A Quiet House on the Outskirts

It was cleaner inside than I'd expected.

"Well now! Is the interior not every bit as tidy as that lovely exterior?"

Once we stepped through the door, the house opened into a space that felt remarkably airy and yet somehow reassuring. Not too bare, not too cramped — just right, I supposed.

"...Ah, but then again — perhaps because no one's lived here in a while — there's quite a bit of dust, isn't there."

He swept a hand across the desktop, rubbed his fingers together, and frowned.

"And a few of the furnishings look a touch worn, besides. Hmm..."

Flaring his large nose, he inspected every corner of the house before coming back to us and dipping his head in a slight bow.

"My apologies. The house sits so far out that I hadn't even managed to check its condition. If you decide to take it, I'll see to these matters myself."

"If you'd do that for us, we'd be grateful."

There was no reason to turn down a kindness.

"Well then — shall we have a look around together?"

"Let's do that."

"Ahem. In that case... where shall I begin? Allow me to start with the first floor."

Following him properly into the entryway, I found faintly reddish wooden floors and a window at the back of the house that looked out onto a lush garden. A sofa sat against the opposite wall, positioned so you could sit and take in that view; it ought to have been red, but the color had gone a little dull. To the right of the sofa stood a fireplace, and the faint scorch of soot suggested someone had lived here quite some time ago. Directly in front of the hearth lay a dust-laden, faded rug and a wooden table — both of which he swept a hand across, as if they displeased him.

"...Hah. Have I really neglected the outskirts for that long? If this is the state of things, the other vacant houses out here must be just as bad..."

He scratched lightly at his brow, thought for a moment, then turned back to us and began his explanation.

"First of all, I'll have all the furniture replaced with new pieces. That's my responsibility, so don't you worry... This here is the living room. Even with a fireplace, a sofa, and a wooden table, it doesn't look particularly cramped, does it?"

"It really doesn't. Sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea, looking out at the view — that would be nice."

"You're more than welcome to. Now then, shall we head over to the kitchen? There's a bit more of interest over there."

He waved us along toward the kitchen, where we found an oven of modest size and a hearth that ran a little large.

"I had the hearth made a little larger on purpose. I've always had rather a passion for cooking, you see, so I indulged myself a bit. You can manage two dishes at once if you like, and you can bake bread in the oven as well. Use it however you please — so long as you don't blow it up."

He cracked the oven open, peered inside, gave a nod, then turned so we could see.

"Well! At least this side looks unused by the previous tenant — no dust, no ash."

He shifted a step and showed us the sink. It wasn't stainless steel, and it wasn't the sort that blasted water at high pressure — but it was a proper stone sink all the same. The question was where the water was supposed to come from. There were no pipes that I could see. Instead, a single spout was set into the wall alongside a red orb and a blue orb, both lightly filmed with dust.

"The well is rather a long way from the house, so I had these Magic Tools installed. Have you heard of them?"

Magic Tools? He meant magical devices, then. The same sort of thing they'd used to check identification papers, maybe?

"...I didn't expect something that expensive to be here. Is that why the price was so high?"

She examined the sink closely, her ears flicking.

He drew a handkerchief from his coat, wiped the orbs clean, and smiled.

"Yes, indeed. There was a time when I poured everything into each house I built — spent without a thought for the cost. Haha. Would you like to see how they work?"

"Please!"

He tucked the handkerchief away once the dust was gone and laid his hand on the orb. And then... no water came from the spout?

"Hmm... perhaps it's been unused for too long... Just a moment... would you step back, please?"

He waved me, her, and the real estate boss back from the spout we'd all been staring at, then cocked his head at the fixture.

"There's no reason this shouldn't— wah!"

We barely had a moment to admire the light before a jet of water erupted from the spout, and everyone stumbled back several steps in alarm. The water, aimed at the sink, surged up and splashed everywhere, leaving the already dusty house a little dirtier than before.

"Uh — hah, there we go. I've certainly learned that a house left unused for too long loses its luster. In more ways than one..."

He put his hand back to the still-glowing blue orb and shut the water off.

"Well. This one is the cold water. Once the water is running, you use the red orb and it'll warm gradually. That said, if the blue one is in this state, I can hardly expect the red one to be fine... I'll see to this properly myself."

The more we saw, the more uneasy I felt about the house — but Ely watched it all unfold, piece by piece, as if calmly turning something over in her mind. I stepped up beside her and asked.

"Hey — what were you thinking about?"

"You."

She answered without a flicker of hesitation, looking straight into my eyes, and my face burned so hot I couldn't keep my head up.

"That, and I was roughly estimating the house's value. It's old, so the worth has dropped — but restoring it to proper condition is going to cost more money on top of that."

"Do you like the house?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be bothering to think about repair costs. It really does seem quiet and comfortable here. My ears feel much better."

"I did, in fact, prepare this house with those of sensitive hearing in mind. Rabbit folk, dogs, wolves, cats... Of course, people say you grow a little dull to it if you live in the city long enough, but something that grates and hurts is still something that grates and hurts, isn't it? That's part of why I deliberately chose the outskirts. I didn't want to build a place to stay for a little while. I wanted to build a house where someone could settle for a long time."

He dusted his hands off — tap, tap — and stretched his back with a long, satisfying crack.

"Of course, looking at the state of the house, not so many people have agreed with me. Those who've already adapted to the city's noise would rather put up with the inconvenience and live closer to the center — and those who haven't simply leave the city altogether and settle in the countryside."

He scratched a fang lightly with a fingernail and went on.

"Well then — would you like to keep looking at the house, or..."

I flicked my eyes toward her. Given her reaction earlier, and the interest she'd shown in the house, she seemed quite taken with it. And if the condition were improved to a reasonable degree, I thought I could be satisfied with it myself. The layout of the living room, the various fixtures in the kitchen — it looked like a place you could live well. Besides, we'd come into a fair sum of money, which was part of why I was even thinking this way.

"I'd like to keep looking at the house."

"Excellent. In that case, I'll give you a quick look at the washroom, the rest of the kitchen, the second floor, and the basement. Time does seem to be getting away from us."

"This is the washroom. As you can see from the Magic Tools here as well, I've set it up so you can use it straightaway without having to fetch water separately. Of course... we'll need to call someone in to service this one too. And over here is the toilet. Not the most common fixture, wouldn't you say?"

A toilet. Good lord. And the structure was surprisingly close to a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠modern one, at that. Even at the inn I'd had to squat in some thoroughly dubious spot to take care of business — the thought of handling things a little more cleanly was a genuine relief. She seemed quite interested in it as well. The occasional twitch of her ears suggested she was rather pleased with the washroom's design.

"This is the second floor. The bedroom — oof, rather a lot of dust. From this window you can see the street quite clearly. It isn't terribly crowded, so you can enjoy the view of the trees and the flowers along the roadside. There are curtains as well... though we'll need to overhaul the lot of it."

A large bed sat in the bedroom, in such poor condition I wondered if it needed to be thrown out entirely. Carmen's frowning face only confirmed it.

The staircase up here wasn't particularly wide, though, so I had to ask how they'd gotten the bed up at all. He explained that they'd used a modular frame, and mentioned why the window was so large.

"The bed frame we brought up the stairs separately, and the larger pieces and the mattress came in through the window. At the time we were still working on the second-floor balcony, so getting the bed in was no trouble — but these days there's a rather remarkable bit of magic I plan to call on. Lightening, they call it — cuts the weight of an object right down. If I ask a new Beastkin fellow I know, assembling the bed should be easy enough as well."

As he wrapped up his account of the second floor, he eased open another door and showed us the room beyond.

"If you look at this little side room on the second floor... there's a space you could use as a small storeroom. This will need a cleaning as well... You see the ladder? That'll take you up to the roof. Though the lock... the latch... I really don't care for it. That'll need replacing too, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I think."

For a man trying to sell a house, he certainly didn't hold back on criticizing his own property. He pointed out flaws I hadn't even noticed, examining each one with a careful eye. That said, it hadn't killed my interest in buying — and given how firmly he insisted he'd handle the repairs himself, I doubted he'd be asking me to shoulder much of the cost. If anything, we might even be able to negotiate the price down.

"This is the basement."

We followed the stairs down into a dim, gloomy space. He felt along the wall — then jerked his hand back with a start.

"There's supposed to be a Magic Tool here that produces light, but if I switched it on now I suspect we'd have a real problem... haha. Just a moment. I'll have it in a—"

"No, no — allow me."

A voice came from beneath the stairs, and a moment later a bright light drifted up into the air.

"Even an old man has a trick or two up his sleeve... How's that?"

"Hamilton! I had no idea you could use magic!"

So the real estate boss's name was Hamilton. Magic, though — that was something to see. A cluster of something made of words hung in the air before my eyes, giving off a clear, steady light. And the basement it revealed was rather... striking.

The floor and walls were stone brick, cool to the touch, and there was nothing particularly unusual inside. If I had to name anything: a drain in the floor, a number of iron rings set into the walls, and an empty wooden display stand.

"What are those iron rings for?"

"Ah... one of the previous owners was an alchemist, if I remember correctly. He's left the city now, so I can't exactly ask what they were for — but I imagine they served some auxiliary purpose in his many experiments?"

"...Yes, I do believe ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I introduced him to you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back then. He kept to himself, and he left just as quietly, as I recall."

Between the two of them nodding along, I saw Ely quietly running her hand over one of the rings. She traced along the wall, then pressed her fingertips together and rubbed them, as if turning something over in her mind. And when her eyes met mine, a shiver I couldn't explain crawled up my spine.

It was the same feeling I'd had the first time our bodies had come together.