Doberman Until Dinner
If a person has any sense of decency, remembering what someone has given them and repaying it someday—that is what human affection is supposed to mean.
"No."
"Jamie, you really have no heart, do you?"
"Provoking me won't change anything. No means no."
I wasn't the type to fuss over race or nationality, but it was a genuine shame that Jamie wasn't Korean and seemed incapable of understanding the culture of jeong.
"Back home, red was a color only the king could use."
I held up one of the red sticks.
"It's red."
"And if you light it, it's also something that can blow a space like this clean off the map without breaking a sweat."
"Hm."
I'd never used dynamite myself, never even watched a video of one going off, so it was only Jamie's words just now that gave me a proper sense of its power. That only made me like it more.
"So why not?"
"It's dangerous."
Her tone was so absolute, so unshakable, that I rubbed my chin for a moment before asking,
"That almost sounds like you're saying I can use it as long as my safety is guaranteed."
"Correct."
She nodded in agreement, so I set the dynamite back down and turned my left hand over, palm facing the ceiling.
"Hand."
"…?"
Jamie's eyelids fluttered.
I gave my outstretched left hand a little shake, urging her to hurry up and put hers in it.
"…."
With a distinctly reluctant look, she lightly rested her hand on my palm.
"Good girl."
"P-Priest…?"
I gently closed my left hand around hers and stroked her hair with my right. Jamie's eyes went wide, trembling with pure bewilderment.
"Punishment for saying something confusing."
"Punishment?"
"Yes. From now until dinner, Jamie is a Doberman."
"No—wait—"
She was so flustered she jerked backward, trying to pull my hand off her head—then froze mid-motion.
Even in a moment like this, she still obeyed the rule against touching her protectee without permission. A perfect loyal hound, through and through. I mean that as a compliment.
"I formally request a detailed explanation of what, exactly, was confusing."
"We were discussing whether or not I could use the dynamite, and you shut it down with a hard no, didn't you?"
"Because it was perfectly obvious you intended to throw the things yourself. How was I supposed to approve that?"
"Wrong. Instead of an absolute ban, if you'd calmly explained why it wouldn't work, I would have coordinated with your opinion the way I always do."
A cute little crease formed between her brows. I slid the hand that had been stroking her hair down to cup her cheek, then gently tipped her chin up.
"You said it that way on purpose, didn't you? Because deep down you hoped I wouldn't go back there."
"…If I say 'woof,' will that do?"
This was exactly why I kept her close.
A woman who was thoroughly professional when it counted, who always tried to hold the line even after we'd grown close enough, and who still played along lightly whenever I tossed her a joke.
"Talking to myself is no fun, so tack a 'woof' onto the end of every sentence."
"…."
"You're free to exercise your right to remain silent, but then I might get so bored I wander outside for a walk."
"Damn it. Woof."
I took a moment just to look at her face—flushed red enough to show even through that healthy, sun-kissed skin.
"H-How long… are you going to keep doing this? Woof."
"That'll do."
I took my hand off her chin and picked the dynamite up off the floor.
"First, let's get these sorted. The second Benjamin gives the word, we put them to work starting tomorrow."
"…You mean the boss's permission? Woof."
Jamie crouched down beside me and started organizing the dynamite with me.
"Cracking a few trash-heap skulls on the street is just neighborhood cleanup if you look at it right. But this time things might get a little bigger, so even if I don't need formal permission, I should at least give him advance notice of what I'm planning."
"Knowing the boss's temperament, I expect he'll just tell you to do whatever you like, Priest. Woof."
"I think so too."
Once we'd finished stacking all the dynamite toward the bedroom, Jamie and I went downstairs, approached the syndicate members still standing guard over the materials, and handed over a letter.
They would rotate at dinner, so by tomorrow morning we should have an answer. It might come back as a letter, or Ms. Secretary might show up in person the way she had before.
"Jamie."
"Yes. Woof."
Utterly hopeless in the kitchen, Jamie had been sitting quietly in the living room; she leaned her head forward a fraction to answer.
"I let you off the hook this once."
"…Petty of you."
"People can't be magnanimous all the time."
She must have realized I'd deliberately not made her speak in front of the syndicate members downstairs. The moment I brought it up, Jamie's brow faintly furrowed; she pulled her head back in and buried herself in the sofa.
And so, as usual, we ate dinner and fell asleep in the same bed.
Rustle.
I wasn't especially light a sleeper, but if the warm body nestled in your arms suddenly vanishes, anyone would wake up.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
I sat up. Jamie had already gotten out of bed and finished changing; she brought over the water bottle from the nightstand and held it out.
I topped up the moisture that had dried a little overnight with lukewarm water—just tepid enough not to be a bother.
"Someone here?"
"Looks like they've brought a reply about the upside-down beer bottle."
"Ah. Then I'm going back to sleep."
For the record, it was five in the morning.
I was starting to think I needed a sign with business hours on it.
"Hmm."
When I opened my eyes again, it was around eight.
As expected, a person needs about ten hours of sleep.
I got out of bed, washed up, threw on some clothes, and came out to find someone sitting in the living room besides Vita.
"We meet often."
"So we do."
As I walked out of the bedroom, Ms. Secretary rose from the sofa and came over.
"A message from the boss. He says Sector 12 is in your hands, so mold it however you please."
"Generous of him."
"That's why he's built so generously."
"Mm. I'll have to remember that one and use it."
"Haha."
Ms. Secretary laughed lightly, then transmitted with her eyes a clear plea that I absolutely use it.
"However—until we confirm your safety, I will also be remaining at your side for the time being, Priest."
"Then you can just eat breakfast and head back. Conveniently, the person who'll take risks in my place for the sake of my safety is sitting right over there."
"…?"
Vita, who by now didn't tense up at all even in front of Jamie, had been sitting bolt upright like a fresh recruit on her first day of posting. At my remark she blinked, then whipped her head toward us in a panic.
"Have you eaten, Vita?"
"I have."
"Have a little something anyway. I'm having cereal. Ms. Secretary?"
"Jamie mentioned that the Priest has quite the touch in the kitchen."
"It isn't a touch. I just use good ready-made products."
We all relocated from the living room to the kitchen.
Bowls of cereal, topped however I felt like, were set out on the table—one for each of us.
"I take it the acquaintance you sent yesterday didn't come along."
"…I sent him somewhere far away."
"Good. He didn't seem like someone who suited Vita particularly well."
That was the end of any talk about yesterday's unwelcome visitor.
"Vita. Could I ask you to do one thing for me?"
"…Do I have the right to refuse?"
"Of course. Though in my opinion, once you hear it, you'll be the one begging me to let you do it."
"I— …mm."
"Good instincts. Always watch what you say."
I took the dynamite I'd organized yesterday out of my coat and set it on the table.
"Cough, cough!!"
The one choking was none other than Vita.
"H-How did you get this?"
"Want me to tell you?"
"…!!"
When I smiled and asked back, she hunched her shoulders and frantically shook her head.
"I have two favors to ask of you, Vita. The first is to hand these out—one each—to the trash living near the western border."
I pushed the dynamite toward her.
"The second is to send those same pieces of trash toward the vermin squatting on the western border."
Not only Vita but Jamie and Ms. Secretary as well wore distinctly complicated expressions.
"And of course, when you send them, you light the fuses first."
"No one in their right mind would go—especially not with the things already lit."
"If they were capable of normal thought, sure."
From the Benefit Shop I purchased a small glass bottle filled with pure white crystals, a little coarser than salt.
The instant it landed on the table, only Ms. Secretary's eyes changed. Proof that she knew exactly what those crystals were.
"It's a drug those pieces of trash could never get their hands on even if they died and came back. They call it the White Devil."
"White Devil!?"
The name finally made Vita recognize the crystals. She shoved her chair back and shot to her feet—of course.
"Ugh!?"
Ms. Secretary, standing behind her, caught the back of her neck and gave a gentle squeeze. Vita crumpled back into the chair like a crushed can.
"Thank you."
"Not at all."
Ms. Secretary smiled lightly, released Vita—who had pulled her neck in like a fully retracted turtle—and stepped back again.
"Vita, you'll use this to reel in one or two of them a day and carry out what I just described. As for how to reel them in—"
"I've heard that once you give them a single taste, they'll cut open their own stomachs and pull out their organs right there if it means getting more. If you assign it to me, I'll carry it out to the best of my ability."
True to someone who harbored a bottomless hatred for the vermin who sold drugs, Vita's eyes were blazing with the fire of revenge.
I held the glass bottle of White Devil out to her.
"Come by every day to pick them up."
"Underst—"
"However."
I lightly caught the hand that had touched the bottle.
"After nine in the morning."
"Ah—understood…?"
She wouldn't know.
"This is important."
Right after food, the one thing I would never forgive was anything that interrupted my sleep.