Majo no Tabitabi - Volume 5 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Castle Town Fresia: Gardenia’s Carrier Pigeons

At the entryway of a birdcage-shaped building…

It was dim behind the heavy doors, air saturated with the revolting stench of birds. With every step forward, the smell only got stronger.

The walls were lined with rows of birdcages, containing feathered creatures that clucked and cooed and came together like a great chorus. It was so grating to the ears.

For anyone to fall asleep here, they would have to be hard of hearing or dead.

“……!”

That was why I thought I’d stepped into the scene of a crime when I stumbled across a woman and almost started to panic.

A woman was sprawled out in the center of the large room.

Her light green hair was close cropped, partly concealed by a brimmed hat that sat on her head at a forty-five-degree angle. Her hair was caked with dirt and sweat and plastered to her pale skin in thin strands.

Her hollow eyes, devoid of life, were colored gold.

Her worn clothes must have been some kind of uniform—a deep green coat and skirt, complete with a bright red bag hanging from her shoulder.

What could have led her to collapse in a place like this?

“A-are you all right?!” I rushed over right away and propped her up. “What on earth happened to you…? Don’t tell me you were attacked—”

With a trembling hand, the girl pressed a single scrap of folded paper against my chest.

—Read this.

I could tell that was her request. And so I nodded, took the paper, and opened it up.

Inside was scrawled a message that she must have mustered her last bit of strength to write, frail handwriting crawling across the page like squirmy insects.

I can’t do this anymore. I think I might die. No time to sleep. No time to eat. I’m tired of living. What’s up with these shitty working conditions…? I wish I could sleep forever. Please don’t wake me up.

This pity party of a letter was ruining the vibe of the grim situation.

Could you please go into work for me…? asked the second scrap of paper that she passed to me.

“…What? No thanks.”

Please. I’m begging you.

“…Ehh—”

It didn’t take long for me to guess this wasn’t the serious situation it appeared to be. It was just another annoying post I’d gotten caught up in.

Several hours earlier—

“Welcome to the Castle Town Fresia! We would like to extend our warmest greetings, Miss Witch!”

I bowed the tiniest bit at the soldier’s salute as I passed through the gates of the city.

As expected of a castle town, the main avenue stretched toward a towering castle in the distance. Its spires stretched up, rigidly straight, puncturing the cloudless blue sky.

The city itself extended low within the confines of the high walls, as if in deference to the castle or to symbolize it was bent low to serve. Brick edifices were painted red, blue, or yellow, or were covered in moss. Though the townscape lacked uniformity, its mismatched appearance had a strange charm, and I imagine I must have had a smile on my face as I strolled through its streets.

I don’t think that was simply because of the scenery.

“…So this is the City of Letters, huh?”

A moniker that had been conferred on this land.

I must have been smiling because I was basking in a sense of accomplishment—having found my way to a city that launched many rumors—and expectation, seeing that this place was as interesting as I had imagined.

The City of Letters.

The sky above was swarming with carrier pigeons audibly flapping their wings. A small bag hung around each of their necks, and on their heads perched tiny brimmed hats.

Their wings knocked against residential windows before slipping letters inside and alighting on the next house. At times, they rested on roofs, cooing gently or pecking at the food tossed by old men resting on benches. They fetched breadcrumbs from the baker, nibbled breadcrumbs from the café waitresses, gobbled breadcrumbs from witches doing their shopping at roadside stalls. Breadcrumbs galore.

I’m going off topic, but there was a witch generously tearing bits off the bread she’d just bought to give to the pigeons. Just who could she be?

That’s right. She’s me.

“What a wonderful city…” I mumbled absently between bites of bread. I can be quite kind toward creatures other than cats. I would never do such a thing to them. In fact, I would have made every effort to run for my life.

“Miss Witch, have you also come to this city to watch the parade next week?”

I stood there in a daze, tilting my head quizzically at the woman working at the roadside stall who had taken my coppers a moment ago.

“What parade?” I asked between bites.

“Hm? You don’t know about it? I was sure that you were here to see it, since you’re here now.” The woman pointed behind her with a wild jerk of her thumb. What I could see there looked like the wall of an ordinary house, but plastered with flyers.

Upon them had been written: IT’S ALMOST TIME FOR PRINCESS PLUMERIA’S BIRTHDAY BASH!

The poster bore the photograph of a girl looking toward the viewer with a cold gaze. Her pink bangs and hair were cut straight across very tidily, and somehow, that was enough to give her an indescribable aura of grace.

From the briefest of glances, you could tell her facial features were beyond perfection. Even if the princess strolled through the streets without her crown, all the men would be left spellbound in her wake.

“…Does the princess’s birthday celebration draw quite a crowd?”

The woman nodded sharply. “Certainly. As you can see, the princess is beautiful. Every year, the princes from neighboring countries and sons of major corporate heads come bearing gifts, you know.”

“Mm-hm.”

“But the princess doesn’t seem to have the least bit of interest in the men around her, and no matter what she receives or what wonderful suitors appear, she’s completely unyielding. Far from it, in fact. She gives them the cold shoulder, as if they’re garbage. I bet her hard-to-get attitude is the key to her popularity.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How nice to be beautiful! Men will give you anything, if only you have a pretty face.”

“Right you are.”

That was not to say I hadn’t had such experiences myself. I seem to recall letting some compliments get to my head and believing in my heart that I was actually beautiful. I seem to remember writing it over and over in my diary, but I’ve really started to mature recently, so I’ve been able to check my big ego.

“Well, to celebrate the birthday of a princess, they have a parade that lasts all day at the end of the week. If you’re interested, you can hang around town and watch it—” the woman said, then handed me one more piece of bread.

I didn’t realize I had finished eating all the bread I had bought, and it looked like the generous woman was giving me one as a freebie.

It was like she was telling me I was beautiful, too.

“Oh, thank you!”

Ever the dummy that gets carried away with praise, I accepted the bread dutifully and shoved it into my mouth.

“It’s delicious!” It pays to be beautiful, huh…

I was indulging myself in my reverie when the woman stuck her hand out at me.

“That’ll be one more copper, please.”

“…This wasn’t a freebie?”

“Huh? What are you talking about? You’re not that pretty. Just between us girls.”

“……”

I really do let things get to my head, don’t I…?

Soon after, I decided to search for an inn.

As one would expect, all the lodgings had no vacancies with the princess’s birthday close at hand. Awaiting me as I waltzed in to make an overnight stay without a reservation was a string of formal refusals from innkeepers. It was like they were telling me, “Huh? You don’t have a reservation? You obviously can’t stay here, you dummy! Go camp outside!”

As it stood, it seemed like I really might be sleeping beneath the wintry sky.

With growing impatience, I flew from inn to inn, my daily accommodations budget creeping up with each try. Ordinarily, I get by without a care in a cheap hotel, but on this occasion, I just wanted a place to sleep, and anything, even a high-class resort, would do.

Several hours had passed since my arrival in the city—it must have been just past lunchtime—and I found one single room where I might be able to stay.

“You’ve got extremely good luck, miss! A single room just opened up. And of course, you can stay until the parade next week!”

“……Uh, great.”

The employee began to explain that this was a hotel of the highest quality, foremost in the city, where celebrities from all around the world gathered at this time of year.

Needless to say, the price for a single night’s stay, as marked on the sign, was ridiculous.

“…Uh, one night, at this price…?” I was starting to get dizzy.

“Yes. It’s quite a bargain. What do you say?”

What do I say? Oh please. I don’t have a choice. This is the only place left!

“…All right. One week’s stay, please.”

“Of course! Well then, your total cost will be—”

My field of vision started to narrow as I pulled out my wallet.

Ah, my funds are getting sucked clean…

The hotel room that I was shown to wasn’t what I would call a room or even a lodging.

“This house will be yours, Miss Witch. Here is your key. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact the main building of our hotel using the carrier pigeon near the window. Let us take care of your every need, from meals to laundry, even cleaning. Just ask.”

I was in a chic, two-story brick house. It certainly wasn’t too large, nor especially snug, but the inside was disturbingly nice. A menu was casually placed on the dining table. According to the staff member at the hotel counter, everything written inside could be had for free and in unlimited quantity. In other words, securing food was not going to be a problem. Whoop-de-doo.

On the second floor, there was a carrier pigeon always on standby next to the window. It seemed the creature would go directly to the main building whenever I gave it a letter with whatever unreasonable orders or requests I might write. In other words, I could hole up in my room until I got sick of it. Frankly, I had the perfect setup to be waited on hand and foot without so much as lifting a finger.

It was at about this point that my standards for acceptable accommodations began to change rather dramatically.

Luxury hotels are amazing…

“…But my money is…”

In a room like this, I’d like to relax and have my fill of the celebrity lifestyle, but unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be possible. As soon as I had paid my bill at the hotel, my wallet had been wiped completely clean.

I needed to get my hands on some liquid capital—and fast.

“……”

Since I was staying here, I decided to make free use of what the city was known for and do some job hunting.

I took up a pen and wrote a letter.

Any good jobs around here?

When I popped the letter into the bag fastened to the carrier pigeon, the feathered creature immediately took off. After I’d daydreamed for a dozen minutes near the windowsill, a different pigeon returned, flapping its wings.

I rushed to open the letter bag.

Oh, I feel like I’ve been dreaming of meeting you my entire life. How I yearn for you. Please whisk me away from here!

“……”

Huh? What was that? Did the employee at the front desk suddenly lose his marbles? Is he trying to say all my money problems would be solved if I married him? Is he stupid?

As I was puzzling over it, another carrier pigeon returned to my side.

It seemed the previous delivery had been a mistake. This one read, Here are some day jobs that would suit a witch! Accompanying the letter was a stack of flyers.

I tossed the love letter, whoever it was from.

The jobs recommended to me were as follows.

PART-TIME WORK IN A CAFÉ. A little difficult for a traveler.

ESCORT TO HER MAJESTY THE PRINCESS. Appealing, but I gave that one up when I saw the addendum, SAFETY NOT GUARANTEED.

DRUG TRAFFICKER. Who was so bold as to advertise a job like that…?

PORTRAIT MODEL. Strangely lucrative, so no doubt a project with a lot of exposed skin. Pass.

And so on.

Apparently, the sender had collected only the shadiest of flyers. Is this city all right?

Flipping through the flyers gradually became a perfunctory task, and my eyes started glazing across the pages.

Among all the nonsense, there was just one job that piqued my interest.

It certainly wasn’t the one with the highest pay, but it was likely to be a job unique to this city. Plus, the actual work seemed easy. You could say it was the right fit for me, perfect for someone who loves to slack off.

The flyer said, CARRIER PIGEON CARETAKER.

Apparently, the workplace was right nearby my hotel, and the flyer had a map and a sketch of the post office. Interestingly enough, the office was in the shape of a birdcage.

Inside that building was where I found the girl.

There was no way that I could leave the birdcage girl on the ground, so for the time being, I lugged her back to my lodgings.

Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about feeding her, since I’d paid a hefty sum of money earlier. I chose items from the menu without much care and requested them to be brought to us.

Mmm! This is delicious, miss! You saved my life!

“My name is Elaina.”

She looked up and handed me another letter. Oh, I’m Gardenia.

“By the way, why haven’t you spoken a single word this whole time?”

She hadn’t so much as made a peep since I had found her collapsed in the post office. Instead, she’d just jotted down letters. I happen to recall meeting someone like this before…

Maybe she can only speak the truth?

Her pen raced across the page. There’s a rule that those who manage the carrier pigeons must communicate in writing.

“…I see.”

If you hadn’t come by, Elaina, I would have become birdfeed by now. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

“Don’t mention it. By the way, your getup… Would you happen to be a postal employee?”

Indeed.

“…Are there no other employees besides you?” How sucky do they have to be to leave you there until I came to help?

There aren’t. I work solo.

“……”

I’m a witch, despite appearances. She pulled a star-shaped brooch from her breast pocket. Managing those carrier pigeons is currently entirely up to me alone.

And then she unloaded a torrent of information onto me.

Apparently, there was some kind of device built into the brimmed hats of the carrier pigeons that imbued the birds with magic, making it possible for them to carry out simple commands. As mail carriers, the birds were responsible for delivering letters in accordance with those orders.

“Have you been doing it by yourself the whole time?”

Yes. This city has a chronic mage shortage.

“…Ah.”

I’m in trouble. Since no one besides me can do it, I can never take time off, and that isn’t the only issue that’s been plaguing me these days.

“Issues, huh?”

She nodded. As of late, the carrier pigeons have stopped listening to my instructions. They’re messing up their destinations, acting like birds, prone to slacking off, and stink of bird. Plus, they reek like birds and smell like birds!

“But they are birds.” What are you talking about?

I had caught sight of carrier pigeons resting their wings on rooftops, but…what exactly did she mean they were ‘acting like birds’?

Anyway, that’s why I got the head of the post office to put out a job posting. I think I might be to blame for the pigeons’ disobedience. I need some time to solve the issue. Hence why I’ve been searching for someone who can lend me a hand.

She didn’t seem like she had the time to properly extend herself and look for an appropriate candidate.

That was obvious from the fact that she’d been locked up in that birdcage. Even now, she’d been particularly fidgety, waiting for her chance to get back, and it was obvious she wasn’t even tasting the food, but practically shoveling it into her mouth. She must have had her own reasons.

Mmm! That is my first real meal in a while!

Or maybe she was just really hungry.

By the way, why did you come to the post office earlier, Elaina? She held up another messily scrawled letter.

“……”

Why, you ask…? I was a little lost on how I should answer her, but I felt like there was only one thing she needed to know.

“Because I saw this.”

I showed her the job flyer, mimicking the way she displayed her written responses.

The more I heard about the situation from Gardenia, who was practically a prisoner maintaining the carrier pigeon system, the more my head began to hurt.

I’m a live-in postal worker. It’s the most efficient way to manage all of the carrier pigeons in this city.

…And your meals? I had started to carry my half of the conversation in writing, too. It’s imperative to adapt to the situation.

My employer sends my meals with the feed for the pigeons. I eat that.

Wow, that can’t be good for your health! Her meals are an afterthought, huh.

So you see, I haven’t left the post office for a while. This was the first time I’ve gone outside in a long time.

……

I could have cried. It was such a horrific environment, it made other toxic workplaces seem almost kind. She worked nonstop from morning to night, likely without any breaks or semblance of free time.

Having returned to the post office, the girl held a baton and waved it around like a conductor, bestowing magic on the carrier pigeons.

By doing this every day, I keep the carrier pigeons in good shape.

She continued waving her wand around as she handed me a letter on which was written, Starting today, this will be your duty, Elaina.

The birds alighting in the post office and those about to set off shook their wings as they received magic. Soft blue light whizzed around the room, and the soft sounds of beating wings could be heard throughout.

According to Gardenia—

To make sure the carrier pigeons can fly the entire day, it’s necessary to resupply them with magic almost constantly. That means we can’t rest until the sun goes down.

On top of daytime responsibilities, there was a strict routine to prepare for the next day after the sun had set. Come dawn, she prepared the daily newspaper and carried out other tasks, so her schedule gave her only the absolute minimum time for sleep.

I could certainly see how it would exhaust one person.

That being said, watching her wave her baton and conduct the birds was enchanting enough to hypnotize me just a little bit. If this image of her were to spread around the city, I imagined there would be some people who aspired to become a postal worker like her.

They’re only ever inspired for the first week, you know. And then they realize they can’t stand the stench of birds and leave.

…Apparently not.

And so I stayed to help her with her work.

Since all the mail in the city was supplied by carrier pigeon, our actual duties were rather limited. Give food. Clean up. Supply magic. That was it.

It was a two-person setup, so we alternated in shifts, but there was nothing else to do besides that. Between sunrise and sunset, it was necessary to supply the carrier pigeons with magic, so that they could continually make their round trips from the post office. Since we dove into our work, the day passed by quickly.

Gardenia had said that those who came to work here were enthusiastic only in the beginning, but I found myself tired of the routine midway through Day 1.

Why did you start working here, Gardenia? I scrawled, taking on the part of a true postal worker.

Because I’m the only mage in this city. If I quit, there’s no one else who can do it.

I hear you.

In other words, she was a corporate slave.

We’ve got a serious labor shortage. Not with pigeons, though! Gardenia wrote, smiling. I’m always looking for new apprentices, you know?

I’ll pass. I slowly shook my head. I don’t seem to be very well liked by the birds here.

It appeared she was dearly beloved by the carrier pigeons.

As I swished my wand around, she sat idly right next to me in a chair. On her head, shoulders, and lap relaxed off-duty birds.

They didn’t even approach me.

I suppose. When you get to my level, the pigeons will be smitten with you. She nodded. Just then, one of the pigeons on top of her head pecked at her with its beak. Quite aggressively, I might add.

……

I’ll have you know that’s a courtship ritual.

The ones on her shoulders and her lap joined in. Peck-peck-peck-peck-peck.

…Oh, um, but you’re bleeding.

That’s… Well you see, they love me so much, they could just eat me up… I think?

When did pigeons become birds of prey…?

You know how it is. They just love me to death.

…Are you crying?

Happy tears. Some droppings dribbled down on her.

……

A token of love from carrier pigeons.

A pigeon’s love can be crappy, huh. I cleaned up the blood and droppings for her.

Gardenia started to weep openly.

Around lunchtime, meals for her and the carrier pigeons were delivered.

“Hey, Gardenia! How goes it? Job going okay? Ha-ha-ha!”

A portly man laughed quite loudly as he entered the birdhouse. His belly was so swollen that he looked pregnant. An extreme beer gut. His face was flushed so red, it made me suspect that he might possess the heart of a virginal young man embarrassed to be interacting with two cute girls.

Oh, boss! Hey there! We’re working hard!

Just a moment ago, Gardenia had been in tears, bullied by her birds, but she snapped out of it and bowed when she saw the man. I could tell there was a power dynamic that was inherent to their relationship.

The man glanced at me and tilted his head. “Hm…? Who’s that little lady over there?”

I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he exhaled in my direction.

This guy is wasted in the middle of the day! Gross.

The traveling witch Elaina! She’s working with me today to manage the carrier pigeons!

“Hoh-hoh! Well, well, well…” The plump man smiled cheerfully at me. “Nice to meet you, Elaina. We’re chronically understaffed, so…”

Well, obviously, you’re going to be understaffed if you’re forcing this girl to work until she collapses. There’s no doubt this place is hopelessly corrupt.

Speaking of which…

Who is this person? I asked.

She replied, My employer. You should greet him, too, Elaina.

“……” I didn’t really know what was going on, but I obliged.

Hello, I’m Elaina.

The post office chief looked at the scrap of paper I’d handed him then laughed again. “It’s all right, Elaina! Forget about the job for now. I don’t mind if you speak!”

“Oh, yeah? Thanks.” Don’t mind if I do.

“By the way, Gardenia. Fetch Elaina here a hat and uniform. It doesn’t look great to have her working in her own clothes.”

He’d addressed Gardenia rather harshly.

Looking frightened by his demeanor, Gardenia scribbled in a trembling hand, Y-y-y-yessir! So sorry for the oversight!

“Come to my office when you’re finished with your work. I’ll give you both your day’s pay. Oh, and here, this is Elaina’s lunch. Since you hired Elaina without telling me, you’ll go without lunch today, Gardenia. As a penalty, I’m reducing your pay for today as well.”

Thank yoooooouuuuuu!

For what? Didn’t you just get docked lunch? Wasn’t your pay reduced? Isn’t he just the worst?

I was shocked by Gardenia’s acquiescence to her boss.

I said farewell to the questionable man.

By the way, we split the lunch.

Here’s the postal worker’s uniform. Get changed.

After we had eaten lunch, she brought me a dusty outfit.

It’s a little faded…

And the official hat. After I had changed clothes, she handed me a brimmed hat.

“……” My hand stopped just before I was about to put it on. …It smells.

Because it was used by the old guy that worked here before you.

I see. I threw it aside.

Aaaaaah! What do you think you’re doing?! Put it on! Now! Hurry!

No way. It stinks. Don’t mess with me.

But I’ll lose my pay and my lunch!

What if I only wear it when that man is around?

…Oh, that works. Gardenia clapped her hands in agreement.

I was getting the sense that she wasn’t the brightest star in the sky.

Around sunset, we wrapped up our work for the day… At least, I thought we did. Apparently, Gardenia had some work left, but I was released at sunset.

Your pay for the day. She extended an envelope toward me. She continued writing her words, even after we had finished our work.

For what purpose…? Could it be that she can’t speak…?

“Oh, thanks…” Just as I was trying to take the envelope, she gripped it even harder. “…? Um…”

I tilted my head in confusion, and she bashfully held up another scrap of paper.

…Will you come again tomorrow?

“Oh? Yeah, of course.” If it means more money.

Really?

“As long as I can get paid what I’m worth.”

“……Hm!” Gardenia heaved a delighted sigh through her nostrils. Well then, see you tomorrow! With a smile, she handed over the envelope.

I suppose she’s been lonely, working by herself the whole time.

Somehow, I felt strangely attached to this girl. And it wasn’t a bad feeling.

“……”

However—

Even assuming we tackled the job together, it didn’t seem like that would be enough to put an end to the recent troubles with the carrier pigeons.

Waiting for me by the window when I returned to my lodgings was an envelope sent from someone, somewhere. I had been too preoccupied in the afternoon that I neglected to open it, but now that I examined it closely, I saw that the stationery was decorated with gold leaf and looked expensive. I didn’t know the sender’s address, but it looked like a love letter from some celebrity somewhere to another.

Being the nosy person that I was, I tore it open.

Oh, don’t be this way. Write back. I’m so lonely. When you’re not here, I feel like my heart has a gaping hole in it. It feels like something is missing. Come fill the space in my heart—

Gosh, who are you? I wanted to scream into the void.

Were you able to figure out what’s making the carrier pigeons act so weird?

Apparently, Gardenia was the type who couldn’t rest when she wasn’t working. She was already doing her job when I came to the post office around sunrise the following day.

It made me feel like I was doing something wrong, like I was slacking off or something.

Not the slightest clue. I can’t take it anymore. I just don’t understand. Gardenia had her head in her hands.

For the time being, I swapped with her and started working, but she must not have been satisfied with that. She spent her whole break searching for something.

How about resting on your break?

No way. I must fix the problem with the carrier pigeons as soon as possible. If they aren’t working properly, it will cause trouble for everyone.

She was right, of course.

Incidentally, it’s causing trouble for me, too. I handed her the strange letters that had been misdelivered to me twice in one day.

Gardenia leafed through the pieces of stationery and chuckled in surprise. Elaina, you man-eater!

Come again?

They’re obviously mistaken deliveries.

I think it’s possible that someone sent them to you, Elaina. You’re very beautiful, after all. I could almost hear her rambling bashfully.

It’s not possible.

I mean, it’s only been a few days since I came to this city. I don’t recall encountering anyone who could have fallen for me in that time.

All right, I get it. I’ll look into this matter, too, okay? Though the complaints about delivery mistakes are really piling up, so yours will have to be on the waitlist.

Ultimately, the rather questionable love letters that had been delivered to my place were just another piece of postal business.

A few moments later—

Graaaaaahhh!

Gardenia, who even did her shouting in writing, had simply been flipping through the instruction manual for the tiny brimmed hats worn by each carrier pigeon. Can’t you read like a normal person?

If I study this, I think…I will understand the cause…I should! I think!

By the way, the pigeons were attacking her today as well.

How about resting for a while? I asked. She was getting pecked at again.

I’m fine. I have to do my job.

……

Why are the birds so mean to Gardenia? They don’t pay me the slightest bit of mind, but they’re showing quite an unsparing attitude toward her.

Did you do something to incur the hostility of the pigeons?

I didn’t incur any hostility! We love each other! Droppings dripped onto her.

……

One of these days, I’m going to grill them on a stick.

They didn’t seem to love each other. In fact, I think it’s safe to say they hated each other.

We were working in one-hour shifts, and it was my turn to take a break. Well, I say I took some time off, but there wasn’t really anything to do. To kill time, I started reading a book.

Gardenia being Gardenia, she never said anything out loud. Only beating wings could be heard through the post office.

……

To get to the point, I was completely unable to focus.

They were just so annoying.

The off-duty birds must have mistaken Gardenia for food or something, because they relentlessly followed her around, pecking her relentlessly. Even around me, carrier pigeons were loitering.

Tch…I won’t lose…to the likes of you!

Beside me, Gardenia wrote brave things as she waved a blunt instrument around. She didn’t even graze them, by the way.

…… I was a little conflicted on whether to go and help her, but my hands were tied.

Directly before my eyes—atop the table piled with instruction manuals for the brimmed hats—a single carrier pigeon had taken up its position. From the way it was cooing as it cocked its little head, I got the sense that it was thinking, Hey. Hey, you. You know what’ll happen if you move, right? Right?

…Um, what do you want? Obviously, its tiny bird brain couldn’t process my written question, and the carrier pigeon kept tilting its head.

And then, after a moment, the pigeon began pecking at the pile of instruction manuals. Almost too aggressively. Rather violently, in fact.

It looked just like it was cursing at me, like, Hey. This is you. If you move, this is what’ll happen! Hrargh!

Is that a threat? I bet it is, isn’t it? I see how it’s going to be.

Thanks for the warning.

So I wouldn’t move. I returned to my reading.

I suppose my mild temperament displeased the pigeon. With a noisy flap of its wings, it landed on top of my shoulder.

…… I wrote.

What? I stared the pigeon down.

Then it began pecking at the page I had open, chirping all the while.

Peck-peck-peck.

“……?”

I had a sudden realization. Could it be trying to tell me something?

The pigeon was acting differently than before, tapping the book gently with its beak, so as not to damage the page, and then pecking all over the two open pages.

The pigeon was hitting specific letters.

One letter at a time to spell out words.

It said, Read the instruction manual.

Read the instruction manual.

……

Huh? Why?

There was no way I wasn’t going to read it now that I had been instructed to look at it. The same pigeon had started to repeatedly stomp its feet on the table, as if it wanted to say, “Do you know what’ll happen if you don’t read it…? Hah! This is what I’ll do! Take that!”

Have you ever considered becoming a woodpecker?

Anyhow, I decided to read the instruction manual for the pigeon hats.

The inside was filled with diagrams that I didn’t really understand. I read it, but that did nothing to help me figure out what was going on. The one who wrote the thing must have been quite brilliant, as the hats seemed to have been carefully crafted down to the last detail. Not that I understood even the tiniest bit about how.

What am I going to get out of reading this?

I flipped through page after page.

In the end, I thumbed through the book littered with inscrutable diagrams, and many more that were covered with line upon line of incomprehensible technical jargon.

It took an awfully long time before I finally arrived at the end: the afterword.

And there, on that page, my hand stopped. My eyes fell onto its lines.

Here is what was written there:

“It’s the nature of living things to adapt to changes in their environment, but I wondered if these changes couldn’t be brought about by human hands instead? The carrier pigeons are the pioneering experiment in my research. By having the hats placed on them, the pigeons can understand human writing and recognize their duties. With this device, it is possible to deliver mail by pigeon: a revolutionary system that will eliminate the need for human postal staff.”

What’s so revolutionary about that…?

“To get the pigeons to learn words, I recommend all postal employees conduct conversations by letter. By doing so, I believe the speed at which the pigeons develop language awareness will increase. Ultimately, the day will come when the pigeons deliver the mail for us on their own—without the use of hats or magic spells.”

What’s this?

“Further, the hats are designed not only for use on the pigeons. The devices in this manual have been installed in the hats that the human employees wear as well. The ones for use on the postal employees, when worn, cause them to lose the ability to converse except by writing and think of nothing but work. I’ve taken this step to make it easier and stress-free for humans to communicate only in writing.”

Say what now?

“However, these employee hats have several shortcomings. First of all, one cannot remove the hat by their own will. Obviously, because they can only think of work. Furthermore, since their magic is constantly being depleted, it is projected that they will die of overwork without alternating personnel to rotate the hats periodically. Local commanding officers and higher-ups should bear this strongly in mind as they deploy personnel. No matter what, working alone must be avoided. Fin.”

And that’s where the afterword ended.

This doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you should keep for the afterword. Assuming that what is written here is the truth, I suppose that explains what’s going on…

Stop! Don’t poop on me! Stop it now!

Gardenia was working for the sake of the pigeons, but her work was being obstructed by them.

What if the pigeons aren’t just expressing their dislike for Gardenia, but trying to make her take off her hat? What if these delivery mistakes are actually a calculated move by the carrier pigeons to make her read the instruction manual?

“……”

Gardenia paced back and forth across the post office, channeling magic.

I walked up to her and ripped off her hat.

“…Gardenia. Are you the type of person who reads the author’s afterword?”

“Huh? Not really. I don’t really care to read about the writer’s opinions.”

Gardenia tilted her head, staring blankly at me in puzzlement and spoke those words with her own mouth.

……

Just…make sure to read the afterword, okay?

“Hah-hah-hah! Go on. Drink as much as you like! I’ll treat you today!”

Loud laughter could be heard from the bar even in the middle of the day. In the corner of the empty establishment was a lone man with a beer belly, face red from drink. Sitting with him, other men with bulging guts were packed around the table. Looking closely, I saw that all of them were flooding their beer bellies with yet more beer.

It seemed the stars had somehow aligned this day, and a meeting of useless scum had been convened.

“Oh, thank you! But, Mr. Director, is it all right for you to be drinking with us during the day?” asked one of the men around the table as he tugged at his white mustache.

The post office director laughed. “Not a problem! We’re using witches to operate the post office, so there’s no need for me to work, you see. You could say my job is managing social relations through merrymaking!”

A nonsensical theory put forth by the portly man, but the other portly men just joined in with shouts of support, as if they held the same opinion.

“If you insist!”

“That’s our director!”

“Thank you for treating us!”

All these jerks seemed to be soaked through with alcohol from head to toe.

“Don’t you feel any guilt over foisting your job off onto a girl?”

He didn’t seem to notice that someone had intruded on their conversation.

“Guilt? I haven’t felt that in a long time! Plus, she wanted the job. So why not put her to work? I don’t have the right to stop her!”

Interesting. Interesting, indeed.

“She doesn’t want to work. She’s being forced against her will. Aren’t you mistaking the two? According to rumors, it seems those special hats keep people from thinking of anything but work. Is that true?”

“Sure is. But there’s nothing I can do about it if she doesn’t remove the hat of her own volition! Hah-hah-hah!”

“I heard another rumor that it’s impossible for someone to remove the hat on their own.”

“……” At this point, the director seemed to realize that the faces of the portly men around him had gone pale.

He seemed to realize that an uninvited woman had slipped in beside him. “…How long have you been there?” The director’s cheeks suddenly broke out in a cold, oily sweat.

That girl, dressed like a postal employee, had long, sleek, ash-colored hair and lapis-colored eyes. Her getup was out of place in a bar in the middle of the day.

“Uh, I’ve been here the whole time?” She tilted her head.

“H-how did you know about this place…?!”

She chuckled at the portly director, who was flummoxed and flustered. “The carrier pigeons told me about it. Apparently, they’re very smart and can even recognize people’s faces and movements. Convenient, hm?”

She pointed outside the bar.

On every available surface on the other side of the glass—on rooftops, in the middle of the avenue—stood carrier pigeons wearing tiny brimmed hats, glaring at the director.

Among the pigeons stood the figure of a postal employee, wielding a blunt weapon in her hand.

“…Um.”

“By the way, Mr. Director. I’ve come to deliver a letter to you today. I am a postal employee, after all.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. The ashen-haired postal employee slipped a single scrap of paper into the man’s fat hand.

“……What’s this?”

“Don’t you know?” Wearing a devilish little smile, the ashen-haired postal employee said, “It’s a threat.”

And who could that postal employee possibly be?

That’s right. She’s me.

During this terribly busy period—the princess’s birthday parade was a week away—a terrible person hurried to surrender himself to the authorities, throwing the city into an uproar.

That was as it should be, for that person was none other than the director of the post office, who oversaw the delivery of mail by way of carrier pigeon, the symbol of the city.

The director confessed his crimes, stating that, with full knowledge of the fearsome power that resided in the brimmed hats that he supplied to postal employees and with full intent to abuse that power, he had employed a single girl on a cheap salary and left her responsible for the operation of the entire post office to cut labor costs and bolster his personal discretionary funds.

Wow, what a fiend.

When he went to confess, for some reason, the director’s whole body was covered in bird droppings, and though he looked undeniably worse for wear, he kept completely silent about whatever had happened to him.

Furthermore, he announced that he had drastically reconsidered the way the post office was to be run and that, from now on, postal employees would only be expected to carry out their professional duties as pigeon caretakers.

“So that’s that. Good for you.”

I lightheartedly read the article aloud, sprinkling in a little dramatization with the newspaper’s account.

Inside the birdcage-shaped post office, the carrier pigeons were swooping through the air. If I had to tell you just one thing that was different from the previous day, it would have to be that not one bird—and not one person—was wearing an uncomfortable hat.

Serves him right. It’s a reasonable punishment. He deserves the death penalty.

Even with her hat off, one girl was still writing down all her thoughts.

“Gardenia, there’s no need to write your words down on paper anymore.”

Well, nobody in my family lineage can speak, to tell you the truth. It’s hereditary.

“But earlier when I took the hat off of you, you spoke out loud.”

I have no idea what you’re talking about, she wrote as she laughed through her nose. I’ve decided that being a silent character is part of my identity, so I’m going to continue writing things on paper. Thanks for your understanding.

“But…”

This is awkward. I mean, I have met other people who are nonverbal before. So you’re not that unique. Are you okay?

Well, I’m really just joking. She snorted in laughter and set the pen and paper down.

“I want to communicate in a way the carrier pigeons can also understand, you see. That’s why I write things down,” she told me. “After all, if they can remember words, then the pigeons might become good conversation partners for me.”

The pigeons had learned many words, but they could not speak the human language, which meant they had no way of talking to us.

That must have been why she decided to write everything down. It was something nice to give back to the carrier pigeons who had come to her rescue.

…And I suppose she put the pen down because she’s embarrassed to say such a thing openly in front of them.

“…Thank you, guys,” she muttered in a very quiet voice that only I could hear, looking up at the ceiling.

It came out like a breath, which was drowned out immediately by the sounds of the wings of the birds flying around inside the post office.

The birds themselves couldn’t hear her words. Her sentiments didn’t make it through to them. But her expression looked a million times brighter.

There was no response from the birds.

Only some droppings that rained down on her.

“……”

“……”

“…Uh? Why did this have to happen now of all times?”

“I thought it was a sign of affection?”

This particular brand of love really is for the birds.