Late at night.
The landline rang quietly. When I picked up the receiver, I heard Mahiru's bright voice. She'd gone to the trouble of calling from her family's landline, it seemed.
"Oh, Mr. Manager! I got here safely. I'm at my grandma's right now, eating sweet buns."
"That's good to hear. Take your time and relax."
"I will! ...Um."
Her tone changed a little.
"This is kind of weird, but... My family's house should be so relaxing. And yet even while I'm eating, I suddenly find myself thinking about Nightlight. I already miss your cooking, Mr. Manager."
I couldn't help laughing.
"It's only been two days."
"I know, but still! ...Do you have a place you want to go home to, too, Mr. Manager?"
It was an unexpected question. Still holding the receiver, I thought about it for a moment.
I didn't have a home to go back to anymore. No family to go back to, either.
But—
"...This place is starting to become that, I think."
When I answered that, Mahiru laughed on the other end of the line, as if it tickled.
"What's that supposed to mean? It's our house."
"Yes. It's all of yours. But while I've been waiting for all of you to come home, at some point, it seems it became a place for me to come home to, too."
The other end of the line went a little quiet.
"...I'll come home soon," Mahiru said softly.
After I hung up, I looked around the dark living room.
What should I make tomorrow? When the two of them got back, I'd give them their favorites. A ginger pork rice bowl for Mahiru, and for Yume, that toast.
While I was thinking about that, Komugi gave a yawn at my feet.
"Are you waiting for the two of them to come home too?"
When I stroked his golden head, the dog gave a single thump of his tail.
Those with somewhere to go home, and those without. In this house, everyone is waiting for someone's "Welcome home."
It was on a clear autumn afternoon that a black car pulled up in front of Nightlight.
That day, the only ones home were me, Ms. Makabe, and Yume, who was back from visiting her family.
I was brushing Komugi in the courtyard when Mahiru came running in, her face pale.
"M-Mr. Manager! There's this amazing car outside...!"
"A car?"
When I opened the front door, sure enough, an impressive black car was parked boldly in front of the wall. A polished, gleaming body. Tinted windows. About as out of place as anything could be in front of this old Western-style house.
A man in a black suit got out of the driver's seat. Neatly slicked-back hair. Impeccable bearing. In his arms, held with great ceremony, was a large paulownia-wood box.
The moment he saw my face, the man bowed deeply.
"Mr. Kashiwagi. It has been a long time."
"...Let me see."
I searched my memory. He looked familiar. If I remembered right, he was that man's—
"You're Pierre's secretary, aren't you?"
"Indeed I am. Today I bring a message from the Owner, and a delivery."
The three residents were sneaking peeks into the living room. Yume, phone in hand, had her eyes open wide.
"Wait a sec. What's with the guy in black? This is like a TV drama. Mr. Manager, who are you...?"
The secretary set the paulownia box reverently on the dinner table. Then he slid the lid smoothly open.
Lined up neatly inside was—beef.
Magnificent, finely marbled. Delicate in grain, moist, catching the light—top-quality meat. And that wasn't all. Packed carefully into the corners of the box were shrimp that looked expensive at a glance, and even glossy matsutake mushrooms.
"Whoa..."
The sound escaped Ms. Makabe before she could stop it.
"This is, like, some seriously amazing meat..."
"It is the finest wagyu beef. The shrimp are from Ise, dispatched fresh while still alive. The matsutake were brought down from the mountains only this morning."
The secretary explained it all in an even voice.
"The Owner wished for you to have them, Mr. Kashiwagi. 'I want that man to make me something delicious again. Have him use these for the staff meals, if nothing else.'"
For the staff meals, if nothing else. Looking down at the meat, I thought—
Pierre, doing this sort of thing again.
"I'm always sorry to put him to the trouble. Could you tell him there's no need to go out of his way?"
"Not at all. The Owner always says that a gesture like this falls far short of repaying what he owes you, Mr. Kashiwagi."
What he owed me—I tilted my head at that.
Long ago, when he was in trouble, I'd just happened to serve him a little something I cooked. That was all, and he still looked out for me like this.
Even though I hadn't done anything much.
"Well then, I shall take my leave."
The secretary bowed deeply once more and glided away just as he had come. The black car turned the corner and was gone.
Left behind in the living room were the paulownia box, the luxury ingredients, and the rest of us, staring blankly.
"...Hey."
It was Yume who spoke first.
"Hey, Mist— Mr. Manager. What was that? Seriously, what was that?"
"A gift, I'd say."
"That is not gift level! A black car! A secretary! What do you mean, 'the Owner'?! That meat definitely costs more than my living expenses for a whole month!"
Yume was pointing at the box of meat, trembling all over.
Ms. Makabe had her arms folded and was studying me closely.
"Mr. Manager. You don't even have a phone, so why are you getting gifts from some overseas tycoon?"
"Did I say anything about overseas?"
"Pierre. You just said it, didn't you?"
Oops.
Mahiru asked timidly.
"Um. Mr. Manager, your old job... Were you maybe, like, an amazing person?"
Putting the meat away in the fridge, I answered as if it were nothing at all.
"No. I really was just the cook. The people I happened to deal with just happened to be a little important, that's all."
"A little important people don't deliver matsutake in black cars..."
Ms. Makabe put her head in her hands.