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Gras: Tch... what the hell’s with that professor!?
Gras: “How dare you speak to a professor like that”, he says, when he’s the one who speaks with such insolence to my magnificent self!
Gras: Cleaning as a punishment...!? Screw him! Who does he think I am!?
Gras: That bastard Kyoudou is useless as well, just standing by and smiling...!
Gras: It’s fine to just let the irrelevant people do work like cleaning!!!
Gras: That bastard... damn it! Damn it, damn it!!
Gras: ...hmph. If the floor’s a little wet, they’ll surely assume it’s been cleaned.
Gras messily shakes off the wet mop, then drags it around on the floor.
Just when he’d cleaned, or rather, soaked, the corridor from end to end—
???: Whoah!?
Gras: ...hm?
Dreyse: Why is the floor so wet...!
Dreyse, who slipped and fell while passing by, stands up with a furious look on his face.
Gras: ...shit.
Dreyse: Is this your doing, Chassepot!?
Dreyse: I know you view me as an enemy, but this kind of immature harassment is just... I’m truly shocked.
Gras: Huh? Chassepot? Who do you think you’re talking to?
Dreyse: ...hm?
Dreyse: ...ah, Gras. Sorry for mistaking you.
Dreyse: Nonetheless, what’s with the state of this floor? You must have been told to clean, but... do you intend to flood the school?
Gras: If you’re going to preach, do it somewhere else. The floor or whatever will dry soon enough, so it’s fine.
Dreyse: It’s most definitely not fine. Like this, people could fall and be injured.
Dreyse: And beyond that... look. Most of the dirt is still—
Tabatiere: Hey, Gras!
Tabatiere: Hm? Dreyse’s here too, huh?
Dreyse: Yes. I just happened to pass by. I was giving some advice to Gras about how poorly he’s cleaned.
Tabatiere: Ah, I figured it’d be something like that. This whole area is soaked, after all...
Gras: Shut up... It was wrong to make me clean, in the first place.
Tabatiere: It wouldn’t be like you to be thorough with it, I suppose... I’d have a lot to be worried about if you’re alone, so I’ll help out.
Gras: Hmph... The one you care about is Chassepot, not me, isn’t it?
Tabatiere: Come on, now. Don’t say that. We’re connected by the Lesar family, aren’t we?
Gras: ......
Tabatiere: Here, hand me the mop. If you don’t wring it out better, someone might slip.
Gras: ...it’s a bit late for that.
Dreyse: ......
Tabatiere: Ah— ...I see. So Dreyse was the first victim, huh?
Tabatiere: Sorry about that, Dreyse. I wish I could have gotten here a little sooner...
Dreyse: No, you have no need to apologize. Just supervise this one carefully from here out, so there won’t be anyone else who gets hurt.
Tabatiere: Yep, that’s the plan. ...c’mon, Gras. Let’s get this over with.
Gras: ...hmph.
—Later.
Gras: Hey, Chassepot.
Chassepot: ...what? Do you need something from me?
Gras: Listen. I’ve got your babysitter now.
Chassepot: Huh? What is that supposed to mean?
Tabatiere: ...ah, do you mean when I helped you with cleaning?
Gras: Exactly.
Tabatiere: I was worried that he wouldn’t do it properly, so I came to help out a bit.
Chassepot: ...is that when you were ordered to clean as a punishment?
Chassepot: Hmph, if that’s what you want to call it. Unlike you, I don’t need to be taken care of by this second-rate guy.
Chassepot: As long as (Player Name) is there, I don’t mind that.
Gras: What a shame for you. (Player Name) obviously prefers me, with my superior performance.
Chassepot: Huh? You must have had a wonderful dream. (Player Name) would never favor an arrogant and self-centered Musketeer such as yourself.
Gras: No, it’s just reality. The loser here is the out-of-date inferior— in other words, you!
Chassepot: You’re really....!!!
Tabatiere: Calm down, you two. (Player Name) would be upset if you fight, right?
Gras & Chassepot: Hmph!!!
Tabatiere: Good grief...