The Angel's Routine
The next day, my senior seemed quite exhausted and didn't wake until past nine. Angels who worked nights had personal maintenance and rest time until six in the evening. I helped her at the shelter, learning how the angels handled tidying and preparations, and started a load of laundry. Since I'd ended up staying at the shelter, I had no change of clothes, so I headed back to the dorm. As expected, the room was empty. Kate was probably at her shop, Emma was still at training camp, and Madam Bella was at the shelter. Just in case I couldn't return to the dorm later, I packed spare underwear and clothes into my backpack. Ah, I'd been told to report to the manager if I was working nights, but I'd forgotten. Something felt off, though. I'd never seen the manager checking curfew. Did he even work? Wondering whether the manager actually did his job, I went to his office to meet the man I'd never once encountered since first arriving at the dorm.
The door to the manager's office bore the same nameplate I remembered. When I knocked, a shaggy-haired man in a mismatched tracksuit answered. "What? Who is it?"
"Hello. I'm Elisha from Room 2 on the fifth floor. I came to let you know I'll be working nights from now on."
"Elisha?" The manager's eyes narrowed as he scanned me from head to toe, then something seemed to click. "Ah, that vacant-eyed kid. So you became an angel? Tch."
"Does that mean my report is done?"
"Doesn't matter. I don't care what angels do. Go away."
"Yes, thank—"
SLAM.
The manager, who had been glaring at me, shut the door hard. The way he showed such deep sorrow and anger toward the word "angel" suggested he might have some personal story tied to it. At any rate, the report was complete, so it was time to eat. In Eden, street vendors and restaurants existed only on Central Street. Each district allowed only buildings designated for that zone, so businesses couldn't operate elsewhere. Some shop employees were androids. High-end, expensive androids were rare; most were low-grade models with metal joints at connection points and minimal artificial skin. Low-grade androids had artificial skin only on their faces and hands, so they usually wore uniforms covering their entire bodies. Their appearance resembled humans, but the glowing ring in their pupils marked them as androids. In a way, it served the same function as the dead eyes of angels, signaling their existence.
It had been a while since I'd walked Central Street on a weekday. Before, I'd helped my master in his lab and eaten lunch there, while dinners were at the dorm, so I rarely came out. On weekends when I didn't go to the lab, I was deep in training. While observing Central Street for a suitable restaurant, I noticed foreign tourists who had come for sightseeing, unlike the foreigners who entered for work. Tourists could only visit the Central Street with its temple, the Park District with its large gardens and walking paths, and the Entertainment District, so most naturally gathered here at this hour. The most glamorous place in Eden was the Entertainment District, but Central Street offered the widest variety of sights. Tourists in all sorts of outfits busily looked around and took photos. The most popular spot was the temple. Standing majestically at the very center of this vast Central Street, it was famous for being so beautiful it naturally drew the eye. I'd heard there was also a Temple of the Sun God nearby, but I'd never seen it. Perhaps the Central Temple simply overshadowed everything else.
That aside, what kind of food had Elisha liked? She hadn't seemed particularly picky. She probably enjoyed sweet things, but that wasn't suitable as a meal. Since I'd decided to gain weight while exercising to build my figure, I looked for a meat restaurant. Remembering that popular places had their reasons, I chose a reasonably busy beef specialty shop and went inside. It was busier than expected, so I asked a staff member if there were any seats.
"Do you have any open tables?"
"Just one person?"
"Yes, I'm alone."
"You don't mind sharing?"
"That's fine."
The moment the staff saw my eyes and realized I was an angel, they suggested sharing in a flat tone. Of course I didn't mind, but the lack of any apologetic attitude usually shown to regular customers suggested they knew angels wouldn't get angry. It was the kind of behavior people who had lived long in Eden and frequently encountered angels displayed unconsciously. In a way, it was being ignored, but as expected, I felt nothing. The staff guided me to a partitioned four-person table where two angels were already seated. So they kept one four-person table reserved for angels and made them share whenever one arrived. It was remarkably efficient; the shop's management was impressive. After exchanging nods with the angels already grilling and eating beef, I sat down and ordered my portion. The table with three angels was quiet except for the sounds of grilling and eating meat. There was no need for angels to put on an act with each other, and we all knew it was unnecessary. While grilling and eating three portions of meat, one angel left and another arrived to take her place. The quality of the beef seemed decent for the price. After eating four portions total, I left the shop.
Should I head to the gym now? Walking slowly through Central Street to help digestion, a child suddenly grabbed the hem of my dress. The boy, wearing a hat, short-sleeved shirt, and shorts, had a tourist bracelet on his left arm. Recalling the rules for angels dealing with foreign tourists, I smiled gently and asked while bending down to his eye level, "What is it?"
The boy, who had been staring at my face, suddenly slapped my cheek. I didn't know why he'd hit me, but I maintained my gentle tone. "That's not a nice thing to do. Do you have some kind of complaint?"
"It's true! They said people like you don't get angry no matter how much you hit or insult them. It's really true!"
"Hmm, that's because I'm a kind person. You shouldn't do this to other people, okay?"
"If someone's kind, does that mean it's okay to hit and insult them?"
"That's not how it works..."
How was I supposed to explain this? Since I couldn't explain angels in detail, I couldn't tell him the difference between humans and angels. As I stood there with a troubled expression, a woman who appeared to be the boy's mother ran over, smacked the boy's back, and said, "You little rascal! What are you doing? I'm so sorry. My child has no manners."
"I'm fine."
"You apologize too, right now!"
Scolded and hit by his mother, the boy shrank back and mumbled an apology. "I'm sorry, miss."
"It's okay. Just don't do this to other people, all right?"
"Okay."
After the boy and his mother left, I thought for a moment. The child had probably heard about angels' characteristics from someone abroad. Even though information control existed in Eden, there were limits to blocking information passed verbally between people. Still, since it was only fragmentary knowledge that angels didn't get angry, it probably wasn't a major issue.
The gym, which I found after a month, was still quiet. There were a few muscular middle-aged men whose jobs were unclear, and the gym owner was doing cross lunges to build muscle. Elisha had apparently thought her muscles were impressive, but to me they looked overly swollen and unattractive. The owner, doing cross lunges in front of the mirror, spotted my reflection, smiled brightly, and approached. "Elisha? You didn't come for a month, so I thought you'd given up on the path of muscle."
"Something came up, so I couldn't make it."
The owner's eyes scanned my body before belatedly rising to my face. "You've put on some unnecessary weight from resting for a month. Let's train hard again—"
Her words stopped when she met my eyes. I could read confusion and sorrow on her face. "You're not Elisha. That kind child..."
"Owner, I am Elisha."
"When you live long in Eden, there are things you come to know."
The owner leaned in close and whispered in my ear. "And Elisha used to call me 'sis,' not 'owner.'"
"Ah, it felt awkward since it's been so long. Sis."
I'd let my guard down thinking I'd adapted easily, but apparently I'd made a mistake while acting as Elisha. One of the things angels had to be most careful about was dealing with people from their past. Completely fooling them was best, but it was also one of the hardest things for angels who had lost most of their memories. That was why people from orphanages or distant countries with few acquaintances mostly became angels. I wondered if Linda had safely blended in with her family. But my words only deepened the sorrow on her face.
"You really aren't Elisha. 'Owner' is correct."
To be caught by such a simple trick. As I put on a troubled expression, the owner sighed and said, "But you decided to become Elisha, right? That's fine. I'll think of you as the Elisha who's an angel."
"Thank you, owner."
"Now, you came to work out, didn't you? Let's do a full set after so long!"
"No, rather than strength training, I'd like to focus on figure maintenance..."
"Weak! Elisha wouldn't say that!"
As if trying to shake off the gloomy atmosphere, the owner pushed too hard and made me do everything from stretching to a full strength-training set before finally letting me go. After being worked to the bone and receiving her dedicated muscle-relaxing massage on my sore body, I was finally able to leave the gym. It felt like I'd experienced an emotion called embarrassment that I shouldn't have been able to feel. Lately, since I exercised for beauty purposes, I'd been doing bodyweight exercises without building muscle size. The owner's training regimen was excessive for me.
After finishing my workout, I returned to the angels' shelter early. There were angels who had arrived as early as I had, and others who hadn't come yet, probably planning to arrive right at six. Though few in number, there were twenty angels working only at the shelter, including me. Since each acted according to their own personality, their arrival times varied greatly. Stella, the senior I could call the closest to a friend, was wearing a neatly pressed bartender uniform and organizing cocktail-making tools. She looked perfectly fine, as if yesterday's events had never happened.
"You're here. Will you be observing at the bar again today?"
"I've decided to make you my role model, senior. I want to become a bartender too."
"So I've gained a junior. Until today, watch and learn from the side. Starting tomorrow, I'll teach you how to make cocktails."
"Please take care of me, senior."
Angels had surprisingly high freedom in choosing their work. Perhaps because the criteria for angels choosing jobs were already set, Eden didn't interfere much with its possessions—the angels—deciding their own work. As six o'clock approached, the other angels finished their preparations and gathered at the shelter. The angels working at tables headed to the waiting room on the second floor, while the bartender angels prepared for business at the bar. The other bartender angels also greeted me warmly. Once they learned Stella would be teaching me, they focused on their own tasks. I stood beside her, watching how she organized and handled the cocktail tools. At six, Bella, who appeared just before the shop opened, saw me standing inside the bar and cheered me on to work hard. Even after six passed and the shop doors opened, there were no customers. While listening to my senior explain that customers usually didn't arrive until around seven, I practiced wiping glasses clean. The moment the clock in the shop pointed exactly to seven, the three middle-aged men from the previous day walked in with confident strides. With triumphant expressions, they sat down in order in front of Stella. Come to think of it, they'd mentioned getting a surrender declaration from her.
"Senior, did you make some kind of bet?"
"Of course! We made a promise."
"A very important promise."
"You all know it's thanks to me."
The middle-aged men—I still didn't know their names—had faces full of anticipation. What kind of promise could make them look like excited children? "Stella, do you remember what happened yesterday?"
"Of course. I lost completely."
"Heh heh heh, I can finally have my wish granted."
"When should we do it?"
"We need to decide the order first."
"Obviously me first. I completely sent her over."
Listening to the conversation between the men and my senior, I guessed it was a one-on-one date bet. A date where they'd do whatever the men requested. It wasn't easy to have a private date with an angel unless you were quite close, but since they were long-time regulars of my senior, they must have built up an enormous amount of goodwill. Even while my senior made cocktails, the men continued arguing about the order. They kept their voices low so others wouldn't hear, but in truth, the surrounding angels had already heard everything.
"Even if we give the first turn to that guy, the second is mine."
"How can the guy who came in eight minutes get second?"
"I was able to win because I properly heated up Stella's pussy. My contribution is bigger."
"Yours was so short it didn't even take much time. Do you know how hard I worked to stimulate her womb?"
"No, just ask Stella directly, you idiots."
While the men argued without caring that my senior and even the other angels could hear, I asked, "Senior, your sensitive spots are your ears and around your womb, right?"
"Oh my, you have good observation skills. Did you figure it out after seeing it just once yesterday?"
"It was obvious. Those areas had distinctly different reactions."
"Men tend to be dull. They usually don't notice."
Every time her ears were stimulated she flinched, and she showed strong reactions during side thrusts and when taken on the curves, climaxing for real rather than acting, so it was easy to deduce. Ah, rather than saying the men were dull, I should say my senior's acting skills were excellent. "Just decide roughly and hurry up." "You're first, so of course. Third place has to wait almost three weeks." "Waiting is one thing, but you guys will definitely brag and piss me off, so no way." "Everyone, please don't fight. Shall we make a promise? Let's keep our dates with me a secret between just the two of us."
Staring blankly at my senior's face as she spoke with a seductive voice and a wink, the men blushed and said, "Ahem, can't be helped. I won't tell anyone about my secret date with Stella." "Right, this is our secret." "Then I'll go last. I'll make the final date the most intense and be the best."
The men's childish argument ended instantly with one word from my senior. Once the order was decided, they ordered cocktails as if they'd never fought and began chatting again. I couldn't tell whether the men were simple or my senior was remarkable. Whether as regulars or because of exclusivity, my senior had to deal only with these three men from seven o'clock onward. Since all three sat stubbornly in front of her and refused to move, there was no room for anyone else to intervene. When I looked at the other bartenders, they were each usually conversing with one customer. There were customers who drank several rounds in quick succession as if they had no time and then left, customers who ordered only one drink because they lacked money and just talked, customers who gave gifts while working on building goodwill, and so on. That was the typical scene in a bar. Cases like Stella were the exception.