There’s a joke people tell in the Military State.

At a Military State research institute devoted to studying every field under the sun, human-factors engineers who study the human body share a building with materials engineers who investigate the properties of materials. Sometimes they accidentally walk into each other’s rooms—and supposedly don’t realize they’re in the wrong room until it’s time to go home.

It really isn’t a very funny joke.

BRRRRRRRING!

A painfully loud noise battered my eardrums. Considering they were still intact despite this daily abuse, either my eardrums were doing a better job than I gave them credit for, or the Military State’s scientists had done their job properly.

Bend, but never break. The motto of the Military State’s materials engineers. How much effort had gone into producing that one sound? I didn’t even want to imagine it.

“Ugh, I hate this so much...”

Why? Why did that alarm clock have to greet me every morning? Why did I have to start every day in agony?

I was going to lose my mind. Burying my face in my hard pillow, I shouted.

“Please, somebody turn that goddamn alarm off!”

“Woof!”

“Huh?”

I hadn’t expected an answer. Who was that?

I lifted my head after that witless little noise, only to see Azi flying through the air. She had leaped up in one bound, kicked off the wall to launch herself higher, then raised a forepaw and struck the shrieking alarm.

CRASH!

Hadn’t I once compared the alarm clock to a steel cicada?

The steel cicada that tormented me with its deafening cries every morning was crushed beneath the paw of a four-legged beast. Gears like innards scattered in all directions, and the thin, broad metal plate that produced the noise crumpled with one final death cry.

The alarm wasn’t merely flattened. It was embedded halfway into the wall. Getting it out would require digging into the stone.

Gears and scraps of metal plate scattered wildly through the air. As I stared blankly at the sight, Azi approached, gently wagging her tail as though expecting praise.

“... What, do you want me to tell you what a good girl you are?”

“Woof! Woof, woof!”

“Yes, good girl. You did do a good job. You finished off the evil alarm clock that tormented me every morning... Beyond all hope of repair...”

Its key components had been smashed to pieces. Unless there was a forge somewhere in Tantalus, restoring it would be impossible.

I pushed my hair back and took Azi by the shoulders.

“But do you know something, Azi? What really torments me isn’t the alarm clock making all that noise every morning. The alarm is just the advance guard. The true mastermind is morning itself, which makes the alarm ring.”

“Woof?”

“Yes. Morning is behind it all. That goddamn morning that makes me repeat a day I’ve only just managed to finish. I appreciate your noble deed, but this changes nothing!”

After looking at me throughout my lengthy speech, the first thing Azi said was:

“Stupid?”

“...?”

What had I just heard? While I sat there with my mouth hanging open, Azi looked at the ceiling and spoke.

“Can’t see sun. Dark here. Morning doesn’t come!”

“No. It’s still morning even if the sun doesn’t rise.”

“Woof! Can’t see it, not morning!”

No sun in sight, so no morning. Should I call that an expression of empiricism, or just a load of dog crap?

“Sleepy? Sleep! I like sleeping!”

“Yes. I’d love to sleep forever too. But I’ve got work piling up, so I don’t have a choice.”

“Woof? Work?”

“Things like cooking and cleaning. If I don’t get up in the morning, who’s going to make your breakfast?”

At that, Azi’s ears pricked up. She jumped onto the bed, grabbed my clothes in her teeth, and tugged. My body was dragged helplessly out of bed.

“No! Get up! Food! Fooood!”

“All right! I’ll feed you, so let go! Stay!”

Leaving Azi to dash busily about, I got ready. I roughly swept the broken alarm into a corner with my foot, then wiped my face with a damp towel.

“Haah. Now that the alarm’s broken, how am I supposed to get up tomorrow?”

There was one reason I hadn’t smashed the alarm myself despite all the suffering it caused me. Without it, I simply couldn’t get up.

This was the bottomless pit, with neither sunlight nor roosters. A place cut off from the world, where time had no meaning. With no morning coming out to greet us, there was no way for us to notice time passing. And some dog had smashed the one alarm clock I’d been relying on.

“Isn’t there something else I could use as an alarm...?”

I started to give Azi a tap on the forehead, then gave up and sighed.

Oh, well. She’d done it out of concern for me. Honestly, watching her smash that alarm had felt pretty good.

Instead of tapping her, I redirected my hand and scratched under her chin. Grinning happily, Azi leaned her weight onto my hand.

So innocent... Not a worry in the world on that face. I supposed only an animal that knew nothing could manage that.

Though that was one of the advantages of a pet.

I dismissed the clothing packet I was wearing and took out a fresh one. A dismissed packet could be cleaned for reuse either by washing it in the laundry room or by soaking it in water and wiping it down. The former left it as clean as new clothing but required special equipment; the latter took some time to dry, but could be done anywhere.

After changing into clean clothes, I took my hand away from Azi’s chin. Her face followed my hand for a moment, as though glued to it, before stopping.

Azi’s eyes widened, silently asking why I’d stopped. She lifted her chin toward my hand, demanding more. Apparently, she thought of me as some kind of petting machine, ball-throwing machine, or food-making machine.

Oh, my wretched lot in life. Why was I playing maid to a dog?

Still, what could I do? She was my dog. I had to feed her.

“Woof?”

“Come on. Let’s eat.”

“Woof!”

If there was a best-behaved dog in the world, it was Azi on her way to a meal. I headed to the dining hall with the dog who was good only three times a day.

I’d warm up yesterday’s bean stew for breakfast, then make something different in the afternoon. Maybe I should cook some meat for a change. Last time, I’d grilled meat to win her over, but meat was actually an ingredient that was more satisfying prepared in ways other than grilling...

Huh?

Why was the pot empty? There had definitely been leftovers yesterday.

I turned my head. The shameless creature merely stared back at me with eyes that claimed to know nothing.

I take it back. Azi had never been the best-behaved dog for even a single moment. This absurdly strong mutt was a disaster that should never be unleashed on the world.

“Hey! You sneaked in and ate the stew I made yesterday!”

“Woof, woof?! Woof!”

“Don’t play innocent! There’s nobody else who could’ve eaten it!”

“Woof!”

“No breakfast for youuuu!”

“Awooooooo!”

The hungry dog’s howl rang out long and loud.

“Today’s lesson is on handling ungrateful beasts!”

“Woof!”

Lying at the back of the classroom, Azi barked loudly as if in defiance of my words. When I fixed her with a terrifying glare, she snorted and abruptly turned her head away.

Hmph. As if that would make me so much as blink.

“Beasts have neither gratitude nor intelligence, so there’s no need to do anything for them. It’s a losing proposition! Let them fend for themselves!”

“Woof! Woof! Grrr!”

The Regressor, who had been watching our battle of wills with complete indifference, dutifully asked a question.

“What happened?”

‘Something stupid again, I’m sure. I’m not interested, but I might as well pretend to ask.’

The thoughts I heard were outrageously rude, but I couldn’t bear to keep my anguish bottled up. Pounding my chest, I spoke.

“That mutt ate all the food I left yesterday!”

“Ruff! Grr, woof!”

Azi barked defiantly. She wore a human exterior, but what came out was an animal’s howl. Now that really was a load of dog crap.

Ugh, honestly. If only she didn’t think like a dog, I could read every last thought and confront her with irrefutable evidence. At times like this, I bitterly regretted being unable to read her thoughts properly.

But the Regressor didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

“What’s wrong with a dog eating a little food?”

“A little food? A little?”

I pressed a hand to my forehead and heaved a deep sigh.

“You seem to be missing something, Trainee Shei. The reason humans and dogs could coexist was that dogs could live off our scraps. And they didn’t require all that much food. But!”

Pointing at the freeloader, I raised my voice.

“That thing not only eats the exact same food I do, it stuffs down twice as much! It even shares my table!”

“Just feed her. Don’t be so petty about it.”

“Petty? Peeetty?”

Easy for you to say, when you’ve hogged every fortuitous encounter and whatever else, leaving you with piles of money and a shitload of items! How can you say that to someone like me, living hand to mouth?!

Besides, you’re the one with more business with Azi! You said she was a piece of the apocalypse! Then you, the Regressor, should take responsibility for managing her! With the great power of regression comes great responsibility!

I nearly said all that. But I couldn’t reveal that I could read minds, so what came out of my mouth was merely a petulant complaint.

“Then you feed her!”

“Oh, sorry. I can’t do that.”

‘I tried offering her food from the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast... but she wouldn’t touch it. There are lots of dishes, but the portions are small, so there isn’t enough for Azi anyway.’

The Manchu-Han Imperial Feast surfaced in the Regressor’s memories: a table laden with enough food to buckle its legs at every mealtime.

Countless plates held portions that would vanish with a single pinch of the chopsticks. It was designed to let someone sample the greatest possible variety of food in one meal, with limited stomach space. The height of luxury, turning even hunger into a resource.

But, true to its name, the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast was full of spicy, salty dishes. With expensive spices crammed into it like that, no wonder Azi couldn’t eat it. Too precious for a dog to eat—definitely not dog food, then.

I pressed a hand to my forehead and sighed.

“Anyway. I never liked sharing a table with a dog in the first place. I’m washing my hands of this. I won’t even acknowledge Azi anymore. That concludes today’s class.”

[“Wait. It’s over?”]

“Yes. I only called you all here today because I wanted someone to hear my grievances. Now, class is canceled today. This opportunity doesn’t come along every day, so enjoy this precious moment.”

What students love most is a canceled class. The surprising thing is that teachers, the very people providing the classes, love cancellations too. Perhaps canceled classes are the only absolute good in this world.

Having bestowed that absolute good, I headed straight for the door.