The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 14

by Satoshi Wagahara

  “Did my magic…go haywire?”

  That was the only thing she could think of. Every spell had a requisite amount of holy magic, and an Idea Link never took much of it to work. It connected two minds, after all; streaming too much holy force into the mix could not only damage the other person but even expose your own brain to danger. But Emilia had never failed to control an Idea Link quite like this before. This was just blindly reading a person’s head, like a spell to force the memories out of a criminal during an interrogation.

  Spells involving people’s memories were high-level holy magic. Emilia knew about them, but had never fully studied them. About all she could manage were spells to temporarily seal away a person’s memories—and even then, it only worked for very short experiences, on small children traumatized by the calamity of a marauding Devil King’s Army. If the target was an adult with a stronger sense of self, she’d have to turn to Emeralda or Olba for that one.

  “What’s going on? My spell control is…ngh…”

  Emilia slumped down onto the floor, unable to withstand the sudden dizziness coming over her.

  “Why…? Whether it went out of control or not, why did an Idea Link exhaust me so much…?”

  Then, remembering she wasn’t alone, she looked at Keiko, her eyes closed as she hung her head down. This nation had no concept of holy magic. What would that mean…?

  “She…has no holy force within her?”

  The moment she uttered the words, the terror behind that truth grabbed Emilia by the heart.

  Holy force was the vital energy source for spells, a force that enriched the atmosphere in every corner of Ente Isla. Everyone who lived in that land took this energy within themselves, in varying quantities. In this land of Japan, though, there was nothing. No—perhaps nothing anywhere, on this planet called Earth.

  Everyone took in holy energy in different ways. Even on Ente Isla, it wasn’t uncommon to find people unable to wield it. But they all absorbed it regardless, and when their bodies held none of it at all… Well, Emilia didn’t know what happened to them then.

  “You really have…nothing?”

  Emilia took Keiko’s hand, pinging a tiny wave of holy magic–driven sonar across her body.

  <“…Nrah!”>

  At that moment, Keiko’s eyes opened, as if someone had administered smelling salts.

  “It’s true. There’s nothing.”

  There wasn’t even the tiniest blip of holy force in her body. Her reaction just now was simply the result of Emilia’s holy force starting to build up in her heart.

  <“H-huh? Why did I…? Oh, it’s you. The ghost…”>

  Emilia understood the term “ghost,” but she still hadn’t accumulated enough of the language to understand even half of what Keiko said without the Idea Link. If she kept the Link going, though, she couldn’t guarantee Keiko’s safety, and she had no idea what might even happen to herself.

  Perhaps this world would offer no way for her to replenish her holy force. And until she was sure of that, one way or another, it wasn’t a good idea to stay here for long. Emilia felt it was time.

  “Keiko.”

  Keiko brought her hands to her ears for a moment before replying.

  “H-huh? Um, yes?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been so much trouble for you. But let me promise you, one more time. I will never steal anything from you. I will never abuse the knowledge you gave me, or give it to someone else. And I swear I will never scare you again.”

  “Um, okay…”

  “You will forget about me, but as a token of my thanks and apology, let me give you my name. I am Emilia Justina—a Hero from another world, and a woman who has just brought calamity upon it.”

  “He…ro?”

  “Good luck with your work. I’ll be cheering you on… Farewell, and once again, I’m really sorry.”

  “Keiko.”

  “H-huh? Um, yes?”

  Keiko, no longer under the impression that her consciousness was leaving her, was surprised by the sound of an actual voice hitting her earlobes. That was about all she could subsequently blurt out.

  “I’m s-sorry. I’ve been so much trouble for youuu. But let me promise you, one more time. I will never steal anything from youuu. I will never abuuuse the knowledge you gave me, or give it to s-someone else. And I swear I will never scare youuu again.”

  “Um, okay…”

  “You will forget about me, but as a token of my thanks and apology, let me give you my naaame. I am Emilia Justina—a Hero from another world, and a woman who has just brought calamity upon iiit.”

  “He…ro?”

  Keiko blinked. The woman, Emilia, raised her hands, pointing them toward her.

  “Good luck with your work. I’ll be cheering youuu on… Farewell, and once again, I’m really sorrrry.”

  It felt for a moment like a breeze emanated from Emilia’s palms—

  And the next thing she knew, Keiko was in a hospital bed.

  One month later, the occupancy rate of Urban Heights Eifukucho, for both condos and rentals, was at about one-fifth. Even one-fifth should’ve been seen as a success, but the general public still hadn’t forgotten what happened, a fact now painfully obvious to all the employees.

  Even worse, the…thing that happened to Keiko Yusa in that building got leaked and connected to another, unrelated but heavily-reported-upon incident. It led to Urban Heights Eifukucho being brought up by the media yet again, reporting on both this new incident and its past stumbles.

  The morning after that fateful night, when Keiko’s coworkers realized she’d never made it back home, they traveled to Urban Heights and found her unconscious inside. She wasn’t in mortal danger, but the fact that an employee from the management company was hospitalized after falling unconscious for unknown reasons didn’t exactly play well with the general public.

  This happened to take place following a rash of other mystery fainting spells reported in neighborhoods as varied as Harajuku, Yoyogi, and Hatsudai. The cause was always unknown, and it led to all kinds of irresponsible speculation—gas leaks, terrorism, you name it. Keiko’s case only made the speculation grow wilder, and the repeated reports of suspicious people and unexplained phenomena around the sales office handling Urban Heights Eifukucho only worsened matters. Keiko Yusa had been assigned to investigate, but despite her warnings about these repeated incidents, the company did nothing about them—leading to another public outcry, and more calls for stricter compliance checks for Ohmura Urban Community Real Estate.

  Even after she was discharged from the hospital, Keiko Yusa couldn’t quite dispel the haze from her mind. She remembered a ghost, and being scared, but it was the strangest thing—somehow, she was convinced that she’d never see a ghost again. The thought was inside her, but she had no clue what to make of it.

  This rash of fainting spells was already under way by the time she came to, which led to questions from the police and fire departments—but with few memories to work with, she couldn’t give them many useful answers.

  She did have a clue, or she thought she did, but it was no longer in Keiko’s possession: the DSLR camera she’d brought along with her for work. The last photo found on the memory card, taken the day before she was found, was an upside-down shot of Room 501’s front door. It was open, revealing what looked like a trash bag beyond, and it almost looked like perhaps there was a person’s face on the other side of the guardrail, but it was too blurry and unfocused to make out anything in detail. When asked what it was, Keiko was at a loss to answer.

  In the end, the string of incidents ended abruptly with Keiko, and by the time the whole thing settled down into a big question mark and Urban Heights Eifukucho was no longer subject to suspicion, Keiko had been transferred to front-desk work at the sales office.

  “What was the deal with that, anyway?”

  It felt a tad bizarre, being the “victim” of something so heavily reported on in the press, but what she remembered experiencing di
dn’t seem to match up with what the articles said. With all the other “loss-of-consciousness incidents,” the subject would just be walking down the street when they suddenly felt a chill wind and instantly passed out, unable to remember anything else. Every single time. Keiko, meanwhile, didn’t remember feeling ill at all, and she wasn’t even in public. She was the only “victim” discovered indoors.

  It was ultimately decided that every apartment on the fifth floor would be priced at half market value or below, categorized under the uniquely Japanese euphemism of “accident housing”—but even then, potential tenants wouldn’t touch any of them. The building’s reputation was already in the gutter overall, and besides, the only reason Keiko had been going in and out of Urban Heights Eifukucho at all was because of neighbors complaining about “weird lights” and “people going inside.” Place a managing employee’s unsolved accident inside the place on top of that, and customers would almost have to be crazy to venture inside.

  It was just a tough sell. Being so empty at three years old—sort of new, sort of not new—would make anyone suspicious of the place’s background. And if someone was, all they had to do was go on the Net and visit news sites that outlined, in comprehensive detail, everything from the construction fraud to the unsolved mysteries that came after. It meant that, for the fifth floor Keiko was found in, the company received no customer interest whatsoever, despite being so much cheaper than the real estate around it.

  Until yesterday, that is.

  “Oop. Almost time.”

  Yesterday, someone came along to the sales office and asked to apply for a rental in Urban Heights Eifukucho, asking for Keiko by name. The customer had called the office directly, instead of going through Ohmura Group or a rental site. A young woman, by the sound of it, and astoundingly, she even requested Room 501.

  This had befuddled Keiko intensely. It wasn’t that anyone had died horribly in there, no, but every advertisement for a fifth-floor apartment in the place included the phrase “CALL FOR DETAILS” on it. She didn’t know if this woman had seen that or not, but if that’s what the company wrote, it was generally her job to explain what the “details” were. Doing that didn’t exactly thrill her as an agent, but a job was a job.

  But when she tried to explain the truth behind Room 501 to the woman over the phone, she’d been breezily cut off. “I’m aware of all that,” she said, “and I would still like to rent that location, if possible.” And if that’s what she said, there was no reason to refuse her. In this business, it was often the case that once you rented out one slot, the rest filled up like an avalanche.

  Keiko wasted no time working out the contracts as she waited for the client to visit the office. She was soon greeted by a younger woman with long hair, dressed in business attire and sporting a large shoulder bag. She was about Keiko’s age, maybe a tad younger, and while she looked like just another new grad fresh from getting hired somewhere, her facial features seemed to be alive with an intense force, as if she had been through a great deal in her life. It made Keiko forget to address her for a moment—a poor way to deal with a customer. It was as though seeing this woman had just triggered something in her mind, somehow.

  Have I seen this woman somewhere before…?

  “Hello. My name is Yusa, and I had an appointment for right now?”

  The voice finally made Keiko snap out of it.

  “…Oh, my apologies. Thank you for coming! Please, feel free to sit down.”

  Ah, yes, that’s right. The customer’s last name was Yusa. The Japanese characters used to write it were different from Keiko’s, but still pronounced the same. Maybe that was what had confused her, is all.

  “Well, thank you very much for your interest in our rentals. My name is also Yusa…um, written like this. I’m the one who answered your phone call.”

  “Great. Good to meet you.”

  Yusa, the customer, gave her a light bow. Of course, Keiko thought. She asked for me by name over the phone, didn’t she? There wasn’t any need for Keiko to introduce herself all over again.

  “So, you expressed an interest in Room 501 of Urban Heights Eifukucho. Have you visited the building itself yet?”

  “Yes, a few times. It was open to the public as a model apartment for a time, too, so…”

  She’d visited “a few times” and still wanted to move in? Keiko found herself surprised once again.

  “Ah. Well, for this location, there is a thing or two that we are required to inform potential tenants about in advance. If you wish to change your mind afterward, keep in mind that I’d be happy to recommend a number of other places for you, so there’s no need to worry.”

  “Right. I’m aware of that. But before that, I just wanted to be sure… If I say ‘yes’ to all of that, you’ll let me rent it, right?”

  “Hmm? Oh, um, yes, certainly.”

  Ms. Yusa seemed to have her heart set on the place. There were people out there who never batted an eye at problem rentals like this, to be sure, but Room 501 was meant for a single occupant. Ms. Yusa would be by herself, and a single woman asking for a room with that kind of history was, to say the least, brave of her.

  “Well, unless the floor’s falling apart or there’s no front door or water or electricity or something, I’m pretty interested in renting it.”

  Even after Keiko explained everything again, Ms. Yusa’s will couldn’t be bent. If she knew all of it and was still willing to move into this poster child for junk properties, the company couldn’t ask for anything more. Keiko had no reason to drag her feet if the client was this willing to take it on. It was time to tackle the contract.

  “All right. First off, on this sheet, you see the box with the heavy line around it? I’ll need you to provide a daytime phone number and your workplace… Oh!”

  The woman’s phone, along with her workplace, were familiar to Keiko. Between that and the client’s last name, she began to seriously wonder if this was just a coincidence at all.

  “Mm? What is it?”

  “Oh, um… I just noticed that you had the same phone model I have, Ms. Yusa. That…and if you don’t mind me mentioning it, I actually worked part-time at your workplace in the past.”

  “Oh, really?”

  The woman gave her a little smile of surprise.

  “Plus…”

  “Hmm?”

  “Your last name’s pronounced exactly the same as mine, so, you know, I couldn’t help but see a lot of me in you… I apologize. I don’t mean to sound strange.”

  “Oh, no. You’ve got a good point! Maybe we met somewhere before.”

  Keiko could feel that smile of hers grate against something deep within her memory, but everything about this told her that this was their first meeting.

  “…In that case, you said that you’d like to move in beginning tomorrow, so I’ll need to guide you through the equipment available to you. We don’t have a full-time apartment manager on the premises, so we’ll head over to the building shortly so I can guide you around.”

  Picking up the key to Room 501, Keiko took Ms. Yusa over to her company car and drove the several minutes it took to reach Urban Heights Eifukucho. Passing through the lobby’s auto-locking door, they boarded the elevator, got off at the fifth floor, and walked down the quiet corridor.

  “……”

  And there was that sense of déjà vu again. That feeling she knew this woman. The weirdest thing. Had she seen something here in the corridor, back then? The more she tried to recall it, the more the ill-fitting fragments drifted away from the fingers of her memory, like a dream she’d woken up from but couldn’t remember any longer.

  She turned the key and opened the door. The apartment was barren. Then Keiko remembered something else. This had served as a model apartment for, essentially, a week or so. The workmen very quickly took the rental furniture out of there—no need to fully decorate a rental nobody was going to look at anyway.

  “Ms. Yusa…”

  “Yes?”

&
nbsp; “When did you visit this apartment for the first time?”

  “Hmm, when was it…?” She smiled lightly, unable to give an exact date. “Anyway, I think it’s very nice. I like it. I heard the rumors about ghosts and stuff, but by the looks of things, I’m sure that ghost wouldn’t feel worthy of the place any longer.”

  “Yeah…”

  Keiko could do nothing but ponder this, unsure how to take it. But as this unusual customer entered the living room, she stopped at the center of it, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

  <“Something tells me…I’m never going to forget this place. The first room where I ever found solace in this world…”>

  “Huh?”

  The sudden flurry of indecipherable words from her lips made Keiko stare in astonishment.

  “Anyway,” the customer continued in Japanese, “thanks so much for taking the time out to show me around. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know if I’d ever find a way to live here. Thank you very much.”

  Emi Yusa, this woman Keiko may or may not have seen before, left Keiko’s doubts in the dust as she turned toward her and deeply bowed.

  “And, really, looking back at it, I couldn’t even tell you how much I owe Keiko for that.”

  Emi was with her two friends, seated around a table with some cups of tea and a small pile of cream puffs.

  “Hohhh. So did you take the name ‘Yusa’ from that woman, too?”

  Emi gave an enigmatic nod to Rika’s question. “It was maybe half that, I guess? It had a ring kind of the same way as ‘Justina’ in my mind, too, but I think she had some influence.”

  “But,” Emeralda began, her stomach stuffed full of Rika’s cream puffs and her mind fully contented, “if you put it that waaay, you could’ve gone with ‘Kimura’ too, nooo?”

  “Ah, yeah, the lady from the Kimura Clock Shop? I wasn’t planning to stay here for long back then, so I was too suspicious to get very involved with her, but I’ve actually gone shopping at her place a few times since I moved here. We talked a little, too, but she’s just your typical old lady. Driven to sell, sell, sell, yeah, but otherwise normal. I never did ask her how much she got for that Erenium gold piece.”