Read Online The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 2 by Satoshi Wagahara - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Satoshi Wagahara
Tags: Fiction
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of mistaken identity. The hand mirror didn’t give her a clear view, but there was definitely a girl there, wearing a triangular head scarf, inside Devil’s Castle.
“…I doubt anyone’s living on the first floor.”
Slowly, Emi edged along the wall, checking that no one was looking down before hiding under a tree directly beneath Room 201. She was now totally concealed from the second floor above.
“Jeez. It’s like Ashiya cloned himself or something.”
“You have nothing to blame but your own laziness, Hanzou. If you intend to stay indoors like a hibernating mouse all day, the least you could do is assist with the daily chores.”
“I swear to…want…say it, too…”
Emi could hear someone that sounded like Ashiya as the girl and Urushihara spoke to each other, but—perhaps because he was on the opposite end of the window—he was difficult to make out.
She focused, trying to decipher the muffled voice, but soon the other two grew too quiet to understand. And even worse:
“Ugh…not now! Jeez, pipe
down
, you bastards!”
The countless thousands of cicadas that called Emi’s tree home were crying out the plaintive summer call, simultaneously, at full volume.
Jii jii rhee rhee jkk jkk jkk cht cht cht rheeeeeooouuuuuhhh…
The cacophony of calls from this single tree seemed to morph into a single wall of noise, symbolizing the ardent, all-encompassing urges that drove these chatty beasts as they staked their lives upon the only summer they’d ever experience.
Something light bounced off Emi’s head. She brought a hand up, only to find it was a discarded cicada skin.
“…They
have
to be trying to mess with me. There’s more than one species in there, too.”
Emi discarded the skin as she grumbled at no one in particular. But even the Hero of Ente Isla, gifted in all the languages of the world, had trouble getting her point across to the cicada race.
Resigning herself to the futility of trying to shut them all up, Emi shifted her thoughts to her next move.
This was the first major change in four days. She couldn’t leave until she got to the bottom of this. The girl from before might be some new visitor from the demon realm, someone Emi didn’t know about.
Judging by their laundry-themed discussion, she could tell this interloper was no immediate threat to the area. Regardless, Emi wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.
“This might be risky, but so be it…”
Steeling her resolve, she tiptoed away from the window and toward the front stairway.
Then, slowly, as to avoid making any sound, she climbed the stairs. She had her work heels on, so she kept a careful hand on the guardrail, ensuring she wouldn’t take an embarrassing tumble like before.
By the time she reached the end, breathing shallowly the whole way, she was covered in sweat.
The kitchen window overlooking the outdoor corridor was open as expected, providing what little ventilation the apartment had to offer.
“Honestly, Hanzou, what will we ever do with you? Surely this is not beyond your comprehension.”
It was the girl from before. Emi crouched down beneath the iron bars covering the window as she listened.
“Now, then. First, you dice these shallots and grate some ginger, then you use some cold water to dilute the soup stock. Then all you have to do is bring the udon noodles to a boil, and it’ll be ready to eat at a moment’s notice. You can even serve them chilled, if you like, by immersing them in cold water right after they’re done boiling. Add a raw egg, and it will be simply perfect.”
“Oh, man, you want me to boil noodles in
this
heat?”
“That is exactly what Ashiya does for you, every day and every meal. It would be only proper to offer him some gratitude in return.”
It sounded like the girl’s diatribe against Urushihara was still underway. At least the topic had shifted from laundry, thankfully.
“Don’t let up on him, Ms. Kamazuki. I yell, and yell, and
“…I doubt anyone’s living on the first floor.”
Slowly, Emi edged along the wall, checking that no one was looking down before hiding under a tree directly beneath Room 201. She was now totally concealed from the second floor above.
“Jeez. It’s like Ashiya cloned himself or something.”
“You have nothing to blame but your own laziness, Hanzou. If you intend to stay indoors like a hibernating mouse all day, the least you could do is assist with the daily chores.”
“I swear to…want…say it, too…”
Emi could hear someone that sounded like Ashiya as the girl and Urushihara spoke to each other, but—perhaps because he was on the opposite end of the window—he was difficult to make out.
She focused, trying to decipher the muffled voice, but soon the other two grew too quiet to understand. And even worse:
“Ugh…not now! Jeez, pipe
down
, you bastards!”
The countless thousands of cicadas that called Emi’s tree home were crying out the plaintive summer call, simultaneously, at full volume.
Jii jii rhee rhee jkk jkk jkk cht cht cht rheeeeeooouuuuuhhh…
The cacophony of calls from this single tree seemed to morph into a single wall of noise, symbolizing the ardent, all-encompassing urges that drove these chatty beasts as they staked their lives upon the only summer they’d ever experience.
Something light bounced off Emi’s head. She brought a hand up, only to find it was a discarded cicada skin.
“…They
have
to be trying to mess with me. There’s more than one species in there, too.”
Emi discarded the skin as she grumbled at no one in particular. But even the Hero of Ente Isla, gifted in all the languages of the world, had trouble getting her point across to the cicada race.
Resigning herself to the futility of trying to shut them all up, Emi shifted her thoughts to her next move.
This was the first major change in four days. She couldn’t leave until she got to the bottom of this. The girl from before might be some new visitor from the demon realm, someone Emi didn’t know about.
Judging by their laundry-themed discussion, she could tell this interloper was no immediate threat to the area. Regardless, Emi wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.
“This might be risky, but so be it…”
Steeling her resolve, she tiptoed away from the window and toward the front stairway.
Then, slowly, as to avoid making any sound, she climbed the stairs. She had her work heels on, so she kept a careful hand on the guardrail, ensuring she wouldn’t take an embarrassing tumble like before.
By the time she reached the end, breathing shallowly the whole way, she was covered in sweat.
The kitchen window overlooking the outdoor corridor was open as expected, providing what little ventilation the apartment had to offer.
“Honestly, Hanzou, what will we ever do with you? Surely this is not beyond your comprehension.”
It was the girl from before. Emi crouched down beneath the iron bars covering the window as she listened.
“Now, then. First, you dice these shallots and grate some ginger, then you use some cold water to dilute the soup stock. Then all you have to do is bring the udon noodles to a boil, and it’ll be ready to eat at a moment’s notice. You can even serve them chilled, if you like, by immersing them in cold water right after they’re done boiling. Add a raw egg, and it will be simply perfect.”
“Oh, man, you want me to boil noodles in
this
heat?”
“That is exactly what Ashiya does for you, every day and every meal. It would be only proper to offer him some gratitude in return.”
It sounded like the girl’s diatribe against Urushihara was still underway. At least the topic had shifted from laundry, thankfully.
“Don’t let up on him, Ms. Kamazuki. I yell, and yell, and
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