Chapter 11

His first day as server flew by. Between prying doey-eyed girls off his arms and keeping track of the silly names between identical beverages and desserts, Diarmuid understood his Master's lament of "finally getting home from work."

Diarmuid had to remember that working was for the sake of his Master's happiness. He couldn't deny her that if it was within his ability to fulfill.

"So, so, so, how did you do?" chirped her anticipated question when Diarmuid stepped through the front door.

"I received many... gratuities, were they called?" His admission earned him a hug and he smiled. "Apparently, I was quite popular."

"I knew you could do it!" She clapped her hands. "By the way, did you get scratches? I thought I felt my mana used."

Diarmuid probably thought it best not to convey the catfight that broke out between two jealously cursed women and him in the middle. He had forgoed his glasses just for a little while to take a break from wearing them. He did so well up to that point. "I tripped and scraped myself."

Tamiko shrugged, not bothered by the fact his statement was a physical impossibility for an agile Servant like himself. "What did the manager say about your first day?"

Diarmuid comprehended most of the streaming praise his boss lavished on him for all the customers who came, except for one thing. He told her the details, including his confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"He told me I'm suited to work at a host club. Can you explain this term to me?"

His Master covered her face.