The Neighbor
I started preparing for my stream in earnest, working from everything Lucia had taught me.
First I went online and looked up the prices of microphones and webcams.
"...They're more expensive than I thought."
I might not even end up using a camera, so a cheap one would do for now—but with a mic, they said, better performance was always better. The trouble was that the better the performance, the steeper the price jumped. I had never paid the slightest attention to any of this, so I hadn't realized there wasn't just one kind of microphone. The ones people used for streaming fell into roughly three types: headset mics, USB mics, and audio-interface mics.
The first was what I had already been using, and of course it performed the worst. The second and third could actually use the same microphone itself—the real difference was whether you had an audio interface. They said the sound came out far cleaner if you bought a separate interface instead of just plugging a USB mic straight into the computer.
"...The problem, as always, is money."
Yesterday's shopping had put a bigger hole in my wallet than I'd expected. If I just blindly splurged, I might not even have enough for groceries this month. Of course, if I told my parents they would happily send more allowance—but I didn't want to. It would feel uncomfortable. Worse, if I contacted them, things might get even more tangled than they already were.
"Not yet."
Someday I would have to tell them the truth. That I had become a girl. But I still needed a little more time. So for now, should I just buy the microphone? I could always get an audio interface later, once I actually started streaming and felt like I needed one.
I went through the models one by one, carefully comparing performance against price, and at last I managed to drop the most reasonable mic and camera into my cart.
"Phew... Good job, watashi!"
One step closer to becoming a pro streamer. I felt a swell of pride in myself. Next up, then...
That was when my phone buzzed with a text.
"De?"
Apparently the chicken I had just ordered had arrived. Except I had no memory of receiving any chicken.
"Did they just leave it at the door...?"
I had paid through the app, so that was possible. Heart fluttering at the prospect of receiving my chicken, I hurried over, shoved my feet into slippers, and yanked the door open—and what greeted me was—
"...Nani mo nai?"
Why was there nothing here? No matter how I peered up and down the hallway, no matter how I checked the doorstep, there wasn't so much as a fried crumb, let alone a box of chicken.
I shut the door, went back inside, dithered for a moment, then picked up my phone.
Riiing—.
"Moshi moshi? The chicken I ordered never showed up, but I got a text saying it was delivered."
The owner, thrown by my peculiar way of speaking, offered an explanation. He had asked the delivery driver, who said a little kid had come out from inside and taken it.
"There's no child at watashi's house, desu."
What on earth was going on? Don't tell me... this was some kind of ghost story! A vengeful little spirit, desperate to eat a chicken while it was still alive! Ah, but if it was fried chicken, wouldn't that be "while it was still fried" rather than "while it was still alive"? Anyway, if that was actually what was happening, it was a little scary. Our house wasn't haunted or anything... right?
And then—
Greet the Neighbor Who Moved in Next Door
"Next door?"
Why would the Information Window suddenly hand me a quest like this? Up until now, it had never just thrown quests at me for no reason. It had only ever given me quests tied to whatever situation I was already in. Which meant...
"They mixed up the address?"
You idiot delivery guy! Even if the driver had simply made a mistake, wasn't the neighbor the strange one for just taking something they hadn't even ordered? Of course, a child had received it, so it probably wasn't malicious.
"...So I have to go next door, then."
Quest or no quest, if I wanted my chicken back. For the sake of boneless half-and-half chicken, I had no choice. I knew this would not be easy. For a hikikomori with zero social skills like me, ringing a complete stranger's doorbell was next to impossible...
But I had to do it. I had changed now. I would prove that the me I was today was different from before.
I put my slippers back on and strode out with all the dignity I could muster, flung the door open, and locked a look of grim resolve on the apartment next door.
"...Eh?"
Someone was standing in front of the neighbor's door. A young man in a suit. He had been punching in the door-lock code, and now he had stopped and was looking at me—probably because I had thrown my door open so dramatically.
For a moment we just stood there, exchanging stares, neither of us moving. My resolve to step forward without fear was already starting to crumble. My eyes wavered. In the end, I was the one who looked away first and ducked my head.
Barely ten seconds had passed since I had stepped into the hallway, but to me it felt longer than ten minutes. Was this Einstein's theory of relativity?
"...Uh. Hello?"
He was the one who spoke first. Greeting each other wasn't strange. We were neighbors living right next door, after all. I needed to answer him. But my mouth would not open.
What are you doing, kono baka! Say something! He's waiting!
I swallowed, forced my lips apart, and wrung a voice out of a throat that refused to work.
"...Excuse me?"
"Eek!"
Wrong thing to say. My brain had short-circuited in the sudden situation and only processed the last command I had given myself. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I had planned to get the chicken back, sure—but not by demanding it the second we met. My first impression was completely ruined.
The man stared at me in bewilderment, then asked, hesitant,
"...Chicken?"
"......"
What do I do? My mind went as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. I couldn't open my mouth. I couldn't even lift my head. What was that man thinking of me right now? He was probably laughing. Or maybe he felt sorry for me. Maybe he was clicking his tongue, deciding his new neighbor was not all there.
I knew, of course, that it wasn't actually that big a deal. If I just laughed it off and explained, it would be a tiny, harmless misunderstanding. But I couldn't. I didn't have it in me to laugh this off. The more I opened my mouth, the worse this was going to get—and by then it might not be something I could dismiss as minor anymore.
"Um, excuse me?"
So the method I chose was not to open my mouth at all—and turn around. I went straight back inside and shut the door.
My heart was slamming so hard I could barely breathe. Only now did I realize how anxious I actually was. Tears welled up.
I ran away again.
Again.
"...What was that."
Left alone, he stared at the closed door and muttered blankly.
Bae Hyunsoo, twenty-nine years old. He had scraped together every last bit of his savings, thrown in a loan, and finally bought a home. It was an officetel—the kind of compact apartment building packed with single-person households—but it was a good place, plenty big enough for two. Last night he had been so excited he had kept tossing and turning. He had fallen asleep praying that only good things would happen here.
Hyunsoo had gone to work the next day and had just now come home. Running into the neighbor next door had thrown him completely. She was dressed in the kind of comfortable clothes you wore around the house, and yet her face still shone. For a second he had seriously wondered if she was a celebrity. He had kept his composure on the surface and offered a greeting—and the response that came back was something he never could have imagined.
Give back the chicken?
These days, when you moved in, did people send chicken around instead of rice cakes? Hyunsoo found himself seriously considering that absurd thought for a moment. Then the girl's face had flushed, her eyes had gone shiny with tears, and she had fled back into her apartment. He had no idea what any of it meant.
"...I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"
Whatever it was, the uneasy feeling wouldn't go away. Still, he should just go inside for now. It would be weird for a complete stranger to go sticking his nose in.
He opened the door, and a delicious smell drifted out to meet him.
"Hana?"
Hyunsoo called for the person who lived with him. Tiny, adorable footsteps came pattering from inside.
"Daddy!"
"There's my girl! Were you good?"
"Yep!"
The sight of his cute daughter pulled a smile out of him at once. That was right. Hyunsoo was a hopeless daughter-doting fool.
"Hungry? Daddy'll make dinner right now. Just hang on a second."
"No! I'm not hungry! You ordered chicken for me!"
"...Huh? Chicken?"
Sniff sniff. Come to think of it, that delicious smell in the house felt familiar now that he paid attention. It was the smell of fried chicken.
"Yeah! The chicken Daddy ordered!"
Hana pointed at the table. There sat the chicken she had been diligently working her way through.
"Ah..."
Only then did Hyunsoo grasp the truth of the incident. He looked back and forth between Hana and the chicken with a sheepish expression, thought for a moment, then said,
"Hana. Want to go say hello to the people next door?"
"Next door?"
"Yeah. We need to apologize, too."
"Apple-ogize? I like strawberries better than apples!"
"...Right. Then we'll do strawberries, too."