Amagi Brilliant Park - Volume 5 - Chapter 3

Reality Bites 

It was early summer, and Moffle was facing a difficult daily grind: He’d get up at 5:00 AM. Fighting off the urge to go back to sleep, he would gulp down his instant coffee, eat some cereal, get his appearance in order, then head to the park. Starting from 6:00 AM, he would run through his preparations for Moffle’s House of Sweets: Blood & Bullets. At 7:00 AM, he would start practice rehearsals for his new live show, Pirates of Ironbeard. 
Then, starting at 9:00 AM, he was in meetings: planning meetings, accounting meetings, PR meetings. Meetings, meetings, meetings... The nature of the meetings changed day to day, and typically ended with him clashing with Kanie Seiya and getting annoyed. By the time the morning meetings were over, it would be just past 10:00 AM, and the park would have opened. Moffle would hurry his way to Entrance Square to greet the guests, perform and take souvenir photos. Every 30 minutes or so, he’d alternate between the House of Sweets and Entrance Square, interacting enthusiastically with guests in both locations. 
He’d eat an early lunch of rice balls on his way through the underground passage, passing Tiramii and Macaron a few times on the way. Since nobody had any time to chat, they usually just shot each other a wave and a nod as they passed by. Then just before noon, preparations for the live show would begin. Moffle would go over the details with the show’s supervisor, Kenjuro; since it was performed in the pool, the safety precautions were stricter than usual. The performance would start at 1:00 PM. He’d do some fencing with pirates, sing, fire some cannons, and dance. It would be over at 2:00 PM, at which point he’d go back to his rounds between the Entrance Square and House of Sweets, bringing joy to the guests without ever showing his exhaustion. This was around the time of day when families and children started getting cranky, but he endured all the abuse with a smile and a “moffu!” 
At 4:00 PM, Moffle would have his second live show. It was at this point that he’d be feeling drowsy, but he’d fight that back, too. He put his heart into his singing, his dancing, his fencing... He couldn’t afford to slip up. 
Following that second performance—a bit after 5:00 PM—he would go around the park with Tiramii and Macaron, to delight guests with surprise dances and photo ops. Once that was done, it was back to the House of Sweets where he’d give the guests a treat by rushing in to fight the attraction’s big boss, Naughty Mouse Overlord, at their sides. 
For dinner, his assistant, Chujo Shiina, would bring him a croquette lunch. These would be the croquettes made by Latifah that he loved so much, and he would want to savor them... but inevitably, he’d polish them off in just a few minutes. 
Around 7:00 PM, as the sun went down, they would hold a live show in the plaza in front of Maple Castle. The premise was all the AmaBri mascots coming together to beat up a bad guy. It was an extravagant show that incorporated fireworks and lasers and fountains, but site director Dornell and his staff handled most of that, so all Moffle had to do was show up ten minutes before showtime. 
Even so, Moffle was the lead role; he couldn’t afford to slip up. With the guests clapping and cheering him on, he would jump and bound and give them the best show he could. By the time the show ended, it would be 8:00 PM. He would be on the verge of collapse by now, but he’d still have to stick around until closing time to say goodbye to departing guests. He’d give out souvenir balloons, and repeat “Moffu! Moffu!” as if to say “Come back soon!” 
9:00 PM was closing time. That meant it would be time for more meetings; project meeting, accounts meetings. Meetings, meetings, meetings... There would be practices and rehearsals for the show starting in August, too. And he’d once again get annoyed at Kanie Seiya. 
Once the meetings were over, he’d revisit the now-closed House of Sweets. His part-timer, Chujo Shiina, would bravely take overtime to help him out, but he would inevitably end up staying until 11:00 PM anyway, checking thoroughly to make sure no issues were going to pop up the next day. 
At last, exhausted, Moffle would go home. He’d be back around midnight, take a shower, have a beer, watch the late news, then fall asleep. He hadn’t been to Savage, his favorite yakitori bar, in a dog’s age. 
He’d sleep four or five hours. At 5:00 AM, the alarm would ring, and he’d fight the urge to smash the clock. Grunting, groaning, yet mustering all his willpower, he would pick himself up and start his preparations. Let’s do it again today, he would tell himself, for the guests of AmaBri! 

One fiercely hot Sunday afternoon, after the afternoon live show had concluded, Moffle hurried to his attraction, Moffle’s House of Sweets: Blood & Bullets. Incidentally, Blood & Bullets was a name he’d given to it after the renovation—he’d wanted to communicate its new, more hardcore nature. Kanie Seiya had objected fervently, but his fears had proved needless. The contradiction between the whimsical “House of Sweets” and the violent name “Blood and Bullets” had created buzz. People had laughed about it on the Internet and news stations had covered it... And with one thing and another, it had brought in more visitors. Thanks to that, Moffle’s House of Sweets: Blood and Bullets was now doing great business. There were constantly long lines to the attraction, and the staff was working busily. 
“Great mob, Joffle-san!” Part-timer Chujo Shiina greeted him as he entered the greenroom backstage. (She tended to still flub her words like this from time to time.) 
“Moffu, Chujo. How’s everything going, fumo?” 
“Well...” Shiina hesitated. 
“...? What’s wrong, fumo?” 
“There are no problems with the attraction itself...” she said hesitantly. “But one of the guests passed out in line from the heat...” 
“...! What then, fumo?” 
“He was taken to the medical center. Fortunately, it wasn’t so bad that we had to call an ambulance, but...”

Moffle canceled his appearance in the attraction and hurried to the medical center. 
The park’s medical center sat to the west of the main gate, in a corner of Entrance Square. It looked like a whimsical drug store from onstage, but inside it was a standard medical center. 
The supplies that filled the glass shelves were on par with what you’d see in a school nurse’s office: digestive medicine, headache medicine, bandages and plasters, and a defibrillator. Anything requiring more severe medical attention would require an ambulance to be called in. 
It had ten beds. That had always seemed excessive for an amusement park of their size, but when Moffle visited, all the beds were filled. 
“Moffu.” 
They were all there because of the heatwave: children, seniors, and women, all in varying states of bad health, wrapped up in blankets and looking listless. Moffle had been working at this park for a long time, but this was his first time seeing anything like this. 
Peggy, a member of the nurse cast, was busily moving from bed to bed. She was a tanuki-type mascot from Maple Land, like Moffle. “Hey, Moffle,” she said. 
“Hey there, Auntie Peggy,” he replied. “I heard that a guest passed out at my attraction?” 
“Third bed down,” Peggy said, then withdrew into the back. 
“Moffu...” 
In the third bed down lay a boy of about middle school age. Actually, he may have been a bit younger... At any rate, he seemed about twelve or thirteen years old. He also looked vaguely familiar. 
“Ugh... unh... mm?” The child stirred, then looked up at Moffle and blinked. “M-Moffle?!” he shouted, and bolted upright. He seemed surprisingly energetic for someone who had just passed out from the heat. 
“Hey there, kid. You okay, fumo?” 
“Huh? You can talk?!” 
“Moffu.” (Typically he was bound never to say anything but “Moffu” and “Fumo” onstage, but in certain situations—guidance in natural disasters, caring for the sick and wounded—it was allowed. As this was an extension of the latter scenario, Moffle had decided that it qualified.) “I heard you passed out in line for my House of Sweets. I feel bad about that, fumo.” 
“I...” The child was silent for a moment. Then he seemed to rethink something, and said: “N-No way! It’s just, the line today was really long, and I just started getting sick while I was waiting...” 
“I see, fumo... I’ve been worried about the wait times we’re putting our customers through, fumo. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, but take it easy on yourself, would you?” 
“I’m fine!” the boy insisted. “Besides, Moffle’s House of Sweets is my purpose in life!” 
“Your purpose in life?” 
“Yeah!” The boy’s eyes twinkled. “I got an annual pass and I come in a few times a week. I’ve been doing it since last year! And it’s all for the House of Sweets!” 
Moffle remembered now why the boy looked so familiar: he was a regular. And not just since the renovation this year—he’d been a constant fixture all through last year’s slump. 
“Moffu...” He was certainly a strange one; boys of his age were more likely to make fun of amusement park attractions than to obsess over them. Still, Moffle felt deeply grateful to this boy, who had been a faithful regular during a time when nobody was giving them the time of day. “Thanks, fumo. Er...” he paused, waiting for his name. 
“Seno! Seno Koji!” 
“Right, Koji-kun. I don’t know how to thank you for sticking with my House of Sweets for so long, fumo.” 
Seno Koji seemed to be on cloud nine. If the boy was a regular, they had probably taken numerous souvenir photos together at the end of the attraction— Moffle was starting to recall those now—but they’d never had a chance to talk intimately like this, so it was probably a real thrill for him. 
“The House of Sweets is awesome!” Seno-kun shouted. 
This is the infirmary, Moffle thought. There are people around us who are trying to sleep. “Moffu. Could you keep it down a little?” he urged in gentle tones. 
“Ah, sorry... But it is awesome,” Seno-kun insisted. “At first it just looks like some dumb theme park thing, but it’s actually really hardcore! I love how you don’t dumb it down for kids and casuals!” 
“Er, right...” Moffle agreed awkwardly. 
“It’s like super hard, but if you memorize the patterns, you can bring up your score each time,” Seno-kun went on. “It’s not pandering, but it’s still possible to improve, you know? It’s like a gamers’ paradise!” 
“Moffu. Well... right. You noticed that, fumo?” 
“Of course! And there are all those little bits of realism, right? Especially after the Blood & Bullets renovation! Like how if you fire your magic water pistol too much, the barrel overheats, which throws off your aim! Or how if you don’t headshot the naughty mice and kill them outright, it’ll slow down the rest of the enemy force a little! That’s supposed to represent the rule that if one enemy gets badly injured, two others have to stop to care for him, right?!” Seno-kun gushed. He didn’t seem to care about respecting the atmosphere of the place he was in. 
“Ahh... you noticed all that, fumo?” 
“I sure did! The House of Sweets reflects the truth of the battlefield!” 
“The truth of the battlefield,” he had said. Moffle found it a little embarrassing, but not the worst feeling in the world. It was nice to know there were guests who appreciated the care he put in. 
“I’m gonna keep coming by!” Seno-kun promised. “Just don’t let it become some boring pleb ride, okay?” 
“M-Moffu. I won’t, fumo.” Moffle held up his paw as if swearing an oath.

That night, during a planning meeting... 
“We’re getting to a breaking point with guest turnover,” acting manager Kanie Seiya said. “Our plans have been paying off these last few months, and attendance has skyrocketed. That’s a good thing, of course, but...” He flipped through his thick stack of documents. “Queue time has reached unprecedented levels. Just in Sorcerer’s Hill... Elementario has a 50 minute wait. Tiramii’s Flower Adventure has a 40 minute wait. Macaron’s Music Theater has a 50 minute wait...” Seiya cleared his throat. “...And Moffle’s House of Sweets has a 70 minute wait.” 
The cast members present all let out a cry. Perhaps they were impressed by the popularity of the park’s headliner mascot. On top of that, they hadn’t had a wait time of more than an hour in over ten years. 
But Moffle didn’t look happy about it. Neither did Seiya. 
“Moffu...” 
“So, Moffle, what are we going to do about this? Summer vacation will be starting soon, and we’ll be getting even more guests. If we don’t do something, these waits could get as high as 120 minutes.” 
“......” 
“Unfortunately, your House of Sweets doesn’t have the facilities to deal with long lines. Most of your guests end up waiting out in the blazing sun. You want them out in the sun for over two hours?” 
“......Moffu.” 
“You had a guest pass out today, right? Fortunately it wasn’t bad, but there’s no guarantee we won’t see worse. The next one might suffer serious heat stroke. We can’t wait until it happens to respond. You all understand the danger this represents, right? Moffle, I want to hear some opinions.” 
“Moffu...” Moffle knew that Seiya wasn’t trying to put him on the spot. He knew he just wanted to be clear about the danger, and get some concrete suggestions for what to do about it. Moffle knew all that, and he knew what Seiya was trying to say. Even so... 
“Moffle.” 
“......” 
“Moffle,” Seiya insisted again, “answer me.” 
“...Ah, all right. I hear you, fumo.” Moffle let out a deep sigh and pulled some documents out of his file case. He flipped through, grudgingly looking over the data for the month. “You want me to speed up turnover. Is that right, fumo? At the moment it’s an average of 8 minutes 30 seconds, and if I can shorten that to 80%, that’s... um...” 
“6 minutes 48 seconds,” Seiya answered immediately. 
“Right,” Moffle agreed. “If I decrease the spawn rate of the naughty mice, I think I can manage it. But that will change the high scores, which means the hall of fame—” 
“I don’t care about the hall of fame,” Seiya told him flatly. “And 80% isn’t enough— You need to cut it to 50%.” 
Moffle couldn’t believe his ears. “Halve the playtime?! To four minutes and change?! That’s too short, fumo!” Moffle’s House of Sweets: Blood and Bullets had eight areas (one for each room), and if he did as Seiya asked, the guests would get only 30 seconds per area. Taking into account time to move from one room to another, it would really go as low as 20... No one was going to have any fun! 
But Seiya’s gaze was serious. “Even halving the playtime won’t actually cut the wait time in half. We also lose time to moving the queue, the initial instructions, and the picture-taking at the end. I did some rough calculations, and...” Seiya tapped a notepad on his desk. “It will still only cut the wait time to about 80%.” That will turn a 120 minute line into a 96 minute one. 
It wouldn’t drastically fix the problem, but Seiya probably considered it the minimum of what they had to do. Moffle knew all that, yet he still couldn’t accept it as a solution. “Not possible, fumo.” 
“It is possible,” Seiya told him. “Make it happen.” 
Moffle pounded his paw on the table. “What do you think our guests are, cattle?! Making them wait that long in the heat, then telling them ‘okay, all done’ after such a short time? No one’s going to enjoy that! It would be better not to have the attraction at all!” 
“Too bad. It’s one of our headlining attractions,” Seiya said. “And post-renovation, it’s had a lot of buzz.” 
Seiya had been against the renovation originally. Yet now, he was running calculations around it as their headlining attraction, and making exorbitant demands. The audacity of it had Moffle enraged. 
No... It would be a lie to say that he didn’t admire the audacity of the young man, from time to time. But this order was a bridge too far. “You can’t be serious, fumo. I can’t do it, fumo.” 
“Oh, you can do it,” Seiya argued. “You need to do it.” 
“......!” Moffle stormed out. 
“Ah, Moffle-san...” Muse, who was sitting next to him, tried to stop him, but Moffle moved too quickly. 
Just before he slammed the door, he heard Seiya say, “Just let him go.”

He was feeling so annoyed that he left work early, doing only the most cursory of maintenance at the House of Sweets. Still, by the time he arrived at Amagi Station, it was already past eleven at night. 
He’d intended to go right home, but he caught a glimpse of the Suzuran Shopping Street sign, and decided he might stop by his favorite yakitori bar. By that, he meant Savage— The bar’s unofficial last call was 1:00 AM, so they would probably let him get in a drink or two, at least. He hadn’t been around much of late, after all. But when he arrived, Savage was already closing down. 
“Oh? Moffle-san?” It was the part-time worker Takami, who was packing up the sandwich board out front. 
“Moffu. Closing already?” 
“Sorry. It is Sunday, after all...” 
“Ah... that’s right, fumo.” Most drinking establishments, including Savage, closed early on Sunday. Moffle knew that, but due to his lifestyle, he tended to lose track of days throughout the week. Since he’d had an especially rough day today, the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “It completely slipped my mind, fumo. Well, see you another time.” 
“Ah, wait!” Takami called to him as he turned to leave. “I just got off work, too. You want to hang out a little?” 
“Moffu?” It was a surprising invitation. He and Takami knew each other on sight, but only as customer and waitstaff. They’d never spent time together after closing. “I don’t mind,” he said, “but... are you sure your boss won’t get mad?” 
It was a yakitori bar, after all. The owner might say “That’s not the kind of business I’m running” and come down on him for it. 
“Ah, good point. I’ll ask.” Takami walked into the back of the shop, then returned right away. “He says it’s fine,” she said. 
Her boss poked his head out from the back and waved. “Hey there, Moffle-san! Just don’t tell the other customers. Show her a good time!” He sounded like a parent talking about his child. 
“Moffu.” To be honest, Moffle found this kind of annoying. Takami was a nice kid, and the shop owner was a good man, but he hated being mixed up in secrets and obligations. Tiramii was attracted to Takami (as he was to most women), so if he or any other coworkers found out about it, it would be a recipe for misunderstandings. Still, he didn’t really want to drink alone right now, either. Well, why not? he decided. 
“Here I am!” Takami came out after finishing the last of the closing up. She was wearing jeans and a printed T-shirt. It was just her usual outfit sans the apron, but for some reason, it felt strange to see her like this. “Yay! Our first date!” 
“Don’t be ridiculous, fumo. C’mon, let’s go.” 
“Haha,” she teased. “Moffle-san, are you shy?” 
“For heaven’s sake...” he grumbled.

They left the shopping street behind and made it to a small bar closer to the residential district. Moffle had known the owner there for a long time— He was a quiet, older gentleman who never pried into his customers’ lives. Unless the customers struck up conversation, he generally left them alone. Moffle had been here a few times with Macaron, but he preferred it as a place to come alone. 
Moffle ordered a straight bourbon. Takami’s order—“I don’t know much about Western liquor, so just give me something refreshing”—earned her a mojito, a refreshing cocktail made from rum with lime and mint. Takami seemed to like it, and ordered a second right away. 
“Are you sure you should be drinking that much, fumo?” 
“It’s fine, it’s fine. I can hold my alcohol.” 
“The people who say that tend to be the biggest troublemakers,” Moffle observed. 
“Tell me about it. I see it a lot with our customers,” Takami said with a giggle. She spent a little while gossiping about Savage’s more unusual clientele. Then, abruptly, she let out a sigh. “...I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to laugh like this.” 
“Where’d that come from, fumo?” 
“The boss has been having trouble for a while. The finances aren’t working out,” she admitted. “He’s thinking he might need to close the place soon.” 
This was the first Moffle had heard of it; as far as he’d seen, Savage was always packed. He couldn’t imagine it being on hard times. “Moffu. But you get plenty of customers, fumo...” 
“Yeah, we do. But apparently supply is getting more expensive... The farm he usually deals with had a change of leadership... They’re changing a lot about how they do things.” 
“Hmm...” 
“And you know how yakitori bars are,” Takami went on. “The turnover rate isn’t great, you know? The place can seem packed all night, but that doesn’t mean we’re making money... We can raise prices or buy cheaper supplies, but he doesn’t seem to want to do either.” 
“I certainly wouldn’t want the quality to drop, fumo.” 
“Right? He raised prices a few years ago, and he swore it would be the last time. Plus, he’s got his own circumstances, and he can’t work as well as he used to.” 
“Hmm...” 
Moffle found it hard to just nod along with this. But Takami wasn’t asking him for a solution; she was clearly just tipsy and wanted to vent about her work situation. And Moffle didn’t know anything about running a restaurant, so it wasn’t as if he could offer any real advice, anyway. 
“I’ll be graduating next year, too,” she said with a sigh. 
“Oh, are you a student, fumo?” 
“Yeah. Fourth year of college. Didn’t I tell you?” 
“I never knew, fumo.” He’d assumed she was just a perpetual part-timer. 
“Aw, so mean,” she sulked. “I’ve told you that before... But well, you were getting sloshed with your friends at the time. I forgive you.” 
“Moffu.” 
Takami downed her fourth mojito, then began twirling the ice in the glass with a finger. “...So at the end of this year, it’ll be ‘bye-bye Savage’ for me. He should probably be hiring a successor for me to train right about now... But I guess he doesn’t have the money for it.” 
“Do you know where you’ll be working?” Moffle asked. 
“Public service, if you can believe it! The Amagi City government office.” 
“Oh-ho. That’s unexpected, but seems somehow right for you, fumo.” Takami was kind, hard-working, and good with customers. Watching her at work day in and day out, he’d seen glints of a surprisingly earnest and reliable personality. If she was a student, he bet she got good grades, too. 
“You’re the second one who’s told me that. It’s kind of flattering...” Takami laughed and ordered a rum and ginger ale. 
“Moffu. Who was the first?” 
“My little brother.” 
“Ah, you have a brother?” 
“Yes. He’s still in middle school, but he doesn’t fit in so he’s stopped going. I don’t know what to do about it...” she admitted. 
“I see... that’s difficult, fumo.” 
“Yeah. I’m not that worried, though... At least he still leaves the house every day. I was kind of the same way at that age.” 
“Takami?” Moffle asked in shock. “You stopped going to school?” 
“Yes. Is that surprising?” 
“Moffu,” he affirmed. “But, well... I guess life takes you places.” 
“Hmm?” she asked. “You’re not going to pry?” 
“I would if you wanted me to. But I don’t think you do, fumo.” 
“Hee hee.” Takami giggled, then gazed at Moffle. Her laugh was pleasantly melodic. “Moffle-san, you’re so kind.” 
“Why would you say that, fumo?” Moffle fidgeted in his seat, suddenly feeling uneasy. Right, he told himself. Let’s get back to the issue at hand... 

“...Well, you know,” he whispered after a while. “I’d say I understand where your boss at Savage is coming from, fumo. There’s nothing easy about lowering your standards. But living in reality means making compromises, and shutting the bar down is the last thing anyone wants, fumo.” 
“You think so?” Takami asked wistfully. “Well, I guess that’s true...” 
“It’s a tough decision, fumo.” Moffle drank the last of his bourbon and fell into thought. A tough decision, eh? Here he was lecturing her, but what about himself? Was he making concessions to reality? He knew what the park’s situation was, didn’t he? He tried to imagine how the owner of Savage felt. Why was he so insistent on maintaining his yakitori’s quality? Was it pride in his craft? Or was he afraid of something? Yes, that must be it... 
They shared a few more drinks and then left. By that time, Takami was quite inebriated. Her legs were unsteady, and she was clinging tightly to Moffle’s plush arm. 
“Hey,” he told her gruffly. “Get a grip, fumo.” 
“Mm... sorry about that,” she yawned. “I’m just sleepy...” 
“I’ll get you home, fumo. Where do you live?” 
“Mmgh... glugh...” 
“For heaven’s sake. I knew this would happen, fumo...” He shouldered Takami’s weight to keep her from passing out in the middle of the sleepy shopping district. 
As they walked along, Moffle noticed another member of the park’s cast staggering towards them; he must have been out drinking somewhere else. It was a short, stout cat mascot. Despite the early summer season, he wore a heavy coat reminiscent of a Russian soldier. “Moffu,” he said by way of greeting. “Is that you, Nyathan?” 
Nyathan wasn’t born in Maple Land—he was a citizen of a hostile nation, the UPSR. But various circumstances had come together in a way that had ended with him running a shop in the park. He was fond of drinking, so they would run into each other like this from time to time. 
“Wh... What the nya...” Nyathan stopped in his tracks, gazing at Moffle and Takami in surprise. 
Moffle had a drunken college student on his arm, and he seemed to be leading her somewhere. Someone might—no, they almost certainly would get the wrong idea. 
“Moffle... is this a knock at me, because I’m bad with the ladies?” Nyathan asked. 
“No, fumo,” Moffle protested. “Nyathan, this is just...” 
“Filthy bourgeois! I’ll see you purged some day, nya!” 
“Wait,” Moffle called forlornly. 
“Nyaaaaah!” Nyathan ran away, weeping loudly. 
“Ugh... well, I’ll be hearing about that later,” Moffle said with a groan. 
“Does he work at your office?” Takami asked. 
“Yeah. Well, something like that, fumo.” 
“No big deal... we’re just showing him our looove...” Takami teased. 
“We’re not in love, fumo.” 
“Aww... c’mon...” 
“It’s not a thing to joke about,” Moffle told her abruptly. “People might believe you. Enough.” 
“*hic*... I’m not... not joking,” she said. 
“Moffu. Sorry, but I’m going to have to take out your student ID. I don’t know where you live.” 
“Blahhh...” she told him. 
Moffle reached into Takami’s bag and pulled out her pass sleeve. Fortunately, she lived in Amagi City, about a ten minute taxi ride away. Looking at her ID was the first time he’d ever seen Takami’s full name—“Seno Takami,” it was. 
“Seno...?” Moffle furrowed his brow.

He brought Takami to her house. Her mother answered the door— Her father worked a night shift at a factory, it seemed, so he was never home at this hour. It was a small, free-standing house of the sort that was common enough in Amagi City. Annoyingly, a dog across the street wouldn’t stop barking at him the whole time. 
“Ahh... I’m sorry, so sorry,” her mother apologized on her daughter’s behalf. “Really... Takami! Get it together!” 
“Ungh... but I’m so tired...” Ignoring her mother’s scolding, Takami slumped down in the entryway. “Mmgh...” 
“Oh, you silly girl...” her mother lamented. “I’m so very sorry, er...” 
“Moffle, fumo,” he said, finally remembering to introduce himself. “I’m a regular customer at her yakitori bar.” 
“Yes, Moffle-san. Thank you so very much for your help.” Takami’s mother showed no sign of surprise at his statement; thanks to the Lalapatch Charm that Moffle wore, she perceived him as an ordinary mortal man. Even “Moffle” probably sounded like an ordinary Japanese name to her. “Er, how much was the taxi?” she asked anxiously. “We can pay for that, at least...” 
“No, it was on my way anyway, fumo. Don’t worry about it.” 
“But we really must compensate you...” Takami’s mother insisted. 
“Seriously, it’s fine, fumo. ...Although, can you get her to her room? I think she’s passed out...” Moffle looked down at Takami, who was sitting on her butt in the entrance, sleeping soundly. 
When he pointed it out, Takami’s mother became openly flustered. “Ahh... I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Oh, what should I do? Her room is on the second floor... I suppose she’ll be well enough there, but...” 
“I’ll carry her, fumo.” 
“Ah! Really, I can’t ask you to do that...” 
“I told you, it’s fine.” Moffle picked Takami’s body up easily. He had been strong enough to carry Seiya from the scene of the arson, after all, and she was even lighter than he was. He climbed to the second floor and put Takami in her bed. Her mother may have gone to fetch some water, perhaps, because she left Moffle alone in the room for a while. 
“Moffle-san... I’m sorry,” Takami mumbled sleepily. It seemed she wasn’t completely out just yet. 
“Moffu. Ah, I’m the one who should apologize, fumo. I think I embarrassed you to your family... Maybe I should have let you stay at my place instead,” he said, jokingly. 
In response, Takami buried her face in her pillow. “You should have. You really suck...” 
“Oh, come on,” he protested. 
“You can go now. I’m gonna sleep,” she muttered. “Thanks for everything...” 
“Sure thing. I’ll see you again sometime. I had fun tonight, fumo.” 
“Liar,” she said accusingly. 
“It’s true, fumo.” 
“You stink, Moffle-san.” 
“It mean it,” he said. “I hope we can go out again, Takami.” 
As Moffle left the room, he ran into a boy in the hall. It was Takami’s little brother— Maybe he was going to the bathroom, or maybe he had heard all the commotion. Moffle recognized him as Seno Koji, the boy he had met that afternoon. The regular customer who had suffered heat stroke at Moffle’s House of Sweets was the same school-skipping little brother that Takami had told him about. “Oh, you’re...” Moffle trailed off in recognition. 
The boy said nothing. Thanks to the Lalapatch Charm, he didn’t recognize him as the Moffle from that afternoon. He probably just perceived him as some old man bringing his sister home. 
“Ah,” Moffle apologized hastily, “sorry about the trouble, fumo.” 
“......” The little brother snorted and stomped his way to the second floor bathroom. The sound of him slamming the door echoed across the hall. 
“Koji!” his mother—finally back on her way up the stairs—admonished him, but received no response. “Ah, I’m so sorry. That boy of ours...” 
“Now, it’s no trouble at all. Well, I should be going, fumo.” Moffle bowed politely, and he was about to exit through the front door. But then he stopped, and turned back to the mother who was watching him go. “Er, excuse me, ma’am. About your son...” 
“Yes?” she inquired. 
What kind of life does he have? Moffle wondered. What kinds of troubles does he face? What kind of comfort does he receive from going to the House of Sweets all the time? Is it really my work ethic that fuels his dedication? 
“Um...?” she said. 
“Oh... Nothing, fumo. Never mind.” Moffle had wanted to ask her all of those things, but had eventually decided against it; it was rude to pry. The fact that he was a customer, and a passionate fan of Moffle’s, made it even more so. “I’ll be going now. Goodbye.” He bowed, then got into the taxi that was waiting outside.

The next morning, Moffle went straight to the acting manager’s office. “I’ll do it, fumo.” he told Kanie Seiya. 
“Oh?” Seiya looked surprised. It was probably because the change of heart had come about so quickly, and without any explanation. 
“But let me just shorten the playtime to 70%, fumo.” 
“What?” Seiya protested. “But that won’t have any effect on—” 
“It’ll work, fumo.” Moffle tossed some documents he’d brought onto Seiya’s desk. It was a breakdown he’d made of the score and play time taken for each guest at Moffle’s House of Sweets. “Under the current system, the higher a player scores, the longer they take to make it through, fumo. That’s because defeating high-difficulty enemies causes more enemies to appear. In reality, it’s these core users that are ballooning the average play time, fumo.” The longer you lasted, the higher your score. Then if a guest wanted a high score, it was obvious how they’d act. “So we’re going to add speed to the score calculation, fumo.” 
“Speed, eh?” Seiya questioned. 
“Moffu. The faster you finish, the higher your score goes, fumo. That’ll encourage core users to try to beat the game faster,” Moffle explained. “Meanwhile, we’ll only have to slightly reduce the playtime for light users.” 
“Hmm...” Seiya seemed to have grasped what Moffle was getting at. The reason he was still scowling was probably because he was running various scenarios in his brain. 
Moffle knew him well enough by now. The boy always took everything seriously— Even if your proposal seemed like common sense, he’d still run all the angles. He never let his guard down, and he never missed a trick. The same was true right now. 
“All right,” Seiya agreed. “...But what about the time spent moving from room to room, and the initial rules explanation? Right now, they’re the elements that take up the most time.” 
“We can probably shorten those with small changes, fumo. Explanations of how the weapons work are longer than they need to be, in the name of atmosphere.” 
“I see. Good thinking.” 
“All together, we can probably cut wait times to 70%, fumo. We’ll gather the cast together tonight and try it out.” 
“Good. ...No, wait.” Seiya said thoughtfully as he gazed at the documents. 
“Is there another problem, fumo?” 
“It’s a good plan,” Seiya told him. “But... won’t your core users object to the change?” 
“Now you’re worried about that?” Moffle exploded. “You’re the one who told me to do it, fumo!” 
“Well... yes, but...” Seiya trailed off. Of course, he must have always known that he was asking something difficult. This was just a momentary surfacing of the uncertainty he’d been feeling. 
“The core users will be angry, fumo,” Moffle said calmly. “But I’ll deal with that myself. You just keep watching the park’s bigger picture, all right? Like you’ve been doing, fumo.” 
“R-Right...” 
“If there are no problems on your end, then I’ll make the changes immediately, fumo. I’ll rewrite the House of Sweets program and test it out tonight. But the Mogutes will need overtime, fumo. Can you make sure they’re paid?” 
“Sure. I’ll mention it to Ashe.” 
“Moffu. Then we can unveil the renovation next weekend. We’ll see what the wait times are like on Saturday and Sunday, then adjust as necessary, fumo.” 
“......” 
“Is that okay, fumo?” 
Of course, Kanie Seiya wasn’t going to object. 
The next day, they held their overnight tests. Things went smoothly, improving turnover exactly as Moffle’s proposal had suggested.

The next Saturday, they implemented the changes in Moffle’s House of Sweets. Moffle heard almost no complaints from guests that morning. Almost no complaints— The regular high scorers seemed a little testy about it. When taking souvenir photos at the end, he overheard a few stage-whispers about how some didn’t like factoring speed into their score. Fortunately, things didn’t go any further than that. 
The aberration occurred during one of his evening appearances. That boy—Seno Koji—had come by to play. As usual, Moffle joined the guests In the final stage room, with the battle against the Naughty Mouse Overlord. At this point, Koji seemed unhappy. He aimed precisely, moved like he knew the game inside and out, and did extremely well... yet his expression remained mournful. After the battle, they filtered out into the photo room. Chujo Shiina was about to take a picture. But Koji interrupted, “Don’t bother.” 
The other guests stared in confusion, but he ignored them and barged up to Moffle. “What the hell was that? Did you make the enemies weaker? And what’s with the time limit crap? So nothing we do means anything now?!” 
“Moffu...” That was all he could say in response. This was one of his normal appearances— He couldn’t just start jabbering away in front of the guests, so he had no way to explain himself. Even in an attraction like this, Moffle was still the Fairy of Sweets. 
“This is a joke!” Koji fumed. “Did you water down the whole thing to appeal to casuals?” 
“Moffu...” 
“Yeah, fine, I get it! Screw the people who’ve been there for you the whole time! You get a little popular and you’re done with us, huh?!” 
“Um, excuse me... other customers are waiting...” Shiina interrupted. She shyly gestured to the exit. 
“Yeah, I bet that’s it! And I... I don’t want to stay at this stupid attraction anymore, anyway!” 
“S-Sir...” 
Koji-kun shoved Shiina aside and started walking towards the exit. He stopped in the doorway and turned back around. 
Moffle knew exactly what he was going to say next. Here it comes. Brace yourself— 
“I’m never coming back, you asshole!” Koji announced. 
Moffle had known it was coming, but the words were still hard to hear. It felt like he’d been punched in the face with brass knuckles. 
The exit door slammed shut. That was the last he’d see of Koji-kun, who would probably never come back again. But that was inevitable; there was no point in fighting it. 
The other guests watched anxiously as Moffle just stood there. And then, as casually as he could, he shrugged. “Moffu...?” He invoked the perfect tone, as if to say, “What a weirdo, fumo.” His timing was perfect, and the guests burst into laughter. 
“We’re... We’re sorry about all that,” Shiina apologized on his behalf. “Anyway, souvenir photos with Moffle! Everybody line up and smile! What do those naughty mice like to eat? That’s right...” 
“Cheeeeese!” The guests smiled all together. The souvenir photo-taking went on without issue, after that. Moffle waved his paw to the guests as they filed out. 
“Um... Moffle-san?” Once everyone was gone and the room had gone quiet, Shiina spoke up, timidly. “Are you all right?” 
“...Chujo. You did a fine job covering for me there, fumo.” 
“Th-Thank you...” 
“Ah... this kind of thing happens. We just deal with it, fumo. Don’t worry so much.” 
“...Okay.” 
“Now, send in the next group, fumo.” 
“Roger that.” Shiina turned to the intercom and said, “Send in guest group B.” The cast member at the entrance responded, “Got it.” 
That’s right; just outside were customers who had waited more than an hour in the heat. He didn’t have a moment to spare on self-pity.

But despite telling himself that, for the rest of that day, Moffle’s performance lacked just a bit of its usual luster. He made a few mistakes in his performance in the House of Sweets and his juggling at Entrance Square, and he flubbed a few things during the stage show, too. 
Backstage, he ran into Tiramii, who said, “I ran into Nyathan! He said you went out last night with Takami-chan! I can’t believe you’d go behind my back!” 
Even there, Moffle’s reply was a half-hearted one. “It was Nyathan, fumo. Don’t believe that guy.” 
“Mii! But, but...” 
“Shut up, fumo. Just leave me alone.” 
“Mii...” Tiramii walked away dejectedly. 
Chujo Shiina looked at him in concern, but he just told her, “Don’t worry about it. Just do what you usually do, fumo.” So they kept up their work, and at last, it was time for the day’s goodbyes in Entrance Square. 
A family on their way out called out and ran up to Moffle. “Wah! It’s Moffle!” 
“Oh, could we get a picture?!” 
It was a boy of about four years old with his parents. Moffle pasted on a smile, gave a “Moffu!” and took a photo with the family. 
“This is our first time in this park!” said the father, who looked to be about 30 years old. He looked like the kind of man who had a very stuffy job—a banker, maybe—who tried hard to live it up on his days off. 
“I was surprised by how crowded it was, but we had so much fun!” the mother said. She looked to be around the same age as the father. She was a plain-looking woman, dressed unremarkably. But she wore a headband adorned with Moffle’s ears, and she was smiling very happily. “Especially the House of Sweets! Wasn’t that fun?!” 
“Yeah, it was fun!” 
“Wasn’t it thrilling?!” 
The family talked and talked. Their comments seemed completely heartfelt and sincere. Their voices were so boundlessly cheerful that they seemed almost vapid. 
“Mof... fu.” He had no words. He had never been so grateful for the rule that forbade him from saying anything but “Moffu” on stage. The family was cheerfully praising the House of Sweets, an attraction that Moffle himself wasn’t happy with. 
“We’ll definitely be back! Do your best, Moffle-chan!” the mother said. 
“Hopefully it’ll be a little less crowded next time... haha.” the father said with an awkward smile. 
“Moffle, bye-bye!” the little boy said with a wave. 
When Koji-kun said “casuals,” he was probably referring to people like them. But could one really weigh the happiness of regulars against theirs? 
“Moffu...” Moffle waved to the family of three as they walked out the gate. He waved as hard as he could. He waved until the three of them were out of sight. 
Come back again, my treasured guests, he thought. I’ll be waiting. I’ll be waiting and waiting. Thank you for coming, fumo. Moffle closed his eyes and bowed his head as if to implore the boy who would never come back. 
“Moffle-san, the next guest is here for you,” Chujo Shiina whispered to him. Moffle nodded and went on to deal with the next guest. 
Be happy. Be cheerful, he reminded himself. Don’t let them see the worries of the people of the world of dreams. Then in a loud, high voice, Moffle shouted out, “Moffu!”