AMLP 13

Chapter 13

– *Clink, clink.*

The sound of ceramic plates clinking together came from behind him.

Raimund wanted nothing more than to leave this place right now and take a walk in a quiet park to calm down, but

he forced himself to stay seated, gritting his teeth.

After a moment, the white-haired man returned carrying two cups from which fragrant steam was rising. Instead of

clearing the cluttered table, he placed one mug atop a tall stack of books and plopped down onto the sofa opposite.

“Here, enjoy.”

“……”

Without a word, the man began sipping the contents of his cup. Glancing at him, Raimund took a sip of the dark

liquid rippling inside the warm cup.

The first thing that greeted him was a rich, floral aroma. Then came a slightly bitter aftertaste that cleansed his

tongue, and the liquid, sliding down his throat, warmed his stomach pleasantly.

It was a welcome sensation, perfect for England’s chilly weather.

Wait a minute. This isn’t synthetic tea, is it? Could this actually be real black tea?

As he eyed the cup suspiciously, the white-haired man spoke first.

“You managed to escape the brain storage tank and acquire a new body, I see. This proves my eyes weren’t mistaken.”

Just as he’d suspected. This man was indeed the same person who had placed Raimund’s head into that tank.

The realization made him spring to his feet and bow hurriedly to the other man.

“Th-thank you for back then. I don’t fully understand what happened, but it’s a tremendous relief that you took me—

well, strictly speaking, my head—that far.”

“How did you get out?”

“Pardon?”

“I asked how you escaped. I heard you were transferred to a quarantine facility.”

“I just… they released me and asked if I’d sign a contract.”

“A contract? What kind of contract? As my exclusive assistant?”

“An external service contract.”

“Why?”

The man wrinkled his face as if it were preposterous. Why, indeed!

Raimund realized then that this man had quite a fierce countenance. He looked like someone with a temper.

Suddenly, he recalled Cosette’s dubious expression.

Did Cosette perhaps know something about this man?

No, no. Let’s not have any preconceptions.

There must be a reason this man, who had seemed relaxed until bringing the tea, was suddenly grilling him.

He tried to rationalize the man’s behavior and reviewed his own words, but no matter how he thought about it, he

didn’t recall saying anything offensive. They’d barely exchanged a few sentences!

Nevertheless, the man glared at him with cold, snake-like blue eyes and pressed further.

“Why, how exactly did you sign an external service contract? Are you not going to answer? I’m asking you.”

“Even if you ask that, all I can say is that the Foundation Consortium made the offer first…”

“Did you not receive the number No.101 at the quarantine facility? You don’t even have the capability or knowledge

to be suitable for a service contract, so how could the Foundation offer you one?”

“My name is Raimund Geppert. Not something like No.101. And I had no choice but to sign the contract. I borrowed

a large sum of money from the Foundation.”

“You borrowed money too?”

“Yokanán said it was such a large sum that I should repay it with my labor.”

As Raimund asserted himself firmly, the man’s irritation flared visibly. He seemed to be muttering something—perhaps a lament of sorts—

but to Raimund, it felt like another rejection.

After complaining to himself for a while, the man rose coldly and declared,

“I suspect the Foundation Consortium expects us to work as a team, but I have no intention of doing so.”

“Pardon?”

“What I wanted was an assistant who would listen to me. When you showed up after I put in the request to the Foundation Consortium, I had some hope. But I’ve been thoroughly deceived.”

“Wait. What request did you make?”

“What I wanted was my assistant, not an equal-positioned external contractor. We’ll share the lodging, but let’s

respect each other’s privacy. Don’t meddle in each other’s affairs. That is all.”

“Wait! Excuse me, you can’t just—”

With those words, the man briskly went upstairs. Without even exchanging names.

Startled, Raimund sprang up, but the sound of a door slamming shut echoed loudly from above.

Dismayed, he stood alone in the living room, filled with the fragrant aroma of black tea, and thought of Cosette.

-*If he won’t open the door, contact me.*

So you knew the person I’d be living with had a temper, Cosette. But why did you only give me vague hints?

Raimund stared incredulously at the mug before him, as if waiting for the man who’d gone upstairs to come back down and apologize.

—

What’s the first thing to do when placed in an unfamiliar environment?

Reconnaissance.

Just as he’d done when he left the orphanage and first entered Residential District 5, Raimund decided to thoroughly explore this three-story mansion.

After tiptoeing around quietly and surveying the premises, he arrived at a single conclusion.

**This house is a dump.**

There was no exaggeration in that statement. 36 Poster Street was more than spacious enough for one person—it was three stories, after all.

But trash was overflowing everywhere.

Dust puffed up with every step on the carpet. The living room table was piled high with stained books, with a dried-on jam breakfast plate wedged among them.

The vintage kitchen sink was covered in mysterious black stains and reeked strongly of rotting eggs.

The pantry contained a box of cereal seven months past its expiration date and a carton of milk that had turned into cheese.

On the dining table, instead of glasses, dishes, or small vases, cutouts of Shelter News headlines were arranged like a puzzle.

In the fridge, which made one wonder what he actually ate, there was only a loaf of frozen bread, one egg, and a nearly empty jar of marmalade.

Ah, and I almost forgot the seven transparent cups sloshing with strange liquids and the dead rat with a syringe stuck in its head.

The basement storage held nothing but a humming eco-friendly fuel boiler.

In the three rooms on the third floor, there were piles of clothes, underwear, and over thirty pairs of men’s shoes, discarded who knows when.

Having seen this much, Raimund quietly closed the door.

*’This is what happens when one person uses a house as they please.’*

After seeing all this, he couldn’t even imagine what state the bathroom and toilet were in.

His own place in Residential District 5 was better than this. At least there, he hadn’t been so extravagant as to let milk naturally age into cheese!

Raimund had to make a decision.

Should he contact Cosette, request a transfer to another residence, and escape this dump?

Or should he accept it as fate?

Wait. Is this even something that needs a decision?

“You like fate, huh?”

Fuck that!

Raimund shouted inwardly, made his decision in two seconds, and dashed down to the first floor.

He remembered there was a handset in the entrance hallway.

He practically slid over, grabbed the grimy black receiver, and frantically turned the old-fashioned dial.

Cosette’s number, what was her number? He didn’t necessarily have to use a public phone booth, did he?

2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 2, 1.

With a pounding heart, he held the receiver to his ear—but heard nothing. No failure tone, no message saying the number didn’t exist, so Raimund waited.

And after a very short while—

-*Connected to code name Cosette line…*

“Cosette!”

-*Goodness, Geppert? That’s Friedrich’s number. So you made it to the house alright?*

“That’s not the issue right now. Something really, really serious is happening.”

-*Serious?*

Raimund gripped the receiver tightly with both hands and took a deep breath.

“The house is too dirty.”

A moment of silence.

Then, from the other end of the line, a burst of laughter struck his ear.

-*AHAHAHAHA! The house—*huff*—AHAHAHAHAHAHA!*

“Cosette, this isn’t a laughing matter. I’m serious. It’s really dirty. No joke, I genuinely can’t live here. And about that colleague in the same field you mentioned—he’s in absolutely no mood to talk to me.”

-*S-sorry, *sniff*. Ahem. So you’re having issues with Mr. Friedrich? The line indicates you got into the house fine.*

“He seems to hate the sight of me. He said we should each just do our own work from now on. Can’t I move somewhere else instead of this? It’s my lifelong wish. If I stay here, I’m guaranteed to get food poisoning, a respiratory illness, or a contagious disease—one of the three. I can guarantee it.*

-*That’s unfortunate. I’ve never visited Mr. Friedrich’s residence myself, so I didn’t know.*

“Isn’t there anything you can do?”

Please, please. Raimund squeezed his eyes shut and prayed earnestly.

He’d go anywhere, just not this godforsaken dump. Sleeping on the streets would be better!

But the world wasn’t so accommodating. Cosette replied in a still-cheerful but regretful tone.

-*Well, what can we do? As far as I know, there’s no suitable place available right now.*

“What? Why? You said the safety of Foundation Consortium personnel was important!”

-*It’s the ‘Foundation Consortium,’ Mr. Geppert. This matter is already settled and approved by upper management, and the management of external contractors isn’t even my jurisdiction. Of course, if Mr. Friedrich refused to open the door for you, I could go over and blow the door off its hinges myself, but relocating your residence is difficult.*

“Even if I collapse here from food poisoning?”

-*Hmm, in that case, I could send our medical team over! …Ah, come to think of it, there might be one option.*

An option! Raimund cheered inwardly.

“What is it? I’ll do anything!”

-*I recall there being an empty house in Residential District 4, but there’s a minor issue.*

“Issue?”

-*Every Foundation Consortium member who moved in there has died a horrible death within three months. Some say it’s a kind of jinx, but it’s unconfirmed. If you really don’t like 36 Poster Street, would you like to move there as a temporary measure?*

That’s not minor at all!

He felt like punching the version of himself from forty seconds ago who had cheered.

It seemed begging further was useless. Gritting his teeth, Raimund spoke quietly.

“I think it’d be better if you just pray I don’t die from eating cheese-milk from a contaminated dish. Thank you, Cosette.”

-*All I did was listen to your complaints, no need to thank me so much. Anyway, I hope you adapt well to your new home. Oh, the internal house phone is on a secure line, so feel free to call anytime. Bye!*

The lively, cheerful voice cut off abruptly. Raimund glared at the phone emitting its ‘buzz-buzz’ tone and slammed it down.

Fine. Good.

There’s no retreat now.

When he turned around, his eyes no longer held any admiration or hope for the three-story house.

Instead, only the grim determination of a man stepping into a dark, musty, smelly, damp, cluttered, contaminated, moldy, rusty, dusty, stale, utterly filthy demon’s lair shone through.

Raimund strode across the dusty carpet and threw open the living room windows.

Beneath the late morning sunlight, amid the floating dust motes, his resolve solidified.

“Watch me, Peony.”

For now, I shall display the cleaning techniques you passed on to me… right here!