by Mamare Touno
And besides, lately…
She’d shown symptoms of it from the beginning, but lately, Akatsuki had grown far too good at getting into his personal space. He didn’t know whether it was because she was small or because of a special class ability, but she would slip through the gaps between breaths when he let his mind wander and then appear startlingly close to him.
At this distance, he didn’t even have to put out a hand: He could feel the warmth of her body just by bending down slightly. Shiroe found a lot of things about this sense of distance uncomfortable, but Akatsuki didn’t seem to notice. She just worried about Shiroe with a focused seriousness that reminded him of a small animal.
“No, it isn’t.”
“I see.”
Akatsuki responded without seeming all that concerned, then briskly began folding the clothes on the sofa. They were everyday clothes that had been hanging out to dry on an upper floor.
Adventurer equipment, armor, and robes had set durability values. If their durability decreased, they’d get dirty and break, but when repaired by someone in a suitable subclass, they became good as new again. There was no need to wash them.
However, the items that were made in Akiba these days—the ones the Adventurers and People of the Earth created with their own hands—did get dirty and tear, and the Repair command wouldn’t restore them. They had to launder them properly, like this.
Of course, the sight of white shirts flapping on a rope strung through the green shadows of the tree wasn’t a bad one. Among the members of Log Horizon, laundry was a popular chore.
There weren’t all that many garments.
With the two of them folding, they were done before they knew it. Akatsuki began to pour Black Rose Tea into glasses. The things she’d taken out of her Magic Bag appeared to be today’s snack: anpan, rolls filled with sweet red bean paste. The distribution of wheat in Yamato was high, and bread was eaten relatively often. There was rice, too, of course, but after bread was baked, it kept better than rice did. Lately, culinary research was advancing, and different types of bread had begun to appear on the market.
Novel breads were expensive, but once a little time had passed and they began to be mass-produced, the price came down. Since people’s habits hadn’t changed, that sort of trade phenomenon was the same even in this world.
The price of this plain anpan had come down quite a bit, but it was still a little too expensive for a snack. Holding a roll in her left hand, Akatsuki held the remaining one out to Shiroe on a small plate.
“Are you sure?”
“My treat. I want you to eat it.”
Akatsuki’s answer was brief. Shiroe wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the offer.
The reason was that Shiroe had had a lot of paperwork for the Round Table Council lately, and he hadn’t been able to go out to the field. Akatsuki, who went afield to train Minori, Touya, and the others, was earning more money than he was. That meant there was no need for him to worry about the state of Akatsuki’s wallet when she bought anpan. Even so, Shiroe was the guild master, and most important, he was an adult male. Making a little girl (which was what she looked like) treat him to something was embarrassing.
Even to him, this pride seemed small-minded, but it was a problem of feelings, and there was nothing to do about the reluctance. That said, if he insisted on trying to look good, he’d actually look a lot worse. Shiroe thanked her and accepted the anpan.
Seeing this, Akatsuki took a big bite of her own roll. The two of them sat side by side on the low sofa, kicking their legs out in front of them, and enjoying the sweetness of the red bean paste.
“……”
“What’s the matter, Akatsuki?”
“Um, well…”
Akatsuki’s gaze wandered through space, as though she were searching for words.
“My liege, you…”
Shiroe gave her a quizzical look.
“…What are you doing for the festival?”
“Huh?”
That wasn’t a question Shiroe could answer easily.
Come to think of it, Henrietta had asked him to do something as well. Come to think of it, if he stayed shut up in his office all the time like this, his guild members might actually forget what he looked like.
“Henrietta asked me for a favor, so I’m helping her. Something about a fashion show… I suspect I’ll be delivering the opening remarks somewhere.”
“I see. Still, that’s not what I meant.”
He gave her another quizzical look.
“Shiroe!”
It was Minori who’d burst in. She was carrying a brown paper parcel in both hands as if it was something important, but when she noticed Akatsuki from the doorway, she stumbled forward a step or two, then stood still.
Minori, who’d faltered, was dressed in clothes she liked and wore around town a lot lately: a blouse with a large ribbon on it and culottes. As if in response to Shiroe’s questioning look, she hesitated several times, then spoke.
“Shiroe. Um, it’s about the Libra Festival tomorrow. Would you go in with me?”
“Go in?”
“I mean eat. Would you eat with me?”
The flyer Minori held out had “Cake Buffet” written on it in bright colors.
Shiroe had no idea what this was about. When he turned back to Akatsuki to ask for an explanation, Akatsuki was holding one of the same “Cake Buffet” flyers in front of her chest. She had an oddly serious expression on her face.
“Shiroe, you don’t dislike sweet things, do you?”
“No, I wouldn’t say I dislike them.”
“I could tell that from the way you ate the anpan.”
He was rather fond of mild sweetness.
“My liege. Let’s go. If a man and woman attend together, this is free.”
“Shiroe. Would you go with me? It is free, you know? Free.”
From what he saw on the flyer, to participate, you had to be accompanied by someone of the opposite gender—in other words, a couple—the time limit was forty-five minutes, and if you ate a total of eight or more pieces, it was free. In addition, apparently, the top two pairs would advance to the main match.
Four per person, hm…?
It would be cake, after all. They could probably manage that much easily. However, he sensed something unusual in their enthusiasm. It might have been his imagination, but Akatsuki and Minori seemed to be very aware of each other. This troubled Shiroe. Still, for some reason, he was hesitant to just ask them about it. Why was that?
…Oh. Come to think of it, it’s always been…
Yes, it had always been like that.
Now that he thought about it, the Debauchery Tea Party had been that way, too. It had invariably been the female players who’d blurted out whims, and she had been at the top of the list. When Shiroe’s thoughts had taken him that far, he heaved a deep, mental sigh. If all women were like that (and the possibility was incredibly high), then going against them here would not be wise.
“What do you think…Shiroe?”
“My liege, my liege!”
As the two girls pressed him, pestering, Shiroe’s only alternative was to raise the white flag.
1
In front of the crate that held her clothes, Minori was at a loss.
Not like that. Not like this, either. She took out garments and held them up to herself, but to her flustered mind, none of them looked quite right. However, she didn’t toss aside the ones she’d taken out; she folded them neatly and put them away, which was just like her. Mentally, though, she was stretched to the limit.
Since Shiroe had given his permission, they’d be participating in the cake buffet, but Minori’s objective wasn’t free cake. This was all for Shiroe and his guild, Log Horizon.
This one looks sort of little kid–ish. This one matches Touya’s. And this one’s…too drab. Well, it is work clothes, after all.
Carefully, Minori folded up yet another outfit, a chartreuse overall.
This room was hers.
To Minori, who’d been forced to room with a whole group of people at Hamelin, it was so spacious it seemed to be almost too much of a luxury for her.
When they’d joined Log Horizon, in light of her skills, Minori had asked to share a room with Touya. However, Shiroe and Naotsugu had said, “The building’s big, so don’t stand on ceremony,” and had gotten a private room ready for her.
It was such a nice room that comparing it to Hamelin seemed rude. The breeze that blew in through the window had become one of Minori’s favorite things.
However, it wasn’t that the room was decorated grandly. It was simply big. Even though it was only for her, it had about ten tatami mats’ worth of area, and both the floor and the walls were made of wood. There wasn’t much furniture in that big room: just a few crates, a bed and a low table.
Because this was Minori’s private room, and the other guild members acknowledged it, she could decorate it any way she liked. If she asked, they were sure to help her carry in furniture, and they might even make something for her themselves. However, Minori’s innate frugality and reserve made her hesitant to buy items that cost large sums of money.
She might still be middle class, but lately, Minori had been earning quite a bit.
One major factor was that she went to the fields and hunted regularly. The main objective was for the four midclass players—Minori, Touya, Rundelhaus, and Isuzu—to get combat practice, but naturally, even if it was training, they got loot.
There were all sorts of items that could be acquired after battles: meat and fur from animal-type monsters; equipment, money, and goods from intelligent monsters. These were collectively known as drop items, and many of them were exchanged for cash or used as materials within the production classes.
In Log Horizon’s case, they kept back items that Nyanta the Chef or Shiroe the Scribe could use, but they exchanged all other items for money.
When the four of them went out training together, they quietly slipped a good portion of what they earned into the guild’s bank account. No one had actually suggested it, but it was something thoughtful that had become a habit for the younger group (which was what they’d come to call the lower-level players) somewhere along the way.
However, if a leader like Naotsugu or Nyanta was with them, they couldn’t accomplish this. The amount was divided neatly and equally among each person present and promptly pushed into their hands. According to Nyanta, “When mew’re suitably rewarded, it fosters professional attitudes.” They understood the logic, but it was hard to just nod and accept it.
This was true for her companions as well, but Minori felt indebted to Shiroe and Log Horizon.
In addition, this guild had its own dedicated cook in the form of Nyanta.
In Akiba at present, a large part of the cost of living was food-related expenses.
The only thing that resembled heating and lighting expenses was lamp oil, and even there, half the classes could substitute magic for it. Housing expenses included inn lodging fees or guild fees, but these were very cheap. Not only that, but if they felt like it, there were plenty of ruins to camp in.
That meant the largest part of living expenses in Akiba was the cost of food. As a result, the Adventurers’ Engel coefficient didn’t bear looking at. It was so bad that many Adventurers spent a percentage of income that would have been equivalent to rent in the old world on food.
Thanks to Nyanta’s home cooking, food-related costs—that greatest expense—weren’t necessary at Log Horizon.
Since Minori and the others belonged to it, even if they were putting money into the guild as well, there was no way their own savings wouldn’t grow. Minori’s account already held quite a tidy sum.
As a result, she had money to spare.
There was enough for her to get a complete set of furnishings for her room. …Provided she was discriminating about level, of course.
Since this world had originally been a game, the range of item types was truly vast. For example, there was infinite variety even among beds, which ranged from wooden beds meant simply as places to sleep to canopy beds that were works of art, carved from ivory and obsidian. Beds were made by people with the production subclass Woodworker, and the successive level expansions had continued to add items that were higher level and hard to make but could be sold at high prices. As a result, even though they were all beds, the item variations had acquired a several-hundred-fold price spread.
This meant that—although extraordinarily expensive, high-rank items did exist—as long as you chose low-rank items, furniture wasn’t an expensive purchase at all. Elder Tales had originally been a game, and no matter what production system they belonged to, items included in its recipes could be completed in ten seconds simply by selecting them from the menu. Prices were influenced only by the difference in difficulty of obtaining the material and the level of the artisan who processed them, and there was no concept of hours worked.
As such, a bed or chest of drawers that used Japanese Cedar or Oak—items which could be gathered in low-level fields—could be purchased for the cost of a single meal.
Even so, all Minori had purchased were several wooden crates to store her belongings in and a bed that was plain but comfortable. A single low table that looked a bit like a kotatsu. A futon set, and several cushions. That was it.
It was a very plain room.
The bottom line was that Minori’s nature just wasn’t suited to lavish spending.
For that very reason, all the clothes Minori was rummaging through now were quite respectable. They were well tailored; sturdy and not worn down; clean-looking: the sort of things she’d never have to be embarrassed about wearing when she passed people in town… But, unfortunately, they weren’t very interesting.
This just won’t do, will it…
She held up a light blue dress, but it looked too young as well. She didn’t think she could even set Shiroe off to advantage in clothes like these.
I’ll go get something better.
Making up her mind, Minori opened her clasp coin purse. This old-fashioned wallet belonged to her. In the days when this world was a game, currency had simply been listed on the character screen as a weightless item, but now you had to put it in a wallet and carry it around with you. Wallets were a surprisingly popular item.
Minori’s objective was to rehabilitate Shiroe.
“Rehabilitate,” or “debut,” or possibly “advertise.”
Frankly speaking, Shiroe’s reputation in Akiba wasn’t very good. Of course, Shiroe was one of the eleven guild masters. Since he was one of the representatives of the Round Table Council, it was safe to say that his name recognition had jumped compared to what it had been a little while ago.
To begin with, the Round Table Council itself had come about in large part because of Shiroe’s plan. In Akiba, this was common knowledge among people who were even slightly well informed. However, the problem wasn’t the sheer height of his name recognition, but the content of his reputation.
The unanimous opinion of the general public was that Shiroe was a counselor type. However, in combination with his “Machiavelli-with-glasses” byname, the idea that he was underhanded and merciless was circulating through Akiba.
Apparently, the speech in which Raynesia made her appeal for military volunteers had been lethal.
During that speech, it had looked as though Shiroe was persecuting Princess Raynesia. Starting about then, Shiroe’s image had become that of a schemer who, although competent and a born counselor, was cruel and completely lacking in human warmth.
This was painful for Minori.
To her, Shiroe was a hero.
Nobody understood, but he was a kind person. Minori truly believed that there were very few players as kind as Shiroe.
When Minori and the other newbie players had been trapped by Hamelin, hadn’t Shiroe been the only one who’d tried to save them? No one other than Shiroe had directly confronted what everyone else
had averted their eyes from.
Shiroe was Minori’s hero.
So the fact that many people had the wrong idea about him made her sad. On top of that sadness, it was sure to cast a shadow over the guild’s future operation. Log Horizon was just one of the smaller guilds that had put down roots in Akiba. There was no telling what sort of disadvantages this negative image would inflict on it.
At the very least, Minori knew that Shiroe was a good, kind person. She loved everyone else in Log Horizon too, and the guild was the place where she belonged now. She wanted to clear away as many of the bad rumors as possible.
Then this festival had come along.
In truth, some of the responsibility for Shiroe’s weird image did lay with himself.
In the first place, Shiroe was in charge of planning and investigation; he didn’t put in frequent appearances at artisan meetings like the guild master of a production guild, or have many opportunities to conduct joint expeditions with lots of members from other guilds and return in triumph, the way combat guilds did.
The guild masters of big guilds seemed to consider public relations and recruiting to be part of guild activities. At least, that was what Minori had heard. As a result, even the ones who had a general reputation for disliking people didn’t hesitate to come into contact with them, both at public and private events. Many guild masters were surprisingly sociable, conscientious individuals.
In contrast, although Shiroe wasn’t a misanthrope, he was indifferent about social activities. And especially of late, he’d been buried in mountains of reports and living like a hermit.
In other words, since the root of the problem lay in Shiroe’s failure to go out more often, all she had to do was present him to the people of Akiba more frequently. Free cake buffet aside, if they won there, they’d be invited to the great dinner party on the final day. She’d heard somewhere that staff from Akikuro—Akiba’s newspaper—would be there too, and if everything went well…
