"Daharat?"

  "What is it, Oh-teru?"

  "Even granting that I told you to forget noble manners and take it easy here...

  Don't you think you've let yourself go a bit too much?"

  "Have I?"

  Sprawled carelessly across the bean bag chair in the living room, Daharat held a tablet PC in one hand while scratching his belly with the other—the very picture of a hopeless layabout... or rather, a hopeless Lupacid.

  "Well, this tracksuit you called it? When I said the top was too tight, you were the one who said I could take it off."

  "That's true."

  He'd thought with the zipper unable to close, taking it off would be more comfortable—so he'd said as much.

  "When I asked what this bean bag chair was, you were the one who said 'try sitting in it, you won't be able to get up.'"

  "That I did."

  He'd been curious how this alien would react to the cushion that corrupts all humans, and wanted to try it.

  "When I said I was curious about Earth's animals, you were the one who suggested watching this nature documentary or whatever."

  "True."

  Since searching was out of the question with no Japanese, showing him an animal documentary channel on ○Tube had seemed reasonable enough.

  "So this is the result. What do you say?"

  "Urgh..."

  Indeed—it was all the result of Amashiro's own suggestions stacking up.

  Just as last night, one coincidence after another with the drinking had led to today's situation.

  "You know, I'd always thought something like this could never happen in my lifetime—but casting off manners and common sense to take it easy really is quite liberating.

  I'm tempted to take off these pants too..."

  "Alright, alright! That's the one thing I cannot allow!"

  Just as Amashiro was feeling the terror of having unleashed a monster that should not exist in this world—

  Arsha, who'd been sleeping in the bedroom, woke up, and came padding out to the living room where the two of them were, mewing. She looked at Daharat sprawled across the bean bag chair, then walked straight toward him.

  "Oh, Your Highness... whoa?"

  Unlike their usual wariness around guests, the Amashiro cats showed no such caution with Daharat—perhaps because he'd been here so long, or perhaps because they took him for some large animal—approaching without hesitation and leaping straight onto Daharat's stomach.

  And then—

  "Ow!"

  She began making cookies on his magnificent abdominal muscles.

  "Ahh, lucky you, Daharat—looks like Arsha's taken a liking to you.

  Though Arsha, I think his stomach's too hard to be comfortable, don't you?"

  "Don't say that, do something about— ow ow ow!"

  The Amashiro cats were fond of kneading microfiber pajamas and blankets. They likely mistook the fur-covered Daharat for some large microfiber stuffed animal.

  ...And while a cat's kneading looks adorable, in practice the claws coming in and out are quite painful.

  "In other words, Daharat is currently experiencing the joy of being a pincushion."

  "Stop the strange narration! Do something— ah..."

  "?"

  Before he knew it, Isha had emerged as well—leaping onto Daharat's stomach, the two cats huddled together, curled up, and promptly went back to sleep right on top of him.

  "H-hey... do something about this."

  "Heheh. To become the bed of Her Majesty the Queen and Her Royal Highness the Princess—what greater honor could there be?

  Accept it humbly, Marc Mengen."

  "HEY!"

  Amashiro was teasing him, but thinking it wasn't entirely without its charm—he said to Daharat:

  "Well, it would be a shame to wake them when they're sleeping so comfortably. Why not take a nap yourself?

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I've got some work to process. If you're bored, maybe think about what you want for dinner~"

  "HEYYY!"

  "Well, you were making such a fuss, and then you were fast asleep, weren't you."

  When Amashiro emerged from the study after finishing work, Daharat had fallen asleep on the bean bag chair with Norgaar on his stomach this time. As it was getting toward evening, he distributed cat food tins to the cats, then after deliberating over what to have for dinner, ordered pizza and woke Daharat.

  "The cushion was simply too comfortable."

  "I understand that completely, but you'll have trouble when you go back to Tusita, you know."

  "...I'll be careful.

  Still, in this world they even deliver food from restaurants to your home."

  Recognizing the delivered pizza as food by smell, Daharat was marveling in another unexpected place.

  "Hm? You don't have delivery service in Tusita?"

  "Even if we wanted to, there's no way to contact a restaurant from a distance.

  There is long-distance communication magic, but it can't be used for something like that.

  Come to think of it—how do you manage long-distance communication on Earth?"

  "Hm? Starting from there?

  Well... there's something called a telephone. Once upon a time it was connected by wires, but lately it's mostly wireless.

  As long as you know the contact information, it can connect across oceans to foreign countries."

  "That's remarkable.

  Using such technology must require considerable status or wealth?"

  "About a hundred years ago when it was first commercialized, perhaps—but now, not at all. It's an era where one per household isn't enough, one per person is standard."

  Hearing that, Daharat looked somewhere between exasperated and overwhelmed.

  "I can't even find words.

  Such a gap in only two hundred years."

  "Well, by Antero lifespans it's barely more than one generation, isn't it?

  It'll be soon, I think. I'd like to support as much as I can too.

  But that's for later—let's eat before it gets cold."

  "Right... this is a strange food, isn't it? Where are the utensils?"

  Daharat puzzling over the pizza as if it were his first encounter, Amashiro picked up a slice and said:

  "You can use them if you like, but this is something you can just hold and eat with your hands. For drinks... I prepared two options, oolong tea and beer..."

  Wondering what reaction carbonation would get, and with the stories about questionable ingredients in cola striking it from the list, those two were what remained.

  "Beer won't get you completely drunk, right?"

  "Beer?"

  Another thing Tusita didn't have—or perhaps a different name for it.

  Amashiro opened a beer can and poured it into a glass to show him.

  "Well now, isn't this lager?

  Lager's fine—actually, it's a favorite."

  "Oh, really? That's good then.

  So... wait, you're already drinking."

  Gulp, gulp—Daharat drinking his beer.

  With his throat bare, the movement of his throat was plainly visible—it was, in a word, the very picture of someone who 'drinks well.'

  "Smooth lager. Goes down nicely."

  "You do drink well, but... be careful? Don't get drunk again?"

  "This little bit won't get me drunk.

  Besides, here there's no worry about showing a disheveled state, is there?"

  "Ah, true enough.

  I'd be frightened to see what 'more disheveled than that' would even look like."

  "Don't bring that up, fool.

  But this... it's a bit unusual, but an interesting food, isn't it?"

  "The cheese varieties need sorting out, but it could probably be made in Tusita.

  I'll have our head chef research it later."

  "Oh, I look forward to that."

  "You can expect good things—our Garkan is a skilled cook.

  Actually, if you ever want to eat it, you're welcome to come to Earth.

  Treating a friend to pizza is something I can do anytime."

  "...Friend."

  Daharat had said 'friend' in the formal register—but Amashiro said it casually, without a second thought.

  From somewhere deep inside, sensing something he couldn't name—

  Daharat's tail was swaying.

  "Right, shall we go? Are you ready?

  Well, 'ready' for you just means going as you are."

  "Is it really alright to go like this?"

  Now that they were returning to Tusita, Daharat was actually starting to worry.

  Understandably so—he'd have to walk into Alabaster Hall in nothing but tight tracksuit pants, essentially half-naked.

  "Don't worry.

  I went ahead to check preparations, and I've had clothes brought from your estate along with your valet.

  I thought about asking our Ronoval to help with the change, but...

  even so, having another household's retainer see their lord undressed would embarrass your own staff, wouldn't it?"

  "...Shouldn't you be worrying about me—the one being seen—first?"

  "You were walking around boldly undressed here, so I thought you didn't mind?"

  "Of course I mind!"

  After their trivial exchange, the two turned to face each other and laughed.

  "Now—through that Gate is my bedroom at Alabaster Hall.

  Your valet is waiting there."

  "And you?"

  "If I come along, your valet would be flustered.

  I'll go through another Gate, so let's meet again after you've changed."

  "I'm grateful for the consideration.

  ...Oh-teru."

  "What?"

  Before opening the Gate, Daharat turned back to look at Amashiro with an expression somehow frustrated, searching.

  "When we're back in Tusita... will you still call me 'friend'?"

  "?

  Of course. What a thing to even ask."

  "Is that so. Thank you.

  Then—see you in Tusita!"

  With that, Daharat stepped through the Gate. After confirming he'd connected with his valet on the other side ("My lord! What a sorry state you're in!" "Never mind that, the clothes—"), Amashiro dissolved the Gate, tidied up the living room, changed, and opened a Gate to the Alabaster Hall study.

  "I'm ba— oh, Reinbardt?

  You were waiting for me?"

  "Welcome back, my lord.

  Yes. There was a visit early this morning from Marc Mengen's valet as well, but...

  there is something you need to see."

  From Reinbardt's unusually serious manner, Amashiro—Celeste—sensed something out of the ordinary.

  "Did something happen last night and this morning while I was away?

  When I came to check earlier, you didn't say anything."

  "It didn't seem to be the sort of thing requiring urgent attention, so I judged it better to prioritize Lord Mengen's situation first."

  That seemed reasonable, and Celeste nodded in reply.

  "Fair enough. Good call.

  Then—what is it?"

  "To show you, I'll need you to come outside, but...

  first—doesn't it seem oddly dark outside the windows?"

  "Hm?"

  Come to think of it, when he'd come to arrange Daharat's return, the view outside had seemed strangely dark for the time he'd calculated—he'd simply assumed he'd miscalculated.

  But if that wasn't the case?

  "...We'd best go outside and look."

  Leaving the room and descending from the second floor to the hall, he found Daharat there—changed, back to his usual composed Military Affairs Minister bearing.

  "Oh— Regis Celeste. It seems something happened while we were away."

  "I said Oh-teru is fine, Daharat. Let's go outside and see."

  As the two spoke to each other by name alone, the surrounding servants watching with wide eyes—Celeste stepped out to the garden, Daharat following behind.

  Stepping into the garden and looking up at the sky, both could only doubt their own eyes.

  "What is... that..."

  "How can something like that exist?"

  In the sky where the two gazed in astonishment—something like a massive rock formation...

  No—a 'flying island,' floating silently high above Alabaster Hall, without a sound.