Chapter 25
The Non-Quitter
A man and a woman were tangled together in a heated embrace, their hands roaming like tangled vines—touching hips, backs, and chests without hesitation.
At this rate, they’re going to end up at a hotel.
I thought this was a medieval fantasy world, but apparently, the way people expressed love wasn’t so different from the modern era. If anything, it felt even more daring, perhaps because this was a society where men and women were supposed to be reserved.
Yeah… better skip this scene.
There was no way I was interrupting that. I didn’t have the courage—or the energy—to deal with the aftermath. And the fact that they were clearly nobles made it all the more dangerous.
Whoever you are, I wish you two a very happy life.
Feeling my cheeks burn, I fanned myself with my hand and tiptoed away down the corridor. Thankfully, I ran into a passing servant and managed to find my way back to the hall.
“Where on earth did you go? I was worried.”
Everyone was already preparing to leave. A few minutes later, and I might’ve been left behind. Feeling guilty under Lady Chiara’s sharp gaze, I confessed honestly.
“I got lost after going to the bathroom.”
She gave me a look that said how pathetic.
“…Let’s go.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Fortunately, nothing major had happened while I was gone.
They’re definitely going to pick a fight at the Marquess’s product launch party.
And so, Lady Chiara and I threw ourselves into preparations for the Black Diamond new product launch.
Especially me—since I was involved in the product planning itself, my workload was insane. Still, I refused to sacrifice my sacred rule: leaving work on time.
Even Butler Fenel commented one day, half-baffled and half-impressed:
“It’s amazing how you still manage to leave on time with that workload.”
I just smiled. Would he understand if I told him this was the power of the modern office worker?
I’d always believed in setting my own deadlines. That way, I didn’t procrastinate and stayed focused. Too much time made me sloppy; too little made me panic. Balance was everything. Moderation—the key to all things.
Ding-dong.
The bell rang.
I jumped up, put on my mask, and pressed the button to open the door for the incoming guest. The room was designed so that the guest and I were completely separated to maintain anonymity.
Upon entering, guests were instructed to choose a mask from the wall, then signal readiness by tapping on the divider three times. Only then would the small viewing window slide open, revealing just my upper body.
I thought about keeping the wall closed and just talking through the divider, but that felt too eerie.
The guest muttered a confused “Huh? Is this it?” before tapping—tok tok tok—three times.
The window slid open, revealing a person wearing a pink rabbit mask. The “rabbit” looked startled upon seeing me.
“W-wait, you said masks, but this is practically a full costume!”
“Well, concealing one’s identity is the whole point.”
“It’s surprisingly comfortable, though—not suffocating at all.”
“I can’t have guests feeling uncomfortable after making the effort to come here.”
“But… what are you wearing?”
I had prepared it with great enthusiasm, but their lack of recognition was a little disappointing.
“It’s a quokka.”
“Oh.”
“You may call me Master Quokka.”
“…Cute.”
“Thank you.”
Oddly enough, the animal costume helped break the tension between us.
“So… can you really stop me from wanting to quit my job?”
“I can’t promise life advice,” I said, voice calm behind the smiling quokka mask, “but I can listen to the troubles of those who can’t quit—and suggest survival strategies. So, tell me. What’s driving your urge to quit lately?”
The rabbit hesitated, then took a deep breath and began.
“I… I think my senior at work hates me.”
Ah. First client, and already a tough one.
“Why do you think that?”
The rabbit’s words tumbled out, like a dam finally bursting.
“They told me to ask questions whenever I was unsure, but when I ask, they get mad and say I should think for myself. But if I don’t ask and just do the work, they yell at me for acting on my own! I don’t know what to do anymore! Now I’m so scared I just wait and do nothing…”
A teary sigh escaped the rabbit. It was a classic rookie problem. I asked a few more questions to assess the situation.
“This is your first job, right? How long have you been there?”
“Almost three months.”
“Then you’re just starting to get the feel of the company. How does that senior treat other people—superiors, colleagues, outsiders?”
The rabbit thought for a moment.
“Um… I don’t think they’re mean or anything. They’re always busy, so I’ve never seen them chatting casually. Oh! I did see them giving extra work to another colleague, saying they trusted them the most.”
“What was their expression like when that happened?”
“Uh… kind of pale? But they always look tired, so I’m not sure.”
“Hm…”
I sighed softly.
So the senior’s drowning in work, and the rabbit’s getting caught in the current.
If I wanted to help the rabbit, I’d need to save the senior first.
“From what you’ve said, I don’t think your senior hates you—or is targeting you. They simply don’t have the luxury of hating anyone right now.”
“Really?”
“They’re just too busy. You asking questions or making mistakes doubles their workload. They’re overwhelmed, not malicious. Of course, that doesn’t make their behavior right—but I assure you, they don’t hate you.”
The rabbit sighed in relief, shoulders slumping.
“Really? Oh thank goodness. But… does that mean I just have to keep enduring it? It’s so exhausting…”
Since the senior sounded like a normal human being and not a tyrant, I went with a practical, old-school solution.
“If you can learn to support your senior effectively, this problem will solve itself.”
“How do I do that? I’m still a mess.”
Smiling beneath the mask, I raised two fingers.
“Get scolded. Twice a day.”
“…What?”
“Let’s aim for two scoldings a day,” I said firmly.
