Since the invention of clothing packets, fitting rooms had become little more than places to shield people from view while they changed packets. Once symbols of luxury in the kingdom, they had grown progressively smaller and darker, until now they could barely accommodate a single person.

Having changed inside, the captain cautiously opened the fitting-room door and emerged.

"... Query. Are these truly everyday clothes?"

The outfit was rather elaborately designed for everyday wear. A shirt-based top with added color and a pleated skirt layered with extra fabric gave her the look of an upper-class citizen who took some care with her appearance.

Unaccustomed to her new clothes, the captain kept glancing down at herself.

"Well? They feel completely different from what you were wearing before, don't they? This is the appeal of privately made goods, something you simply can't get from issued supplies..."

"... The clothes do not constrict my body. It feels as though I am wearing nothing at all."

"What?"

What on earth was she talking about? Like wearing nothing at all? That was an odd way to phrase a compliment.

"So you mean they're comfortable?"

"Negative. They are uncomfortable. They do not hug my body... There is not enough... tightness."

'There is no sensation of being held tightly. It feels as though everything in the world has let go of me...! I feel anxious!'

That was the problem? So she was uncomfortable because the clothes weren't uncomfortable?

What kind of life had you been living, Captain AB?

As baffled as I was, Smen was even more mortified by his failure to satisfy a customer.

"You seem to prefer a slightly tighter fit. An oversight. Entirely my oversight."

No. It wasn't that she liked a tight fit. She simply felt secure in uncomfortable clothes and restrictive circumstances. She'd been raised wrong.

With a solemn expression, Smen took another clothing packet and headed toward the Arche Avatar in one corner.

"I made a mistake. In the old days, I would take customers' measurements myself and ask about their tastes and preferences. Since clothing packets became so advanced, however, I have neglected those individual preferences. Working with an Arche Avatar makes it so easy to fit anyone's body."

An Arche Avatar. A magical mannequin modeled after the human body.

Clothing packets, one of the Military State's seven great inventions, could only be made with one of these Arche Avatars. Clothes were fashioned from alchemical fabric on the Arche Avatar, then turned into a packet. When that packet was inserted into someone else's biometric terminal, the clothing formed according to the avatar recorded in that person's terminal.

"I will reduce the size in certain areas here. It should fit a little snugly when you insert the packet."

Smen deftly altered the clothes on the Arche Avatar, then turned them back into a packet. The captain accepted the new packet, stepped straight into the fitting room, changed, and came back out.

"Ah. Much more comfortable!"

Despite her brighter tone, the captain's clothes were now every bit as tight as her uniform. I pressed a hand to my forehead, but Smen's eyes shone, delighted that his tight-fitting clothes had found their rightful wearer.

While he was at it, Smen gave her a dress, an everyday outfit, and a set of nightclothes. Taking the packets, the captain held out a hand toward me and began searching her pocket.

"I will pay."

Before she could produce any money, however, Smen bowed politely and declined.

"How could I accept money from a guest of Mr. Hughes? Your wearing them is payment enough."

"Negative. That would constitute accepting a bribe. I cannot accept financial compensation from you or anyone else."

The captain was adamant. Smen sighed quietly, then bowed lower, as though he had no other choice.

"Then I suppose it cannot be helped. Fifty alke, please."

Even the most basic factory-made, standard-issue shirt cost fifty alke apiece. Three custom-made clothing packets for fifty alke was practically a giveaway.

Had the captain known even a little about market prices, she would have found that strange. But...

'I have only ever used issued equipment and supplies, so I am unfamiliar with market prices... But fifty alke? That seems low compared to my salary...?'

Of course it did. Smen had slashed the price for her. But I made a fuss before she could even grow suspicious.

"What, fifty alke? Smen, you've become quite the merchant since I last saw you! Just how rich are you planning to get, charging that much?"

'What? A merchant? ... Ah. So that is what you mean.'

So he still bristled instinctively at being called that. Still, Smen was a seasoned tailor, a professional experienced in accommodating not only clothes but noble egos as well.

Without losing his composure, he played along.

"Please understand. You may be Mr. Hughes's guest, but this old man is still a pathetic creature who will starve without money."

"Well, it can't be helped. But that's fine! A captain's salary should be much more than this!"

"Surely I ought to overcharge those who can afford it. Of course, if even a captain's salary cannot cover it, you need not pay."

They said three people conspiring could conjure a tiger out of nothing. It only took two to deceive this worldly-ignorant captain about market prices.

Actually, I could probably have done it alone. Two was overkill.

"... Acknowledged. I will pay."

A communications officer who knew Level 4 classified information but not market prices. What an irony.

Smen regarded her ignorance as innocence rather than something to pity, and smiled warmly. Then, as though something had just occurred to him, he handed me a clothing packet.

"Ah, and Mr. Hughes. Your usual clothes."

"Thank you. How much?"

"Please, just take them."

I had expected that answer, but pretended otherwise.

"Are you sure?"

Smen nodded without a moment's hesitation.

"When I could not abandon my stubborn attachment to the clothes of a bygone age, you personally taught me clothing-packet technology. You helped me make a fresh start. This much is nothing."

"Well, in that case."

All I'd done was pass along knowledge stolen through mind reading, and he treated me like a benefactor. Heh heh. This was why it paid to do favors for people who repaid them well. A debt of gratitude followed you forever.

Unlike the captain, I took a favorable view of bribes, provided they were directed at me, so I didn't refuse the free clothes. As I put the clothing packet away, Smen lowered his voice and whispered in my ear.

"Also, about a week ago, I believe, the young lady came looking for you."

"She did? Why?"

"I did not ask. I merely told her I had not seen you lately."

Tsk. I didn't want to get involved with her. Fine. I'd pretend I knew nothing for now. If it was really urgent, she'd get in touch herself.

With my business finished, I waved to Smen.

"Anyway, thank you. We'll be off now."

"Take care."

I went outside with the still-puzzled captain.

Despite the hasty alterations, her clothes looked as natural as though they had been made that way from the start. The slightly constricting outfit clearly outlined the captain's figure.

I couldn't tell whether she was uninhibited or conservative. Tight clothes meant enduring discomfort to announce your presence to the world, after all.

Anyway.

"Now that you've changed, shall we get something to eat?"

"A meal?"

At my suggestion, the captain briefly looked around. After checking the time on a clock in the alley, she firmly refused.

"Declined. This is not an authorized mealtime for me."

"You won't eat unless it's mealtime?"

"...? What do you mean? Is eating at mealtimes not common sense?"

What was she talking about? You ate when you were hungry.

The captain and I met each other's eyes, then both tilted our heads.

"Bee. Is there some rule saying you can only eat at set times?"

'Communications officers are obligated to observe mealtimes. Indiscriminate eating or overeating causes various problems. Sluggishness, for instance, or running short of provisions and having to request additional supplies.'

"... That is classified."

She was evidently well trained. She still maintained secrecy to avoid revealing information about communications officers, even by accident.

Anyway, I more or less understood. There was a particular way to handle people like her.

"Bee, a long journey like this uses up a lot of energy. You need a hearty meal afterward."

"I do not deny that. However, I believe eating at the proper time will suffice. There is no need to deviate from the established schedule."

"Performing your duties diligently is what matters most. The rules exist to help you do your job better, don't they? Wouldn't neglecting your mission because you're hungry be a bigger problem?"

"A little hunger will not make me neglect my mission."

The captain declared that confidently, but...

"Braised beans, bean stew, steamed meat and beans."

"... Slurp. Mmph!"

My prompting made her mouth water reflexively. She hurriedly wiped the drool from her lips.

She'd spent the journey on the meta-conveyor belt exposed to cold winds and without proper meals. Of course she was hungry.

This was the hunger of someone out and about, something a person shut away in a tiny room could never understand.

"Just hearing about beans makes your mouth water. Are you sure you're all right?"

"N-negative. There is no problem. I merely salivated a little."

"Is that how you intend to carry out your mission? You'll do a fine job, drooling at the mere mention of food! You should be thinking about filling your stomach so you can work harder!"

"Urgh."

"Answer me! Affirmative or negative?"

Under my browbeating, the captain lowered her head in assent.

"... A-affirmative."

As it happened, there was something resembling a restaurant on the market street. I took the captain to the bustling food stall.

People sat packed together at a long, straight table in one section of the eatery. Amid boisterous conversation, they were filling the bowls in front of them with some indescribable food and eating it. I found an empty spot near the corner and pounded on the table.

"Anna, one of today's specials over here."

People turned to look at me. Several recognized me and called out.

"Hughes?"

"What the hell? He disappeared so suddenly, I thought he was dead."

"As if that bastard would kick the bucket."

I answered each of them with a smile, then called to the person busily frying and simmering things on the griddle farther inside.

"Auntie! I'm hungry!"

Only at the mention of hunger did the proprietor react and turn around.

She was a middle-aged woman with the unmistakable air of someone well versed in everyday life. From the kerchief tied around her forehead to her rolled-up sleeves, she looked exactly as I imagined an expert in the business of living would.

Seeing my face, she broke into a hearty smile and spoke.

"Hughes, it's been ages! Who's that with you?"

"A new friend."

"Hearing you call someone a friend makes me suspicious. She's not a criminal, is she?"

"I'm about to start making her one."

'?! That was your intention?!'

The captain was horrified, but so overwhelmed by the attention directed at her that she couldn't even manage an "Objection!" Meanwhile, Anna rolled up her sleeves again.

"That gloomy boy you always used to bring around... What was his name?"

"You mean Anton?"

"That's right, him! Well, a bright young lady is better company than Anton! A much nicer sight, too. Oh dear, where's my head? Wait just a moment. I'll fry you up a bowl."

Anna oiled the griddle and tipped out canned beans she had soaked in advance. Clouds of white steam billowed up, and cheers rose from the crowd.

The captain swallowed involuntarily, then hastily tore her eyes away and looked at me.

"Query. Who exactly are you? Why do so many people recognize you?"

Honestly. What a trivial thing to wonder about. How could she find something as ordinary as people recognizing me suspicious?

"I told you I lived here. Naturally, I got to know people. Everyone has a hundred friends or so, don't they?"

"But..."

Feeling the weight of all the attention directed at me and my companion, the captain thought to herself.

'He appears to be held in considerable regard. Query. How can such a suspicious, untrustworthy petty criminal earn people's respect?'

What was that, you little shit?

"What exactly did you mean by that 'but'?"

The captain answered hesitantly.

"... That is classified."

"Oh, give me a break!"

An involuntary loner shut away in a tiny room... No, a voluntary loner? A Military State-mandated loner? What was I supposed to call it?

Oh, well. I'd let it go. She was a pitiful soul. A pitiful soul.

The captain could call me a suspicious social misfit. She could berate me for being a petty criminal.

But I couldn't tell her she was one of the loneliest people in the entire Military State. That would be too cruel, wouldn't it?

I sighed and waited for the food.