The Villainess That Was Once A VRMMO player

naughty younger brother, and it was kind of fun, although it was forced.

 

“Well then…”

 

“Wait.”

 

I grabbed Dirk’s hand quickly to stop him when he suddenly tried to bite into his sandwich.

 

“I washed my hands!”

 

“When you eat, you have to say ‘Itadakimasu’, right?”

 

“What the hell is that?”

 

“You can pray to God, but you have to be thankful for the people who procured, made, and prepared the food.”

 

“…Hmmm, you subhumans have some weird customs.”

 

When I stared at him, Dirk looked away and prayed to something god-like before starting to eat.
I say it in the mansion too, you know.
I’m three years old, so it’s [ita-ki-asu].

 

The sandwiches were not enough, so I also gave him some fruit and asked him to eat it with everyone.
I am a half-elf, so to frankly say, just pears would be enough for me.
For dinner, let’s buy something edible from a food stall in town and go home for dinner.

 

As I am eating with [Hermes Dagger], peeling and cutting up the pears, Dirk, who was really hungry, quickly finishes his sandwich.

 

“Wash your hands again when you’re done?”

 

“…hmmm.”

 

When we finished eating, we set out.
I took the lead, and when a wolf or something demon-like came close to us, I shot it with my magic gun to drive it away.
If it were 10 meters away, it would be hard to hit it, so I had no alternative.

 

“Hey, subhuman woman, that’s a [magic gun], right? I know it! Let me use that one.”

 

“…fine.”

 

If he leaves me, it disappears in 10 seconds, so I have to stay behind Dirk to back him up.

 

“Chi, close”

 

“Concentrate.”

 

Boom-boom-boom, he suddenly fired three shots in rapid succession.

 

“Hiii!”

 

“This is dangerous stuff.
Dangerous if your body is weak and small.”

 

Dirk drops the magic gun as if numb from all the recoil coming on his arm because I let him shoot it just by supporting his hand.
This was another lesson for him.

 

“Don’t carry a weapon without being prepared.
Give me your hand.
[Heal].”

 

“…”

 

I healed his arm, and Dirk turned over with a mysterious look on his face.

 

“…I’m tired.”

 

After walking for a while again, Dirk started to whine.
I also got carried away, which may have made him a little depressed, and he became very quiet.
But maybe it’s too much for an eight-year-old aristocrat to walk for three hours on a bumpy road?

 

“Do you want me to carry you?”

 

“No, no, I’m a nobleman.
I’m an aristocrat.
I’d be ashamed to be carried by a woman!”

 

“Okay.”

 

Dirk shook his head hurriedly, red to the ears again.
Was he angry? If he said he would do his best, I would have him do his best, even if it means working himself to death.