues me as well," Joseph concluded, narrowing his icy eyes toward the moonlit landscape.
End of Chapter 23...
To be continued in Chapter 24...