Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku - Volume 12 - Chapter 11

Operation Get Rid of Patricia

One week had passed since Pfle had assigned Patricia to be Mamori’s bodyguard. Wherever Mamori went, Patricia went with her. Turn around, and she’d be right there. If Mamori went to the bathroom, she’d wait in front of her stall.

She didn’t even get a break during class.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Cia Hattori.”

Money and power made the impossible possible. A woman who was clearly in her early twenties wearing a uniform and transferring to a high school was an abnormal situation. But since the Hitokoujis had okayed it, the school had no grounds to refuse, and the students weren’t allowed to talk about it on social media, either.

From the day she’d transferred in, rumors had spread that Patricia was Mamori Totoyama’s new lover. Of course, new lover implied that there was an old lover. Who could that possibly be?

If someone asked Mamori, “Who’s that person who’s always with you?” she could only ever answer with Patricia’s alias: “She’s Hattori.” As for Patricia herself, she was surprisingly quick to adapt, and she even raised her hand in class to answer questions or clenched her fists and sang enthusiastically during music lessons, and she was an active participant in gym class. She displayed a level of athleticism far beyond that of a teenager, leading the gym teacher to beg her to please join the track club. Was that even okay, though? Patricia also quickly became friendly with her classmates, making all the prissy girls laugh with her quips.

Kanoe, the one who’d hired Patricia as bodyguard, holed herself up at home to do her own investigation and pondering. Mamori would have liked to do something about her, too, but even if she wanted to, Patricia was in the way. She wasn’t just guarding Mamori—she was monitoring her. Mamori could assume that if she did anything, Patricia would report it straight to Kanoe.

She was going to get rid of Patricia. She’d get separated from her and play it off as a coincidence, then send a message to Snow White so she could do something about Kanoe. That’s a good plan, Mamori thought. This could work.

She tried the orthodox method: getting lost in a crowd to shake her off. But no matter where Mamori went—packed trains, amusement parks, scramble crossings—and no matter how irregularly she moved, even if she went against the flow of people, Patricia stuck right by her side.

Mamori tried hopping onto a random train the moment before the doors closed. But right when she was thinking it had worked, she looked to the side and saw Patricia standing there. She figured she had no choice but to resort to more forceful methods; she even tried breaking into a sudden sprint in a residential district. As she ran for dear life, she came up with an excuse: Well, I suddenly got the urge to break into a run. You get that sometimes, right? But when she ran out of steam, panting hard, she turned to find Patricia standing right behind her. She hadn’t even broken a sweat. Mamori was in shock. “You’ve got no endurance, huh, Mamori?” Patricia said with a laugh. Mamori had no response.

Patricia was downright demonic. Since she’d been hired by a demon like Kanoe, it wasn’t at all strange for her to also be one. Nothing was off the table if a human wanted to win against a demon.

Mamori switched tactics. Rather than trying to lose her, she should just induce Patricia to leave of her own accord. If Patricia were to relinquish her position and tell Kanoe she didn’t want to follow Mamori around anymore, that would be a win for Mamori.

Mamori fished through the Hitokouji pantry, looking for something she remembered being there. She could do just about anything in the estate as long as she said that Kanoe allowed her. In other words, Kanoe could get away with anything on the property, which aggravated Mamori to no end. But now wasn’t the time to be taking issue with that.

Mamori discovered what she’d been looking for at the back of the pantry, all covered in dust. It was surströmming—a can of fermented herring, reputed to be the stinkiest food in the world.

Patricia had amazing athletic reflexes, but that had no bearing on whether she could tolerate foul odors. This had to work. Mamori moved into action, certain she would succeed. She had Patricia stand beside her as she opened the surströmming; the swelled-up can burst from the pressure and spewed its contents all over Mamori, who wound up stuck in bed until the following morning.

Patricia fanned Mamori as she writhed in bed, then murmured in sheer awe, “I think I kind of get why the boss likes you so much, Mamori.”

“Urk… Patricia, you don’t have to fan me…”

“Well, if I don’t, then the smell comes toward me.”

“Damn it…”