Groan...
It had been about four days since the mission ended, and I was being tormented by a sudden headache.
Who wouldn't know what this was? Yeah, the thing I'd been dreading. The price of overexerting myself in the last mission...
Thanks to that, I kept waking up in the middle of sleep and rolling around on the floor.
"Save me..."
Well, I knew there wouldn't be any need to use any major power for now, so I'd gone and done it anyway. But when it keeps happening throughout daily life, regret is inevitable.
Ugh... I'm drenched in cold sweat. This feels awful.
The time was 4 a.m., still a little while before work.
"...Still, there's nothing for me to do in this room."
Hah. Staying here any longer would just mean writhing around in pain.
Better to wash up and greet the early morning.
"Hm? Saramago, out early? What's the occasion..."
"....."
"You look even worse than yesterday! Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm not sure myself..."
Who was I supposed to blame? This shitty situation wasn't just for today.
Ever since that mission ended, I hadn't had a single pain-free day. And even then, it had only been about four days, with all of it reduced to headaches.
If I think of it as the price for my eye, it's a fair enough risk... but there's one thing that still feels unfair.
I didn't exactly choose to get this thing, you know...
"At this rate, you won't be able to do anything today either. Rest a bit. I'll tell the others."
"Yes..."
I answered weakly, then shuffled over and sat down in my seat.
This place feels more comfortable than my room, honestly.
Ah, come to think of it, I should stop by the bank too.
When I have time later, maybe I'll ask permission and go with Mr. Meursault.
Though this damn headache needs to ease up first.
"....."
As I dozed off in my seat for a bit, the sounds of people gradually getting busier reached my ears.
Was it about time to start work?
Just as I was about to slowly sit up, not wanting to keep sleeping there, someone beside me gently pressed on my shoulder and pushed their way into the seat.
...At this point, it was obvious. It was Ms. Ishmael.
That feeling of being fussed over wasn't bad, but this much was still a little overwhelming...
"...Ms. Ishmael, isn't your seat back there?"
"Do you dislike it? If you do, I can go back."
"Don't make it so obvious that you're pouting... No, no. Please stay."
"I knew it. Just sit still."
...Why did it already feel like I was being kept on a leash when we weren't even that close?
Whatever. If it's good, it's good, I guess. Ugh... I'm too tired to think.
I'll just stay still...
Those two over there staring with needlessly sly looks can be dealt with once I'm feeling a little better.
I don't have the energy to do anything right now.
Ah, come to think of it, what happened to Mr. Samjo?
I hadn't had the spare capacity to check a few days ago.
Hmm... Mr. Samjo has no memory of crying, and he's already a proven individual, so...
Unless his loyalty to K Corp has dropped, maybe he's still staying there.
Probably something like that... With his career, he'd likely be fine even if he wasn't working at K Corp anymore.
K Corp isn't the kind of Wing that would bother spending money to kill someone like that.
He'll manage somehow...
For a while, I'd be exempt from the Mirror Dungeon too, so there shouldn't be any problems. I can just rest easy.
No work~
That thought didn't even last a few days before it hit a limit.
The first few days were fine, since everyone was in a relaxed mood after the big mission ended, but after a while they started running the dungeon again, and that made it hard not to notice.
"....."
When Dante stared at me with that ominous, prey-hunting look, I felt a chill down my back for no reason.
It looked like they were about to call me into the Mirror Dungeon.
Though there were at most six or seven people who could go in, so I never got called anyway.
Still, staying in that kind of bus atmosphere forever was awkward, so...
"Mm, we've arrived."
"Yes, here we are."
While the bus was parked, I came to the bank with Mr. Meursault.
"Came with" might not be the right phrase. I was half-carrying him, after all.
Not that it mattered.
If things had been normal, I would've come ages ago, but because the bus was always moving, getting my ID reissued took quite a while.
And extracting it from a distant Wing after proving my identity was a rather annoying process.
...Seriously, why didn't they bring out even one of my belongings from there?
Click, click.
After entering the building, familiar in atmosphere, I naturally went to the reception desk and requested a lookup.
After sitting in a chair and waiting for a bit, I was called up as soon as my number was announced.
[Number 592. Number 592.]
The dry mechanical voice. And my number was 592.
My turn.
I got up with my heavy body and headed to the counter.
"Please state your business."
"I came to check my account."
"Then your account number and..."
The reception desk exchanged its businesslike dialogue.
There were no hiccups in the process. I'd done this before, after all.
As the conversation went on, the employee working through the process looked at the number displayed before them and suddenly widened their eyes.
Good. From that reaction, it didn't seem like the balance was lacking.
Not wanting to draw attention, the receptionist quietly lowered their voice.
"Is this really your own account?"
"I have my ID too. Want to check it once?"
"...No."
Yeah, that figures. This is why I didn't want to come until I'd gotten my ID reissued.
If my outfit at least looked a little expensive, maybe it'd be different, but I looked like nothing more than a salaryman.
After glancing around nervously, the receptionist quietly brought up a small screen and showed me the amount.
...It had increased a bit, but it was about right. In that case, there shouldn't be any problem using it.
"I'd also like a card issued, please."
"Yes, the price is—. Issuance will take some time, so please wait a moment."
"Understood."
Was that it?
After waiting there for a bit, the receptionist quickly printed out the card and handed it to me.
Hm. Now I won't be in trouble even if I'm short on personal funds.
"Mr. Meursault, let's head back. We can buy some snacks on the way."
"Very well."
...Though if I use my own money to stock the break room, it'll probably all end up in Ms. Rodion's stomach before long. Still, now that I've got money to spare, it's fine.
If I'm willing to take a fair amount of loss, even shouting something like "one billion won!" at an auction could become a game. Of course, it would need to be worth that much.
I can't do that very often anyway.
"I have one question."
"Hm? Yes, go ahead."
Mr. Meursault asking a question was unexpected. He'd always been so quiet.
"The amount just withdrawn from the bank appears abnormal when compared to the actions you have described so far. Even more so when business or other matters are taken into account."
"....."
"Therefore, I have a question based on the reasonable inference that it is related to your activities in the Wing that you are trying to conceal. I am asking you about that."
...I knew it. He really was quick on the uptake. Tch. It's not like I can run away now.
"More or less, yes. I'll explain the details soon, but objectively speaking, it wasn't a low position."
"Understood. Considering your manner of speech and level of knowledge, it does seem true that you worked at a Wing, and that you were a doctor. Your evasiveness in answering is therefore likely a form of defense mechanism stemming from concern over what would happen if it were discovered that you held a high-ranking position in a Wing."
"At this point, that's scary-level accurate... Yes, I won't deny it. That's right."
"However, there is still something I do not understand."
"Go ahead."
"In most cases, if someone of that caliber were to resign, it would be reasonable to expect some degree of protection from a subsidiary, or sheltering under a stronger group. However, if the above assumption is true, you appear to have belonged to none of those cases. Not even with any protection. Furthermore, I infer that your combat ability was also low."
"...That part makes me something of an unusual case. The Wing I belonged to wasn't a normal Wing either."
"I see."
"Ha... It feels like I've been picked apart down to the bone. Could you keep what you just said a secret? For now... I'm still a little scared."
"I will do so."
Mr. Meursault, who had laid bare every reason I'd been hiding without changing his expression once, gave a light nod.
Hah... Is that guy a machine or a person?
And he still didn't change expression at all.
By the time I got back to the bus, more or less carried there by Mr. Meursault, Ms. Rodion's eyes went wide and she rushed at me.
She came close and grabbed my shoulders...
"Wow, what's all this? You went out and bought it?"
"Uwaagh... Ms. Rodion, please save me..."
"Ah, sorry."
Ms. Rodion, who had been shaking me back and forth, finally let go of my shoulders, looking apologetic.
I almost died...
"Hmm..."
"Buying snacks and things with my own money to stock the break room wasn't against the rules, was it?"
While there was a Sinner cheering like this, our guide, Vergilius, looked rather displeased.
But I'd prepared a countermeasure. Usually, that man's weakness is Charon.
"Here, there's plenty for our bus driver too."
"Wow, candy. Ver, can Charon eat it?"
"...Brush your teeth after you eat. And don't eat too much."
"Charon happy. Doctor man good. Mephi says good too."
Good, success.
Realizing I'd won, I looked at Vergilius in a half-excited state, and he was faintly curling the corners of his mouth as if amused.
"Next time, bring some for me too."
...So this guy was joking. Needlessly affectionate, too. He used to growl at me like that?
"I packed plenty, so help yourself. If you want anything specific, just say so. Ah, Mr. Meursault. Could you take these to the break room for me?"
"Understood."
Hm, nice. If I need a favor in the future, I should ask more often. Mr. Meursault is pretty great as a coworker.
"But Sara, what's this about? You don't usually buy stuff like this. Did something happen?"
"Ah, I happened to get some money this time. From something in the past."
"...Hey, Sara. I just thought of something."
Wait, why do I suddenly feel uneasy?
"Sara's old story. Didn't you say you'd tell us about it before?"
"Ah."
Damn. Bad omens never miss.