I waited until nightfall.
Not because I had a brilliant plan. But because it took me that long to find my pants.
When I found it, one leg was being used as a chicken nest. The other had been chewed by Bento. I didn't ask questions. At this point, I knew better.
The manor, if you could even call it that, had finally gone quiet.
Most of the chickens had settled down: some on shelves, some on windowsills, and a brave one confidently sleeping beside the fireplace.
One of the chickens had claimed my pillow. I tried to move it, but it pecked me like I owed it three months' rent.
Bento wagged his tail beside me, full of energy. He thought this was playtime.
"It is," I whispered. "A game called Let's get the hell out of here."
Bento barked, sensing I was planning to run away. Smart dog, must have taken after his owner.
"Quiet," I hissed at him. "You bark now, we get caught. We get caught, we stay. We stay, we die."
He sneezed in response. Probably didn't like the idea.
I crawled past the hallway, ducking under the broken painting of Old Harry. His eyes were full of faded hope and chronic regret. Shouldn't have taken a loan, my man.
I reached the front door and pushed it open slowly.
Creeeeak.
It creaked open like the door of a haunted mansion. I flinched at the sound and took a look around. There was no one around.
Good. This was freedom.
The night air hit me like a blessing. Cool, calm, and most importantly, chicken-free.
I started walking towards my freedom when a sudden voice halted my steps.
"Going somewhere, milord?"
I jumped three feet into the air and nearly fell on Bento, who somehow started wheezing, thinking this was hilarious.
Standing on top of the chicken coop, in full uniform, was Timothy. He was holding a cup of tea at midnight as if that was normal.
"I… needed air," I said, adjusting my collar like I hadn't just been caught red-handed mid-escape.
He took a sip. "Are you sure you weren't trying to run away, milord?"
I squinted at him and tried to change the subject. "Umm... do you ever sleep?"
"Not since I saw you trying to escape. You have definitely changed since yesterday."
"Right," I replied with disinterest. I mean, I didn't ask to wake up here.
"Woof"
Bento barked once beside me and trotted up to Timothy. He sat beside him as if he had joined him in stopping me from trying to escape.
'Traitor.'
I should have known I was raising a snake in a dog's skin.
"Listen," I said. "I'm not cut out for this. I can't run a barony. I once got fired from a sandwich shop because I couldn't remember the order of bread, meat, lettuce."
Timothy didn't blink. "You're the baron milord. You bought this land when all hope was lost."
"Exactly, and now I wanna retire. Easy, right?."
Bento wagged his tail, clearly enjoying the tension.
Timothy stepped into my path. "And who pays the debt if you vanish into the night?"
"…You?"
"No."
"hah..."
I looked at the road ahead. It was calling me. I imagined the open skies, the clean bed, and food without feathers in it.
"I will go to the capital," I said while raising my hand as if I were telling someone my Hollywood dream. "And open a bakery, sell cinnamon rolls, and make heaps of money. With that money, I will return my trusty butler."
Timothy raised a tired eyebrow. "And the villagers?"
"They'll be fine."
"They're starving."
I guess there was no escape. I looked at Bento to find some sympathy in his eyes.
He looked at me and then...
He farted.
"…Fine," I muttered in resignation. "I'll stay."
"Very good, milord."
"I hate you."
"That's fair."
We turned back toward the manor. A chicken was perched on the roof, watching us like it ran the place. When it saw me, it flapped its wings in slow motion like a mob boss issuing a warning.
I glared at it.
It glared back.
"Tomorrow," I said, "we fix this dump."
"Do you have a plan, milord?"
"Nope. But it can't get worse, right?"
"...Famous last words."
***
Next Morning
I woke up to loud screaming coming from outside.
Outside my window, two villagers were chasing a goat. The goat was chasing a chicken. The chicken was dragging a carrot like it had just robbed a market stall.
Again.
Bento was licking my face. While the chicken on my pillow had not moved.
Sigh~
I sighed. "New day. New disaster."
I stumbled out of bed and downstairs, stepping over three chickens, one unconscious broom, and a mysterious puddle of water I refused to question.
In the kitchen, Timothy sat with a scroll in one hand and a spoon in his mouth. The spoon had nothing in it. He was just chewing it.
"Breakfast?" I asked.
He handed me a bowl.
I looked inside. "Is this… stew?"
He nodded.
I sniffed it. "Why does it smell like nothing?"
"We ran out of salt, sir."
Bento sniffed it, barked once, and then walked away. I envied him.
Harry's Brilliant Plan #1
"So," I said, halfway through my breakfast, "what if we sell the chickens?"
Timothy didn't even blink. "Milord, they outnumber the villagers four to one. Who is gonna buy them?"
I blinked. "…Excuse me?"
Bento growled at my idea. Stupid dog.
Harry's Brilliant Plan #2
"What if we charge tourists to visit the chickens here?"
Timothy rubbed his temples. "Milord, we have no roads, no inns, and no tourists."
"Details, please." I urged him.
"Last week, a man got lost trying to find our village. We found him yesterday, building a new life with raccoons. That's how bad the situation is."
"..."
Harry's Brilliant Plan #3
"I invented a new currency. Chicken Coins. Every coin is just… a feather."
"No."
"Feathers are renewable."
"No."
"They're everywhere. We'd be rich!"
"You'd just inflate the market and cause an economic collapse."
I frowned. "That's the smartest sentence anyone's ever said to me since I got here."
***
Later That Day
A chicken set fire to the last food cart of the village.
Nobody was surprised.
"Woof"
Bento barked once, then lay down on the porch, admiring the scene as if he were the one who had orchestrated it.
Villagers screamed, and smoke rose through the sky. Timothy stared at the flames like it was just another Tuesday for him.
I stood in the middle of the chaos, hands on my hips. "Okay. Plan D."
"What's Plan D, milord?"
"…Dig a tunnel and escape again?"
"You'll need pants."
"Damn it."
That night, I returned to my room.
The chicken was still on my pillow, and Bento had taken over the bed.
I sighed, walking to the window, and stared out at the moon. Somewhere out there, I was sure someone was living a quiet life.
Warm food. No debt. No chicken uprising.
Just peace.
Then a rooster crowed as if he were mocking me. He was loud and smug.
I swore it was laughing.
"Fine. Tomorrow we fix this dump for real. Step one: Take back the pillow. Step two: figure out how to tax chickens."
Bento wagged his tail as if giving his 'yes' as an asian parent.