I Reincarnated to Another World as a Woman-Chapter 258: Domestic Mayhem

After cursing at Arthur II, who looks personally betrayed by the insult, Arthur storms out of his room and heads toward the kitchen.

He stops the moment he sees the scene in front of him.

Three women. Chatting. Laughing.

Smiling like this is the most peaceful morning in Concordia.

He sighs.

Deeply.

Dramatically.

I bet the three of them slept like babies.

He conveniently forgets that one of those babies was wailing minutes ago.

Maeve notices him first.

"Good morning, Arthur! I hope you had a nice sleep. Breakfast?"

He squints at her.

Is she mocking me? She has to be mocking me.

Theo and Alicia turn around.

"Morning, Art."

"Good morning."

Arthur mutters something that might resemble a greeting.

Theo blinks.

Twice.

This is... wrong.

Arthur Montrose in pajamas?

Arthur Montrose with bed hair?

Arthur Montrose looking like he lost a fight with his pillow?

Impossible.

Arthur is the human embodiment of "presentable."

He wakes up looking like he has already attended a board meeting.

His default setting is formal trousers, long sleeves, blazer. Sometimes even a tie for no reason.

Even after clearing a dungeon, he somehow looks like he just finished a photoshoot.

Julian once declared, with complete sincerity, that Arthur Montrose has never looked ugly a day in his life.

Not even mid workout.

His sweat looks curated.

But this morning?

This morning Arthur looks like he lost custody of his dignity.

His hair is sticking up at angles that defy physics.

There are dark circles under his eyes.

He is wearing pajamas.

Pajamas.

Maeve’s jaw slowly drops.

She blinks.

Theo looks at her.

She looks at Theo.

They both look back at Arthur.

The silent conversation between them is loud.

Who is this man and what has he done with Arthur Montrose?

------------------------------

As he gets closer, his nostrils flare at the smell of hot coffee.

He visibly calms down.

There it is. Civilization.

He straightens slightly, as if the aroma alone is restoring his dignity.

He walks in silence. Heavy steps. Purposeful.

The women track him with their eyes like wildlife observers witnessing a rare species in its natural habitat.

Arthur enters the kitchen without acknowledging any of them.

He opens the cupboard.

Takes out the biggest mug.

The serious one.

The "do not speak to me until this is empty" mug.

He pours a generous amount of hot coffee.

He lifts it. Inhales.

Pauses.

He looks at the dark liquid.

Black. No sugar. No cream.

The way he always drinks it.

His eyes shift slowly toward the counter.

Then to another counter.

He does not find what he is looking for.

He turns.

Walks toward the breakfast counter where the women are seated.

"Can I help you?" Maeve asks cautiously.

For some reason, she feels like someone has just walked into her kitchen and rearranged the furniture.

Arthur ignores her.

Completely.

Which is rude.

And not something he has ever done.

Ever.

He reaches across the counter.

Maeve blinks.

Theo blinks.

Alicia watches, amused.

Arthur grabs two sugar packets.

Tears them open. Pours both into the mug.

The kitchen falls silent.

Theo slowly turns his head toward Maeve.

Maeve slowly turns her head toward Theo.

Arthur pauses.

Then—

He reaches for a third sugar packet.

"No," Theo whispers.

Arthur tears it open. Pours it in.

Watching how Theo and Maeve are behaving, Alicia presses her lips together, trying not to laugh.

Arthur looks around again.

Then opens the fridge.

"No way!" Theo exclaims.

Yes way.

Arthur removes the milk carton.

He pours milk into the mug.

A significant amount.

More than respectable. More than acceptable.

He takes a teaspoon.

Stirs.

The sound echoes in the stunned silence.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

Arthur lifts the mug.

Takes a slow sip. Closes his eyes.

And sighs. Content. Satisfied.

Like a man who has just discovered inner peace.

Theo stands up from his stool and instinctively shifts into a fighting stance.

Maeve covers her mouth with her apron and gasps.

Alicia bursts into laughter.

Because clearly—

Something is very, very wrong with Arthur Montrose.

------------------------------

Arthur takes three large sips before opening his eyes again.

His shoulders relax.

Color returns to his face.

He exhales slowly.

Yes.

His soul has returned to his body. He is ready to start the day.

He opens his eyes, prepared to address Alicia.

Instead, he finds Theo in a defensive stance.

Maeve has her apron over her mouth.

Alicia is trying very hard not to laugh and is failing spectacularly.

"What?" Arthur asks.

Theo only blinks at him.

Slowly.

"Arthur... are you feeling okay?" Maeve asks, voice muffled behind fabric.

"I am now." Arthur lifts his mug, which is already half empty.

Theo narrows his eyes.

"But... you drink black. No sugar. No cream. Black."

Arthur looks at Theo.

Then at his mug.

Then back at Theo.

His lips press together, clearly restraining laughter.

"Yes, I usually drink black coffee," he says calmly. "Not because I like it. But because I need the bitterness to keep me focused."

Theo stares.

"You... like sweet coffee?" he asks carefully, as if approaching a wild animal.

Arthur grins.

"I love milk coffee."

Theo visibly relaxes.

But not fully.

Arthur ignores the ongoing existential crisis and turns to Maeve.

"What’s for breakfast?"

Maeve instantly switches modes.

Professional. Commanding.

"Pancakes. With every topping imaginable. But this counter is too small. Let’s move to the dining table. Help me move the food."

Everyone obeys.

Arthur adds casually, "I like pancakes. But I also want bacon and eggs. You have them?"

"Bacon and eggs as toppings?" Theo asks, temporarily forgetting the coffee betrayal.

Arthur flashes him a grin. "Why not? We shall experiment."

Maeve is already at the stove, expertly cooking bacon and eggs as if this is a five-star establishment and Arthur is an unpredictable client.

They move to set the dining table.

Alicia is carrying her pancake plate in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other when she accidentally knocks her toe against a stool.

She wobbles.

The glass tilts.

As she tries to steady herself, the juice splashes onto her face, and some of it gets into her eye.

"Ah!" she reacts instinctively, squeezing that eye shut.

The apartment door chimes open.

Arthur, being the closest, reacts on instinct.

He quickly sets down his mug, grabs a handful of tissue from the counter, and steps toward her.

"Hold still," he says automatically.

He lifts his hand and gently cups her face, tilting it slightly so he can see her eye better. He leans closer, trying to check whether the juice has irritated it.

At that exact moment, Liam steps into the apartment.

Behind him—

Captain David Chambers.

Captain Chambers freezes.

From his angle across the room, about ten to twelve meters away, what he sees is this:

Arthur’s hand cradling Alicia’s face.

Alicia’s chin tilted upward toward him.

Arthur leaning down.

Their faces very close.

Too close.

Close enough to be completely misinterpreted.

"Get the fuck away from her!"