Chapter 48: Cultural Festival Day One (Maid Café)

The day of the cultural festival had finally arrived.

For the mornings of both days of the two-day event, I was scheduled to help out with my class’s maid café as a waitress.

Apparently, some of my classmates had really gone all out—the decorated classroom looked completely different from usual.

The more drab parts of the classroom were mostly hidden behind a bunch of deep red curtains someone had brought in, and the desks that had been pushed together to make tables were all neatly covered with matching, stylish tablecloths.

Some things, like the chairs, had been left as they were, but that kind of imperfection gave it a handmade charm that actually suited the atmosphere. I didn’t mind it at all.

The waitress uniforms were all genuine maid outfits, though they varied from person to person. From what I heard, someone in class had a connection that let us borrow them.

Incidentally, the outfit prepared for me was a mini-skirt maid costume. I tried to swap it out, but there were no other sizes that would fit me. I had no escape.

“…But today, I came prepared.”

Anticipating something like this might happen, I’d brought a little insurance.

Specifically, I wore an underskirt—something often worn under tennis wear—called an "underskirt" or "undershort".

It was pearl white with a cute design. Since I didn’t like the feeling of a bunch of layers under the skirt, I picked one with just a subtle lace trim around the waistline.

Sorry to disappoint all the boys hoping for a panty flash today, but that’s absolutely not happening—hmph.

“Welcome home, Master.”

After cleaning up a table, I guided the next Master to their seat.

Customers had been pouring in non-stop since morning, and someone like me, with no experience in customer service, was barely keeping it together.

We’d had a short training session after school covering the basics of hospitality and greetings, but this level of turnout was completely unexpected.

With help from classmates who had part-time job experience, even the guys—who were originally supposed to stay behind the scenes—ended up helping with table cleanup and handling payments to keep things moving.

“Master, what would you like to order?”

This sort of thing is all about keeping your composure.

With my best customer-service smile, I moved quickly and efficiently.

“Three guests at table twelve! One cola, one coffee, one iced tea!”

“Two guests at table eight ready to pay!”

“‘Have a safe journey, Master!’”

“Two guests returning to table three!”

“‘Welcome home, Master!’”

“There’s no milk for the coffee.”

“My apologies—I’ll bring it right away.”

“I-I’d like to order you, actually.”

“I’m very sorry, but our café’s maids are not permitted to serve any particular Master exclusively.”

“Ah, sir! Our maids are quite shy, so we kindly ask that you refrain from taking photos~”

…What is this chaos?

The menu only had one item—Maid’s Handmade Cookies (Lovingly crafted with thoughts of you, Master) plus a drink set—so we only needed to ask which drink they wanted, and that was the only reason we were able to keep things running.

If we’d had multiple menu options, we would’ve gone down in flames for sure.

Even so, there seemed to be a surprising number of male customers who weren’t from the school.

Most were dressed in dark clothing and carrying backpacks. I felt like they looked familiar somehow, but I didn’t have the time or mental space to sit down and figure it out.

“U-Um… Is it true that if I win the afternoon tournament, I get the right to go on a date with you?”

While taking an order, one of the Masters asked me that, and I remembered—oh yeah, that was a thing.

“Yes. As one of the joke prizes for the afternoon Wiso tournament, I did agree to offer a date with me.”

As I gave that answer, I could feel the room suddenly buzzing. And then it finally clicked.

…These people are Wiso players!

“I’m gonna give it my all!”

“There are lots of other great prizes too, so do your best!”

While thinking, Wow, some people even come all the way from off-campus just to participate, I glanced back over the Masters who’d come so far.

…Huh? Isn’t it kind of suspicious how many of them look like Wiso players?

As I was thinking that, Fumika—dressed in a classic maid outfit with a long skirt and glasses—walked over and spoke to me in a quiet voice.

“…Alice, you’ve been flashing your panties every now and then, you know? People are definitely looking.”

I had been trying to be careful so nothing showed, but running around this much made it kind of inevitable sometimes.

But that, dear Fumika-san, is not a panty flash!

“It’s fine! I’m wearing an underskirt. The kind that’s okay even if it shows!”

I declared proudly, but Fumika just gave me a doubtful look.

“…If you say so. As long as you’re okay with it.”

At that moment, Jun—carrying a tray with an order on it—walked up, apparently having overheard our conversation, and casually added:

“From what I saw, it just looked like regular panties…”

“…Huh?”

I slapped my hands over the back of my skirt in a panic.

“By the way, I did think they were pretty cute.”

And with that, Jun turned and headed off to deliver the order to a Master.

“…Huh? …Huh?”

I was bewildered. Wait, does everyone around me seriously think they’re seeing my panties?

Apparently, my “Thought it was a panty flash? Too bad, it was just an underskirt!” strategy was fundamentally flawed.

…And there’s still a whole hour left on my shift. What am I even supposed to do now?

“It’s fine. They’re not panties, so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, right? Come on, it’s not like you’re losing anything.”

Saying that, Fumika gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

I am losing something! I am!

Something like my mental hit points was being chipped away at—no, shredded—with every passing second!

“Look, that Master is calling. Let’s go.”

“W-Wait… Fumikaaa…!”

Once I became conscious of the stares, I couldn’t stay calm anymore.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but it felt like a significant portion of the people in the room had their eyes on me.

And especially the glances aimed at the hem of my skirt—they felt disturbingly sticky, like they were crawling over me. It made my skin crawl.

The underskirt that had felt so reassuring earlier now felt utterly unreliable.

I kept holding down the hem of my skirt, fidgeting nervously, completely unable to focus on the job. I even made a few mistakes during service.

“It’s just an underskirt, right? Who cares if they see it? Acting all flustered only draws more attention…”

Yuna said that, exasperated—but still, if people think they’re seeing panties, it’s just way too embarrassing. I can’t deal with that!