Watching the ever-growing stack of plates and bowls, the cafeteria uncle’s smile twitched slightly. Brother John had claimed an entire table, devouring the Knight Order’s prepared meals at an astonishing pace. I sat across from him, trying to stay calm—no, my expression had long since shattered. So I’d preemptively disconnected the automaton’s facial control module, forcing a blank mask.

“Miss Jenny, this young man sure can eat.”

“Mm. Must be a bottomless pit.”

The cafeteria uncle and I now stood on the same worried front, fretting over tonight’s dinner. Brother John had eaten so much the original provisions were clearly insufficient.

“I’ll report the food situation to Deputy Commander Lilia.”

“Thank you kindly, Miss Jenny.”

Few noticed “Jenny” was actually a remotely operated Arcane Automaton. Most in the Duke’s household assumed I was a mysterious mage who enjoyed dressing as a maid—after all, wielding the Item Vault, a spatial magic, marked me as exceptionally rare. Had I known this spell was nearly extinct in this era, I’d never have used it publicly. All Aleister’s fault. In his time, it was commonplace; he naturally assumed it still was. Without batting an eye, he’d thrown me under the bus.

“Big sis~~~”

The red-haired knight wrapped her arms around me from behind, chin resting on my head as she watched Brother John stuff food into his mouth. Facing his future superior, he showed zero intention of stopping—still gorging shamelessly.

“Whoa! If it isn’t little brother John! Suppressed the Sword’s Ocular already? Oh ho, looking *spirited*!”

“Yes, the Ocular is stabilized and won’t run wild,” I pivoted smoothly. “But Lilia, please don’t link ‘spirit’ with ‘overeating’.”

“Eating heartily *is* spirit! More! Eat more!”

“But Lilia,” I glanced at the pleading-faced cafeteria uncle, “he’s nearly emptied tonight’s reserves. Without extra budget, the whole Order goes hungry. As Deputy Commander… you’ll handle it, right?”

“Whoa! So *that* spirited!” Lilia crossed her arms, chin tilted. “Uncle, cook more. I’ll cover the cost.”

“At your service, young mistress!”

“In the Knight Order—call me Deputy Commander!”

“Yes, Deputy Commander!”

Beaming, the uncle hurried off to order more food. Brother John swallowed what must’ve been his umpteenth roll and let out a loud burp.

“Phew… alive again.”

“Allow me to introduce,” I shifted instantly into work mode. “John, this is Deputy Commander Lilia Grant Northenberg of the Knight Order.”

“Sir, ma’am—!”

Brother John saluted sharply—but bumped the wobbling plate stack beside him. The automaton’s dynamic vision calculated the fall trajectory in a flash. I shot out both hands and steadied the tower.

In my past life, Brother John died breaking Elizabeth’s flowerpot. This time? Nearly shattered the Order’s tableware.

*Can’t you pick a different way to die? Why’s it always porcelain?!*

“Excellent! Full of spirit!” Lilia stroked her chin, sizing him up. “Decision made. Starting today, little brother John—I’ll train you properly!”

“Yes, sir!”

*Sigh.* You two enjoy yourselves. I’m heading out.

The next day, I spotted John on the training field—utterly wrecked from Lilia’s drills. Even other knights and squires shot him pitying looks. Still, with the arcane device’s aid, Brother John had stabilized the Ocular and begun training under Knight Captain Zord to fully master it.

A good start—at least for me.

That afternoon, the armory delivered my custom armor components. Rough-looking due to production limits, but they met core specs. Armor was disposable anyway. My Arcane Golem design used a skeletal frame—external plating swapped fast, ideal for battlefield maintenance.

Time to continue the Iron Guard’s development. As a developer, an Arcanomechanical Artificer—pulling an all-nighter was part of the craft!

But obstacles struck fast.

“Victoria… planning another all-nighter?”

A black furball wriggled to my side, tiny paws clutching my arm. Chris tilted its head, cooing like a real cat. I lifted it onto my lap, stroking gently. Juliana shot me a glare—then quickly looked away.

“Juliana, Chris is in your care.”

“Yes, young mistress.”

*Meow meow meow (Don’t you dare touch me!)*

Beaming, Juliana scooped Chris and hurried off. Honestly, who wouldn’t adore such a perfect cat? I almost forgot it was a demon.

“Initiate link. Enter!”

Vision blurred backward—consciousness mapped cleanly onto the automaton. I rose, walked to the assembly bay. Crates littered the floor, straw cushioning the delivered armor parts. Ready for assembly. I settled into the specialized chair; the mechanical exoskeleton unfolded behind me, encasing the automaton.

With this, lifting one-ton parts was effortless, assembly precise. Prototype would finish tonight. But the real test? Tomorrow’s live demo. If the Duke’s family rejected the Iron Guard’s design and performance, everything—nearly 1,200 gold coins—would be wasted.

If the Duke doubted my talent, my standing in the family would crumble.

A sharp crisis gnawed at me. *This cannot happen.*

By 8 a.m., the Iron Guard prototype stood complete. I draped it with a tarp for dramatic effect. One hour until 9. I disconnected the spiritual link, headed to freshen up.

My body had slept, but exhaustion clung. Glancing in the mirror before breakfast arrived—dark circles, tangled dull hair. A mess. The girl staring back wasn’t cute. Just sloppy. But I’d never cared about looks in my past life… and hadn’t changed here.

“Elesya? Help me change… Elesya?”

Silence. Chris still napped sunlit on its cushion—so Elesya hadn’t come. Strange. She slacked off *inside* my room, never late outwardly. Every morning, she’d hide on my sofa, feigning busyness only when others knocked.

Had she finally quit her fantasies and gone home?

…Good news.

No time. Restroom first. Breakfast hadn’t come—everyone must’ve overslept. Years of hunger at the Luther household taught me to endure. Skipping a meal? No problem.

I repositioned the spiritual link headband, lay down, and initiated protocol.

“Link initiating. Enter!”

Vision shifted—zero dizziness this time. Consciousness settled smoothly. I stood the automaton, donned the exoskeleton, cleared crates and straw to the corner. Space opened for the demo. The Duke would arrive at 9 with top commanders. Every inch mattered.

Done. I gazed at the tarp-covered Iron Guard—a warm swell of pride.

*Knock knock.* Polite taps at the side door.

Early?

“Please enter, Your Grace.”

I opened the door—and froze. An Honor Guard soldier knelt on one knee. A gesture rarely given, even to the Duke.

Who…?

I looked up. A portly middle-aged man beamed, wrapped in a gem-embroidered coat and fur-lined cloak radiating nobility.

“You are… His Imperial Majesty!”

Yes. That round face—identical to Emperor Henry from my past life. I dropped to one knee. But he gently lifted me, smile warm.

“So you’re the alchemist Charles has been hiding?”

“Your Majesty,” I stammered, flustered, “I’m no alchemist. Merely her servant.”

“Oh?” Emperor Henry nodded thoughtfully. “Before that boy Charles arrives… may I tour this workshop?”

Not a request. A command. No refusal possible.

I signaled the guard, ushered His Majesty inside, and closed the door softly. Outside—urgent footsteps sprinting away. The soldier racing to alert the Duke.