"To me, research is whatever I can pour the most of my passion and enthusiasm into."
Hajime's eyes narrowed slightly as he read the first line, fingers brushing over the faded cover of the notebook. Beside him, Renji sat silently, his gaze fixed on the smudged ink and peeling pages. The old research journal of Oscar Orcus—countless trials, failures, and relentless persistence captured within its aging spine.
The air in the workshop was still, filled only with the quiet rustle of pages turning.
Every single page was brimming with sharp, methodical handwriting—results, theories, discarded equations, breakthroughs, and notes of despair. The pages bore the mark of obsession, of a man consumed by his craft. But as they reached the final entries, the tone shifted. It wasn't just science anymore—it was emotion, raw and unresolved.
"Unfortunately, I was unable to achieve the ideal that I sought. I
suspect most of it is that guy's fault. Actually no, I'm sure of it. It's all
that damn bastard's fault."
Renji blinked, breaking the silence with a small, incredulous scoff. "He really wrote that?"
Hajime let out a quiet breath—half amusement, half respect. "Yeah. But even through the whining, you can feel it. The guy was burning for this."
They turned the page, and the writing resumed—no longer bitter, but hopeful, almost pleading.
"To whoever ends up finding my notebook. I pray that you, like me,
are one who chases after the truth. I leave all of my research behind in
the hopes that you will complete what I could not. That you will be
able to achieve the ideals I sought. I beg of you, don't let my research end in vain."
Hajime closed the notebook with a soft thump. He stared at the ceiling of the workshop, Oscar's legacy pulsing in his mind.
"I get it now…" Hajime murmured. "You didn't just want answers. You wanted meaning. You needed it to matter."
Renji leaned forward, fingers tented under his chin. "He didn't want to be forgotten. He wanted someone to carry his will."
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the low hum of the workshop's machines. Then—
"I'll do it," Hajime said quietly. "I'll finish what you started, Oscar. I'll give your dream an end."
Renji gave him a sidelong glance before nodding, a quiet fire burning behind his eyes. "We both will."
As they returned to the workbench, surrounded by mechanical parts and unfinished systems, it wasn't just a task anymore. It was a promise. A legacy passed on not by blood, but by passion.
And from the shadows, a pair of mechanical eyes watched silently—bearing witness to the next chapter of a dream long deferred.
Late at night, deep within a hidden chamber behind a bookshelf that definitely wasn't suspicious (despite the glowing "Do Not Enter" sign and faint giggling echoing from within), two figures were hard at work.
One of them was slumped in a chair, looking dead inside.
The other?
Beaming with excitement, his face glowing like a child on Christmas morning. Except this child was Renji, and the "gift" was a maid golem with polished silver hair, an apron, and eyelashes longer than Yue's patience.
"She's perfect, Hajime!" Renji whispered, holding up one of the golem's hands and making it wave. "Look! She can wave now! And she even says 'Good morning, Renji~' in five languages!"
Hajime rubbed his temples. "That's great, Renji. Really. Just fantastic. But it's three in the morning. I have scorch marks. I'm 89% sure that last spark fried one of my kidneys. Can we call it a night?"
Renji wasn't listening. He was brushing the golem's metallic hair with a tiny pink comb.
"I shall name her—Maidriana. The third."
Hajime blinked. "There were two before this?"
"Don't ask about the prototypes. They're buried. Deep."
Hajime looked into the soulless eyes of the golem. She blinked, tilted her head, and let out a cheerful "Okaerinasai, goshujin-sama~"
He wanted to cry.
Just as Renji proudly held up a tiny feather duster for her training…
SLAM.
The secret door flew open.
A gust of cold air blew in.
A single word echoed through the lab:
"…Renji."
The golem's head spun 180 degrees in terror. Hajime jumped and screamed like a banshee. Renji froze mid-duster, slowly turning to see—
Yue.
Hair swaying. Crimson eyes glowing. And most importantly:
Murderous aura intensifying.
"Yue!" Renji squeaked. "This isn't what it looks like!"
"Oh?" Yue stepped in. "Because what it looks like... is you brushing a robot maid's hair in the middle of the night like she's your girlfriend."
"She's not my girlfriend! She's my—my cleaning project!"
"Your cleaning project has garter straps and a recorded giggle."
The golem chimed in: "Renji~ You forgot to kiss me goodnight again~"
Renji paled. "SHE'S STILL IN BETA!"
Yue's hand twitched.
Hajime, trying not to get collateral damage, raised his arms. "I tried to stop him! I swear! I was just here for the soldering! I told him not to install the… uh… love module…"
"You shut it!" Yue growled. "You're the one who built the hips!"
"They swivel!" Renji defended. "For efficient sweeping!"
"They swivel," Yue repeated, deadpan.
Then she turned to the golem.
It blinked again.
Waved.
"Hello, Mistress Yue. Would you like a massage or perhaps a—"
BOOM.
A fireball incinerated it mid-sentence. Screws bounced off the walls like shrapnel.
Renji dropped to his knees in horror. "MAIDRIANA NOOOOOOOOO—!"
Yue stood over the smoldering heap, her arms crossed. "Next time you want someone in a maid outfit, you ask me."
She picked up a lacy headband off the floor, tossed it over her shoulder at Renji, and walked out with the cold fury of someone who had just lost to a robot in a miniskirt.
Renji cradled a melted arm piece. "She didn't even get to vacuum…"
Hajime patted his back. "You brought this on yourself, man. Next time, stick to toasters."
"Now then... shall I show you the difference between a cold machine… and a hot-blooded vampire?"
Renji, crumpled on the floor, groaned. "I don't want to be here anymore."
What followed were screams. Loud, echoing, and unmistakably Renji's.
And somewhere, deep in the spirit realm, Oscar Orcus shed a single manly tear of pride — and confusion.
Author's Note:
Before anyone judges Renji too harshly, let it be known—this behavior is canon. The original creator of the maid golem, Oscar Orcus himself, was a certified maid lover. The man didn't just dabble in maid aesthetics—he dedicated an entire laboratory, years of research, and high-tier transmutation to make the perfect maid golem. That's not obsession. That's commitment.
So yes, Oscar was undeniably a man of culture.
And Hajime and Renji? Their simply honoring the sacred legacy. One feather duster at a time.
Maidriana may be gone… but the dream lives on.