As I got closer to the area around the lake, the rows of buildings tucked in among the surrounding trees came into view. It wasn’t all that far from the village, but the buildings here had this overwhelming “big city” air, like they belonged in an entertainment district. Most of them were shops, theaters, bars, and so on. I caught sight of one in particular that was so gaudy it couldn’t have been anything but a casino. The street must have been so vibrant in the past, and yet now it was a shell of itself. It felt even more depressing seeing this place abandoned than a normal town.
I slowed down and kept an eye out as I continued through the area. The paved road became plain dirt and gradually thinned out. As I emerged from the thicket of trees, I suddenly saw a light to my left. I looked toward it and saw water—a huge lake reflecting the blue of the sky and the shining light from the sun. I’d have thought it was the sea, except that I could see the opposite shore.
The road started to climb, passing between huge houses on either side. I could tell at a glance that these chic wooden structures were villas. The old man I was looking for lived right at the center of these, so I followed the road as it climbed. Eventually I arrived at a more isolated area and saw a house nestled away in a corner. The years it had seen were clear in the darkened color of its wood siding. There was a large open space in front of the house, but no car parked there.
I brought the Kettle to a halt outside the entrance. Overgrown greenery surrounded the house on three sides, but the front had been kept clear and I could look straight down on the lake from where I’d parked. It must have been the best view in the area. While thinking the building was a little understated for the prime location it occupied, I stepped up onto the porch and moved toward the door.
There was a screen door on the outside of it, so I opened that first and then knocked on the door itself, but there was no reply. I peered in through the windows, but it was completely dark inside, so I couldn’t even tell if the house was furnished.
Just then, I caught sight of an armchair sitting out on the porch. A closer inspection showed that although it had been kept outside for many years, the seat of it was clean of any dust. Someone was definitely caring for this chair.
I heard the crunch of a footstep on sand from behind me. Looking toward the lake, I saw someone climbing the slope. Our eyes met, and mine went round. The other person’s eyes were round as well—not metaphorically, but physically.
They had...round, beady eyes.
“Why’re you here?” they asked.
The voice was an elderly man’s, with a slight wispiness to it. If my eyes were to be believed, though, the person in front of me was not a human at all. I was looking at a guinea pig. A guinea pig that was wearing pleated pants and a pristine shirt, had a spotted pattern on his furry face, and could speak.
“Ah, yes, well,” was all I could manage.
“None of those are answers.”
The guinea pig...man had a fishing rod over his shoulder and a fish hanging from his hand. It got crazier; the fish was about as big as my arm. Do guinea pigs even eat fish?
Without really seeming wary at all, he walked over and passed by me. As I watched his retreating back, I finally calmed down.
Right. This is another world. Of course there’s a guinea pig that walks on two legs, fishes, and speaks like an old man. After all, Nito’s a half-elf. Not that I know what a full elf is like.
I jogged after the guinea pig and called out to him.
“Um! Fago sent me with a package.”
“Huh, so she’s still alive. Now I’m glad I didn’t throw the chit out,” he answered, entering the house without me.
I went and grabbed the package from the passenger seat, then returned and knocked at the door. I knew there was someone inside this time, but there was still no response. There was nothing else I could do, so I opened the door and stepped in.
Behind it wasn’t a hall, but the living room. I sighed admiringly as I looked around the room. Bookshelves, sofas, and a table filled up the space, but rather than feeling crowded, everything was in harmony. Maybe that was due to good interior design, or perhaps just to all the furniture being a reddish brown, or maybe even just to how things were laid out.
“Would you show me?” the guinea pig asked, wiping his hands with a cloth as he approached.
Standing in front of me, he folded the cloth and set it on the back of the nearest sofa. He took the wrapped package from me and used a hand to unwrap the paper. Inside was a pair of boots. They were the same reddish brown as the furniture in the room, but the round toes were polished to a shine.
The guinea pig nodded with a hum before sitting on the sofa and putting the boots down at his feet. He quickly shed the shoes he had on and replaced them with the new pair. Then he started walking up and down the middle of the room, checking how comfortable the new boots were.
“So, how is she?” he asked, looking at his feet while he did his check.
“I think she’s fine. She was cleaning the temple this morning.”
“It’s an important custom for her. I’m impressed she’s kept at it while the world’s falling apart.”
He came to a stop and looked at me. I couldn’t read his expression; all I could do was awkwardly meet his gaze.
“Just out of interest,” he asked, “do otherworlders get caught up in their habits as well?”
I let out a gasp.
“You needn’t be so surprised. You looked shocked when you saw me, but beastmen and demihumans aren’t that rare. Otherworlders are the only ones that react like they’ve never seen one of us before. Honestly, you’re the more interesting one from my perspective.”
I could understand and agree with his explanation, but I couldn’t quite agree with being a more interesting sight than him.
“Well, regardless,” he said with a nod, pulling a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and holding it out to me. “The receipt. It’s signed as well.”
As I took and checked it, the guinea pig turned his back on me.
“I need to prepare the fish, so excuse me. Give my thanks to Fago.”
He picked up the cloth from the sofa and headed farther inside. I was left standing alone in the room.
It had been a shock to see a guinea pig who felt more like a person wearing a costume, but what felt even stranger was his behavior. He’d acted way too normally, almost like this was just any old day. He’d fished, accepted a delivery, and tested out his new shoes. It didn’t feel like he was living in a dead world in the slightest. He might have lived the exact same way five years ago, and maybe he still would even five years from now. While there was nothing in particular that I wanted to ask, I really wanted to talk more with him. Still, I knew it’d be rude to call him back out just for that, so I gave up and left.
It was getting toward noon as I stepped outside. The sunlight was falling straight down, setting the shadows from the leaves in stark relief against the ground. Just standing still I could feel the heat on my cheeks. The gentle waves from the lake sent scattered droplets of light ricocheting around the area as well. I’d never really seen why people needed holiday homes in the past, but now I could at least somewhat understand their value. Spending the warm, vibrant days of summer gazing at the brilliant blue of the lake was probably pretty pleasant.
I moved to the edge of the clear space and noticed a set of stairs descending the slope. They weren’t paved or anything, just steps cut into the earth and anchored with thin planks of wood and logs. I headed down them, and found a small boat moored to a jetty at the bottom. He must have used it to go out fishing on the lake.
“This really is the ideal retirement.”
It was almost too calm. I stood there for a while looking at the lake before I climbed the stairs back to the Kettle. I twisted the wheel and slowly pushed the throttle, heading down the road again.
As I got back to Mercian Street, it definitely did feel deserted. Despite being a man-made location cut out of nature, it showed no sign of being used, so the buildings among the trees just felt out of place. I was halfway down the street when I came across a chair in the middle of the road. With no other choice, I stopped the Kettle in front of it, and then a thought occurred to me.
What’s a chair doing here?
A chill ran down my spine. There hadn’t been a chair here on my way in. Someone had put it there afterward, and the obvious reason was to stop me here on my way out.
Someone else must be here.
The moment that thought passed through my mind, there was a knock at the driver’s window. Someone was standing outside it.