Maid Rita Episode

It's been a while since I went on a date with Elizabeth.

Right as I was starting to think ordinary dates were getting old, I heard rumors that a maid café had opened in our town.

That's right. A maid café.

The ultimate dream where one "Welcome home, Master!" washes away the fatigue of the entire day.

A place where every man's fantasy is condensed into one.

Other than that freak-accident of an incident where I ran into Rita in Cameliard,

maid cafés had never let me down.

The misunderstanding seems to be heading in a slightly different direction, but more importantly...

Sure, a timid and awkward maid can be charming too.

But the Maid Rita I remembered, the one I expected, wasn't like this.

A perfect tsundere maid, inside and out.

Rita let out a deep sigh, cleared her throat,

and then changed her expression as if she had become a completely different person.

Bright.

Far too bright.

The grumpy-old-lady tone she had back in Cameliard was nowhere to be found anymore.

But beneath that awkward, forced smile, her true feelings still showed through.

Boiling anger, embarrassment, and honesty she couldn't quite hide were painting her face red.

Slam! The menu came crashing down onto the table.

And then those eyes, full of simmering anger and embarrassment, shot straight at me.

The girl's smile was manual-perfect,

but that tone was still the Rita we knew, through and through.

After that day, the maid café naturally became a part of my daily routine.

There was no special reason.

At least, that's what I decided to tell myself.

The familiar bell rang as I opened the door.

The café was far busier than before.

It was hard to find an empty seat.

Hearing those words, Rita smiled naturally.

Her voice was bright, and her smile came easily.

At least, on the surface.

We watched her like that for a moment before taking our seats.

It was hard to tell whether Rita had heard that or not.

Still keeping her smile, she guided another customer,

then soon walked over to our table.

It was no different from the voice she used with any other customer.

And somehow, that made it feel even stranger.

There was nothing more to say.

As she wrote down our order, Rita avoided our eyes.

And with that, she turned away. They way she carried herself still looked every bit the perfect maid.

But I still couldn't tell what Rita was hiding behind that smile.

The café was crowded that day too.

An ordinary afternoon, no different from usual.

At some point, we had become part of that scenery too.

Trays moved back and forth, and laughter filled the air.

Rita moved along her usual route.

The warm atmosphere continued, when suddenly a sharp voice cut through it.

In an instant, silence fell over the café.

The voice grew louder.

People turned to look, and murmurs began spreading through the café.

Rita stepped forward.

Then, with a motion all too familiar, she lowered her head.

The customer rudely thrust out his hand and shoved aside the tray Rita was carrying.

There was no time to think.

Before the tray could hit the floor, Rita's hand moved first.

At the same time, she seized the nuisance customer's wrist, twisted it, and shoved him back with force.

Thud.

Murmur... murmur...

It all happened in a flash.

Far too fast and sharp to call it a maid's movement.

The entire café fell silent, as if the commotion had never happened.

If this had been the old Rita, that customer wouldn't have walked away from this.

He would've been dragged into the back alleys and made sure never to do something like that again.

But the Rita standing here now

seemed to be trying not to make that choice.

Rita clenched her hand once.

The sensation from just a moment ago still lingered in it.

It was strength she had tried to hide.

A habit she had thought she'd cast aside.

Rita tried to smile again, but it didn't last long.

With that, Rita disappeared deeper into the café.

What remained behind was the tray that never fell,

and that brief instant everyone had witnessed.

I didn't answer.

Instead, I looked toward where Rita had gone.

She had probably wanted to begin the second act of her life as the idol of the maid café.

But her body still hadn't forgotten the life she'd lived in the back alleys.

A few days later, Elizabeth and I returned to the café.

That day, it was quieter than usual.

The rush had passed,

and only a few tables and soft music remained.

Despite what she said, Rita's expression didn't look bright. She seemed uneasy.

Yesterday still seemed to be weighing on her.

But unlike before, she wasn't avoiding it like she wanted to run away, nor was she desperately trying to hide it.

Rita slowly wiped down the table.

Rita paused for a moment.

Then, without a word, she looked at me.

Rita said nothing.

But she listened to every word.

Rita lowered her head.

Just for a moment.

Then she slowly let out a breath.

Only then did Rita lift her head.

She looked relieved.

And then Rita smiled brightly.

It was obviously a practiced smile.

But just for this moment, it didn't look like an act.

Rita averted her eyes, as if she had been left momentarily speechless.

She still looked uncomfortable. Not the face of someone who could honestly say she'd gotten used to it yet.

Even so, she had chosen not to be bound by the past anymore.

Right there in the middle of the maid café,

Rita was standing in her own place for the first time.

She's accepted it, but she's still embarrassed.

And that's exactly why

Rita is Rita.