Rin's Vacation

“Vacation.” Our Spa’s office-maid exclaimed as she slapped her guest ledger down with a snappy click.

I fizzed inside my gemstone spring. “Rin–”

She leaned close, hissing with frustration. “You owe me overtime and mental damages for making me register our ‘Slime Sunscreen’ as an official product. I’m cashing it in.” She pointed her pen straight at me. “One day. One day where I don’t have to scrub your mess.”

I gurgled, smug. “Try it. Bet you can’t even rest properly.”

Crack. Her pen broke clean in two between her fingers. She didn’t even blink, just tucked the pieces into her maid-office pocket like she was stashing tools for murder, and stormed out. “Watch me.”

“She’ll miss me before the day is over.”

Sharlotte peeked at me over her wings, eyes wide. “You’re… not worried?”

“Of course not,” I supposed. “Rin without work is like Borkas’s hoofs not trailing mud. She’ll come back before sunset.”

Lucky Bunny tilted her head. “But Sir Kazuki, what if she actually likes the rival spa more? What if she doesn’t come back?!”

“Not a chance,” I fizzed proudly. “Nobody can handle Rin’s obsessive workaholic tendencies except me.”

Sharlotte whispered, halo spinning nervously. “But what if she meets another boss?”

My water swirled harder than I meant it to. “Another… boss?”

“Clearwater’s Handsome Guildmaster, maybe?” Lucky Bunny squeaked. “Or some rich noble who’s more generous?”

“…It’ll be fine,” I responded quickly. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

The high sun shone on the swaying trees and colored the road to Clearwater Retreat orange. Rin walked alone, sundress fluttering around her knees.

“This is good,” she told herself. “Independence. Rest. Finally, a day for me.”

Her thoughts, unfortunately, did not cooperate with her.

“Back at the Guild… how many nights did I spend bent over ledgers? Writing columns until my eyes blurred? Coins going dink, dink, dink against the scales, the sound echoing in my skull until I wanted to scream? I went home with numbers seared into my vision. And what did I get for it? No thanks. No recognition. Just more ledgers.”

She kicked a rock savagely. It bounced, hit a tree, ricocheted, and nailed her in the shin.

“Ow!” She stomped harder, “Perfect. Even rocks disrespect me. …And yet here I am. On my day off. Still thinking about ledgers.”

She bit her lip. Admitting the truth, even to herself, was unbearable.

“But it’s different now. The Spa… it’s not what I’d consider regular work. It’s my work. Taking Kazuki’s disasters and twisting them into something functional. Watching chaos bend into order because I help it so… It makes me feel alive. Likewise, it isn’t a curse anymore. It’s more like… me.”

The thought burned in her chest. Her heart beating faster at the idea of turning back now, she walked briskier to drown it out. She would have her Master recanting his beliefs.

Clearwater Retreat loomed ahead.

It was massive and pretentious. While the Sacred Spa catered to all, this getaway’s target demographic was the wealthy. Fountains and fake waterfalls were everywhere, wasting water, and the attendants bowed in unison.

“Welcome, honored guest!” they chorused, smiling with dead eyes.

Rin stiffened at the level of artificialness. It wasn’t off-putting, but an involuntary response to the realization of something so commonplace that she had forgotten.

The springs bubbled, tepid and lifeless. The tea was as bitter as boiled socks. The towels were thin, scratchy. The magical harp in the background looped between five solos every few minutes. She counted. Five. Exactly five. The repeating loop was like being waterboarded by music.

A fruit platter arrived. The otherwise sugary treat was wilted, and the house flies were thriving.

Rin slid into the spring, forcing herself to relax. “I’m not at work. I’m not at work. I’m not–”

An attendant crept up timidly. “Would madam care for… a massage?”

Her face turned scarlet. A massage? By a stranger? While I’m in this frilly swimsuit under a sundress? Here?

Her brain betrayed her instantly. Firm hands sliding over her shoulders, someone whispering, “You’re so tense, miss secretary,” fingers drifting lower–

“Hyaaaaaaah!!” Rin erupted, splashing water everywhere. “No! Absolutely not! Bring me stationery! Pens! Ink! I’ll massage my ledgers myself!!”

The poor attendant fled in terror. Guests stared. Rin, drenched and flustered, yanked paper to her lap and started scribbling like a demon possessed.

“Attendants undertrained. Water temperature inconsistent. Fruit unsanitary. Overdesigned architecture hemorrhages funds. WHO APPROVED THIS?”

She wrote until the ink flowed off the paper.

For the first time, she admitted it: she didn’t crave freedom from work. She didn’t want a sloth’s life. She wanted the right work. Her work. The rare one she found.

She wanted the chaos that only Kazuki and his disaster of a Spa created.

A smooth, rich voice distracted her from her note-taking. “Oh? A guest with such… dedication?”

Rin turned and nearly fainted. It was Clearwater’s Guildmaster, a tall man as fantastic as a model, with broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and a ledger tucked under one arm like it was part of him.

Rin’s soul cracked in half. Oh no. He’s hot. He’s ‘sign my payroll and I’ll sign my soul away’ levels of hot.

Her knees wobbled. Her imagination betrayed her: him leaning over her shoulder, whispering, “Allow me to help with your columns…,” his hand guiding hers across a ledger, warm on her neck–

Rin’s heart exploded. He noticed me. He noticed meeeee!! She slapped herself in the face. “Stay professional!! Stay–”

The Guildmaster leaned closer. “Are you perhaps an inspector? You have a certain aura.”

Her mouth betrayed her. “Inspector?” She didn’t particularly love the idea of becoming more similar to her father. “I’m a client. But fine, I’ll play along with being an inspector. You call this management?! Lukewarm water! Fruit flies! Fake waterfalls hemorrhaging Gold! Are you trying to bankrupt yourself for aesthetics?!”

The Guildmaster blinked. “Eh?”

Rin stood. “If I ran this place, I’d double your attendants, fix the water flow, and banish every fruit fly from existence! This spa is an insult to the industry!!”

Guests stared. The Guildmaster looked genuinely rattled.

Then Rin realized what she’d just yelled. Her face went redder than the sunset. “I—I mean—forget I said that!!” She bolted, scattering notes across the tiles, horribly embarrassed.

The Guildmaster muttered faintly, “Terrifying…”

Rin stormed down the road from Clearwater, sundress sticking wetly to her thighs, sandals smacking like the footsteps of doom.

Her inner monologue was a civil war.

He was hot. Probably balanced books with his jawline. And I STILL yelled at him. Why? Why can’t I stop myself?!

She kicked another rock and it bounced back to hit her again. “OW! What’s with these?!”

Her sundress clung tighter. The frills of her swimsuit peeked where the straps slid. Steam still clung to her hair. Every step she took left behind the scent of herbs and fury.

She huffed. “No. Enough. If even the Guildmaster couldn’t tempt me to stay there, then… then maybe the truth is… I love what I already have. Damn it.”

Her lips twitched into the faintest smile. Then she smacked her cheeks red. “No smiling! Don’t get sentimental! You’re supposed to be MAD!”

Meanwhile, back at our Sacred Spa, things were on fire. Quite literally.

Sharlotte tried to fix the lost reservation ledger by scribbling new names from memory. Unfortunately, she did it in Holy Scripture. It glowed and then caught the towel rack on fire.

Borkas lay hooves-up in the main spring, snoring so violently the steam vents rattled. Two Harpies argued whether he was dead or reincarnating.

A child Slime hopped behind the welcome desk, wearing a crooked staff badge that drifted inside its body. It squeaked at the next Beastfolk in line. “Hi! Welcome!”

I did my best impression of a responsible Dungeon Core and spun in circles around my altar, managing everything but getting distracted, daydreaming about that frilly swimsuit I’d never see. Why did Sharlotte buy that for Rin at the Port City and make me give it to her? I was already making her wear a racy outfit.

Click. Click. Slap.

The Harpies took flight.

Rin stomped in, sandals clicking on marble, apron short over a still-dripping swimsuit. Wet hair twisted up in a messy bun.

She dropped her stolen rival spa pamphlets onto the counter.

Half the Monsters in the lobby forgot to breathe.

Even Sharlotte peeked out from behind a guest list, halo spinning off-center.

I spun in place, way too excited. “What’s this? Back so soon?”

“Your competition is pathetic.” She breathed. “Half-warm water. Boring music. Fruit flies in the so-called ‘Complimentary Fruit Platter.’ I realized–”

Her mouth brushed my glass, soft, defiant. “–I hate being away from my real work.”

I flickered. “And your real work is…?”

She kissed my Core, a slow, wicked press, just long enough to steam my whole spring over.

The Lucky Bunny shrieked in the background.

She pulled back with a sharp glare.

“It’s you.” She whispered. “Stupid Dungeon Core.”

She flushed scarlet, snatched her towel off a hook, and draped it over me like a curtain before I could say anything back.

“Shut up. Nobody sees you until you apologize for ruining my vacation.”

She turned to the lobby, hair still wet, chest rising and falling, sandals clicking with every step. The species practically lined up to worship her dedication.

Sharlotte peeked over her halo, dazed. “Did you two just–”

Rin barked. “Back to work. Or I’ll kiss him again – harder.”

Beneath her towel, my glow pulsed, smug and proud.

“You see that?” I rumbled, my speech echoing sweetly through the Spa. “That’s our clerk. Hardest working woman in the country, and she’s mine. All of you can look–”

Rin froze mid-step.

“–but only if you pay double the entrance fee. A full day pass! And tip your staff! And buy a drink! Our loyal secretary works too hard for cheap gawkers. You want this view? Spend big or soak somewhere else!”

She spun around, whipping water drops on the marble. “H-How far will you go to humiliate me?!”

“You owe me loyalty, you know that?”

“You’re the one who owes–!”

“You ran off for a vacation! Took notes in that swimsuit! Didn’t even wear it for me first! How many poor fools did you drive insane over there?!”

Her face flamed red. “That’s none of your– say one more word–!”

“And you’ll kiss me again?! Gahahaha! Do it! Boost my brand! Wait, Rin! We can’t run the place without you. Really! You know it as well as we all do! It’ll be a scandal! We’ll lose so much Gold! Rin!”

“STUPID CORE!!” Rin lunged, smacking the towel on me. Guests screamed. She pressed her mouth to my glass again, this time so hard it cracked faintly, and the entire spa lit up like fireworks.

Every guest fainted.

Sharlotte whispered, “I’m witnessing blasphemy…”

Rin tore back, gasping, eyes blazing. “Y-you’re insufferable!!”

But she didn’t storm out. She stood, fists trembling, sundress dripping, and for the first time, she smiled through her anger.

“…But you’re my insufferable boss. And I finally get it. I don’t want to relax. I don’t want freedom from work. I want… this. Chaos, humiliation, fixing your disasters, keeping everything from collapsing. I love it. I love it, and I love–”

She slapped both cheeks, shrieking. “GYAAAAH! Forget what I said!”

The Spa erupted in cheers and hoots anyway.

From that day forward, the Sacred Spa’s guestbook overflowed with love letters. To the water, the Angel, the Boss, but mostly to Rin. Because it turns out, nothing was hotter than loyalty, except maybe a scandalous swimsuit under a scandalous apron and a smirk that says yes, ‘I kissed him, what about it?’