"… please deliver your letter"
"What, Ngu, what?
Drink a bacon sandwich stuffed in your mouth with warm milk and rehear anything store owner. Somehow I can see that it is a request story that the small living employee managing the job tells it at the timing of the breakfast seat.
But what does it mean to deliver a "letter" that a mailman is supposed to handle? Wait for the rest with surprise eyes.
"... New Year's celebratory delivery, and they don't have enough hands. We've got about fifty delivery requests going around the house."
"Oh, fifty too!? Yep..."
Precious man who looks blatantly disgusted. Saying the year is dawn doesn't loosen the cold. Instead, the cooling is getting tougher and tougher over the (d) moon.
In the midwinter kingdom of Easwind, which can go below freezing even during the day, outdoor work becomes a battle for how to outrun through the cold. Even at level 250, he was doomed to such a feud.
"All right, let's do this. We only deliver five copies a day. And then, in ten days... Mr. Yumiel?
"... anything?
"Why are you throwing darts?
"… it's a prep exercise"
Huh, kah!
Huh, kah!
Darts stabbing at corkboard for pasting requisition notes in constant rhythm. It pierces precisely as though it were a steep spot on the face of the image, causing your heart and audacity to fall out of the cold.
"Hey, I love postal delivery! Hahaha!"
"… it was so"
Now I'm like, "What prep practice is that?" It's called wildness. Darts must fly in instead of replies. It's been a short year or so, but from the results of my daily "encouragement" or even if I'm not told, you know that.
I laugh inexorably when I receive a bunch of letters that Yumiel has given me without one or two.
"... don't forget the muffler because it's still cold today"
"Wow. Okay, I'm leaving."
Weave a thick jacket over the hanger rack and wrap it around a cream-colored muffler. Fastening all the buttons on the front, he threw a bunch of letters into his shoulder bag, and Guitar went out with Pong and his hand on Yumiel's head.
"... welcome, your husband"
An inorganic drop-off voice on its back.
It was the usual "Anything Store/Free Life" morning.
"Fuhi, finally fifty... I'm hungry."
After lunch, when we decided to plug in for breakfast time, your postal delivery was finally over. Unlike the world he was in, there is no such thing as a bicycle for delivery. All mail is distributed to each household by foot.
Moreover, because of the half-way point of destination, it took us a long time to get there, fifty. Anything but boulders came around to the store, and it was a hassle to have a strangely hard to understand address, such as the grocery store and the third floor part of the apartment, in the alley where it was built in.
But you managed to get over it using the abilities that you could have.
Expand only one eye of the MAP that shows the map in view, and the back alley of the cumbersome subdistrict. I concentrated too much on the map to fluff the tail of a wild dog, and was chased while he was barking, but I got nothing from the wok I knew.
Sprinkling of water at the bend was also magnificently avoided with [emergency evasion 5]. The goats who intended the letter also returned it to the owner's butcher by letting him sleep in [Sleep].
Slight fatigue weighs the core of the body due to wasted excessive use of skills, but if you drink tannic tea with a late lunch at "Coffee Noisette," you'll be demodulated later.
Fortunately, there is no other job today. In recognition of his reward for his hard work, Guitar began to wonder whether he would also like a chocolate nut cake from "Coffee Noisette" specialty, or whether to make it a new Flamboise mousse.
So I realize there's a fuss.
"What? Were you still there?
When I tried to take my wallet out of my shoulder bag, I had something in my hand. When I pulled it out, it was apparently a letter I missed. In a simple white toilet, the destination is written in masterful letters.
"I thought I'd already handed it all out..."
He exhaled heavily when he flipped back onto the table and confirmed that the mailman's umpire was the regular mail that was pressed. I just thought it was over, and there was actually still work left, which would be an unpleasant pattern even if it wasn't him.
Besides, he's not more enthusiastic about his job than he was. You can't be motivated to work or anything.
Still, I eat with just one job left, because I don't like it. At any rate, I want to be free from all the trouble and eat my meal slowly.
Not fond of eating like being stuck in the back, he walked out to an address he had shortly exhaled to finish the job he had overlooked.
"Best of the" Managed Homes "in the Lower District...... I'm not used to hearing it"
Guitar University, based in the intermediate district, nevertheless walks around the lower district often due to its work. Even such greatness did not sound familiar to the address "Managed Home" given in the letter.
Still, with MAP's address retrieval feature, destinations are displayed in the overlooking view of vision with red markers. I wonder if it's a new compartment, and as I tilt my neck, I move towards it.
Instead of the boulevard in the lower district, you walk away from the road, which stretches in five parts from the city's south gate, as you come to rely on markers and maps for complex alleys. As usual, the lower district is cluttered and fine, with raw debris and diarrhea left on the side of the alley.
With Michelotti, the junior district administrator, investing in cleaning, the environmental and hygiene aspects were much better than before, but with this appearance of an unseen back alley, it still seemed far from reforming the consciousness of the residents.
"Well, when we get out of here, will we get there? Just give me the letter and go home."
Turning right at the corner. Only one more main road is left behind. Is it connected to an open place, or is the light slipping into a dim alley?
"Maurice, it's the mail."
If you get here, you'll go through the aisle in the footsteps where you just bounced that it was a breath later. Then there was an unexpected sight ahead.
"Oh, my God..."
Surrounded by messy, inconsistent buildings in the lower districts, there was about forty tsubos of land open before your eyes.
There is only one small bungalow built securely in the back, which is later effectively utilized as a field and flower bed. Whether it belongs to residents or has wooden benches beside the fields, it also looks like a garden or something.
"Is that it? This is the Managed Home, right?
"Yes, this is the Managed Home."
"Oops!? I'm surprised!
When did you come to the side, the old woman stood behind you. His total hair dyed white but his hips were not bent, carrying firewood and lowering his shopping cage in his hands.
"This, get out of the way. 'Cause I want to unload something heavy."
"Oh, oh, sorry"
The noble university that stood with Pocan was in the shape of blocking the passage without even trying. Quickly avoid aside, so that the old lady can pass by.
"Ha, whoa. Man, shopping is hard this year."
The old woman, who unloaded her luggage at the firewood storage area by the bungalow, rubs her shoulders and rubs them back.
"So, who are you?
"Oh, yeah, I'm expensive at the store for everything, but I came here by mail"
"Mail? To a woman like this?
"That's right. Does Maurice Climb mean Grandma?
"Oh, that's about me."
Apparently, this is definitely the most "Managed Home" inhabited by those mentioned in the letter. Look, you exhale and give me a letter, Precious.
"Yes, a letter."
"Yes, yes, I wonder who it's from... oh, it's from a friend! That kid, he's still alive!
Maurice, who surprisingly narrows her eyes, also finally breaks her face when she sees the sender's name. Letters from unexpected old friends will make you happy as you get older. In a smiling sight that quickly cut the seal of the letter, your Highness exhaled.
"Good for you, Grandma. Then I'll go home."
This completes the postal delivery norm. When I finally had dinner, I tried to get out of "Manage Home" rubbing my belly. But there was a voice to pull it off.
"Oh, oh, wait! You've come to such a despicable place because of me. If you don't, you'll be punished."
"Oh, no, I'm sorry, no"
I'm going to forget about the long idle landscape of the light, but this square is also the corner of the Lower District. Besides, when it was the old man who lived there, there shouldn't have been that much storage.
Yet if it is held up, it will be a burden not less? Worried noble college tries to resign away. But Maurice laughs all the time at the prospect of such an idea.
"Nah, there's only one woman here, but I haven't had that much trouble with my life. You don't have to hesitate. Come on, I'm in. I'm in."
"Wow, hey, Grandma!?
Maurice can shove guests into her home with force that doesn't suit her looks. Nor could he be forced to shake it off, and Your Highness went into the old woman's house as it was flushed.
"You must be hungry, right? When I was younger, I couldn't help but be hungry. Come on, eat."
Noble Dae sits in a wooden round chair with his hands on his shoulders and only two in what can be described as forceful. In the beginning, I said, "Would you like some sweets?" and I was served hard baked cookies and tea, but my stomach, which hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, rattled in front of the food.
Maurice, who overheard it, brought it to me with a large assortment of cream stews now placed somewhere in front of him.
"No, it's still bad... this is your grandma's supper, right?
When they serve a full meal in people's houses, it is the Japanese temperament that the reluctance comes first. That would be all the more so if the first person I met was the other person. "That's all I need..." he tries to cook, even though he's hungry.
But Maurice grinned and urged him to eat.
"Young people don't shy away. Besides, this stew was overmade. I can't eat with my wife alone, so I thought you'd help me."
"Well, just a little..."
With his mouth he hesitated, and Guitar also seemed to have been hit by a good smell of cream stew from earlier. Stew all over the first tree spoon, and the cold is also in the mouth there. Then his eyes are opened wide, and the empty spoon is plunged into the plate again.
"Wow, what is this, uh-huh!? Ugh, Grandma!
Because I use raw milk that is not conditioned or heated and sterilized, or although it has a slight milk odor on my nose, it even accents and blends with the ingredients to slip my tongue.
Whether it was picked in the field, the root vegetables and potatoes filled with grains are simmered well. Cheap old chickens also simmer just that carefully beforehand, leaving a pleasant bite and flavor, while still relaxing with their mouths.
It was so excellent that you had never eaten it before. Continue eating at an accelerating rate, emptying the deep stew dish in less than five minutes.
"Because I still have it. Hey. Eat."
With a grin, eat that too, and eat this too, Maurice, who carries it one after the other until it leads to pickles such as dishes, breads that seem homemade, or pickles at the end, or fruit liquors marinated with moss peaches, etc.
Your daddy shines his eyes at it, placing it flat from the edge that comes left to youthfulness and hunger. Thus he was able to fill his empty stomach in an unexpected way.
"Then granny, have a treat. Thank you so much. Thank you. I'll be back."
"That's okay, that kind of thing. 'Cause I had fun, too."
Unexpectedly, Guitar left for lunch in a good mood. Maurice kept waving until that back disappeared to the end of the alley.
And slightly opens his mouth where he is completely invisible.
"More... happier. Then..."
When the old woman leaked so pompously, she laughed and disappeared into the brick house.
"Yeah, hey, I handed it out and I figured it out, there were fifty and one letters."
"... well, is it a check leak? I'm sorry."
At the "Anything Store/Free Life" dinner table, Nobita talks about her work today as if she remembered it. I tease Yumiel, the clerk, with a mild laugh that the number of letters said fifty was actually fifty one, a rare mistake for you. With that in mind, serious she apologized peacefully and hurried the Lord.
And so as to repair the inexplicable atmosphere that has arisen, your colleagues provide even more topical topics.
"Well, hey, it's the fifty-first destination, by the way," Managed Home "in the lower district. I was just a little surprised when we had such a compartment."
"..." Managed Home "?
"Oh, there's something in there. And yet a solid house was built... strange place."
"... Your husband, instead of the lower districts, there is no such compartment in this city."
"... Huh? No, that can't be right. The search for MAP came up, didn't it?
Laughing that Yumiel is missing today, display the MAP of this city in your sight and search for "Manage Home".
Then, as I thought, there was a red marker in the corner of the lower district... that didn't come out.
"Oh, that? Is that it?"
When I look at the search log, I only have a record that this is the first time I've searched for Managed Home in the first place. All the others are familiar compartment names.
"So, that house I went to...?
The maid calmly said to the strange experience, "... were you dreaming of taking another nap? You shouldn't, Sabotage at work" was embarrassing.