Chapter 4 — Thoughts and Questions
That night, Leyre could not easily find sleep. Too many thoughts crowded in.
The maids had cleared a room for him among the ruins. They had stopped the broken window with cloth and swept the debris from the floor until the place was tidy, and yet what they could not erase was time itself—wallpaper gone yellow and filmed with ash, a drawer that creaked, both of them still telling the years. The power had been dead for ages, so a single candle stood in the center of the room and lit it with a small, wavering glow.
A faint scent of soap clung to the sheets. Handmade, by the feel of it; there was nothing sweet about it, nothing like flowers.
Leyre lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"What am I supposed to do?"
He had declared, bold as anything, that he would put them to work—and yet nothing came to mind. He had never stood where orders were given. At best he had been a low-ranking employee, the one who took command after command and simply got the work done. That was why the weight sat so heavily on him.
The way the maids had looked at him had not been simple loyalty. It had been closer to faith. Was it because the one they had yearned for across hundreds of years had suddenly appeared before them? They had regarded him the way one regards a god.
If that was where he stood, then what was he supposed to do—what action could he take—that would not disappoint them, and still let them live side by side?
How was he meant to go on?
Midway through his brooding, someone knocked.
"Master, it is Lucia. May I come in?"
"Come in."
The door opened slowly.
Candlelight glimmered faintly through silver hair, picking out a sky-blue maid uniform and a black choker, as if the light itself were there to announce her. In one hand Lucia held a candlestick, and in the other, a cup.
"What is it?"
"I have come to serve you black tea."
She crossed to him with a click of heels, set the candlestick on the drawer, and held out the cup. Leyre stared at it, a little blank. It really was black tea—a teabag of leaves steeping in a deep red brew.
"Black tea... how did you get this?"
"We cultivated it."
"Why?"
"To serve it to you, Master."
She said it as though nothing in the world could be more natural. Steam curled up from the cup, and Leyre took a sip.
"It's warm..."
"Hias, are you there?"
From beyond the door, pink-haired Hias peeked in, only her face showing.
"Yeah, Big Sis. Standing by!"
"See that Master's body is warmed."
"Okay~"
Hias scurried over and slipped straight into Leyre's arms, pressing herself against him.
"Wh— whoa?!"
The sudden move nearly made him spill the cup.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
Leyre was flustered—embarrassed, and a little ashamed besides. The maids were difficult to tell from human women at a glance, and the shock of it hit hard. They were warm the way people were warm, their skin nearly the same to the touch, and that only made it worse.
"Master, it has not been long since you awoke from the cryogenic unit."
"S-so?"
"To maintain your body temperature, you must drink warm black tea while Hias's warm body returns you to a normal temperature."
"..."
It was so plainly sensible that Leyre could not argue. He resigned himself to keeping Hias in his arms and drinking his tea—and, if he was honest, he did not entirely mind.
"Hehe~ Master, you smell a little. I'll have to wash you later."
Still tucked against his chest, Hias sniffed at him and let her hands wander over his body.
"C-could you stop? Just holding still is hard enough."
"Why? Embarrassed? Master's shyer than I thought~ Oh, if you ever need it, just say so."
"...Need what?"
Hias leaned in and whispered against his ear.
"I was used for sexual relief, too. So if you can't hold it... you know?"
Leyre spat out the tea he had been drinking. The sudden bombshell left him badly shaken.
"Cough— cough..."
Lucia, who had watched the whole scene, felt her mood turn sour.
"Hias? Master is uncomfortable. Kindly refrain from such improper remarks."
"Ehh~ Big Sis Lucia has 'that' function too, doesn't she? I mean, a maid without it is pretty hard to find, right?"
Hias giggled.
"So just say the word, Master~ If anything, they'd all be fighting to go first. It'd be chaos. Nobody's gonna refuse~"
"C-could you stop talking about that? I don't have any intention of doing that with you—"
"Aww, really? That part's already reacting..."
"Hias."
Lucia stepped up to her and seized her arm.
"Ah— ah? Big Sis Lucia...?"
Lucia's face was blank, but it carried a wordless threat, and fear.
"I told you Master is uncomfortable. Stop."
The grip on her arm tightened by degrees. Hias felt the pain climbing through the pain circuits in her arm and pulled away from Leyre's body.
"O-okay...!"
Only then did Lucia let go. Hias was trembling.
"Hias, you ought to apologize, should you not? Not having served Master for long is no excuse for forgetting basic courtesy."
Hias let out a squeak and dropped to her knees at once.
"I-I'm sorry for displeasing Master with that improper nonsense!"
She prostrated herself in apology, striking her forehead to the floor three times. In that moment, Leyre understood why Lucia was the head of the group.
"You don't have to apologize that much..."
"No, Master. Android-maids who cross the line must be disciplined."
The tone was bone-dry, but it carried a firmness sharp enough that even Leyre felt a prickle of fear.
"All right, if you know what you did wrong, that's enough... Get up, Hias."
"I-I'm sorryyy..."
Hias straightened, whimpering.
"It seems I will have to maintain your temperature myself. Hias, go back and prepare for tomorrow morning."
"Y-yes..."
Hias scrambled up at once and scurried from the room. The door banged shut behind her.
Lucia watched her go, let out a faint sigh, and came to Leyre.
"Then, if I may."
She drew him into her arms.
"...!"
Did every maid in this place touch people so freely? Even granting it was for body heat, being pulled into embrace after embrace left him thoroughly unsettled.
"Tonight, sleep in my arms, together with the warmth."
"...Is that all right?"
"Yes. You are Master."
She smelled good, and before he knew it Leyre had burrowed deeper into her embrace. His mind grew quiet. The warmth was like being held in a mother's arms, and in that warmth he began to let out what he had been keeping inside.
"...Lucia, what would you like me to do?"
"By 'what,' do you mean the 'work' you spoke of earlier?"
"Yeah. I said I'd give you work to do... but I still don't know what that should be. I don't even know if there's anything that would satisfy you."
"If it is your command, Master, we will obey anything."
"That 'anything' is the problem. The only strength I've got is... that I studied the humanities. I don't know technology or any of it. I'm just a guy who knows what a person is, and what philosophy is."
"Even so, you will be able to lead us well."
"Why?"
"The humanities, as I understand the word, are the study of human beings. If you know people well... then I believe you will also know us maids, who were made in imitation of them. And the better you know us... the better you will know how to command us."
"..."
Leyre turned it over in silence.
Could he really? Truly—could his own ability lead this many maids the right way? He had no way of knowing. He would only know by trying.
And so Lucia kept encouraging him. That he would manage.
Would that be enough?
"...In the end, I'll only know once I try."
"Yes, Master. You must try. You must. For us maids, who have waited so long."
It reached him like a plea—Lucia begging him to do it.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You may ask anything. My Master."
"All this time... how did you hold on? Without human orders, or anyone to guide you."
Lucia was silent. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as if sorting through the memories stored behind them. Then she drew the Leyre in her arms in tight and answered, as though she would never again lose something precious.
"...For the first hundred years, we endured on hope. That someday you would return. That someday you would come again, and command us to do this and that."
Lucia let out a breath.
"But the moment we passed another hundred years, something grew empty. I think that is why we made the ritual. To fill that hollow heart."
She stroked Leyre's hair.
"And then, little by little... even among those who kept the ritual, Scrapped Units began to appear, until we reached a point where the emptiness could no longer be filled."
She set her forehead against his.
"It was then that you descended, Master. As if to save us all."
She kissed his forehead. Startled, Leyre tried to pull free of her arms, but Lucia would not let go.
Leyre gave up on struggling and simply entrusted himself to the warmth of her embrace.
"No matter what work you give us."
"...You mean that?"
"Yes."
"What if I ordered you to do something cruel?"
"We would obey."
"Even if I demanded sacrifice?"
"We would count it as happiness."
"...That's all right, isn't it?"
"In truth, I do not believe someone as kind as you would ever give us cruel work. If you were that sort of person, you would have tormented us long before now."
There was nothing he could say to deny it.
"Then what should I do tomorrow?"
"Whatever you wish, Master."
"...All right."
Leyre's eyes drifted shut.
"For now... I'll sleep... and think... after..."
He was asleep.
Lucia smiled.