Ring Ring

The time is probably seven or eight o'clock at night. The sun had fallen and stars and darkness were spreading in the sky, but from poetry weave it was still not that late in time. Even the supermarket is open in Japan.

but.

There are few more shops open in this city. The boulevard, which was so busy during the day, was now quiet. There doesn't seem to be as many exterior lights as there are in Japan.

Was the night so dark? and Fearful Shiori speeded up the pace of walking to beat it off.

I can't find a job, I just can't find an inn for you to stay in, and although I thought I'd put up with it tonight in the wild, I still change my mind that I can't.

Night is scarier than I thought. The anxiety that there might be something ahead of you in the dark always comes through your chest.

The lights around here are about lodging and dining rooms and liquor stores. But those stores were full of stores that Shiori had already visited during the day and refused to hire.

(What should I do? It's a store that's open now, and all that's left is...)

Shiori stared at the large building in front of her. Three floors with lots of windows, large doors in the front and balcony railings etc. are engraved with beautiful relief.

Although the city is large and some places have a dim atmosphere that may seem insecure, the neighborhood felt like a quiet, sophisticated luxury residential area. Even from the position where Shiori is, I can see some beautiful mansions.

But the building in front of me felt different from a normal mansion.

(Hotel......?

That's what Shiori expects. It's not "Inn," it's "Hotel." Unlike modern hotels in Japan, of course, the buildings are different in size and atmosphere from other inns in this city.

Somehow the laying was high and I was bare when I found this place during the day. I thought maybe it would be impossible for you to hire me.

But I can't even afford that right now. I have to go.

Waiting for the carriage that unloaded the guests to leave the premises, Shiori gently aimed for the entrance to the hotel. There was a man like a doorman there, but when Shiori smiled silently and lightly, he normally opened the door to see if he mistook me for a guest.

My sister, who sold accessories, also told me that if you look at the cared for skin and hair, Poetry Weaving may even look good there to this young lady.

However, was it weird for an elderly woman to wear pants, though the doorman looked a little suspicious as well.

Once inside, the marble entrance greeted the poetry weave. It's not as wide as I thought, and the lighting is dark. But that's because they use lamps and candles, not fluorescent lights or anything like that, rather this one was calmer and had a better atmosphere.

The young man at the reception counter is glittering with the books and looks like he hasn't noticed this one.

It was a poetry weave I thought I'd give him a shout, but I can distract myself from the delicious smell of tickling my nose at the pretense.

(From there. It's like a restaurant in a hotel.)

It was next to the entrance. Is it just dinner time, the restaurant is very busy.

Traveling a long distance, the belly poetry weave unexpectedly fluttered towards you. As if I remembered, my stomach starts ringing when I grunt.

Everyone who eats is somewhat dressed and has an atmosphere of upper class gentlemen and ladies. The large restaurant is almost full and busy, but not as noisy as the city's liquor store.

(Everyone seems rich about something. I wonder if there might be aristocrats or something. I was wondering if you could stay at my place this evening...)

Though I'll think about that, I don't actually have the courage to ask around.

Shift attention from the customer to the employee. A waiter in a matching uniform is busy walking around the table and transporting food to guests.

And when I looked in the back, a man in his fifties or so, who had accumulated a moustache and caressed his hair neatly to his head, stared at them to monitor how they worked.

Someone whose spine is also pinned and seems harsh. Probably a great guy, in a position to coach people inside this hotel.

(If you're going to ask me if I can hire you, it's faster to talk to that guy in person, right? Sounds harsh, pretty nervous though......)

There was no reason to stand there forever, and Poetry Weave turned to the man with the moustache. Gently tone your hair, cough one up with your cohon, and then talk horribly.

"Um, excuse me," or "I'm sorry I'm at work," because I don't understand those rhetorical words.

"I, I want a job"

... I just had to get down to business all of a sudden.

It's really inconvenient to be speechless. It could have seemed like a guy with no common sense.

"What do you mean? Work?"

One eyebrow jumps up and the man with the moustache returns it. Its prickly voice stabbed Zakuza in the heart of Shiori.

But you mustn't flinch here. I don't like wild boarding.

"Please, it is. Cleaning Laundry, Do Anything"

Shiori pleaded, but the man only gave it back like this cold.

"I can't. Our jobs don't work for exotic people. Pick it up. Where the hell did you come in from?"

He was pulled his arm to get rid of him, but Shiori stomped his foot and resisted. Sue desperately in Japanese.

"Please. I'll do anything, whether it's hard work that people don't like or dirty work. I don't say luxury in salary either. Please, hire me!

"I don't know what you're talking about. Give it up, you..."

"No, so, su..."

When the man pulling his arms and the poetic weave stepping on each other are in a twisted state without pulling a single step,

"Hey, you, you"

Suddenly a third party voice broke in. It was the man with the moustache who was talked to, but Shiori turned with him.

There was the Lord of Voices on the couch seat right behind, in a deep place - this must be a VIP seat when you see the other seats being regular tables and chairs.

"The child is an acquaintance of mine. Let him go."

Nico and a small, fat, middle-aged man with a good smile of people say so and invite about Shiori. There's another guy next to him, and it looks like he was in the middle of a meal for two.

"... I'm sorry for that."

The man with the moustache bowed his head to the man in the guest as he wiped the sweat that had been blown out of contention with Shiori. I stare at Shiori and pull him into the kitchen.

Shiori looks at the man in the guest and thinks. Of course he doesn't know each other. That means maybe you helped me.

"Hey, lady. Why don't you come over here and sit down?

Says the little fat man without breaking his grin. Shiori silently headed to his seat because he was in a decent and friendly atmosphere and couldn't do anything else. I have the impression of a gold ring on my finger and it's a gold tick, but maybe I'm not a bad person.

To back up such a poetic idea, the man says.

"I just heard you say, lady, you're looking for a job? Why don't you work for me, if you don't mind?

……

To my delightful offer, Shiori's eyes opened wide. If this opportunity is missed, Shiori shakes her neck wide vertically and answers.

"Working, it is! I want a job."

I say it, and then I add, "Oh, but..."

"I don't have a home. Living job, happy"

'Seems thick, but I would be very grateful if you could let me work in the dwelling,' the little fat man admitted it softly, following the thought with fewer words.

"Oh, I'm fine. Most of us work at home. I'll have your daughter's room, too."

"Really!? Thanks. And me, words, bad...... are you okay?

"No problem. Wordless is also cute and good. There will be plenty of guests who will find you attractive."

"Great......!

Apparently, it's a customer business, but even catacotto won't be an issue. Shiori asked in a ho breath.

"Work, content, teach."

Say it with a smile. Sometimes the teacher of Shiori's words is a man's language because he was a crust, but unfortunately the person doesn't realize that.

Nor did the little fat man get angry at the sudden commanding tone, but he blew it out with the man who was in his seat with him.

"Waha, nice. I might even get caught up in a special hobby."

……

"Well, let's talk about work later. Aren't you hungry? You should eat this. 'Cause I haven't got my hands on it yet."

That being said, the man offered his dessert to Shiori. Looks like apple pie with cream on it.

"I came out on the course, but I don't like sweets."

I give Shiori a new fork, and I open the liquor in the glass.

"Oh, thanks!

Sometimes he was just dying of hunger, and Shiori gladly received a pie on a plate. This guy's a great guy! and so on.

Those who give food are unconditionally classified as' good men 'in poetry weaves.