"...Good, morning."
The first to come down was Ms. Nanase. She looked like a different person from last night, her hair curled, dressed in proper office clothes. The "together version of herself" a new office worker manages with everything she's got.
But the rims of her eyes were still a little red. She was probably nervous from the moment she woke up.
"Good morning. Do you have time for breakfast before you go?"
"Oh... but I, I never usually eat..."
"Even just a bite. Eating this gets your head working."
I gently held out a bowl of warm miso soup.
Ms. Nanase took it hesitantly and sipped. She let out a breath. I could see the tension leave her shoulders.
"...It's warm."
Then, quietly, as if talking to herself, she let slip:
"...I'm going to get yelled at on the phones again today, aren't I."
I didn't say anything. I just scooped a little rice into a bowl and set it in front of her.
Not cutting in was a habit I'd picked up, less from Tomi than, well, naturally, from my old job. People don't usually want answers. A lot of the time, they just want someone to listen.
"Have a good day. Take care out there."
Ms. Nanase drank the last of her miso soup and gave a quick little bow. Her back was a little straighter.
"Miso is a fermented food, you know. And the compounds that give green onion its smell are good for you, too."
I always end up chattering little bits of trivia like that. The residents couldn't care less, I'm sure.
But Ms. Nanase, still holding the miso soup bowl in both hands, gave me a little smile. Just seeing that smile made me feel I'd done my day's work.
The next to come down was Ms. Odagiri, the student. Phone in hand, eyes on the screen, she plopped down onto the sofa.
"Hey, Mister."
It seemed she'd already decided to call me "Mister." Which was, well, accurate enough.
"Yes, what is it?"
"This. It's that 'Extra-Cheese Guilty-Pleasure Toast' going viral on social media. Doesn't it look super good? I want some."
She started to turn her phone screen toward me. I turned a page of the newspaper and answered without looking.
"Huh. Cheese and honey, is it?"
"Wait, how'd you know?"
"It sounded like I could practically smell it."
I got up and headed to the kitchen.
The loaf I'd been given that morning was still sitting there, unsliced. The cheese and butter were in the fridge.
The honey was at the back of the cupboard. A jar with an old label, dated in Tomi's handwriting. About half of it had crystallized white.
I filled a small pot with hot water and set the whole jar down in it with a soft clunk.
Tomi. Did you make this for someone, too?
Meanwhile, I cut one thick slice from the loaf. A generous layer of melting cheese, and just a little butter. Into the toaster, and before long, golden-brown spots began to rise. The smell of toasting bread and cheese swelled to fill the kitchen.
When I lifted the jar out, the honey had turned clear and runny. To finish, I drizzled it on in a thin stream.
"Here you go. It probably tastes better made with what's in the house."
I set the steaming toast down in front of Ms. Odagiri with a light tap. On top of the melted cheese, the honey gleamed.
Ms. Odagiri put her phone down. She took one bite of the piping-hot toast, and her eyes went wide.
"...Wh-what is this? It's way better than the one from the shop."
"The savoriness of the cheese and the sweetness of the honey both come alive when it's toasted. It's best while it's still warm."
Ms. Odagiri took another bite, then glanced up at me.
"...Mister, what even are you?"
"I'm just the house manager."
The living room had a few "little rules." Bit by bit, I explained them to the residents.
Upstairs is where you ladies live. No men allowed, which is to say, I don't go upstairs. My territory is just the kitchen on the first floor and the manager's room at the back of the living room.
"I'm a kitchen person. So please, rest easy."
Then I pointed to the chalkboard on the living room wall.
"It would help me a lot if you could write here whether you need dinner or not. In chalk. Just a word is fine."
"What, not an app or LINE or something?"
Ms. Odagiri's eyes went round.
"I don't have a smartphone."
All four of them froze.
"...Excuse me?"
Ms. Tono, who had just come down, let it out with a look that said it had slipped out before she could stop it.
"You don't have one? Then how do people reach you..."
"Only through the landline in the manager's room. That black one."
"What, you're kidding."
"I put an end to a life of chasing notifications back at my old workplace," I said, as lightly as I could.
The truth was, even now, just the sound of a smartphone notification made my heart pound and broke me out in a cold sweat. My old job had worn down my mind and body that badly. But that kind of serious talk doesn't belong at the breakfast table.
"As long as I'm close enough to hear this house and all of you, that's more than enough for me."
"But..."
Ms. Makabe, the manga artist, spoke up in a mumble. She'd barely said a word last night. Maybe she was up against a deadline; her eyes looked terribly sleepy.
"I work from home. Without internet, I'll die."
"Oh, that's no problem."
I nodded.
"I had a company come in and install the fastest Wi-Fi they had, for all of you to use. Videos, online work, none of it should lag."
Ms. Makabe blinked at me blankly.
"...Even though you don't have a smartphone, Mr. Manager?"
"I don't need one. But it wouldn't be right for you girls to be inconvenienced."
"...So you've thrown out your own phone, but the residents get the fastest Wi-Fi there is?"
"Yes. Lopsided, isn't it, if I do say so myself."
I scratched my head.
Ms. Makabe stared at my face for a while. Maybe it came with her line of work, but she was someone who watched people closely. Then she gave a small nod, as though she were jotting something down.
"...What a weird house."
But as she said it, her mouth had relaxed, just a little.
Weird is fine, I thought. I just watched, happily, as the mornings in this house loosened up a little at a time like this.
Little did I know, back then, that those peaceful few days would be unexpectedly stirred up by a visitor one evening.