I Get Anxious When I Can't See You

"If I never came back, how long were you planning to wait?"

"Hmm…… I was thinking about ten more years. And if you still hadn't come by then, I was going to go find you myself."

"Really? Guess I was a little early, then."

Thirteen years already waited, and she'd have gone another ten. So the words I'd left her with—live well on your own—were still holding on tight, apparently.

Hmm.

Still, thanks to that, I'd managed to secure both a house and a bodyguard within three days of my family's collapse. The only snag was that this particular bodyguard seemed a touch obsessive.

"Anyway, I'll take the room."

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah. It's almost identical to the room I used to have. Good work."

"Hehe……"

The room was stocked with things I didn't even remember owning. The desk drawer held writing instruments much like the ones I used to favor, and shirts and trousers hung in the closet, sorted by color. Not upper-tier merchandise, admittedly, but not the kind of quality you could easily scrape together in the lower tier, either.

I pulled one out and held it loosely against my body. Naturally, it fit perfectly.

"How did you know my measurements?"

"The coat you gave me back then, remember? I matched everything to that."

Come to think of it, on the day I sent her away, I had taken off the coat I was wearing and given it to her. So she'd kept it all this time. Thanks to the circuit, my appearance was almost exactly as it had been when we parted, after all.

Was it a blessing that I hadn't gained any weight? If my frame had shifted even a little, she'd have had to refill the entire closet from scratch.

"Any word from the people making the ID?"

"Yes. Here."

Narin handed me her terminal.

The price is…… reasonable. Not that I'd be the one paying it.

"What about the face?"

"I picked one belonging to someone who looks around your age. Just in case, I got a Hologram Mask too."

A Hologram Mask, huh. An illegal camouflage device that interfered with perception through mana, making your face appear different to anyone who looked at you. A high-tier ability user could see through it, but in the lower tier—where such people were rare—it would pair well enough with an ID card.

"Go ahead with that one, then."

"Understood. And what should we do about the maker?"

When Narin asked a question like that, it meant exactly one thing.

The problem was that I still didn't know the lay of the land here. How far could this person be trusted? Would it be acceptable to leave loose ends once the deal was done? Those were things Narin, who'd survived down here for years, understood far better than I did.

"Is their credit solid?"

"They're fairly well-known, but…… this is the lower tier."

Ambiguous, as I'd expected. If I forced a judgment call now, I'd likely just be grafting upper-tier standards onto a place they didn't belong. In situations like this, it was better to delegate than to pretend I knew things I didn't.

"I'll leave it to your judgment. But the meeting's tomorrow, and pick a place with people around. I'm coming along."

"You're coming with me? It could be dangerous."

"I have you, don't I?"

It might indeed be dangerous, just as Narin said, but going with her was the right call. If I planned to live here, I couldn't trail behind her forever. I needed to learn the streets so I could move on my own, and I needed to understand how business got done in the lower tier. If I handed over every single task from the ground up—starting with the ID itself—there might come a day when I couldn't do anything by myself.

I'd seen plenty of people like that in my family. Men who turned useless the instant the servants beneath them vanished. I had no intention of living that way.

"From now on, whenever there's business, I'm going with you."

"Every time?"

"Wherever it's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠necessary."

Apparently pleased by that answer, Narin didn't argue further. If anything, she seemed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to be in a slightly better mood.

"I'm hungry, so let's—"

I was heading out of the room when my eyes caught the bottom of the door handle. The spot where the lock should have been was empty. It hadn't been missing from the start, either—the freshly cut edges made that plain enough.

"Why is this gone?"

"If you ever collapsed in there, I'd need to get in immediately. If the door was locked, I might be too late—so I removed it in advance."

As if on cue, Narin was holding the detached lock assembly in her hand. ……When did she even take that off?

"Put it back."

"If it's locked, I'd have to break the door down in an emergency. That might startle you. It's safer if it never locks at all."

……Is that so? Hearing it out, it sounded oddly logical, and I almost bought it for a second. No lock meant no door to break down, and no noise, either. ……No. Wait. I was the one locking the door, so why was her barging in the default assumption here?

Anyway, she clearly had no intention of returning it. "……Fine." I'd just buy a new one and install it myself. I'd repaired doors a few times as a kid; it wasn't difficult.

Out in the main room, the sound of cooking had stopped. Inside the pot sat a grey compressed nutrient paste—the same stuff I'd seen so often back at the dormitory.

"Don't tell me that's what you usually eat?"

"It's convenient. It's cheap, it's quick, and it never spoils."

"And the taste?"

"……It's chewable."

So the word "delicious" never quite made it out. She'd stacked the spare room with varieties of liquor that were hard to find even in the lower tier, and the thing she ate was this.

"You don't eat anything else?"

"Sometimes I'll buy something nice if I spot it while out on a job. But when I'm eating alone, that's the easiest. Doesn't require much chewing, either."

"Chewing matters that much?"

"Yes. If it's only liquid, it doesn't feel like I've actually eaten."

I couldn't tell whether her standards were low or just ironclad. Back when I was young, I'd judged food by how full it made me before I ever thought about taste, too.

I opened the cabinet beside the table and skimmed its contents: a few bags of dried vegetables, canned meat, some long-keeping spices. That would be plenty. I'd never properly learned to cook, but I had sneaked into the kitchens a few times as a child to make things for myself. Late at night, hungry, unwilling to summon the servants—and even less willing to endure it silently.

I set a pot of water on the stove, added the dried vegetables and meat in rough proportions, and once it came to a boil, seasoned it little by little until the taste was right. Nothing impressive, but it had to beat that grey lump by a mile.

There was more than I'd expected, so I split it into two bowls. I set one in front of me, and when I placed the other across the table, Narin stared at the chair before she looked at the bowl.

"……I get to eat at the table with you?"

"Where else would you eat?"

"You used to have me eat on the floor."

Ah. Right—that was how it had been. Back then, Narin hadn't been a person so much as a pet I kept at my side. It had never once occurred to me to seat her at my table; she'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠always eaten on the floor beside me. There was no need to keep that up now.

"Just sit and eat. This isn't the upper tier. It's your house, for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that matter."

"……Yes, young master."

Only then did she pick up her spoon. After a single bite, she stared for a long while at the leftover nutrient paste still sitting in the pot.

"I won't be able to eat that anymore, will I."

"Then throw it out."

"That would be wasteful, though."

That, wasteful? To my eye, it looked less like food and more like an object.

"Hmm……"

I looked at the paste and the ingredients scattered around it. "If you diced up that cultured meat over there and mixed it in, wouldn't it be more palatable?"

"Will you keep doing that for me from now on?"

"That sounds like a hassle."

"Then I'll make do with just sometimes."

I didn't recall promising sometimes, either…… Still, she looked so happy I figured it was fine. It wasn't much extra effort, and I didn't hate cooking. Rewarding good behavior now and then couldn't hurt.

Even after the meal, when I'd returned to my room, Narin never went to her own. At first I assumed it was security. She did trail me at a discreet distance whenever I moved, and she always chose a post nearby. But watching her for a while, something seemed off.

When I sat at the desk, she hovered near the sofa; the moment I moved to the bed, she'd quietly relocated to the doorway, where the bed was in full view. She spent far more time watching me than checking the entrance or the windows, and if the furniture blocked her line of sight, she'd actually shift her body until it didn't.

"I don't think you need to shadow me around the inside of my own house for security reasons."

"You never know. A ghost could sneak up and latch onto you."

Hmm. So that was the excuse she scraped together. Judging by what happened at the factory earlier, it seemed more likely the ghost would be the one running away.

"If you want to look at me, then look. It doesn't bother me."

"……Really?"

Was it really something to be that happy about? Well, if staring was enough to satisfy her, it cost me nothing.

"In exchange, don't watch me sleep. That part's a little creepy."

"What about when you wake up?"

"That's your call."

"Yes, young master."

Before the words had even finished leaving my mouth, a blanket emerged from under the sofa. ……And why is that there, exactly? But it was too late to interrogate it. I didn't have the energy left, either.

Lights out, into bed—and my body gave out faster than I'd expected. Come to think of it, I'd barely slept properly since coming down to the lower tier. At the dormitory, every scuffle through the thin walls woke me two or three times a night, and whenever the old pipes groaned, I'd find myself checking the door first.

Here, at least, there'd be no need for that. Sensors carpeted the approach routes outside, the entrance carried a five-layer lock, and Narin—who'd just cleared out an entire factory on her own—was right next door. Even if something went wrong, I doubted I'd be the one to wake first.

……Except for the stare boring a hole into my face.

"Are you seriously going to keep watching me?"

"You might roll somewhere in your sleep, after all."

Earlier it was ghosts, now it was rolling. ……Fine. Do as you like.

Not long after I closed my eyes, sleep came rushing in. On the very edge of consciousness, I heard a small voice from the sofa.

"You'll still be here in the morning, right?"

She'd waited thirteen years—so even the few hours of a night's sleep made her anxious.

"I'm not going anywhere."

A brief silence. Then:

"……Welcome home, young master."

With those words, the voice went quiet, and I heard nothing more.

A faint tremor ran through the wrist terminal. Narin, who had never slept and was still gazing at the bed, lowered her eyes to the screen. It was a private message from the broker. Contact at this hour was rare.

The last traces of Narin's smile drained from her eyes. Then another message arrived.

She had a fair idea who it was. The ones she'd spared during the day. The young master had told her to let them go, and she had—but apparently they had no intention of living long.

Narin looked back toward the bed. The same steady breathing as before. She'd only just gotten him back; she had no desire to leave his side already. Even watching him until morning wouldn't feel like enough. And still, she couldn't let word of the young master drift around out there.

Her fingers moved across the terminal.

The Black Stag's Rest wasn't far. She only had to be back before the young master woke.

She raised the control center's alert level to maximum and linked the approach warnings to her wrist terminal—if anyone so much as came near while she was gone, she'd know instantly.

Only after committing his sleeping face to memory one last time did Narin pick up her coat.