However, today she wore the uniform of a security company. Was it possible she’d transferred into civilian work? I’d heard high-ranking officials in the SDF or police force tended to find good jobs at security firms, but it seemed a little early in her career for something like that.
I made sure to buy her a drink as well; then we made our way to a corner of the meeting space. Miss Inukai, my neighbor, and I sat down at one of the long tables. Abaddon was floating over it, bobbing up and down.
“The company that manages this facility received a bomb threat a few days ago,” said Miss Inukai. “An event for Otherworld Productions was scheduled for the day in question, but the police told us they’d still allow it to go forward as long as the management company arranged for proper security.”
This news was quite stimulating. In fact, it made me want to turn right around and flee the building.
But at the same time, something bothered me about the situation. An irritating bomb threat set for the worst possible day. Miss Inukai’s choice to talk to us now.
“I hope this isn’t rude,” I said, “but is it possible the bureau sent the threat?”
“Yes. At least, that’s what my superior officer told me.”
“……”
This was indeed how the bureau usually did things. Or rather, it was how Mr. Akutsu did things.
It appeared that Otherworld Productions hadn’t been informed of anything. The only ones who knew were probably the police, the upper echelons of the security firm, and a few extras on-site, like Miss Inukai.
Was the bureau up to something? Or was this simply their way of protecting and investigating my neighbor?
“In that case, are you sure it was all right to tell us about it?” I asked.
“My superior officer instructed me to ask for your help, in the event any problems arise. I’ll be acting as your point of contact in case of emergencies.”
“Ah. I see.”
The section chief’s secretiveness was nothing new, so I figured there was no point in worrying. He’d probably say something like, “I didn’t tell you because you never asked.”
“As far as we are concerned,” continued Miss Inukai, “there is still a non-zero possibility of a disturbance unrelated to the bureau’s threat. Considering everything that has happened in the past, we believe this is a risk we cannot ignore.”
“I agree with you there.”
“That said, I didn’t think you would see through the facade so easily. Were you informed in advance?”
“No, I just learned of it now.”
“Why didn’t you think the threat was real?”
“Because you made contact with me beforehand, I assumed the goal wasn’t to suspend the event itself but was something to do with us or the mechanical life-form. But if it was a terrorist organization or organized crime, it wouldn’t make sense to call in a threat.”
“……”
“If someone did want to bomb us, they wouldn’t let us know in advance. That wouldn’t benefit them. So terrorist groups and crime syndicates were out of the picture. The bureau was the next most likely culprit, so I settled on that.”
“Why did you consider the bureau at all?”
“It’s only a few days after the threat, and various government organizations have already made arrangements and called in this big a security force. It’s all too well-coordinated for an event of this scale.”
“…I’m in awe. I never imagined you’d be able to figure all of that out in an instant.”
“Well, our boss is something of an oddball. He keeps us on our toes.”
We’d just dealt with a situation at my neighbor’s school the other day. Type Twelve was staying at home this time, but the fact remained that my neighbor and Abaddon were now key individuals in the angel-demon proxy war. What’s more, I—our weakest link—had come along with them.
It’d be great if we could snatch up our enemies by the scruff of their necks, but there were too many hostile groups and organizations to round them up wholesale. In this situation, we’d just have to deal with individual problems as they arose.
“That was all I had to tell you,” said Miss Inukai. “I apologize for springing all of this on you.”
“No, not at all,” I insisted. “Thank you for taking the time to tell us.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, before quickly heading off.
The rehearsal went as planned; nobody interfered. As I watched my neighbor confidently go about her tasks, I could only pray that this peaceful streak continued through the actual festival.
Winterfest began in earnest the following day. My neighbor and I traveled to the venue from our hotel, then I left her to perform her morning duties. While she was busy, I had nothing to do, and I ended up taking a stroll around the hall, checking the place out.
“Just think of how much money went into this thing, eh? It must have taken three whole days to set it all up. I’d heard they were raking in the profits, but this is truly magnificent. Makes an old woman feel good just watching.”
Ms. Futarishizuka was beside me. During dinner with the pretend family the night before, she’d pestered me about tickets to the event, saying the company must have given us extras to invite friends. I admitted they had, and now she was here with me.
“Didn’t you say you’ve known about this event for a while now?” I asked.
“I knew about it, but this is my first time attending as a guest.”
“I see.”
As the hall around us buzzed with energy, Ms. Futarishizuka admired all the exhibits and hands-on experiences set up in Area B. Just as she’d said, everything was very grand in scale; each one felt like its own amusement park attraction. They had it all, from traditional installments like a haunted house, to more social ones like a mock school classroom. There was even a video game arcade and a traditional festival. Each area was manned by a VTuber who interacted with guests in real time.
Naturally, it was their 3D models on the screen, with the talents streaming from behind-the-scenes studios set up all around the venue. Dozens of video signals filled the hall; I was stunned by the technological prowess of the engineers involved.
“Didn’t they get one hundred fifty thousand attendees over both days last year?” asked Ms. Futarishizuka.
“That’s what I heard.”
Plenty of guests were flooding into the venue. In fact, they were already starting to limit entry.
At first, we’d gone to the main stage set up in Area A, but not only did that require a separate ticket, the line to buy one on the day of was over two hours long, so we gave up. In my head, I knew how many people were here, but experiencing the crowds myself was overwhelming.
Type Twelve was with us today as well.
“The youngest daughter senses possibilities for soothing my wounded heart all around us.”
“Girls like you always wind up at offline meetups with doting guys who just want to get in your pants,” remarked Ms. Futarishizuka.
“Please don’t go with anyone you don’t know, even if they ask you to,” I warned her.
I suspected she was interested in the event because they were using the 3D model she designed. When Ms. Futarishizuka mentioned the tickets the night before, she’d immediately asked to come with us. I figured she’d do what she wanted regardless of how I answered, so I agreed to take her.
“Father, I cannot make any guarantees with regard to your suggestion.”
“Then would you mind at least contacting us beforehand?”
“Acknowledged.”
Miss Hoshizaki was absent, however, and that unnerved me. Type Twelve always exercised her freedom more fully when the mother wasn’t around. Though her face was impassive, I could see her fidgeting every time there was an announcement or the sound of cheers. She looked like she might run off without us at the drop of a hat.