Ch.117Two Face’s Guests – Michael Husband (2)

I spent the night at Two Face after a long time. I should have gone to bed at lunch, but Two Face was such a comfortable place that I could sleep about two hours more. Six hours – not a bad record.

A new morning dawns. Yesterday I seemed to sleep almost all day, but I can’t spend today the same way. There’s no better time than this break to take care of personal matters I’ve been putting off because of work.

I first called to book a fire damage specialist. While I could make the reservation by phone, they wanted to give me an estimate, so I stopped by my apartment again. I returned to my apartment, its door firmly closed and emitting the smell of ashes.

There was an unexpected person there. A middle-aged man had removed his hat and was looking around as if searching for someone. I knew who he was. The editor-in-chief of the journalist.

I had saved him when Giuseppina attacked his home last time. I did it at the journalist’s request, but from the perspective of the one being saved, that didn’t matter. Saving someone is saving someone.

He must be looking for me. Still, dealing with my apartment comes first. If I leave my office empty for too long, more and more people will assume I’m dead, or at least that I’ve quit working.

The kobold contractor opened the door with a sniffing sound. The inside was so filled with the smell of ash that even kobolds, who dislike fresh air, didn’t make sniffling noises.

“Ah! Feels like home. Wait outside while I prepare an estimate! All the furniture is completely burned. Oil was splashed and burned, so the walls are damaged too…”

“I’m watching you, so don’t try to overcharge me. I’ll wait outside.”

After leaving the contractor to handle the apartment, I approached the editor. He wasn’t a wealthy man. Rather frugal. The suit he wore wasn’t cheap, but it was inexpensive, and there were worn marks on the brim of his hat.

His face was closer to that of an ordinary office worker. He had expertise in his field, but just that much. If there was a difference, it was that he seemed more resolute than the elf accountant I had once apprehended.

“Most obituaries about detectives’ deaths are either sensationalized or based on guesswork due to lack of information, but a detective without even an obituary couldn’t possibly be dead. I’m Michael Husband. I believe you’re the editor-in-chief of that journalist, correct?”

He extended his hand to me first, as if requesting a handshake. His ink-stained hand was dry but didn’t seem weak. I lightly grasped it and shook hands.

“I’m Harvey Thayer, editor-in-chief of Golden Age Press. Before, when trolls came looking for my family, you saved us. Isn’t that right?”

“Your son did shoot one of them, but I handled the rest.”

His expression softened. He wrapped my hand, which he had taken for the handshake, with both of his hands and shook it vigorously once more.

“I wanted to thank you, but you weren’t answering your phone, so I came by and was worried when I saw your place in this state. I think I’ve been standing here for a couple of hours asking if anyone passing by knew what happened to the person living here… I’m glad you’re safe. Really glad. I’d like to treat you to dinner sometime. As a token of gratitude.”

The editor’s son was also a veteran. A veteran who remembered the Argonne Invincibles. I still remembered his voice crying out in what seemed like remorse, confirming they were the angels of the trenches.

“Since my home-cum-office has burned down, I’m taking a short break right now, so that sounds good. I’ll give you the phone number of where I’m staying, and you can contact me there. I’ll probably reopen my office once the house is cleaned up… so I might be difficult to make time next week.”

He briefly checked his watch and cleared his throat lightly. His eyes, which seemed to want to express his gratitude immediately, were quite burdensome.

“You’re a diligent person. Then I’d like to invite you this very evening. My wife is insistent. She says what will our children learn if we don’t thank the person who saved our family from being completely wiped out?”

Sons and daughters, huh. It seems the daughter wasn’t home that day. Since I hadn’t entered for investigation purposes, I hadn’t properly examined the inside of the house. I offered some polite words.

“That sounds good. But your son seemed quite grown up to be still learning from his parents. He was brave. It takes a lot of courage to resist in such a situation.”

“Ah, haha… That’s true. My wife still sees our children as kids. I’ll give you the address. Oh, since your place is in that state, no one will mind if you don’t come in formal attire.”

He said after briefly looking inside my apartment. Fortunately, there were a couple of decent outfits in the back room of Two Face. There would even be a navy suit that was seasonless.

It wasn’t because it was some kind of evacuation spot or hideout. I had simply lived there for a while, so some of my clothes remained there.

“A man might go out on the street without a suit, but how could he enter someone else’s home without one? Don’t worry, I have clothes.”

As I was responding with a leisurely, somewhat joking tone, the kobold came out. The price was expensive – completely refurnishing the place and magically repairing the walls and ceiling weakened by fire – but I had plenty of money.

Since I’d accepted this invitation, I needed time to prepare. I would once again receive undesired and undeserved praise. The strategy was always the same. Just listen and endure.

I had no intention of reproaching them for saying such things without knowing anything. Everyone sees different things. In their eyes, nothing but a hero could be reflected. It’s just a mirage, an illusion of the eyes.

After being told he would contact me separately and receiving his business card, I returned to Two Face. The fact that he didn’t ask for my card suggests the journalist must have given him one. Is my name starting to get around?

After scanning the inside of Cafe Two Face, crowded with people wanting to start their day with coffee, I went around to the back entrance. I was trying to pass time with the radio on when the door to the back room opened.

It was the bartender. Uncharacteristically flustered, she poked her head through the back room door. Her hair, tied back, hung limply like a tail.

“Micky! Help me out a bit. There are too many customers today! Usually, I’d manage somehow and exhaust myself, but today you’re here. Please?”

She says I need rest but won’t let me rest. Still, I got up from the bed. I couldn’t stand being listlessly confined to bed all day.

I was familiar with the work, having worked at the cafe once run by the bartender’s parents. I took the apron she threw me and headed to the kitchen behind the bar.

The bartender was someone who didn’t adapt well to change. The menu hadn’t changed much since then, and the way she looked at me hadn’t changed much either.

If the dream I told Levy was something that smelled like this oil, I wouldn’t have wanted it as much as I said then. With these idle thoughts, I handled orders from customers who came in for a proper breakfast rather than donuts.

I could understand why the bartender didn’t want to escape from memories. It felt somewhat good. It felt like I could pretend that detective work and war service had never happened. I swallowed that feeling.

It wasn’t something to be ignored and moved past. That choice was my choice, and the curse received from that choice was me. Until I washed it away, that’s how it was. I don’t forget my responsibility.

The morning, which was unusually busy with orders even though mornings were typically busy, passed, and the flow of customers finally stopped as the bartender’s break time approached.

During that brief moment, the bartender, who seemed to have become haggard, came into the kitchen and embraced my neck again. Last time she had made excuses, but this time she boldly buried her face in my neck.

“It’s nice to have someone else… If I’d done it alone, I would have been completely exhausted, though not quite that bad.”

All that remained was an ambiguous feeling, so even this moment was ambiguous. I didn’t stroke her this time, fearing that the ambiguity might tilt somewhat toward clarity. I just opened my mouth.

“I forgot to mention, I received a dinner invitation, so have the usual person handle the bouncer job tonight. It’s someone I met because of a case, and they want to treat me to dinner to thank me for saving their life.”

At those words, the bartender, who had been shaking her head like a canid animal as if trying to burrow into my arms, making her ponytail sway, looked up. A very uncharacteristic expression returned to her face.

“What’s with that look? I’m not a detective who only takes dirty jobs. If I only took those, I wouldn’t live long.”

“You won’t live long drinking that much alcohol either. Anyway, if someone is grateful to you, Micky, I’m happy about it too! Have a good time.”

After good news comes bad news. Or actually, this might be good news too. It might just be bad news for her.

“Cleaning and fixing the house should be done by next week. I’ll only impose on you until next week, then I’ll go back. I could rest a few more days, but I know that forced rest isn’t really rest.”

The bartender pretended not to have any lingering feelings. It was pretense. Having spent so much time with this wolf, if I couldn’t distinguish whether this was just for show or not, I would lack the minimum insight a detective should have.

“Well, that’s fine! I’m grateful that you’re properly resting for even a week…”

That pretense of calmness didn’t last long. The bartender, still with her arms around my neck, rolled her eyes once and then said, like a postscript at the end of a letter. Like a postscript, this was the main point.

“I won’t nag you about drinking too much, so come by more often, Micky. Or at least call sometimes.”

Now I raised my hand and stroked her hair. Even if only ambiguous feelings remained, and only ambiguous creaking and misalignment remained, she was still herself.

“Alright, alright. I’ll come often, so stop acting like a puppy with its tail curled up. I want to see the slick and skilled bartender you show to others too.”

As I said that, I smiled, raising the corners of my mouth about half an inch. It wasn’t just for show. It felt like my facial muscles were finding it awkward to form a smile that wasn’t a smirk.

During today’s break time, instead of being cooped up in the room listening to a small radio, I leaned against the bar with the bartender and listened together to the slightly larger, better quality one she had brought in for the store.

When the bartender was stretching to start the afternoon business, I also prepared to leave. The navy suit suits me well. The hat was a bit old-fashioned, but a fedora is a fedora.

There was no need to wear a holster, but I still put on the suspenders with the holster over my shirt. I placed my Model 1911 pistol, which I always carry, into the holster with the safety on.

It was an outfit suitable for a date, but I didn’t have anyone for that at the moment. Levy and I only went out occasionally, and both the bartender and I knew that going out together would uncomfortably stir up nostalgia, so while we both wanted it, we also didn’t. The not wanting was just slightly stronger than the wanting.

Since I wasn’t really going just for dinner, I left a bit early. I was riding in the car Ysil had prepared for me, so at least I had kept up appearances.

I headed to the house, which wasn’t far from Two Face. It was in a nice residential area near Two Face. It had been quite dangerous at the time, but now it seemed to have recovered its gentleness.

I park the car. I could feel someone watching the stopped car from inside the window of the house. A woman I hadn’t seen during my previous visit was looking in my direction.

She disappeared into the house before I could examine her face, suggesting she went to inform the other family members. I got out of the car, straightened my clothes, and approached the house to press the ivory doorbell.

As if they had been waiting for me, the door opened, and the editor’s son, who had been crawling on the floor last time, opened the door with a welcoming expression as if meeting an old friend.

Just for now, I had to pretend to be a hero a little more. I had to act as if that cursed Argonne Forest, which had only produced corpses and tragedy, had given birth to at least one hero.

It was a resolution I always had to make when visiting someone who had discovered I was a member of the Argonne Invincibles. I shook his extended hand with a moved expression.

“We didn’t get to introduce ourselves properly last time. I’m Gerard Thayer! I served in…”

I interjected in a plain tone, not quite mocking, gently calming him with the fact that an Argonne Invincible hadn’t come, just a detective.

“At ease, soldier. Well, that’s not the kind of response you’re looking for either. I’m Michael Husband. A detective from Husband Detective Agency, and it’s been quite a while since I left the military. The same for you, right?”

It was meant to avoid embarrassing him, and judging by the way he awkwardly scratched his head while smiling good-naturedly, it seemed to have worked well.

I didn’t count how many times I heard words of gratitude after that. It was fortunate that I knew how to give appropriately decent responses to such words.

However, the woman who had been looking at me through the window only thanked me once or twice in a manner close to formality, and then just stared intently at me as I maintained an appropriate smile and gave appropriate responses.

While the parents were ordinary middle-aged humans, the daughter was quite pretty. Perhaps I felt that way because she didn’t force herself to express gratitude.

Her expression was quite haughty. She had a blatantly blank expression, as if watching a play blocked by the fourth wall. Her short brown hair, cut following the fashion, suited that expression well, and her eyes were unusually green. While common among elves, it wasn’t a color frequently seen in humans.

Only when I scanned her eyes did our gazes meet, as she had been staring at me for quite some time. Unlike her previous haughty behavior, when our eyes met, she smiled, the corners of her eyes curving.

Was her previous blank expression and distance not due to lack of interest, but because her family was taking all the attention? Her expression became quite friendly when I showed interest in her.

It wasn’t just her expression that became friendly. Until now she had kept her distance, but she immediately jumped into the conversation.

“You should give me a chance to introduce myself too, Dad. Even though it happened while I was away, he saved our family. I’m Carmen Thayer. Obviously everyone here is a Thayer, so call me Carmen, Mr. Michael.”

She smiled, revealing her canine teeth. The way she smiled slyly and then closed her mouth again was quite reminiscent of a feline animal.