The Periphery
In the back of the buar cart provided by Director Bear rides Hulemy and the Band of Gluttons, while Lammis, with me on her back, and the young man are walking alongside it.
“Ha-ha. I see.”
“But you really were planning on exploring the inside, huh?” says Lammis.
“Oh, y’know…”
“And why not? We’ve got a powerful hunter with us, so we’ll be able to deal with all sorts of terrible situations. We’ll be counting on ya,” says Hulemy.
“Ha-ha. I see.”
“I never thought I’d be able to travel with the Reclusive Black Flash. It’s an honor!”
“Ha-ha. Is that so?”
For anyone who didn’t know about the incident last night, he would seem like an agreeable young man, responding with a relaxed, cool smile…but on closer examination, it’s clear his cheeks are slightly tense, and he’s mostly repeating the same thing for every response. You should learn a few more variations, Mishuel.
At Director Bear’s request, we’re advancing along the giant labyrinth’s periphery. To our left is its towering outer wall. To our right, a vast, barren wasteland. The enemies never come out of the labyrinth, and no creatures live outside it.
The danger is pretty low for this request, which is why the director figured we’d be fine with just Lammis, Hulemy, and the Band of Gluttons.
Still, with all the strange things happening lately, anything can occur. Though it was an odd request, the director had approved Mishuel joining us as someone known far and wide to be powerful—which brings us to the present.
“Hulemy, he said it would take about a month to do a full circuit around the periphery, right?” asks Lammis.
“That’s how long it took the hunters assigned to investigating it a year ago, but taking measurements based on Boxxo’s image will make it less than three weeks, I think. I bet they took their time on purpose to charge more reward money.”
Ahh, I see. If a job is safe and you get a reward based on how many days it took, it’s not strange that some hunters would think that way.
“This mission is perfect for us, since we have Boxxo, who can supply us with unlimited food. The director originally wanted to ask the Band of Gluttons for this, since they have an established reputation for quickness and vitality, but then there would have been a food problem.”
Fast-moving and easily adaptable to any environment in the wild… The investigation seems suited for the Band of Gluttons, but their greatest obstacle is ensuring they have enough food.
That’s why Lammis and I ended up going with them, with Hulemy in charge of the more detailed investigations and analyses, like whether the walls have deteriorated any further, whether the nearby environment has changed at all, and if she can see any signs that something strange might happen in the future.
The job is simple—we follow the outer wall at a relaxed pace, almost like we’re on a leisurely trip. But we’ve been caught up in so many unexpected happenings that it’s hard not to be cautious.
“Well then—I’ll bring up the rear, just to be safe.”
The sudden voice snaps me back to the present.
With natural motions, Mishuel leaves and moves to the tail end of our party. But after making sure nobody has their eyes on him, he breathes a sigh of relief.
Well, my eyes are on him, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Still, if he’s habitually this nervous around other people, why did he come with us on this mission?
I thought he’d approached Lammis with the offer to buy me, a vending machine…but that deal went south somewhere along the way, and here we are. I still have my reservations about him, though they don’t enter the realm of distrust, so I’ll keep an attentive watch over him.
After moving to the rear, Mishuel walks in silence, slightly downcast unless someone turns around to take a peek at him. I realized only after watching his face closely that his mouth is moving oddly.
Is he talking to himself again? I focus, trying to make out what he’s saying.
“During this…one month…as much as I can…women…and pouch-pandas…who I’m not used to…be able to…act naturally…”
I catch only pieces, but I have a good idea of what he’s saying. He must want to improve his social anxiety a little by traveling with us—a group consisting of only women and Tasmanian devil people.
The members of the Band of Gluttons are quite different from humans, so I can understand them being easier to talk to. But wouldn’t women make him more nervous than men? Then again, there are a lot of stern-faced male hunters out there… Karios and Gorth, for example, would probably make weak-kneed children cry on sight.
Hmm. I’ll have to help him out, then. When he buys something, I’ll make sure to speak to him. I hope that gets him a little more used to a male voice.
Anyway, let’s set him aside for now. I look around but see nothing.
Just the wall and the wasteland. The scenery is exactly the same, and there’s no sign that we’ve gotten anywhere. Is this going to continue for almost a month? Alone, I’d get fed up with it, but with the soul-soothing Band of Gluttons along with Lammis and Hulemy, it shouldn’t be a struggle.
When lunchtime swings around, everyone buys food from me, then they go off to eat wherever they please. Into groups, actually—three to be precise.
The childhood friends, Lammis and Hulemy. The Band of Gluttons. And Mishuel, on his own.
At this rate, Mishuel will continue being the odd man out. He looks lonely. Lammis and Hulemy had casually invited him to eat with them, but he gently refused, his face a smiling mask, a perfect guard for the extreme shyness inside.
It looks like sitting down for a meal with others is a high hurdle for him. I hope he can eat lunch with us normally before this month is over.
—But still, I feel a twinge of apprehension when I think about such an attractive man hanging out with Lammis or Hulemy.
People can say whatever they want, but they’re weak to good looks. The two act like they have no interest in him, but it’s only normal to feel attracted to such a good-looking guy right next to them. A beautiful woman and a handsome man paint a pretty picture. It wouldn’t be strange for one—no, for both of them to fall for him.
Wait, what use is it for a vending machine to feel jealous? The matters of the heart are no business of mine. It’s weird that I even have this on my mind.
Besides, I’m pretty sure Mishuel isn’t a threat anyway. Having watched how he acts and talks triggers my protective instincts and makes me want to cheer him on.
“T-tomorrow, I’ll eat my food three feet closer to everyone else. Yeah. I have to try harder.”
His pitiable words are carried to me on the winds of the wastes— Yeah, wanting to root for this guy is only human.
On the surface, he looks like he’s happily eating his food, but he’s smiling only when he senses someone watching him. He needs to smile more naturally—his cheeks are starting to twitch a little.
At this point, I feel like it would be easier if he just came out and said he was bad at interacting with people, but he probably can’t, which is why he wears his false mask. I wonder what kind of family environment you’d have to be raised in to turn out like that.
*****
After lunch is over, we set off on our leisurely procession around the periphery.
It’s so peaceful. I’m very much aware that I can’t let my guard down, so I won’t relax more than I need to, but it would be nice if nothing happened.
Ever since coming to this world, extreme, life-threatening events have occurred again and again. Laid-back days like this are what life should really be like for a vending machine.
And just as I had hoped, the first day is about to end with us having done nothing but walk.
The nights in this stratum aren’t cold, and the temperature doesn’t change throughout the year, so the Band of Gluttons snore the night away on the ground, their full bellies exposed. Their sleeping faces are adorable, too. I’ll just record them on my surveillance camera for later enjoyment.
Lammis and Hulemy appear to be sleeping in the covered cart bed. I can just make out their faint breaths. Mishuel and I are keeping watch for the others, but the signs of mental exhaustion from his constant worrying about everyone else looking at him all day are showing—he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, and he’s close to losing consciousness. Several times, his head droops, then he opens his eyes and looks around.
“Ah! No, no. Everyone told me it would be fine and Boxxo would keep watch, but… Ughhhh, maaan, that was nerve-racking. They’re both so pretty, and the Band of Gluttons are so cute. It took everything I had to keep my cool. Oh, come to think of it… I wonder if this boxy magic item really does have a mind.”
Dubiously, he looks at me.
Well, it’s probably normal not to be able to believe it without seeing it. The two girls are too sharp-witted, and the Band of Gluttons were lured in by all the food.
He puts a hand to his chin and brings his face so close his forehead almost touches me. He’s staring as though trying to peer inside me. Even a vending machine would be embarrassed.
“Welcome.”
“Ah, yes, hello. G-good evening.”
Personally, I think his mild-mannered, timid state leaves a better impression than his usual “hot-guy mode.” At heart, he’s just a shy young man.
“Um, what should I buy? Oh, yes—that sweet, relaxing drink was really good. I’m always nervous even when I’m buying things, but with this magic-item box, I don’t have to worry about other people watching.”
Yup, that’s right. I get where you’re coming from—a store clerk can really make you nervous. The carefree ability to buy things is one of a vending machine’s merits.
As Mishuel grips his cocoa and exhales in relief, I watch his face in profile for no particular reason. At times like these, he looks younger than his age.
The mood he gives off and the carefree expression he makes when his guard is down would make him a smash hit with cougars. I can say for certain that if someone had shota inclinations, one look and they’d be done for. Normally one would be jealous of something about him given his level of beauty, but when I look at him, I want to help him out. Maybe it’s a personal magnetism.
And so, another week passed without incident—not a fight to be had. It seems like Mishuel has closed the distance just a little bit between himself and the rest of our party.
It’s probably the result of the Band of Gluttons being adorable and Lammis being so sociable. However, he still treats them with the politeness you would use with a stranger—he’s never talked to them in his truly unreserved state.
To be honest, a small part of me balks at the idea of Mishuel fixing his social anxiety and getting too close with Lammis and Hulemy.
I don’t like feeling this way. Ugh. A vending machine being jealous is just weird.
I’ve been paying the most attention to Mishuel, but Lammis is acting rather strange today. Her eyes are empty, and her gait is heavy. It looks like it’s taking everything just to walk.
“Hey, what’s the matter, Lammis?” asks Hulemy. “If you don’t feel well, you can ride in the cart and bring Boxxo with you.”
“Welcome.” That’s right. We don’t have to hurry for this request, so there’s no need to push yourself.
Hulemy is leaning out of the cart, beckoning to her. Considering her issues with physical exertion, the spot in the cart naturally went to Hulemy, but Lammis hasn’t taken a breather even once.
“Hmm? I’m okay. Fit as can be.”
You can wave it off all you want, but you don’t look okay. Your normally lively smile has a huge shadow cast over it.
Still, I wonder what the problem could be. If she had a cold, I’d think she would have been sneezing or coughing, but she’s not even congested. Every once in a while, she’ll rub her lower stomach, so maybe it’s some abdominal pain. My items couldn’t have caused it, right? Then what is it?
“L-Lammis, you shouldn’t force yourself. You should rest for now.”
“Huh—? Hya!”
Mishuel was trying to lift Lammis up on his back, so I changed into a cardboard vending machine. That way, even he can carry us, and he brings us to the cart with light steps.
Hmm. Lammis normally does the carrying, and now she’s the one being carried. Ahh, that murky feeling is starting to come up again. I should be grateful for Mishuel acting out of such kind consideration. I’m the worst.
“Boxxo, you’re lighter than I thought.”
No, no, that’s because I’m cardboard right now. If I was my regular vending machine self, you’d be buried underground at the moment.
Lammis is trying to resist, but she doesn’t seem to have much energy, and Mishuel places her on the cart easily. She can’t even muster the willpower to object, so she gives up and sits down.
If I had arms and legs, would that have been my job? Going back to being human… I might want to seriously think about it.
“Hulemy, can I ask you to take care of her?”
“Sure thing. Leave it to me.”
With Lammis left in her caring hands, I shouldn’t have anything to worry about.
Hulemy removes me from her back and gently puts me outside the cart. I go back to my original vending machine form and, for the time being, stock some sports drinks.
I drop one into my compartment, and Mishuel immediately reacts. “I think this is a gift from Boxxo,” he says, putting it on the corner of the cart.
He’s thoughtful, and he’s good-looking. Yup, there isn’t a single area I can beat him in.
“Sheesh. You always push yourself right up to the limit. Here, take off your clothes. I’ll change them for you.”
“Y-you don’t have to do that. I can do it myself—”
“Quit trying to pretend everything’s fine. You’re obviously worn-out. The kindness of others is something you should accept without complaining.”
I can hear the moans and groans of resistance, but it sounds like Hulemy has the advantage this time. Lammis must be really weak right now. We’ll have her rest quietly for a while—
“Ohhh! Wait, there’s blood! You idiot! Why did you keep qui…qui…? Oh.”
Wait, she’s losing blood?! Did she get hurt somewhere?! Dammit, how could I not have noticed? She was carrying me the whole time!
“Ah, ah, ah, ah…”
As Hulemy continues to stutter in surprise, I hear Lammis simply repeating the syllable Ah like she doesn’t know what to do. She’s not acting like she’s in pain—her face is bright red.
“Lammis, is it your period?!”
“Ughhh, you dummyyy!”
How could you yell that, Hulemy? Now Lammis is crying out in despair, the poor thing.
Mishuel looks away, one hand to his mouth in surprise, but for my part, it now makes perfect sense how she’d suddenly grown so weak.
She’s had days like this about once a month in the past. I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner.
