What had left him momentarily bewildered was the sight of the living room window — every single pane of glass shattered.
Only then did the situation click into place.
Behind him, people wearing caps emblazoned with the facility logo were already pushing their way in through the front door, which had been unlocked at some point without his knowledge.
Rodeo pressed a hand to his forehead and let out a sigh.
Social Change and Anomie
“Hey, are you out of your mind?”
“…….”
Carousel sneered as he unlocked the handcuffs around Rodeo’s wrists.
Rodeo just stared up at the ceiling and shrugged.
“Why the fuck were you waging a one-man war inside your own house.”
“…I told you, I had a nightmare.”
“That’s exactly what a ten-year-old esper would say. Did you just get dragged in?! You’re out here dreaming and using your powers and doing a goddamn sword dance!”
“…It can happen, I even did a Time Warp.”
Carousel stared at him with a look of pure horror at Rodeo’s sheer audacity, and as if Rodeo at least knew he was in the wrong, his eyes quietly dropped to the floor.
“I filed a report to the facility citing PTSD, mental breakdown, social maladjustment, and every other reason I could think of — so starting tomorrow, you’ll need to complete 60 hours of a treatment program. Two hours a day, for a month. No days off. Show up at the facility by 10 AM.”
“You’re picking me up, right? I don’t want to ride in a facility staff car every day.”
“The fuck — just drive your own car!”
“Since when do I have a car?”
Carousel stomped over to the entryway and swung open the shoe cabinet door.
A jingling object came flying through the air shortly after — Rodeo caught it to find a car key engraved with the logo of his favorite brand.
A label attached to it read: B7-A12.
“What do you mean you don’t have a car, you idiot!”
Rodeo’s eyes went wide for a moment before he broke into a lopsided grin and rubbed his freed wrists.
“Oh right, I did have one. You could’ve just told me. Is this label the parking floor and space?”
“What else would it be. Anyway, stay next door until the window gets replaced.”
The corner of Rodeo’s mouth, which had just lifted with a livelier tone, dropped immediately.
“No.”
“The fuck do you mean no. Since when is it your decision? You’re the one who caused the mess and now you’re acting like you get a say?”
“Who do you think I caused the mess because of…”
“What?”
“…Then kick Chalice out and let me use that place.”
“Are you actually insane. Look, even I know that’s not something a decent person would ask. Then where does Chalice go.”
“Then I’ll move into the facility dorms.”
“There are no rooms for you.”
Rodeo grabbed Carousel by both arms. His face, mixed with desperation and indignation, was earnestly making its case.
“What do you mean there are no rooms. The place was full of empty rooms!”
“It’s only about 3 days anyway. One day to board it up temporarily, then another day to install the replacement window when it arrives in 2–3 days. You want the facility staff — who are, unlike you, incredibly busy — to go through all that preparation and trouble just for that?”
“If you board it up temporarily I can just live with that for a few days. You know I’ve slept rough during missions before, right?”
“…Say one more word and I’ll cancel the treatment program and file a detention request instead.”
Rodeo clutched his head in both hands.
Ding-dong.
With a bad feeling, he quickly snapped his gaze to the intercom — and there on the screen was Chalice, dressed in a black suit.
It wasn’t as though his face was fully visible, but something about Chalice’s characteristic gaze, which seemed to stare straight through the camera, made Rodeo shudder and turn his back.
Even as Rodeo let out a pained groan right beside him, Carousel paid him no mind, simply clicking his tongue as he looked toward the door.
“When did you even contact him… quick as ever.”
Having confirmed that the facility staff had closed the front door behind them as they left, Carousel shrugged and walked over to press the door release button on the intercom.
“Just in case someone causes another incident.”
Rodeo sat alone on the sofa.
While Carousel explained the details of what had happened to Chalice, Rodeo had packed a quick bag and come back out — yet the explanation still hadn’t ended.
Occasionally stealing sideways glances as he waited, he noticed something unusual: Carousel was wearing an unusually kind expression, one that didn’t suit him at all.
He talks like he hates Guides, so what’s with that face.
And that wasn’t all.
Chalice, who had been listening to Carousel go on and on, gave a small nod, cleared his throat, and undid one of the buttons he’d had fastened all the way up to his throat.
Rodeo forgot to look away and watched.
What was that.
Both Carousel and Chalice were smiling lightly.
“…!”
At that moment, Chalice and Rodeo’s eyes met.
Rodeo openly scrunched his face and looked away, while Chalice gazed back with an expression that was somehow full of concern.
Carousel, watching Chalice, handed him a couple of sheets of paper and wrapped up his explanation.
“He’s still somewhat unstable, so I ask for your cooperation. I know you have your own work and you’re also handling instruction at the Guide Academy, so you must be quite busy — but it’s only 3 days.”
“…There won’t be any particular issues.”
Carousel glanced briefly behind him, then lowered his voice and leaned close to Chalice’s ear, speaking in a near-whisper.
“On a different note… as you know, even during the adjustment period, if you reach an agreement with Rodeo, you can change the Decorker settings to a dedicated Guide configuration. You haven’t submitted the application yet…”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Hm? But that much should be negotiable.”
“…….”
Chalice looked down at Carousel and smiled, visibly uncomfortable. His expression made it clear he didn’t want to be asked further, and Carousel said nothing more.
From beyond the two figures, Rodeo watched in silence.
“It’ll be an uncomfortable situation for both of us — I’ll stay quietly and be on my way, so don’t worry.”
When Chalice led Rodeo to the spare room and handed him a temporary keycard for access, Rodeo said this right off the bat.
“…I heard you went through a Time Warp.”
Chalice attempted a fairly ordinary attempt at conversation — but the response was less than cooperative.
“It feels like the facility doesn’t treat Guides like people anymore. Is that information public? Oh — or is it because you have a special relationship with Carousel that he tells you things like that?”
Chalice ended up furrowing his brow as deeply as it would go, then flung the keycard he’d been holding onto the bed.
“If you’re hungry, you can eat whatever’s in the fridge. The bathroom, the washing machine — use everything freely. I leave at 8 and usually get back before 7… if you don’t want to see my face, figure out how to avoid it yourself.”
Chalice rubbed his temple and took a step toward the door.
The sound of Rodeo lying down on the bed followed, and Chalice, just as he was about to leave, paused and glanced back.
Considering everything Carousel had told him, Rodeo looked remarkably fine.
Those eyes — which had been sunk low and sharp like something confirming a target — shifted into something that looked, somehow, like relief.
Then Chalice stepped out of the room without a word.
I’ll need to eat dinner outside for the next few days.
That was the only thought that crossed Chalice’s mind as he walked away, thinking of how sharp Rodeo had been.
The commotion had pushed the evening late.
Just as Rodeo was about to open his bedroom door to check the pantry and fridge, there was a sudden sound of the front door opening.
Rodeo instantly froze in place, every sense trained on the presence.
An unexpected visit had never once been a good sign for a mission-specialized esper — so Rodeo was already mapping out the room, plotting a path to attack at a moment’s notice.
Anticlimactically, the door soon closed again and the sound of the lock clicking shut followed.
The apartment fell into silence.
“…Did he go out?”
He wasn’t sure whether the occupant had gone out with a guest still in, or just stepped out briefly — but Rodeo kept shaking his head, pushing the thought away, and opened the fridge.
There was no reason to concern himself with someone who’d told him to live as if he didn’t exist.
“…He lives better than I expected.”
The fridge was stocked with a decent amount of ingredients worth cooking — fresh shrimp, a seafood mix, broccoli, onion, garlic.
In the fruit drawer, a bunch of green grapes; in the drinks, low-fat milk and apple juice.
The pantry had several varieties of pasta, and one pack each of Guatemala Antigua and Ethiopia Yirgacheffe beans.
Come to think of it, a coffee pot and dripper were neatly arranged on the kitchen island.
“…Is he coming back soon.”
Rodeo opened cupboard after cupboard and pulled out a deep pot and a wide pan.
He grabbed a pack of linguine from the pantry and tore it open, filled the pot with water and set it on the heat, and took a few ingredients out from the fridge.
The way he moved — swift and sure — looked well-practiced.
But at some point, Rodeo went still and fell quietly into thought.
He had taken out just a few shrimp and laid them on the cutting board, and now he stood staring at them for a long moment.
“Hoo… right, I’ve got manners as a guest. Respect for one’s elders too, I suppose.”
He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut — then let out a sigh and pulled out one more of each ingredient.
In the end, a generous handful of garlic, one onion, and ten fresh shrimp were laid out on the cutting board.
The sound of the pot going on the heat and ingredients being prepped echoed through the ownerless apartment.
A little while later, the water came to a boil, and a portion of pasta — far too much for one person — went into the pot.
10:37 PM. The lock on Chalice’s front door clicked open.
Chalice stepped inside, turned on the lights in the dark apartment, and glanced briefly at the firmly shut bedroom door.
In one hand he carried a large bag, with a few vegetable stems and a baguette in a large paper bag sticking out from the top.
Chalice stepped into the kitchen and, before opening the fridge, slowly looked over the sink and the cabinets.
The pot and dishes Rodeo had used were neatly cleaned and put away — only a single plate remained in the sink.
Chalice found something odd about that one plate left behind, tilting his head slightly — but said nothing, and quietly began putting away the groceries one by one.
The rustling of bags filled the still, silent space.
