Somehow, Living Life in Another World is Wrong, as I Expected Ch. 15.4 (Patreon)

Randomness was responsible for most of the things people liked to take credit for. Where you were born, who your parents were, whether the person assigned to sit beside you happened to enjoy the same things you did. An entire school life could apparently be improved by drawing the right seat during a classroom reshuffle. Mine had generally involved calculating the distance to the door and hoping that nobody behind me needed to borrow an eraser. Some of us had more realistic expectations of the lottery.

There were people who looked back on those things and called them fate. They had met someone on a rainy afternoon, shared an umbrella, and eventually acquired enough confidence in the relationship to tell everyone that they had been destined for each other. Congratulations. Somewhere else, two people had shared an umbrella, arrived at their respective destinations, and never spoken again. Presumably, fate had been busy and subcontracted that particular encounter.

The second version rarely made it into a story. There was nothing to do with it afterwards. You couldn't bring the umbrella back two hundred pages later without making the reader wonder whether they were supposed to remember who owned it. In real life, however, you could lend someone an umbrella and simply never get it back. No reunion, no explanation, just one less umbrella. I considered this a far more compelling argument for staying indoors than any of the speeches about destined encounters.

Most of life worked that way. People came and went without resolving whatever impression they had left on you. Something that had kept you awake for three nights could become irrelevant by the following Monday, while an offhand remark you barely remembered making could continue bothering somebody for years. There were too many people involved, each of them occupied with things you would never hear about. Expecting the result to make sense from your particular position was asking quite a lot.

And yet, I kept looking at this world and recognizing the arrangement.

That was why the light novel comparison refused to leave me alone. I could get used to magic. I had already reached the point where working metal without it sounded unnecessarily inconvenient, which probably said something about how quickly I abandoned my principles when offered a shortcut. Even the monsters could eventually have become an unpleasant fact about the place I lived. Japan had earthquakes. This place had a flying whale. The disaster preparedness instructions would require some revision.

What bothered me was how often the things that happened ended up belonging together. An acquaintance had a connection to someone important. A problem introduced us to the people involved in the next one. Natsuki would get himself into trouble, and by the time we were done dealing with it, the number of people whose circumstances I needed to know had increased again. Somehow, I kept meeting the ones whose names would be worth remembering.

Of course, I couldn't tell you what would happen tomorrow. My recent experiences should have established that rather thoroughly. But after enough of them, I could feel myself waiting for certain things. The explanation behind an odd remark. The next appearance of someone who had left too much unsaid. There was a recognizable order beneath all that confusion, enough that even an afternoon of sitting around began to feel like a deliberate choice.

Predictable randomness. An absurd expression, which made it particularly annoying that I knew exactly what I meant by it. There was a structure here that wouldn't, shouldn't, have existed if this were a real world, and I had been following it long enough to start anticipating where the breaks would come.

Then again, I was exceptionally good at finding reasons to believe what I already suspected. Give me a smile and sufficient time, and I could produce an entire explanation for why the person smiling secretly disliked me. Perhaps I should have considered my qualifications before appointing myself the authority on whether other people existed.

Felt had laughed just now. There had been nothing especially remarkable about it, and I could probably have described the scene well enough to make it sound ordinary. That wouldn't account for the fact that I knew her laugh, or that I had noticed Astrea looking a little more at ease, or that part of me had been pleased before I started inventing reasons to dread it.

I had been here long enough for those things to happen without thinking. Long enough that getting home meant leaving people behind again.

Even I wasn't sure what was real and what was fake anymore. How did you call something fake when you had spent so long living it?

…

“Ah, I nearly forgot.” Astrea's smile changed as he remembered something, and I looked up from the book with the caution his previous contribution had earned, “I haven't congratulated you on your appointment. I meant to say so when I arrived.”

“If this is another attempt to bring Karsten into the conversation, I'd appreciate a little warning.” I settled the book against my knee, keeping one finger between the pages, “I'd like to prepare something that sounds less defensive this time.”

“The title of Black.” He clarified, though the amusement in his eyes suggested he was aware that leaving that part out had been a mistake, “Congratulations, Hikigaya-san. I was pleased to hear the announcement.”

Felt had just about recovered from laughing. I could tell because she was watching me with renewed interest, apparently willing to wait through an entirely separate conversation for another opportunity. Rom, at least, had returned to his drink. I decided to take whatever privacy that offered.

“Thanks.” It came out a little flat, even to my ears. Astrea had managed to be sincere again before I had finished being irritated with him, “Though you probably could have congratulated me on being allowed to sit down afterwards. That was the part I enjoyed.”

“I heard you handled yourself well.”

“Who told you that?”

“Would you prefer that I hadn't?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He waited, looking entirely too comfortable in the chair I had provided. Apparently, allowing one joke had given him ideas about the future of our conversations. “I'm trying to decide how much of what they said I need to correct.”

“Boss, no offense, but I doubt that anyone had any expectations outta ya.” Felt said, apparently deciding that my concern for the accuracy of public opinion required her assistance. I looked toward the counter, where she was sorting the last of the coins with the satisfaction of someone who had contributed something useful.

Ouch, but valid. “Thank you. I'll remember to bring you along next time they ask me to speak. You can introduce me.”

“I think you gave them reason to listen.” Astrea said before Felt could accept a position she was entirely too qualified for. His smile had softened, though I could still see the amusement in it, “But I didn't come here to make you defend your speech. I wanted to congratulate you.”

“Then consider me congratulated.” I eased back into my chair, letting the book fall open again, “If everyone could leave it at that for the rest of the afternoon, I might actually finish this.” Felt returned to her coins, and Astrea settled back as though he was willing to let me try. I had just found the sentence I'd abandoned when footsteps stopped outside.

The door opened.

For fuck's sake.

I turned with the beginning of a greeting which, for the good of the business, required another attempt before being spoken aloud. Jukulius stepped inside, one hand remaining on the door as his gaze passed over the counter and found us. He paused when he saw who occupied the other chair, and the formal expression he had brought in with him softened.

“Reinhard. This is a pleasant surprise.” His smile looked considerably less practiced than the one I usually received, “I hadn't realized you were here.”

“Julius.” Astrea stood, moving his chair back with a care that spared my floor another mark, “I came to see Hikigaya-san. Have you been well?”

“Quite well, thank you. I hope I haven't interrupted anything.”

I glanced down at the page I had barely managed to find again. There was probably a polite way to explain that we'd just reached an agreement about leaving me alone, but Felt was already watching me. Giving her another opening would only prolong things.

“We were talking.” I closed the book, accepting that finding my place again would become tomorrow's problem, “I assume you haven't come to ask whether I look healthy enough to be working.”

His gaze dropped briefly to the cover before returning to my face. “You appear to be managing your workload.”

Astrea made a small sound beside me. I chose to believe he was clearing his throat.

“Excellent. You can tell anyone who asks.” I laid the book aside and straightened, though Jukulius had yet to move away from the entrance. “Was there something you needed?”

“There was.” He glanced past Astrea toward me, recovering the manner he used when there was something official to say, “I'm here to escort my liege. Lady Anastasia wished to speak with you, if you have a moment.”

That explained why he was still holding the door. It also gave me several new concerns to occupy the moment he had just requested.

“Now, Julius, ya make it sound like we're summonin' him.” The voice came from outside, warm with amusement, and Jukulius stepped aside before its owner appeared, “If I wanted him frettin' before we'd even met, I'd have sent a letter, wouldn't I?”

Anastasia Hoshin entered with a light step, the ends of her pale purple hair shifting against the white fur around her shoulders. Her clothes looked expensive in a way that encouraged me to check whether anything nearby had a sharp edge. There were several things. It was a blacksmith's shop. Presumably, she had accounted for that before coming here.

Her attention went to Astrea first, and she greeted him with an easy smile before looking toward Felt and Rom. Neither received the dismissive glance I had half expected. She took in the counter, the coins Felt was putting away, the shelves behind us, then turned to me with the satisfied air of someone who had found the place she was looking for.

There was a determined gleam in her eyes. Whatever had brought her here, she had already spent rather more time thinking about it than I had.

“So, you're Hikigaya-san. Anastasia Hoshin. Lovely to meet ya.” She stopped a comfortable distance from the chairs, leaving me enough room to stand without climbing over anything, “Been meanin' to meet the fellow who's been keepin' my people so well equipped, y'know.”

I got to my feet. Hoshin's mercenaries had certainly done their part to make sure I remained employed after returning from Mathers' mansion. Felt's accounts had been very clear on that point, as had the shelves I needed to restock.

“They seemed satisfied with what they bought.” I said, “Unless there's been a problem?”

“Oh, they've been fair pleased, I can tell ya.” Her eyes returned briefly to the weapons on display, “Enough to get me curious and bring me round myself. They did leave ya somethin' for your other customers, didn't they?”

Felt looked pleased. I could practically see her calculating how much another happy customer might buy, regardless of whether the customer in question already employed enough people to empty the shop.

“They paid for what they took.” I answered, “They're welcome to do it again. Though advance warning would be appreciated next time.”

“I'll be sure to let 'em know.” Hoshin's smile widened a little, as though we had found something agreeable between us, “Today, though, it's a bit of your time I'm after. Think ya could spare me some?”

Rom was already setting his cup aside. Felt gathered the last loose coins, clearing the counter while watching Hoshin with an interest I would have preferred her to reserve for the accounts. Beside me, Astrea moved his chair to give us more room. Jukulius let the door close gently behind him.

I had somehow become the only person in my shop who was still considering whether this conversation would happen.

And, looking at Hoshin, I couldn't even claim to be surprised.

I had already interacted with the other candidates. Their concerns had reached me through one acquaintance or another until knowing people who might eventually rule the country had become an inconvenient part of running a business. Hoshin alone had remained a name attached to other people's visits, and now here she was, arriving during the afternoon I had supposedly been allowed to spend doing nothing.

Of course. Introduce the last candidate while the protagonist was occupied elsewhere. Give her a few pages with the grumpy blacksmith, establish whatever connection would become relevant later, and there would be one less thing to explain when the main story resumed. A perfectly reasonable use of a side story. I could almost hear myself recommending that someone read it before starting the next volume.

Predictable randomness. I hadn't known who would open the door, but apparently there had always been someone due to come through it.

I reached for a chair, and Hoshin thanked me as though I had offered it without any reservations at all.

Somewhere along the way, my afternoon side story had become required reading.

…