Ely Michel (3)
After telling her to wait in the room a while without fully unpacking, I went downstairs to ask whether we might change rooms. I was told that every room with two beds was unavailable for long-term rental. I would have to let her know.
I ordered lunch sent up to the room and paid for the meal. When they asked about species, I answered: one human... and one rabbit beastkin.
I had hesitated a great deal before saying those words, but the clerk behind the counter showed no change in manner at all. She simply wrote down the order and named the price. One silver coin for two. It was certainly expensive — but it would be worth that much, I supposed.
I headed back upstairs and was about to open the door when I realized I hadn't brought the key. Left with no choice, I knocked. The door cracked open a sliver, and her red eyes peeked through the gap.
"Ah, you're back. Please, come in."
She opened the door and stepped aside to let me through. I gave her a slight nod, then closed the door and locked it. The cloak she had been wearing was neatly hung on a hanger. Mine was there too. Had she unpacked my things as well?
"Uh... you did a nice job organizing everything. Thank you. Well, let's see — first, about the room. Shall we sit down and talk?"
"Yes. Please."
I pulled a chair back from the desk by the window and sat down, leaning into it — then realized she wasn't in front of me. I turned my head.
She was kneeling. On the floor. Both hands folded together and resting on her knees.
"What are you... doing right now—"
"A slave cannot sit in the same place as their master without permission. It falls under basic etiquette..."
"I've never seen anyone do that outside."
"There aren't many people who take their slaves out with them. Not unless it's for showing off."
I couldn't help but clutch my head. I couldn't understand how she could act like that was the most natural thing in the world. I was beginning to realize, bit by bit, that this world's common sense and my own values did not always agree. But the whole point of talking to her was to change that, so I needed to stay calm.
"Sit in the chair. And from now on, you don't need to ask permission. Just sit."
"Ah... yes. Thank you for your consideration."
Now that we were finally sitting across from each other, I had a great deal to tell her. First, I needed to make her position absolutely clear. Yes. That first.
"Um, Ely Michel? How should I address you?"
"My given name is Ely, and my family name is Michel. I would be grateful if you called me by my given name."
"Then would Miss Ely be all right?"
"Just my name would be fine—"
"No. Miss Ely. That's what I'll call you. And while we're on that subject — I have absolutely no intention of treating you as a slave."
"...What?"
Her eyes went round, as if startled, and her ears perked straight up. Maybe the ear-perking was a reaction that showed up in all sorts of situations.
"This whole situation... I think things got pretty tangled up. I suppose I should say I'm sorry that luck just wasn't on your side. You recommended that person out of simple kindness, after all."
She hesitated after hearing that, then finally lowered her head. At the same time, her ears sank flat.
"No. This is my fault."
"Why would you say it's your fault?"
Her fingers, which had been resting neatly on the desk, fidgeted against each other — then clenched tightly together.
"I... well. The truth is, I had heard stories about her. When you work with adventurers, you hear all kinds of things, and the story of the novice-adventurer killer was one of them. Stories about 'novice adventurers' being brutally murdered lately, their belongings stripped. In the dungeon, no less."
"When that hooded woman asked me to introduce her to a novice adventurer, I politely refused. But then she handed me a gold coin. She said to consider it a token of sincerity, and to please make the introduction. She called it the 'joy' of her life."
"...My family's circumstances weren't good. What I earned was what my family lived on, day to day. So a gold coin felt like a stroke of luck. Of course... it turned out like this."
"If I had warned you more clearly that day, maybe none of this would have happened. But I didn't. So you nearly died, and you were badly hurt."
"I heard about it. That you truly almost died. That you were badly wounded and lost consciousness. I can't tell you how sorry I was when I heard that."
"After I was dismissed from the inn, they billed me for damages. The crime I committed only earned a verbal warning, but they charged a penalty fee on the grounds that I had damaged the inn's reputation."
"I didn't have the means to pay it all. The money I earned went to my family, and whatever was left I spent entirely on my rent and a day's food."
"I had given up on everything. I never slept easily — not with the guilt of having nearly gotten someone killed, and the thought that a guest who had smiled at me had ended up like that."
"When I couldn't pay and my status was reduced to slave, I even thought that becoming a slave and suffering terrible things might be the price I was meant to pay. Just three silver coins. No matter what was done to me, if I only had three silver coins, I was sure I could endure it. That's what I send to my family."
"So... would you grant me just one request? Please send my family three silver coins every month. If you would only do that, I'll do anything. Anything at all... whatever you want, I'll go along with it..."
The last words left her shaking hard. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her shoulders heaved. The rain kept hammering against the window without letup.
It was a scene as bleak as the weather itself.
I soothed her as she cried for a long time. I didn't have the courage to stroke her hair or take her in my arms, so I simply held out a handkerchief in silence. The rain lashed the window in heavy bursts, and every so often the rattle of the pane wrapped itself softly around her grief.
A knock sounded at the door. I rose quietly and opened it to find a clerk holding meals for two. Behind me, a faint sniffling still drifted through the room, so I put a finger to my lips and took the trays without a word.
Whether the clerk understood the situation or not, she handed over the dishes and utensils with care, bowed, and withdrew.
I set a fork, a knife, and a spoon in front of her as she kept dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief I had given her, then slid the broad wooden board with her meal toward her side.
She started to rise from her seat, her eyes still red and swollen, but I shook my head twice, quickly, and she stayed where she was.
The meal looked more than satisfactory. In front of her, a wooden bowl sat heaped with a generous salad — all manner of neatly cut vegetables and fruit piled together, giving off a faint tangy scent that suggested a dressing had been tossed through. Small cubes of something with the texture of meat were scattered evenly over the top. Thinking of Paul, who ate meat from time to time, I figured it was the sort of food she would need.
In front of me, a wide glass plate held two well-fried eggs with soft yolks, boiled beans tossed in a red sauce, a broad steak, and a small dressed salad.
She stared at the bowl in silence, then looked up at me with a thoroughly bewildered expression.
"...Eat. You must be hungry."
"Th-this is the food I'm supposed to eat?"
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"N-no..."
Her eyes went wide. She stared at me blankly, then looked back at the bowl. Her mouth worked faintly, but she said nothing more. Giving up might have been the better way to put it.
Her hands twitched, but she still couldn't bring herself to pick up the utensils. I let out a breath and went on.
"Eat. Listen to what I have to say while you do. If you'd rather not touch it yet, you can eat later. That's fine. First — they said we can't change rooms. Every room with two beds is taken, so moving to one of those isn't possible."
"Second. I'm not going to blame you for any of this. It's a little hard to explain, but... I don't think it's your fault. The one in the wrong is the woman who tried to kill me — the one who's killed a great many people. Introducing her without knowing that isn't something I can pin on you."
"That's—"
She started to cut in, but I put a finger to my lips and looked at her, and her mouth closed again. She still had a great deal left to hear.
"That's what I think. So don't go taking on guilt and telling me to do whatever I want with you. That's nonsense. I have no such intention whatsoever. You're beautiful, of course — but I have no desire to force you into anything you don't want. I won't ask you to do anything I would hate being asked to do myself. I want you to hear that clearly. And... you said three silver coins, didn't you? Have you sent this month's?"
"...I sent a gold coin, so I think they should be all right for a while... A letter will come addressed to me. From now on it'll go to Master—"
"Marcus Ahn. You know my name, right?"
"Yes, I know it. Ahn is the family name, Marcus is the given name."
"Call me Marcus. There's no need for 'Master.' I told you a moment ago I don't intend to see you as a slave."
"But..."
"If I asked it as a favor, would you?"
She hesitated for a long time, then finally nodded. Fortunately, she wasn't that stubborn.
"And that letter — is there no way you can keep receiving it yourself?"
"Since you paid off my debt, Ma— I mean, Sir Marcus—"
"Marcus. Or... Mr. Marcus is fine too."
"Y-yes. Um, so... since you paid off all my debts, Mr. Marcus, everything I owned and every name attached to me will have been transferred to you. My old room and belongings were sold off to chip away at the debt, so my clothes, and my... body, and any bills or letters sent in my name — all of that will be redirected to you. You'd be within your rights to read them, but..."
"I won't. For now... if your family needs money, just tell me. In return, there's something I need your help with. Can you do it?"
"Anything—"
Grrrrrooowl.
"...I— nngh..."
A rather loud rumble cut through her words mid-sentence. Her ears drooped all the way forward, her face went scarlet, and she ducked her head — so the culprit was obvious.
"Let's eat first, and pick this up afterward."
Watching her — every last one of her reactions so endearing — a smile rose to my face all on its own.