71. Welcome Reception 2

After explaining the basics of Agirakana to Ichijō and the others, it was about time. Dinner parties tasted better when started in daylight. That’s my theory.

Thanks to my body—unlike Ohasho Sōsuke’s, apparently—where drinking alcohol never led to hangovers, I could drink as much as I liked and still enjoy it. No one could complain about that kind of lifestyle, and it wasn’t enough to ruin one’s prospects, either.

Maria had some urgent matter to attend to, so I ended up acting as guide alone, leading Ichijō and Hōzōin toward my Private Residence.

From the Government Residence’s Transfer Chamber, we emerged into a pavilion-style building. Ichijō said something mildly inappropriate.

“Senior, is this your place? Quite narrow, but the air flows well, huh?”

"Idiot, this is a gazebo. Just a roof slapped on top of a teleportation device."

"Joking, of course. Even if you are senior, you couldn’t possibly live in something like this."

"Ichijō-san, you’ll make Yamada-san angry if you keep speaking so disrespectfully."

"Aw, come on, Reika-chan. Seniors don’t get mad over something like that, do they? Hey, senior!"

"Ah, I give up. Up that little path there’s a building that looks like a hot spring inn—apparently that’s my private residence. Well, call it a fancy banquet hall. Good bath, decent food, not bad at all. And I’ve got all kinds of liquor stocked, so that’s a plus."

"Sounds promising. I’ve been working at the embassy for so long, I’ve built up quite a tolerance. Can’t wait."

With that, they began ascending the stone path leading up the hill.

"Senior, what kind of tree is this hedge made of?"

"That's a camellia. It blooms with lovely pink flowers from winter through early spring. The green leaves are glossy—quite a sight, aren’t they? This whole area’s planted with Japanese trees. Looks like they’re managing it well—no Earth-origin Plants seem to be spreading beyond the perimeter."

After walking a short distance along the path, a triangular roof with black tiles came into view. A little further on, the full structure of a stone-walled building emerged.

"Really—there’s a proper hot spring inn vibe to it."

They stepped through the stone gate, then pushed open the sliding front door with a creak, entering the inn’s main entryway. There, just as expected, were neatly arranged slippers waiting by the threshold.

"First, we should sweat out the journey and change. Come along, then."

They walked a short way down a polished wooden corridor,

"Turn left at the end there—this is the women’s bath. Take your time, come in. Your yukata’s been laid out; change into it and come to the room on the right."

"Understood!"

Ichijō walked down the corridor, glancing around with a nervous tilt of the head, while I and Hōzōin followed behind.

At the end of the hall, after parting ways with the two, we turned right—straight ahead hung a deep blue curtain, white characters reading 'Otona-yu ♨' neatly dyed into it. I might as well get myself a proper soak and clear the mind.

After a quick rinse, I settled into the bath, shoulders submerged, letting my thoughts drift as usual—predictably, Ichijō was already goofing around with Hōzōin in the bathhouse.

"...Even with such a good figure, it's a bit disappointing..." — the muttered remark drifted over, impolite as ever. Maybe the partition between the women's bath and ours should be thicker, or some kind of soundproofing installed.

My body was thoroughly warmed, a faint flush creeping in, so I stepped out of the bath, put on the undergarments prepared for me, then slipped on a yukata. The temperature didn’t warrant a full robe, but I layered on the usual Agirakana coat over the yukata. Upon closer inspection, the fabric had somehow grown thinner without my noticing.

Entering the tatami room, I was indeed the first, no one else present yet. For today’s gathering of eight, four zabuton chairs were arranged on each side, making a total of eight.

After sitting for a while on the zabuton chair near the center, waiting for everyone else to arrive, the fusuma at the entrance slid open and an automated machine entered, carrying several plates of food on a large tray. It had been converted from a combat-grade hexapod, and now skillfully balanced the tray across its four limbs.

Immediately, the dishes were arranged with precision, and the low table soon became entirely covered in plates. The next machine to enter placed a small, portable table beside the already laden one, then set down a number of beer bottles, damp with condensation, and a tin bucket filled with ice containing bottles of Japanese sake. These automated machines were equipped with learning capabilities, and, having memorized individual preferences—down to the specific brand of sake based on the type of cuisine—could serve their users with the discernment of a master chef.

After sitting for a while, the sound of Ichijō and the others came from down the hallway. At last, they’d arrived—but Maria and the rest of our crew hadn’t shown up yet. Come to think of it, it would be awkward for unacquainted guests to share a bath, so I assumed they’d be coming straight from the bathhouse now.

“Senior, we’ve had a wonderful bath.”

“A Japanese-style bath—beautiful, I was surprised.”

“Now that we’re refreshed, let’s have a light beer and wait for everyone else.”

“Is that beer okay?”

“Yeah, pop open two or three, leave them around. Wait—no, don’t serve the guests directly. Let me pour for you both.”

With a soft *pop*, *pop*, he uncorked two bottles, took one, and poured beer into the offered glasses.

Tock-tock-took.

A soft hiss, and the beer poured into the larger glasses—cold enough that the foam was restrained, just a modest crest, not spilling over.

“Then, Senior, please take a glass.”

Ichijō poured beer into his glass,

“Everyone’s still not here, but—cheers, anyway!”

“Cheers!” “Cheers!”

Hmm, quite a delay—something must’ve come up with our crew.