The morning at the inn "Cradle of the Tide" arrives with the scent of the shore. Wind from the Coral Sea crosses the stone-paved streets of the port town Toruma, gently rattling the windows of the old wooden lodging. From the first-floor dining hall comes the sound of Mireene, the innkeeper, stirring something in an iron pot. Bread and soup, salted small fish. The same menu as last night, but Shouta had gratefully finished it all. A small room on the second floor. Shouta adjusted the fluffy creature in his arms onto his lap while gazing out the window. The blue moon was no longer visible. Instead, thin clouds covered half the sky, with morning light filtering through the gaps. (I need to organize Luna's words from last night again.) The Pyrite Merchant Consortium—a commercial guild that controls nearly all continental distribution—might attack them as unlicensed business. Luna had said it quietly last night at the Red Anchor Tavern. Shouta had answered then, "I haven't thought about it. I just started thinking about it now." He thought it was an honest response. But now, the weight of those words was slowly pressing down on him. A knock sounded at the door. "It's open," Shouta said. The door opened quietly. Luna entered. She was still in her traveling clothes, carrying a leather bag in one hand. Her silver-long hair gleamed faintly in the morning light, and her water-blue eyes quickly scanned the room. She glanced at the fluffy creature on Shouta's lap for a moment, then shifted her gaze to his face. "Are you prepared?" Luna asked. "We're starting business preparations today, right?" Shouta replied. "That is why I am here," Luna said. Luna placed her leather bag on a small table in the corner of the room and pulled out a chair. From inside, she withdrew a notebook, a quill pen, an inkwell, and a folded large sheet of paper. Her movements were efficient—like those of a researcher heading out on an investigation. Shouta also picked up the fluffy creature and sat in the chair across from her. "Should we start with the sign?" Shouta asked. "It is the starting point for attracting customers. We need to decide what to communicate before we even rent a location," Luna said. "That makes sense. Um..." Shouta said. Shouta thought for a moment. This new profession in this world—the fluffy creature distribution merchant—was still unknown to everyone. Getting people to know about it first was the priority. So what should he write? "Something like 'You can interact with fluffy creatures.' Keep it simple," Shouta suggested. "Let me write it down," Luna said. Luna picked up the quill pen and began writing smoothly. Shouta couldn't read the characters. For Luna, who had studied at the Kanaris Academy of Life Essence Studies—the only specialized research institution in essence-responsive biology—such writing was natural. But to Shouta's eyes, it looked like nothing but complex patterns. After several dozen seconds, Luna turned the paper toward Shouta. Neat characters were lined up in rows. "Can you read it?" Shouta asked. Luna took a breath and read aloud. "'Contact experience with essence-responsive organisms (Auram resonance entities, classification uncertain), consultation on fees per person,'" Luna read. Silence. "...Is that really what goes on a sign?" Shouta asked. "I wrote it accurately," Luna said. "Isn't it too accurate?" Shouta asked. "There should be no lack of information," Luna said. Shouta mentally had a random passerby read the sign text. No matter how he thought about it, it sounded like a funeral home notice. Or maybe it was even more incomprehensible than that. Just then, a child ran past outside the window. Shouta quickly stuck his face out the window. "Excuse me for a moment!" Shouta called out. The child stopped and turned around. A boy about seven or eight years old. "Do you know what this says?" Shouta asked, showing the paper through the window. The child tilted his head. "I don't know," the boy said. "What does it mean?" Shouta asked. "I don't know that either," the boy said. The child ran off. When Shouta looked at Luna, she was writing something in her notebook without changing her expression. "Are you recording that?" Shouta asked. "Confirming general awareness," Luna said. "That's not really the problem though," Shouta said. Conveniently timed, the sound of footsteps came from downstairs as an elderly merchant-like figure climbed the stairs. When Shouta called out in the hallway, "Um, can you read this?" the old merchant adjusted his glasses, peered at the paper, and said, "...Is this a notice of condolences?" Shouta quietly returned to the room and sat deeply in his chair. "I think accurate language and language that actually communicates are two different things," Shouta said. "I am aware of that," Luna said. "You were aware of it?" Shouta asked. "I wrote it correctly as an academic paper. Whether it is correct as a sign is a separate matter," Luna said. Shouta looked at Luna for a while. She wasn't angry. He was simply realizing anew that the knowledge she possessed and the knowledge he needed were fundamentally different in nature. "Then this time, I'll think of the content. Could you just put it into writing?" Shouta asked. "That is acceptable," Luna said. "Also, I should probably learn the Verdian characters too, right? Could you write out something like a reference list?" Shouta asked. Luna opened her notebook and answered matter-of-factly. "There are four systems," Luna said. "...What?" Shouta asked. "Verdian script has four systems. Commercial characters, academic characters, archaic characters, and colloquial abbreviations. In daily use, commercial characters and colloquial abbreviations are used, but commercial characters are appropriate for signs. Commercial characters alone have forty-three basic letters, and including variants, it exceeds eighty characters," Luna said. Shouta's expression slowly faded from his face. The fluffy creature vibrated quietly. As if to comfort him. ◆ They set aside the sign problem for now and moved on to discussing pricing. After thinking for a moment, Shouta said, "Five hundred sedra per experience." Luna took out her notebook. The motion seemed slightly hurried. "The average monthly income of a traveling merchant is thirty sedra. Annually, that comes to about three hundred sixty sedra," Luna said. Shouta did the math. One experience session cost more than a traveling merchant's annual income. "...Five sedra," Shouta said. "A field research assistant's daily wage is twenty sedra. Considering the labor involved in contact with fluffy creatures, five sedra is not adequate compensation," Luna said. "Then what sedra would be the right answer?" Shouta asked. Luna paused for a moment. The sound of notebook pages turning filled the silence. "I am not specialized in commerce either, so I do not know the correct answer," Luna said. Shouta looked at the ceiling. "The way you say 'I don't know the answer' is kind of tough," Shouta said. "I stated a fact," Luna said. "No, I understand," Shouta said. The price hung in the air unresolved, and the two moved on to the next problem. ◆ The Toruma branch of the Wanderer Mediation Office was a stone building facing a street near the harbor. A male staff member in his thirties sat at the reception desk, and when he saw Shouta and Luna, he asked with practiced ease, "What can I help you with?" "We'd like to register a new occupation. As a business dealing with fluffy creatures—the protection and distribution of essence-responsive organisms," Shouta said. The staff member nodded and pulled a thick ledger from the shelf. The cover read "Occupational Classification Registry—Fourth Revised Edition." The sound of pages turning was oddly leisurely. Shouta waited. Luna waited too. The staff member kept turning pages. "...Nobility-exclusive animal keeper is number one ninety-seven," the staff member said. "That's not it," Shouta said. "Essence beast subjugation specialist is number three twenty-six," the staff member said. "That's not it either. It's more like sales and brokerage," Shouta said. The staff member flipped through the ledger from the beginning again. After a while, he said flatly: "No such occupational classification exists," the staff member said. "It doesn't exist?" Shouta asked. "It does not," the staff member said. "Then could you create a new one?" Shouta asked. The staff member pulled out an even thicker booklet from another shelf. The cover read "New Occupational Application Regulations—With Implementation Details." "You need seventeen pages of new occupational application forms. The review period is a minimum of three months, and notification to the commercial guild is required," the staff member said. Shouta froze. Luna began checking the documents one by one from beside him. Quietly, but swiftly. Her finger stopped at the fourteenth page. "A certified essence technician credential is required," Luna said. "Essence technique—the skill of handling essence in the atmosphere—a credential for that?" Shouta asked. "Yes. It appears that businesses dealing with essence-responsive organisms must provide proof of essence safety management capability," Luna said. "I can't use essence techniques," Shouta said. "I am aware," Luna said. "What should we do?" Shouta asked. "I cannot make a judgment at this time," Luna said. The staff member asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with?" Both shook their heads simultaneously. ◆ Carrying the mountain of application documents back to the inn, the sky visible from the window of their room began turning orange. In the port town of Toruma, the wind grew stronger as dusk fell. The scent of salt from the gaps in the stone pavement became slightly cooler. Shouta sat in a chair and placed the stack of documents on the table. The fluffy creature remained quiet on his lap. Luna sat across from him with her notebook open, gazing at the pages without particularly writing anything. For a while, neither of them said anything. Shouta spoke first. "Can I tell you about something from Japanese high school? It's completely unrelated," Shouta said. Luna looked up from her notebook and met his eyes. "There was a time when the relationships in my class got messy. I wasn't directly involved, but I couldn't just leave it alone. I volunteered to be a mediator without being asked. Then I misread the situation and made things worse. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I ended up making everyone uncomfortable," Shouta said. He laughed as he spoke. "I'm good at trying to be helpful and just spinning my wheels," Shouta said. It was the kind of tone that laughed it off. But something seeped through those words—a bitterness he hadn't fully processed himself. Luna didn't respond immediately. From outside the window, the sound of birds came from the direction of the harbor. The wheels of cargo carts struck the stone pavement. The usual sounds of Toruma at dusk. After a while, Luna spoke, her eyes still on her notebook. "For seven years, I read the extinction records of fluffy creatures in the Kanaris archives. Records of the process by which wild populations decreased. When, where, and how much was lost. I understand it all accurately," Luna said. Shouta looked up. "But in those seven years, I never managed to be useful even once," Luna said. Her voice was quiet. Not emotional, just stating facts. That made the weight of her words stand out even more. Shouta looked at Luna's profile. Her silver hair was dyed orange by the light streaming through the window. Her water-blue eyes were fixed on the notebook pages. (Why do her words hit me so hard right now?) He couldn't process it well. A sense of resonance, if you could call it that. Their shapes were different, but the same place hurt—something like that. Shouta didn't have the capacity to put it into