Moving Plans (2)

"Welcome."

A thought struck me, sudden and idle. No matter where we went, the doors never had any kind of ornament hanging from them. Back in the place I used to be... ah. Even that was starting to feel like it was fading, little by little.

Strangely enough, I didn't miss it. Life here was simply too good. She was at my side, and every single day we wrapped ourselves around each other, checking the scent and the feeling of one another all over again.

Anyway. Back to the point. Don't most shop doors have something like a bell on them? The kind that goes jingle-jangle when you open it, a little device to let them know a customer has arrived. There was nothing of the sort here. I figured I could ask about that later.

"We're looking to find a house out on the edge of the city. Would that be possible?"

"The outskirts, you say? Ah— I see. One moment, please..."

The real estate office Ely had led me to was staffed by a small, elderly man with enormous crescent-shaped ears.

"Toby! Any houses out on the city outskirts?"

He hooked the glasses he'd been wearing back around his neck and waddled off toward the room in the rear.

"...What kind of beastkin is he?"

"A mouse beastkin. They live in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠big families, and their love for kin and kind runs very deep, which makes them exceptionally good at gathering information. If you're going by the size of the community alone, the mouse beastkin are probably the largest of all."

Mouse beastkin. So there really were all kinds. Then again, just from what I had seen myself there were beastkin with fox tails, dog beastkin with fur in every color, wolf beastkin... It seemed likely that every animal I could imagine existed here in some form, and the thought was a little unsettling.

"Houses out on the outskirts have been sitting empty lately, haven't they?"

"Everyone's been in an absolute frenzy trying to grab a place closer to the city center. Closing a deal out that way hasn't been easy at all these days— ah."

Two mouse beastkin, each a little taller than the old man, came chattering out of the back room with a bundle of documents in their arms.

"Oh, we have customers? Hello!"

"You little brat! Haven't I always told you? The winged folk spread what people say by day, and we rake in every last whisper they let slip at night!"

A bright, clean smack rang through the office.

"Ow, that hurts!"

"This blockhead's skull is hard as a rock, I swear— oh dear, how rude of us, and in front of customers. My sincerest apologies."

"No, it's fine. If anything, I feel like we overheard something we shouldn't have..."

They dumped the bundle of papers onto the table in a rush and kept bowing at the waist. I felt so bad for them that I waved my hands and ducked my own head along with them.

"Then as payment for overlooking the discourtesy, we'll find you a fine house. If you'd just wait a moment!"

"Is there anything in particular you're looking for, sir? We'll search to match."

Conditions, huh?

He was right, of course. If you were going to buy a house, you needed to know what you wanted. And yet the moment someone actually told me to go find a home of my own, a strange feeling came over me. A guy barely into his twenties, hunting for a house with money he had earned himself. I was pretty sure things like monthly rent, or a long-term lease... a mortgage, even, existed somewhere. How you actually went about finding a place, what made for good conditions, what you were supposed to take into account — I didn't really...

"The outskirts of the city. Big enough for two people. A garden would be nice, but it isn't necessary. The most important thing is that it be well soundproofed — or failing that, somewhere with almost no one around. We'll match the price to whatever house fits the conditions."

The list spilled out of her in a smooth, unbroken stream. A young mouse beastkin in glasses had already drawn a pen from somewhere, and he scribbled it all down on a scrap of paper in a few swift strokes before producing a tiny pin and driving it, tap, into the center of the table.

Then the three of them unrolled their scrolls and set to sorting the stacks of paper with fierce concentration, pushing the glasses that kept sliding down their noses back up with the most endearing little flicks of their fingers.

"Excuse me~ Do either of you have a drink you'd especially like?"

A thin, long tail went tap-tap against my hand. I startled and looked down, and there they were — mouse beastkin so young they didn't even come up past my knee.

"Eh? Ah— uh... what do you have?"

"We've got milk tea, omija cordial, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and apple-mint cordial!"

Omija cordial? Apple-mint cordial?

The omija I knew. But apple-mint cordial? I didn't have any particularly bad memories attached to apple mint, though, so I ordered that. Ely gave me a look of frank curiosity, then ordered the same thing herself.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason. I just think it's interesting that you know apple-mint cordial."

"Is apple-mint cordial something special?"

"I only know it because I've spent time around a lot of different beastkin. Ordinary humans almost never have the chance to come across it. You ordered it like it was familiar, so I was surprised. Do you know omija cordial as well?"

"Yes... is that strange?"

"It's fascinating. Perhaps the you from before you lost your memories had some connection to the mouse beastkin."

Ah. So omija and apple mint weren't the sort of thing you could just pick up anywhere — not something in common circulation at all. This bizarre... what would you even call it, cognitive ability? I'd had a feeling something was off about the way I interpreted language, but I never thought it would land me in an awkward spot like this.

"Your drinks are ready~"

The mug sat light in my hand, but it looked like a serious burden for the little ones who had carried it out. I smiled and took both cups from them.

"Thank you. Here, I'll take those... this one's yours, Ely?"

"...I knew it."

"Hm?"

"No. It's nothing."

She studied me for a long moment, then took the mug from my hand and sipped at it in small, careful mouthfuls. I did the same. A clean, bright fragrance came first, and then the tart-sweet taste of apple followed it in, exactly as I'd expected. This was apple mint, no question.

"How is the drink? To your liking?"

"Yes, it's good. Thank you."

"Thank you so much!"

The two mouse children beamed and went scampering off into one of the rooms. By then, that mountain of paper had been neatly sorted into two groups.

"Let's see here... let's have a look... right, then. I believe these are the houses our customers will take a liking to. Five kinds, like so. Would you care to sit?"

Two chairs scraped into place — no, not on their own. I glanced down and found two of them gripping a chair leg each, hauling them over for us.

"Thank you."

I dipped my head once and sat. The old man stroked his whiskers and pointed to the houses one by one.

"All of these are on the outskirts. This one on the far left is in the western district. You two are adventurers, I take it?"

"Ah, yes... that's right."

"Indeed. From there, the walk to the Guild building in the city center and on to the dungeon takes roughly thirty minutes. The road in takes you through a shopping street, and there's a city guard post as well, so the public order is quite decent. Most people are fond of the western districts."

Listening to him, the house did sound appealing. A place that was genuinely safe, where you could run your errands without any trouble — that would be a good thing, no question.

"Isn't the western district rather crowded?"

Ely's ears flicked. She tapped the desktop with her fingertips, a quick little tat-tat-tat.

"It is. Safe generally means well-populated. That said, the soundproofing is supposedly excellent, so it's well worth considering."

"I have a feeling the price won't be quite so friendly, though?"

"Correct. It's the most expensive of the houses here. Rental only, as well. Five gold coins a year."

Five gold coins a year.

Ah, damn it. That sword ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had popped into my head again. One blade, and it cost as much as a full year's rent on a house? The more I turned it over, the angrier I got. Nearly half of the eleven gold coins I had earned in that one lucky haul, gone to a single gleaming sword. It was enough to make my blood boil.

But that was that, and right now we were talking about a house.

"Five gold coins a year... that's definitely expensive. But the conditions are awfully tempting, too..."

She flicked a glance at me, the corner of her mouth curling up.

Soundproofing... soundproofing... Right. The reason she had been looking for soundproofing came back to me, and a thoroughly ominous feeling settled in my gut. She meant they had been holding back at the inn because of the noise, didn't she.

Good lord. I was asking a cat to watch the fish.

But there was no one else I could leave this to. She was the only person I trusted, and as far as acquaintances in this world went, she was it.

"I thought you would like it, so I introduced it first. Would you care to see the others as well?"

The old man pushed his glasses up with a thumb and rubbed his hands together, reaching for the next set of papers.

She closed her eyes for a moment, ears swaying, then nodded.

"Please do."

"Five gold coins a year is honestly a little steep. I'm already paying out those three silver coins I asked you for every month, which means a fixed cost of 53,600 Dicat a year."

She tapped her palm, tap, tap, her eyes working quickly.

"We were lucky enough to have a chance to earn eleven gold coins, but I honestly don't believe something like that is going to happen more than once or twice."

She clapped her hands once and stopped walking, turning to look at me.

"I heard a lot of people died in the dungeon that day. Some of them simply didn't have the strength and died for it. Others died running some kind of strange experiment, from the sound of it. A great many were badly hurt, and some of them died.

"I can't push you into a place like that out of my own greed. I think we should be careful until we're a little stronger, or until we have a steady income coming in. We may need to see what kind of money we can actually make over the course of a year, at least... I'm not sure."

Those worries of hers were smashed to pieces in the very next moment.

We were just passing the Guild building when a staff member burst through the door, ushered us inside, and led us to his private office — where he delivered news that left us stunned. The four emblems Ely had recovered had been used as crucial evidence of the affiliation and rank of ancient warriors, a means of proving the link between the dungeon and the history of the old world, and they had come to be worth a great deal.

"Can you believe it? This is vital proof that the dungeon isn't simply spawning monsters — that it's bound up with the great events of antiquity! It isn't just coughing up antiques and raw materials. This is the discovery of a lifetime. The entire academic world is in an uproar!"

On top of that, the Meteor Steel dagger wasn't merely a weapon. It bore a distinctive working, and it was the only armament from that incident that had not vanished — it had been preserved. Its price had shot up accordingly, the clerk went on, practically vibrating with excitement.

"We thought some of the items recovered at the time had been stolen. They hadn't. The staff, myself included, were put through a fairly intensive investigation, but... there was no trace of theft. That dagger, though. I don't know what makes it so special, but of all the weapons we had in storage, it was the only one that remained in the warehouse.

"The characters engraved on it, and a form unlike any of the Meteor Steel weapons recovered before it, were enough for its rarity ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to be recognized. And so... the Guild has decided to issue appropriate compensation, and we would like to present that compensation now."

A promissory note was set down in front of me with a crisp little tap.

"Eight hundred and ninety thousand Dicat. The equivalent of eighty-nine gold coins. That's forty percent of the value that came out of the Meteor Steel dagger and the emblems we paid you for last time... You really did bring us something precious."

It didn't feel real.