The bandage was too white. That was Daisuke's first thought when he arrived at the guild that morning and rolled up his jacket sleeve to check his left arm. He'd rewrapped it again last night, and now it was pristine white. Too new-looking by far. (Well, nobody's going to pay that much attention.) He told himself this while settling into his usual seat behind the wooden counter and opening the ledger. Melta, the office clerk, was the first to approach him after he'd clocked in. Mid-thirties, obsessed with paperwork to an almost unnatural degree. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "Oh, Shinji. Your left arm again?" she said. "...Just a fall on the stairs," Daisuke replied without looking up from the ledger. "That's three days in a row." "The step height is uneven." Melta stared at him for a while. Then she walked briskly toward the filing cabinet, and the sound of papers being pulled out followed. A stack of documents. She returned to her seat with a small sigh. "Well, I'll fill out a maintenance request form. We'll need the branch director's seal, but if stair accidents keep happening at this rate, it's a facility management obligation," she said. "—Wait," Daisuke said. His hand pressed down on the ledger with sudden force. "No, that's not necessary." "But three days in a row—" "I'm fine. Let's just see how it goes." "Shinji, facility management records have a five-year retention requirement. If accidents keep happening and there's no report filed, it could become a problem later—" "Let's just see how it goes," he said firmly. Melta looked slightly taken aback, then put the documents away with an "I see." Daisuke felt relieved. He kept his expression neutral and returned his eyes to the ledger. At lunch, when he returned to his seat, something was waiting beside his bento box. A piece of paper. A familiar format. A draft of a facility maintenance request form. Written in pencil: "Staff injury from stair tread defect (three incidents)." (She left a draft...) Daisuke checked his surroundings. Melta was in the break room. The other staff members were away from their desks. He quietly folded the paper into quarters and dropped it into the document disposal box. It disappeared without a sound. He stood there for a moment, then let out a wry smile. (The instincts of an office worker are truly troublesome. Lies multiply like documents.) The problem didn't end at lunch. --- An bright orange color burst through the afternoon window counter. A ponytail swayed despite the absence of any breeze. Large turquoise eyes swept across the shop before heading straight for Daisuke's counter. The girl looked about sixteen. From the short sword at her waist, she was clearly an apprentice adventurer. A small beauty mark on her cheek. She was breathing slightly hard—she must have run here. "I've come to report the rat extermination!" she said. She placed the report on the counter. Daisuke took it and checked. All the required fields were filled in. Date, number defeated, confirmation signature. The standard format for E-rank requests that Feria branch processed about twenty of each month. "Confirmed. Payment will be processed on the settlement day in two days," he said. "Yes!" she replied. He reached for the next document. But the girl didn't move. He felt her gaze. Daisuke looked up from the papers in his hand. The girl's eyes were fixed on his left arm. "That bandage," she said. "Stairs," he replied. "Doesn't it look like bite marks?" He stopped for a moment. Just a moment, but it felt long. Daisuke kept his expression unchanged and lowered his gaze to the next document. "You can tell from under the bandage?" he asked. "From the outline. It looks like a Gorg Worm bite to me," she said. "I'm an office worker," he said. "But your eyes don't look like an office worker's, do they?" What kind of observation is that, Daisuke thought silently. He continued checking the documents without responding. "I'm not familiar with the concept of 'adventurer eyes,'" he said. "It's more like... there's something deeper in them. Most office people are way more vacant, you know?" she said. "That's a prejudice against office workers." "It's not prejudice, it's observation!" she said firmly, her eyes locked in debate mode. Daisuke tore off a copy and handed it to her. "Here's your copy of the request. The settlement date is posted on the bulletin board. Next customer, please," he said. The girl took the copy but didn't move from the counter. An elderly farmer was waiting behind her. "Young lady, you're done, aren't you?" the old man said. "Oh, sorry!" she said, finally moving. Daisuke felt relieved and took the farmer's request, returning to his normal duties. (Too sharp.) Had she seen the stains on the bandage? Read the outline? Either way, her observation skills were not to be underestimated. --- That night. Daisuke took an exploration lamp from the storage shed and went into the garden. The air was cold. He stood before the hole surrounded by boards and peered in. The pale blue light of stone steps floated up from the darkness below. He checked his conquest notes. Three days from the first to today. The time needed to defeat the Gorg Worm had shortened from twenty minutes to fifteen to ten. His method was refined. Shine the exploration lamp directly at the compound eyes for three to five seconds of paralysis, then strike the abdominal joints three times with a stake driver. Even the hard shell was thin between the joints. Strike accurately there and it would fall. He could feel the knowledge from documents binding itself to his body's movements each night. He placed his foot on the first step. The second. The third. Then he heard the faint sound of fabric brushing. Daisuke didn't notice. The shadow of the storage shed was too dark, and his attention wasn't directed that way. He continued down the stone steps. When he climbed back up thirty minutes later, his left arm's bandage had one new addition. Dirt clung to his knees. He'd defeated two Gorg Worms in eleven minutes. It took a bit longer because he'd been testing a new pattern—reading the wall's luminescence timing to lure them. He had something to write in his conquest notes. With that thought, he emerged onto the surface. "I saw everything," a voice said. An orange ponytail emerged from the shadow of the storage shed. The same face as this afternoon. The same large turquoise eyes. But now they were grinning. Daisuke froze for three seconds. (Since when—) "From when you went down," she said. He set aside the question of how she knew what he was thinking. "Be my teacher," she said. "Go home," he replied. "I won't." "I have nothing to teach you." "A person who cut Gorg Worm time from twenty minutes to ten in three days shouldn't say that. I was measuring," she said. Daisuke put his hand to his forehead. "Where were you measuring from?" he asked. "I brought a sand timer to the storage shed roof," she said. (A sand timer on the roof...) She was thorough. But that wasn't the real problem. "Are you aware of the Ruin Management Ordinance? Approaching a ruin without filing a report is—" "You haven't filed a report either, have you, Shinji?" she said. "...Please go home," he said. "Think about it," she said. She bowed politely and left. Her ponytail disappeared into the night darkness. Daisuke stood there for a while, gripping his conquest notes tightly. --- The next morning. When he opened the window, a cushion was sitting in the alley in front of his house. Yulia was sitting on it. She had a bento box open on her lap. Dried fruit, hard bread, and a water bottle. All the equipment for a long siege. "Go home," he said. "I won't," she replied. The response came too quickly. Daisuke closed the window. The next day, Yulia was still sitting there. The same cushion. The bento was different this time—dried lamb meat had been added. "Go home," he said. "I won't," she replied. He closed the window again. On the third morning. When he opened the window, Yulia was sitting up straight on the cushion. She was unwrapping her bento. Hard bread, dried fruit, preserved salted meat, and a large water bottle. By the third day, her bento had definitely become more substantial. It was clearly prepared for a long campaign. Daisuke looked down at her for a while. "...You're well-prepared," he said, the words slipping out. Yulia looked up and gave him a beaming smile. "Are you complimenting me?" she asked. "I'm not," he said, closing the window. While boiling water in the kitchen, Daisuke thought. That bento composition was not to be underestimated. Dried fruit was high-calorie and light. Hard bread was filling. The water bottle held more than a day's worth. For a sixteen-year-old girl to assemble a supply plan this logical on her own was impressive. (This is troublesome.) He really was troubled. He couldn't think of words to drive her away. --- In the second floor of the neighboring house. Seidel Lynn sat by the window, writing something in a small notebook. Her deep purple short bob caught the morning light streaming through the window. Golden eyes quietly tracked Yulia's movements in the alley and Daisuke looking down from his window. A silver pendant hung from her neck, glinting against her chest. She opened her notebook. Fine handwriting filled the pages. A record of Shinji's behavioral patterns. Window check at 7 AM. Another check before noon. Outside after 9 PM. Returns one to one and a half hours later. Bandage always increases after going out. Four new bandages in three days. Lynn moved her pen. She added a new section: "Changes since Yulia Kahn's appearance"—departure time delayed by thirty minutes. Earlier returns. Increased window checks. (He's hiding something.) She'd known that from the start. The way the bandages increased, the nighttime outings, the kitchen light staying on for over an hour after he returned. These weren't separate events but converging on one thing. Change began after Yulia arrived. Shinji opens the window and says "go home." Yulia says "I won't." This has continued for three days. During that time, Shinji's departure time shifted. Did he need more preparation time, or—had he become conscious of being watched? Lynn closed her notebook and looked out the window. In the alley, Yulia was chewing hard bread while gazing at the sky. A carefree expression. That girl noticed nothing. Not that she was being observed from the neighboring house, nor the reason why. (But I still lack proof.) What was Shinji doing? Going out at night, returning with new wounds. That alone proved nothing. Baseless speculation remained mere speculation. Lynn touched the silver pendant with her fingertips. The cold metal felt familiar. She would watch a little longer. --- Daisuke opened his conquest notes in early afternoon and created an entry for day four. He wrote down the wall luminescence patterns. There was a time when the light grew stronger in the back corridor. During those times, the Gorg Worms' movements also became more active. Probably related to the wavelength of residual lamp essence—the energy remaining from the Lamp History civilization buried underground. If that was true, he could reduce encounters by targeting times when the light was weak. As he wrote, something occurred to him. At this rate, he could reach the back of the corridor within a week. What lay beyond, he didn't know. There might be stronger monsters. Or nothing at all. Unclassified ruins outside Gray Wing Administration weren't precisely categorized for danger, so an E-rank section could suddenly become C-rank or higher. He understood the Ruin Management Ordinance. But. (Just a little more.) He set down his pen and looked out the window. His gaze turned to the alley. Yulia was still there. Even into the third day's afternoon, she remained seated. The same cushion. The