Five minutes is certainly a short time, but even that brief span obeys the laws of economics. To someone in a desperate hurry, five minutes is worth a fortune; those with time to spare would gladly give it away.

Right now, five minutes was worth a fortune to me.

Because I was asleep.

BRR, TAP.

The alarm was switched off before it could even properly ring. I didn't know what angel had done it, but it had bought me five precious minutes. Those five minutes before opening your eyes in the morning are beyond price.

“Please wake up... Three attempts made. Further attempts deemed pointless. Proceeding to the next phase.”

Something tapped my shoulder, but such a demure touch couldn't disturb my sweet slumber. I would defend these precious five minutes against this wicked invader.

Pulling up the covers, I answered.

“Mmm, five more minutes.”

“... Three attempts made. Further attempts deemed pointless. Proceeding to the next phase.”

Huh. What came next again?

Wait. Surely not.

“WEEEEEEEEEE-OOOOOO!”

“Aaaaaaagh!”

A shout louder than most alarm clocks blasted into my ear. I rolled off the soft bed, flung the blanket far away, and scrambled to my feet.

“Again? We're doing this again today?! You didn't wake up when I made siren noises yesterday!”

This wasn't fair. Why was I the only victim? I wanted to wake her up like this too, so why wouldn't she wake up?

Unable to contain my indignation, I shouted.

“I told you to wake me by tapping my shoulder, didn't I? What's all this racket first thing in the morning?!”

The captain, already dressed in her uniform, replied impassively.

“I already tried.”

“Tried, my foot! There's no way that wouldn't have woken me!”

“I do not submit false reports. Furthermore, how can you be so brazen when you rose ten minutes past the designated wake-up time? This is negligence.”

“Ten minutes?! I overslept by ten minutes?”

“Affirmative. Oversleeping by ten minutes is undoubtedly an act of negligence. Therefore...”

“Oh, what? That's barely any time at all. Wake me up a bit later. Yaaawn...”

As I tried to lie back down, the captain took my hand and pulled me up herself.

“Get up! Has negligence become ingrained in you? How can you possibly propose sleeping even longer?!”

“Oh, I'm tired. I went to see a friend last night and barely got any sleep.”

“You even sneaked out in the middle of the night? Nothing in your words or actions indicates any intention of following the rules!”

“Look who's talking. You fell asleep before bedtime yesterday.”

“N-negative! No, not a denial of the facts, but of intent! I did not intend to do so! It was beyond my control!”

Even with her face burning red, the captain refused to let me sleep.

Ugh, this was why living with someone was such a nuisance. Having a place to yourself was best.

“I will not fall asleep like that today. I have recovered from the journey and obtained sufficient sleep. I will not repeat yesterday's disgraceful display!”

“Oh, is that so.”

“Affirmative! Yesterday's incident was a surprise attack! Today will be differ—”

In the middle of her declaration, the captain tilted her head in puzzlement.

“...? Query. I believe I fell asleep in the bathroom yesterday. How, then...?”

“Right! Shall we go get breakfast? Sorry, but it's Anna's beans again this morning!”

I leaped up and suddenly burst out the door. Innocently setting her question aside, the captain scurried after me.

“Query. Why does that warrant an apology? Her bean dish was quite... no, extremely delicious.”

“You could eat that bean stir-fry again?”

“Affirmative. I could eat it all day.”

Wow. A human who was less picky about food than a dog.

Once again, the captain stuffed her mouth with Anna's bean stir-fry, her eyes sparkling as she savored the taste.

“...!”

'Delicious...! A different flavor from yesterday! Yet it clearly looks exactly the same...!'

“Is it good? I put in a little extra effort today. Eat as much as you like.”

Anna smiled warmly. The captain nodded over and over as she shoveled in the mixed stir-fry.

'If I asked her for the recipe...! Gah, impossible. A recipe of this caliber must surely be classified information! I will never obtain it...!'

What was so hard about recreating it? All you needed to remember was high heat and plenty of oil.

No, wait. There was something else in it. That lingering fragrance, masking the unpleasant odors—surely not.

Wow. She'd used that?

“Anna! What were you thinking, sprinkling that on this?!”

I spoke reproachfully, but Anna replied without a care.

“I only sprinkled a little. Just a pinch between my thumb and forefinger. I haven't even used up the ten-percent commission I'm due, so don't worry.”

“You're throwing it around as if it were yours.”

“Do you begrudge even what goes into that girl's mouth?”

“I wasn't planning on feeding her gold dust.”

Anna chuckled at my grumbling and picked up the bag beside her. Then she set a bowl of soup in front of the captain and spoke kindly.

“I'll be visiting another district for a bit today. The stall will be closed, so you'll have to eat lunch somewhere else.”

“...?! Emergency! Is it true that you will be closed?”

“Hehe. Don't worry. Hughes will take you somewhere even tastier. This boy knows everyone. I'm sure he knows somewhere good.”

“Negative...”

'A canned-bean dish more delicious than this? Impossible!'

Why limit it to beans? Had she never considered other dishes?

As Anna looked at the dejected captain, she smiled like a mother looking at her daughter. Her voice was filled with motherly affection.

“Wait until dinner if you can. I think I may be back by then. Hughes, take good care of her. I'll go take care of that favor you asked me.”

She meant selling the spice I'd entrusted to her. I grumbled.

“What do you mean, take care of her? She's perfectly capable of managing on her own.”

“That's why I'm telling you to support her. When you're alone, you have no choice but to be brave. When you're together, you can let yourself be a little spoiled for a while. I think the two of you need that.”

“Why do you keep treating her like a little child left by the water? If you're going to worry about her, worry about me first.”

The captain was only acting this way because she didn't know how the back alleys worked. Put her in uniform and send her back to a military unit, and plenty of people would salute her first.

They might look down on her if they knew she was a communications officer, but she concealed her identity when in her own body, so they'd just take her for an ordinary captain.

“... I'll make something even better with all sorts of ingredients when I get back, so don't feed her anything too delicious.”

With that, Anna smiled and left the stall.

She was headed to the market in District 13. There, she'd turn that sprinkle-on gold dust into actual gold. She'd buy vegetables while she was at it, and if she had money left over, she might even buy fresh meat—a Level 1 luxury that cost an additional fee.

Hmm. That sounded quite promising. In that case, perhaps we'd just take a little tour today.

“Bee, finished eating?”

The captain nodded, her bowl empty.

“Affirmative. Her skill is extraordinary. It rivals the finest meal I have ever eaten.”

They say familiar flavors are hard to resist, but calling a mixed stir-fry of canned beans the finest meal she'd ever eaten? I couldn't help questioning the Military State's provisions for its soldiers.

I was looking forward to seeing what would happen when she tried the food Anna made after returning. How would she react to a meal put together with ample funds and the finest spice?

“Query. Who is Anna? Even among military cooks, no one has demonstrated such culinary skill. Was she once some legendary military cook?”

“Since when do military cooks have legends? She's just an ordinary Level 0 citizen.”

“... Level 0, you say? Her?”

The captain's eyes widened in surprise. I seized the opening.

“You just thought it, didn't you? 'A mere Level 0 has been eating food this good! It's not fair!'”

“N—!”

The captain started to say “Negative,” then swallowed her words and nodded honestly.

“Negative... to that denial. Perhaps I did. I had assumed all low-level citizens led harsh, miserable lives.”

Low-level citizens did have it pretty harsh and miserable. You were just an odd case, Miss Communications Officer. Compared with you, even most low-level citizens lived like aristocrats.

... No, wait. At least the captain's pay would be steadily deposited with the veterans affairs office. I didn't know how that money would end up disappearing, but she was still better off than a Level 0.

“Still, the lives of Level 0 citizens, whom the administration treats as all but abandoned, are not so bad. The military authorities would be proud of this...”

'That must mean my loyalty to the Military State has not been meaningless.'

Huh. What a strange way of thinking.

Normally, seeing people living like this, I'd expected:

—Even Level 0 citizens enjoy such luxuries and freedom, so why am I—no, why am I, personally—living like this at Level 3? Objection! Defiance! Strike! Revolution! I am suspending my duties effective immediately!

Something like that. Instead, she felt proud that she'd done the right thing by remaining loyal to the Military State?

She exceeded my expectations. Was she innocent, or simply steadfast? At this point, I almost had to admire the Military State for creating communications officers.

“I can't give that an affirmative. Is that really true? People get along just fine when they live together. The trouble for people with nothing to spare begins when hardship strikes.”

As the start of the workday drew near, alarm clocks rang throughout the residential district. Unlike last night, nobody complained about the noise.

Fail to wake up and arrive late, and you might have more days added to your labor obligation.

For ordinary citizens, alarm clocks truly inspired both love and hate. Their signals painfully drove away sweet morning sleep, yet protected their precious everyday lives.

Most citizens, practically driven from their beds, skipped breakfast and trudged through the streets like corpses, clutching their hungry stomachs. Most were heading in much the same direction, and their procession became one great current.

Several young men stood in a corridor, pounding furiously on a door.

“Hey! Philip! Wake up!”

“He's not dead, is he? Damn it, he looked tired. We should've let him go home early yesterday.”

As the young men voiced their regrets, the shrill alarm continued ringing noisily behind the firmly closed door.

The captain asked,

“Why are they knocking on someone else's door?”

“They've agreed to wake one another in case someone sleeps through their alarm. If they're late, that day's labor might not count.”

Human cooperation at work, helping them survive this urban jungle. An alliance born of necessity.

But the captain, a model of proper living who woke before her alarm, couldn't relate.

“Query. Why would waking up require another person's assistance? One need only go to sleep on time and rise on time.”

“Don't assume everyone's like you. Some people go to bed late for unavoidable reasons, like me last night.”

“That happened because you are delinquent!”

Since the captain seemed quite curious, I decided to follow the current with her for a while. The people trudging down the main road split into several groups.

Some packed themselves like cargo into a large motor carriage that rattled up.

Others lined up in front of a large building downtown.

Still others entered a factory that looked like a vast warehouse, as though being swallowed whole.

“Some go to factories, some to distribution warehouses, some to terminals, and some to engineering or supply units... Off to do their day's labor.”

The Military State's lower classes had no land to farm. All they possessed were their bodies, and thus all the work available to them involved physical labor.

Most of the money ordinary people earned came from labor sites. They lived from day to day on those earnings. Naturally, all their wages came from the Military State, which collected the products those sites produced.

It was safe to say that practically anywhere employing laborers was under the Military State's control.

“I am aware of that much.”

“But you knew next to nothing about the types of labor or how demanding they are, right? Or which kinds people prefer.”

“... Affirmative.”

“Heh. A captain, and you don't even know that.”

The captain pressed her lips together, her pride seemingly wounded. Before she could sulk any further, I made a suggestion.

“Since we're on the subject, how about trying a little manual labor today?”

“Is that the sort of thing one can simply try?”

“What in this world can't you do? Say the right things, and doors will open.”

“... Warning. That statement carries extremely dangerous implications. Certain acts are prohibited by law in the Military State. Violations incur severe punishment according to the prohibition level.”

Despite her words, the captain followed me into the line, apparently eager to see the inside of the factory.

It might be a little much for an indoor type like her, but it wouldn't hurt to learn how hard manual labor was. Perhaps this would give her an even stronger push.

That was when it happened.

A shout rang out from the middle of the crowd.

“You thieving little shit!”

THWACK!

A vicious kick struck a small boy. He waved his hands in denial even as he tumbled across the ground.

“I-I didn't do it!”

It was the young pickpocket who'd tried his hand on me yesterday.

Apparently he had yet to master his craft, because he was now face-to-face with a man huffing in fury.

“I saw you trying to pick my pocket! Don't try to hide it!”

Everyone passing by glanced at them once.

But that was all.

The walking citizens took a look at the boy and the man's appearance, then continued on their way. Their response was indifference.

“Help! That man is—agh!”

Neither the victim of theft nor the thief being beaten was any concern of theirs.

In fact, not a single person had intervened or offered to help when they saw me holding the boy yesterday, either. They'd merely looked on with hostility because a Military State captain was beside me.

Few people had enough room in their lives to get directly involved in someone else's affairs. Not in this district, at least.

“... Pickpocketing is a crime. Its severity may be relatively minor, but committing the same offense without hesitation after yesterday's incident is unquestionably a serious problem.”

The captain shouldn't have had that kind of room in her life, either.

Yet this girl, who identified with others to an almost uncanny degree, was about to step forward for the child crying out in pain.

“However, private punishment is not permitted. He has no right to pass judgment on an offender as he pleases.”

Had she been left out in the Military State to fend for herself, she would have been among the first to break. Even with nothing to spare, she gave of herself to make room for others.

Had the Military State protected its communications officers, or exploited them?

“... Do not stop me.”

“No. I'm going to have to. The boy wouldn't want you getting involved, either.”

I leisurely adjusted our pace within the stream of people. The man, now in danger of being late for work, gave the boy one final kick and hurried off into the crowd.

The boy lay as though dead, then cracked his eyes open to check the man's retreating figure and sprang to his feet. Strangely, a faint smile played on the lips that couldn't help letting out groans.

“... Hehe. Even if you get caught... during the morning rush... they usually don't drag you to the orphanage... Worth a shot...”

He'd gained nothing, but lost nothing either.

Counting himself lucky, the boy vanished into the streets again.

The captain, who happened—entirely by chance—to be passing right beside him at that moment, heard his words and pressed her lips together.

“...”

'They do not want it. They did not want the Military State's judgment. Had I intervened, both would have faced an outcome neither desired.'

From a soldier's perspective, both had neglected their duties. The boy who'd committed a crime should rightly have gone to the orphanage, while the man had resorted to private punishment instead of fulfilling his obligation to report the offense.

Yet the captain was sincerely glad she hadn't intervened just now.

Pretending to comfort the troubled captain, I spoke gently, slipping the point in.

“Haha. Don't take it to heart. This is everyday life.”

There was no answer.