216 Temporary Return Home

Smells.

An unpleasant odor, unlike anything felt before, forced me to reduce olfactory sensitivity.

My sense of smell, previously on par with a dog’s, dropped to average human levels.

Even so, the discomfort from the scent lingered, stubbornly persistent.

Wind brushes against skin.

The wind offers no comfort.

Frankly, it’s cold.

Sounds reach the ears—杂多な音.

Voices of passing people.

Exhaust fumes from vehicles.

Music leaking from a department store.

Ahead, a townscape neither urban nor rural—somewhere in between, of moderate size.

I was back in Japan.

Among the tasks delegated to the clone, the highest priority had been enabling transfer to Earth.

Reasons varied.

Games, manga, sweets, instant noodles.

Wait—

No proper reason comes to mind.

Well, whatever.

First, enter the convenience store.

Incidentally, my current attire is not the usual robe.

Not some overly fantasy-styled outfit—something appropriate for Japan, something that wouldn’t draw attention.

Apparently, it’s winter now, so I’ve changed into a white coat, skirt, and boots.

I’m entirely white—myself and my clothes—so I stand out.

Changing the color is possible, but it’s troublesome.

I’ll be back soon, so standing out a little is acceptable, as long as it doesn’t attract police attention.

Keeping my eyes closed the whole time might be risky, though.

Picking up a random magazine at the store.

Checking the issue number.

Seeing the date, I feel a slight surprise despite having expected it.

Over there, Earth time has already passed five years, but here, only half a year has passed.

The flow of time differs.

Special relativity?

No, I just said it out loud. I don’t know what special relativity is, so I can’t say for sure.

Well, in a world with magic and such, talking about physics probably doesn’t matter much.

But half a year, huh.

No wonder the scenery in my memory hasn’t changed.

Five years should’ve brought noticeable changes to buildings and such. But nothing changed—so it seemed odd.

I thought maybe, and checked. As expected.

I browsed through the weekly manga magazine, read it all without buying anything, and left the convenience store.

Huh?

You want me to buy something?

I’m broke. What?

And the shopkeeper kept giving me suspicious looks while I kept reading manga with my eyes closed.

I left quickly.

Yeah.

On Earth, clairvoyance still functions properly.

I can’t use magic? That’s not true.

If magic isn't usable, teleportation shouldn't be possible either. So the fact that I arrived safely already rules that out.

Some novels claim Earth lacks magical energy, preventing magic from developing. But that doesn't seem to be the case.

I don't know why magic didn't develop here.

Someone might be pulling strings behind the scenes. But that's none of my concern.

I intend to go toward the one who might be pulling those strings.

No need to state the obvious—D's location.

My primary reason for coming to Earth was to meet D directly.

Entertainment and sweets are secondary.

Really?

I know of D as a being. That's all.

I've never met them.

Becoming a subordinate to someone I've never met? My pride won't allow it.

I've always believed I'd never serve under anyone.

Even granting the impossibility of avoiding it, at least let it be with someone whose choice one can accept.

Therefore, I must confirm D with these eyes.

Whether I am worthy to serve.

In strength, unfortunately, it seems we cannot prevail.

Even in decay, the system remains an architect of hyper-advanced large-scale magic.

I caught a glimpse of its artistic perfection, just by touching its edge.

The difference in power is clear from that alone.

Even if I am deified, I am but a lowest-tier deity with little grasp of power—no chance of victory, even one in ten thousand.

Moreover, if one accepts the fragmented information and the details disclosed directly by D, that entity possesses particular strength even among gods.

Taking the matter at face value, though.

Seeing is not about strength.

Whether it aligns with my instincts or not.

That is all.

If it does not align, then it will be as it is when that time comes.

Following along for a while, fleeing, rising up through force—whatever suits my mood.

As always.

Walking toward the destination.

No familiar scent of soil. Instead, a jumble of odors assaults the nose.

An endless stretch of concrete pavement.

A cityscape that feels suffocating.

Even as I perceive it, there is little emotional resonance.

No real sense of having returned.

It is expected, perhaps.

More accurately, a vague unease.

Ah, a beef bowl shop.

Ah, I want food.

But I have no money.

D, can you spare some pocket money?

If you do, I’ll temporarily recognize you as my master. Yes.

From the station toward the residential district.

Fewer people than at the station. Stores disappear.

Deeper into the neighborhood.

A single house, quietly nestled between homes and their shadows.

A modest, unremarkable house, built approximately ten years ago.

Open the gate and walk to the front entrance.

Insert a finger into the gap between the roots of the potted houseplant placed beside the entrance.

There, the key was located.

Use that key to open the front door.

The house is silent.

Immediately inside, a staircase leads to the second floor.

To the side, a hallway extends toward the rear of the first floor.

I ascend to the second floor without hesitation.

Open the door directly to the right upon reaching the second floor.

A faint sound of a PC echoes from within the room.

The screen displays a game. A balding middle-aged man’s character evades enemy attacks with precision.

Each evasion triggers a clicking sound from the controller.

“Welcome. Or should I say, ‘Welcome back’?”

The girl gripping the controller speaks without turning around.

This is the first time I’ve come here. So “welcome” might not be the right word.

The words came out smoothly, unexpectedly.

Perhaps the first time I’ve had proper conversation with someone other than the Demon King.

And I understand why.

"Shall I say 'nice to meet you'? Wakaba-hime-iro-san? Or should I call you 'D'?"

The girl turns around.

My face, as I remember it.

A girl identical to me.

The only differences are her loose hair and a slightly different expression.

"Nice to meet you. My substitute."

The original version of me spoke with no expression.