I stopped by the shop to announce my return and catch up on everything that had happened while I was away.
As usual, there hadn’t been any major issues, but Caulm mentioned there were two specific matters he needed to discuss with me outside of our standard operations.
"This arrived for you from Weitzen," Caulm said as he handed me a letter. On the desk in the manager’s office sat two framed documents.
Weitzen... The name rang a bell. Ah, right, that was the village Fina and the others were from! I’d completely forgotten the name on their resumes, but it was coming back to me now.
"Is the sender the village chief?" I asked.
The letter was a formal report stating that the village had officially decided to move forward with the production and sale of barley tea. It also contained a heartfelt expression of gratitude toward me.
It seemed that building a consensus within the village and coordinating with the Saionji Company was going smoothly. They were already processing the barley stored in individual households and were consulting with Pioro on plans to build a large-scale processing plant and increase crop yields.
Upon receiving my letter of introduction and the samples, the chairman himself had apparently made the trip to the village. While he was there, he even bought up their surplus grains in addition to the barley. I could feel their joy radiating from the page.
As a token of their appreciation, they had sent me a formal letter of thanks and appointed me as an "Advisor" for the Weitzen Village Barley Tea Factory. That was what the two framed documents were for.
The "Advisor" role was essentially an honorary title—no duties, no responsibilities, and no pay. However, they planned to send me tea leaves periodically under the guise of "consulting" on flavor and quality.
"Congratulations on your appointment, Boss," Caulm said.
"Thank you. I’m not actually doing anything, but I suppose I’ll accept the honor if they’re offering."
"And the second matter?" I prompted.
"Yes. I’ve heard some rather concerning rumors lately. Among the residents of the slums, word is spreading that the city plans to demolish the slum district for a new urban development project and evict everyone living there."
"That’s quite unsettling," I remarked.
I understood the words, but the reasoning escaped me. Caulm felt the same, which was why he had immediately looked into the matter.
"I checked with the Town Office through the Commerce Guild, and they confirmed there are no such plans. However... you remember the scandal involving the Town Office before we arrived?"
"Yes. I heard a new director was brought in to fix things. Are they still not trusted?"
"It appears so. While the situation was technically resolved with the punishment and replacement of those responsible, the office hasn't managed to regain the public’s trust. It seems suspicion is simply breeding more suspicion."
Good grief.
The face of the man I had met during the Founding Festival flashed through my mind. The person tasked with cleaning up his predecessor’s mess certainly had a difficult road ahead of him.
"Has this affected our shop at all?"
"Not yet. However, I’ve heard that residents from the slums have been proactively visiting shops with job openings over the last few days. While we aren't currently recruiting, there’s a chance they might show up here asking for work. I believe we should decide on a policy now, just in case."
"I see... Do we actually need more help right now?"
We could certainly afford the wages, but the shop was running smoothly with our current staff. Even with future expansion in mind, I couldn't think of a reason to rush into hiring right this second.
However, Bamboo Forest had been supported by the people of the slums since the day we opened. Many of my own acquaintances were from there. If they were in trouble, I wanted to help.
"It depends on the individual, of course," I said, "but having worked with everyone so far, I don't have a bad impression of the slums in this city."
"I'll admit, I imagined a much more dangerous place before I started here," Caulm added.
"Most slums are exactly what you'd imagine. In large cities, it's not unusual to find areas where even the Guard Force refuses to set foot. By comparison, you could say this city’s slums are safe enough that people can actually conduct environmental surveys there."
Is that so... Wait, we were getting off-track.
As for the work, they could certainly help with heavy lifting, but having too many hands on deck could be counterproductive. Wait—too many? What if we only brought in extra help during the peak hours when the shop was swamped? We could hire them on a part-time basis just for those shifts. That would reduce the burden on our regular staff, and we could even open more service windows. If that increased our turnover rate, it would also mean less waiting for the customers.
I decided to propose the idea. "What do you think of that?"
"As long as we conduct proper interviews and ensure they don't have direct contact with the cleaner slimes to prevent theft... it wouldn't be a pointless increase in personnel. I think it’s a solid plan. If we find someone particularly promising, we could even consider them for a formal position later."
"Then let’s move forward with that policy."
"Understood. That concludes today’s briefing."
"Thank you as always, Caulm. I’ll be back in five days to take over again."
"Leave everything to me. By the way, Boss, what do you plan to do with the rest of your day?"
"I think I’ll head back and check on the abandoned mine. I need to make sure nothing dangerous moved in while I was away."
"You’ve just returned from a long journey, so please make sure you get some proper rest."
"I will. Thank you."
After our talk, Caulm headed back to the storefront. I decided to take his advice and head home early.
"Oh?"
As I was walking toward the North Gate along the edge of the residential district, a refreshing, sweet aroma drifted toward me. I traced the scent to its source—a house. Wait, was this a shop?
"Cafe: Cat's Forehead. Open for Business."
It looked like a small, cozy wooden residence, but a tiny sign the size of a nameplate was hanging next to the door.
Come to think of it, it was almost noon. Maybe I’d grab a bite to eat. But was it actually okay to go in? The sign said "Open," but there was no sign of any customers, and the handwriting was so messy that I couldn't be sure it wasn't just a child playing house.
"What are you doing standing around out there, Master Takebayashi?"
"Hmm? Ah!"
I turned toward the voice and saw a well-dressed man carrying a slightly worn briefcase. It was Arnold Bernheid, the current director of the Town Office.
"Good afternoon," I said.
"Good afternoon indeed. Are you here for lunch as well?"
"I was drawn in by the scent, but I wasn't sure if the place was actually open."
"I understand. It really does look like a private home. I was hesitant my first time, too. If you’d like, why don’t you join me?"
He invited me for lunch, and since I was hungry anyway, I decided to accept.
"Welcome," a voice called out as we entered.
"The usual tea and the daily sandwich, please. And Ramon Pie for dessert—make it a double order, since there are two of us today."
"Take a seat."
Just inside the door was a counter. An elderly cat-kin woman sat behind it; she took Arnold’s order with a blunt nod and disappeared into the back.
"This way, please."
Arnold guided me with practiced ease to a table for four against the right wall. There was another identical table on the left, but those appeared to be the only two in the shop. The total capacity was just eight people.
"As you can see, it's not exactly spacious. They only offer the three items I just ordered, but the quality is remarkable."
"I see. Do you come here often?"
"About five days a week lately," he admitted.
That was basically every day.
"On the other two days, I just grab something near the office. I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook."
"You seem incredibly busy. I heard you're already planning a new district to the south."
"So you’ve heard. But we’re only in the planning stages. The real work hasn't even begun."
As he spoke, his expression looked exactly like the overworked colleagues I remembered from my previous life.
"I apologize if I’m overstepping, but... you look exhausted."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Not exactly, but I used to know people who carried a similar aura. I had a hunch."
He looked at me and let out a long, heavy sigh. "I suppose there’s no point in trying to hide it."
"Sorry for the wait," the woman said, returning with our food.
I listened to his story while I ate my sandwich. To put it mildly, his situation was a nightmare. To put it bluntly, he was "swamped with problems."
Following the scandal, a large number of officials—including the previous director, who had been the source of the corruption—had been purged. This left the office severely short-staffed. They were hiring new people, but they were far from being a functional workforce yet.
The veterans who had kept their jobs were mostly people who had been too intimidated by the previous director to speak up. While they deserved some sympathy, many of them were now paralyzed by anxiety and lacked any initiative.
"That sounds... incredibly difficult," I said.
"Do you deal with similar issues with your employees?"
"Ah, no, I’m quite happy with my staff. I was actually thinking of something else."
Careful. If I kept going, I might accidentally reveal too much about my past.
Still, he only mentioned the Town Office. He hadn't brought up the slums at all. I decided to probe a little.
"You’ve heard those rumors as well, then?" he asked, sighing. "The construction plans for the new district don't involve evicting anyone from the slums. We have no intention of doing so. However..."
He knit his brows and took a sip of his tea. It was clearly a complicated, headache-inducing issue.
"There are people in that district who have no homes and live on the streets. Many roads are blocked by their temporary shelters, and we’ve confirmed that people are living in ruins that don't meet basic safety standards.
Legally, we are required to request that these individuals remove their obstructions, relocate, or perform necessary repairs. If we didn't, it would be a dereliction of our duty."
So that was it. A series of legal notices had been misinterpreted and whispered about until they turned into a rumor about the city "evicting" everyone.
"Records show a steady increase in accidents involving collapsing ruins and deaths from exposure during the winter. We simply can't leave things as they are."
He didn't expect the slum residents to be able to afford repairs or relocation immediately; he understood their financial struggles. That was why he was avoiding forced evictions and sticking to formal requests for now. He’d even set up a dedicated department for the issue, and I suspected the new development project was partly intended to create jobs for those people.
Still, managing the homeless population was a notoriously difficult problem.
"It is," he agreed. "But it is our duty and our obligation to find a way to resolve it through support rather than exclusion."
"I admire your dedication."
Wait, did the previous director just ignore these problems entirely? I bet they were just as lazy about public safety as they were corrupt with the budget.
"Here’s your Ramon Pie."
"Ah, thank you—wait, what?"
I stared at the plate. It was a pie, all right, but a massive one—the size of a whole cake. And there were two of them.
"I’ll take the empty plates," the woman said, clearing the table to make room for the second one-person "dessert."
"This is..."
"I am so sorry," Arnold said, looking embarrassed. "It was my fault for ordering a double order of 'the usual.'"
"By 'the usual,' do you mean you eat an entire pie for dessert every time?"
"Oh, I can't finish it all at once. I take the leftovers back to the office to eat during my breaks. I find I crave sweets when I’m under a lot of stress."
He gave a sheepish smile—the first one I'd seen all day. I couldn't help but worry if he was headed straight for diabetes.
I took a bite of my own. The simple warmth of the crust paired perfectly with the refreshing aroma and sharp acidity of the Ramon cream. It wasn't overly sugary, but two or three slices were more than enough for me. I’d definitely be taking the rest home.
I looked over at Arnold Bernheid. He was systematically working his way through his pie, looking more relaxed than he had since we met.
This was clearly his one small sanctuary in the middle of a grueling job. I decided to keep my health concerns to myself and let him enjoy his hard-earned peace.