Through the Frosted Mirror

Ellen had experienced many things while working with Victoria Housekeeping Co., but being forced into a maid outfit and waiting tables was not something she had anticipated. Yet here she was, standing in the middle of the bustling Victoria Maid Café, a frilly apron tied around her waist and Sharkboo perched smugly on her shoulder.

"This is ridiculous," Ellen muttered, adjusting the bow of her uniform as Von Lycaon walked past, impeccably dressed in his supervisory attire.

"Nonsense," Von Lycaon replied, his voice dripping with authority and charm. "The Victoria Maid Café is a vital extension of our operations, and today, we're all pitching in. Consider it a lesson in adaptability."

Ellen sighed but didn't argue further. The café was packed, and the cheerful chatter of customers blended with the clinking of dishes and the occasional whir of Sharkboo zipping around to deliver small orders.

Rina floated gracefully across the café, her every movement exuding elegance as she took orders with a smile that seemed to charm even the most irritable patrons. "Table six needs their tea refreshed," she said to Ellen in passing, her Bangboo, Anastella and Drusilla, trailing behind her and chattering in tandem about dessert pairings.

"Got it," Ellen replied through gritted teeth, balancing a tray laden with pastries. As she approached the table, a customer tried to strike up a conversation.

"Hey, sweetheart, you free after your shift?" the man asked with a wink.

Ellen's deadpan glare could have frozen the entire café. "No. Next question?"

Rina swooped in just in time, smoothly deflecting the awkward moment. "Ah, my colleague is very focused on her work. Let's not distract her, shall we?" she said with a sweet but firm tone. Ellen shot her a grateful look before retreating to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Corin was in the kitchen, a whirlwind of nerves and determination. She wielded her chainsaw-like broom—currently retrofitted with cooking attachments—to whip cream and chop vegetables with surprising efficiency. The staff had initially been skeptical about letting her handle food, but her cooking was turning out to be shockingly good.

"Uh, Corin?" one of the junior staff hesitated as a plume of flour erupted from the counter.

"It's fine! Everything's under control!" Corin squeaked, her skittish nature showing as she tried to manage three dishes at once. Despite the occasional hiccup, the food made it to the tables looking and tasting impeccable, much to the surprise of everyone—including herself.

The highlight of the day was Sharkboo, who had quickly become the café's unofficial mascot. Customers marveled as the tiny mechanical companion zipped around, carrying trays and chirping enthusiastically.

"Where can I get one of these?" a young girl asked, wide-eyed.

"Limited edition," Ellen replied dryly, though she couldn't hide a small smile as Sharkboo performed a little twirl before delivering a cupcake to the next table.

Von Lycaon observed the chaos with a satisfied nod. "Excellent teamwork, everyone. Remember, presentation is key." He demonstrated by placing a perfectly folded napkin beside a customer's plate, earning a round of applause from the nearby tables.

As the day wound down, the team gathered in the empty café to share a meal and reflect on their efforts. Rina teased Ellen about her 'customer service skills,' while Corin shyly accepted compliments on her cooking.

"You know," Ellen said, leaning back in her chair, "this wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"I'll take that as high praise," Von Lycaon replied with a small smile.

Sharkboo chirped in agreement, settling onto Ellen's lap as the team laughed and shared stories. For a moment, the weight of their usual duties felt far away, replaced by the simple joy of camaraderie.

"Alright, everyone," Von Lycaon said, raising a glass of sparkling cider. "To teamwork and adaptability."

"To surviving another day in this madhouse," Ellen added with a grin, clinking her glass with the others.

After the last plate was cleaned and the chairs were stacked, Ellen bid farewell to her team and headed home. The streets were quiet, lit by the soft glow of streetlamps. Sharkboo perched on her shoulder, humming faintly as it swayed with her steps.

Once inside her apartment, Ellen kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the couch. Sharkboo hopped down and chirped, tilting its head inquisitively.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Long day," Ellen muttered, reaching out to scoop the Bangboo into her arms. She settled back, pulling a blanket over herself and Sharkboo. Its soft whirring sounds were oddly comforting, a soothing background noise as her eyes grew heavy.

"Good job today," she murmured, stroking its metallic frame. Sharkboo chirped softly, nuzzling against her hand as if to say the same.

For the first time in a while, Ellen felt completely at ease. The day might have been chaotic, but moments like this—quiet and warm—made it all worth it. She closed her eyes, Sharkboo snug against her chest, and drifted off into a well-deserved rest.