A room full of people, computers on with reports and text boxes, some playing games, others reviewing a couple of bugs and trying to figure out if they were more serious than they seemed or if the game could launch with them and fix them later. The title we were assigned today is a pretty big one—there are about 50 of us reviewing the same game at the same time, trying to make sure everything is in order before launch. The big shots who own the game even paid extra to have it reviewed at maximum speed. Our boss is pushing us to finish in 4 hours what usually takes 2 days. Only he will see the bonus for completing it early, which is why I can't be bothered to rush. On the other hand, everyone is in a panic trying to get the work done—well, "everyone" is a figure of speech. I'm not the best employee at this point, but at least I try to finish my assigned tasks within the time stated in the contract and no more. But there are people who don't even do that.
There are a couple of coworkers whom the rest of us secretly call Romeo and Juliet—you can probably guess why. While everyone needs help and extra hands, they're in the corner of the lab talking sweetly to each other. When they do have work, they ask for help to finish it because they never have enough time since they're always together. When they get angry at each other, it becomes the whole group's problem because we have to keep the two separated or they'll fight and damage the equipment. When they're saying mushy things, we all have to listen—even while loneliness eats at us from the inside for having no one to listen to our most painful confessions. And while some are fated to die alone, others have opportunities not only seeking them out but drowning in them, because Romeo not only has Juliet, but also Lilith, with whom he seems to be trying to form a threesome—the same Lilith whom everyone else in the room considers nothing less than a viper who can only spit venom, but never face-to-face, of course; that would require balls she doesn't have.
It's funny, but I once considered Romeo my friend—until I found out he only did it to ask me to cover for him while he tries to have two girls in an open relationship. Although at this point I'm starting to think maybe they're manipulating him instead, because he never seems to commit to anything with them when the situation gets serious—it's always "hopefully we'll go eat at such-and-such place," but never anything concrete to finally bring this whole soap opera to a close. Why do the rest of us workers have to put up with these two and do their work for them instead of leaving it outside of working hours? Because they're among the only 5 people the boss talks to—they're the ones he gets along with, the only ones who can stand him.
Speaking of the devil, I've been called to the office again. The boss scolds me for not being able to work at a faster pace, for still having pending tasks. But I'm in the same group as Romeo and Juliet—they're out there sharing an ice cream, while I'm being scolded for the work they're not doing right now. Besides, my test console has been damaged since yesterday, so I can't do many things. But the technician assigned to repair them full-time is currently busy being the lab's unofficial DJ—apparently it's more important for everyone to listen to his shitty musical tastes than to figure out how the hell we're going to finish the job, since I'm not getting paid. I try to suppress the urge to get out of here by punching things. I need the money. Rory and Tamamo depend on me back home. I need to not go to prison for violent tendencies. Just think: only 2 more hours before I leave this place.
A painful countdown until quitting time. I managed to finish my part by working like a maniac until the very last moment. My work is done, even though there's still a lot left to do—but it's not my part, not my assignment, and they won't pay me for extra work. My quitting time says 5:00 PM, and I'll stay until that hour and no more.
I gather my things and head straight to my locker. Since there's an NDA involved and a lot of secret information that shouldn't leave the testing lab, I can't bring personal items inside. Which means when I turn the key and open the door, I can see Rory watching another movie on my phone while sitting comfortably on my bag and eating from the bag of chips left over from my lunch, using one of my earbuds as a speaker. Carefully, I look around to make sure I'm really alone—seems like I am.
"Well, you sure know how to make yourself at home in the most unexpected places."
"It's your fault for taking so long!"
"Your handheld console ran out of battery, and I had to improvise," said Rory.
"Hey, my contract is full-time—that means 8 hours of work every day."
"If you're so bored being here, why don't you just stay at home like Tamamo?"
"No, that's not happening."
"We promised to always be together—that includes coming here too."
"Besides, I'd be just as bored there or here. I'd rather be here and save myself the trouble of having to wait longer to see you again."
Rory said that with such confidence and naturalness that it almost broke me inside. It was the first time I'd ever heard anything like that in my entire life. I could feel that with a few simple words, a tear had already escaped down my face. But I'm still in a work environment—I'm supposed to be impassive. Emotions other than joy and vanity are forbidden here. I have no choice but to wipe it away.
Rory, smug about what she'd just caused, stops what she's doing and hands me back my cell phone. As I'm putting it in my pocket, she picks up her bag of chips and climbs back into my bag just in time for us to leave. Right before the exit, I have to show the inside of my backpack—can't have me stealing the test console that doesn't even work inside the lab, after all. Although I deliberately don't show the guard the other part of my bag where Rory is. He doesn't check it; they don't pay him enough, and he still has to check 100 people in about 10 minutes.
Once outside, I walk to the bus stop. It's raining today. The bus will be packed—I'll have to stand for almost an hour. If I'm lucky and there's no traffic jam, I'm so exhausted I might fall asleep standing up. I hope Rory can wake me up if that happens.
Luckily, none of that happens, and I manage to get home in only an hour and a half—relatively fast considering the hellish traffic that usually takes two hours, especially since I live only 10 minutes away if there weren't so much traffic. I was thinking about buying something to cook later, but the truth is I'm extremely tired from today's work and don't feel like it. Besides, I don't even have time to rest—tomorrow is another university day, and I still have to finish the cybersecurity presentation. Damn it, I'm tired, and I still have more to do.
When I get home, I see my sister Maria in my mini-living room playing with the console. Damn it, I still have so many things to do, and now I have to look after her? What time is it? Almost 7 PM and she doesn't seem like she's going to leave—she's probably planning to spend the whole night here. I nervously wonder how Tamamo managed during the surprise visit, but luckily I notice her hiding behind some boxes in my room. Rory has also gone quiet—for the same reason, I imagine.
"Oh, it's you."
"You finally showed up. It's not even 8 yet—less traffic than usual?"
"Yeah, I got here 15 minutes early. Lucky me. I don't know what I'll do with so much free time."
"Oh, well."
"Hey, I'm staying over. Mom and Dad went to visit siblings—apparently today was Diana's birthday."
"Do you remember her? You're supposed to be her godfather. You should visit her someday—it's been 6 years and she always asks about you."
"It's not like I asked to be—no one offered; they just told me to go to the hospital because my cousin was bad. I didn't even know she was pregnant."
"I still show up in photos wearing my old work shirt from the store."
"Besides, it's not like I'm avoiding her—Mom and Dad just go without telling me and then complain that I didn't come."
"I'm not a mind reader; I can't know what their intentions are and request two days off in advance a week before they do it."
"Whatever, anyway."
"Hey, don't worry about me—I already ate."
"I took that weird food off your table."
I got to see the table, and I can see the plate still with some leftovers. I did not leave food ready to eat, so I can only suppose that was Tamamo doing; she wanted to give me the typical wife with the food-ready experience, but my sister attacked first, póor Tamamo an d her effort.
"Maria, I have a lot of work to do—I still have to prepare a university assignment."
"Do you think you could at least stay quiet tonight?"
"I'll try."
"Oh, and don't go into my room. Sleep on the couch or something."
"What? You want me to sleep here?"
"That's super uncomfortable—I can feel the springs in this thing. Your bed is the only decent place in this entire place."
"And I'm the one paying for it. If you don't like it, you can go back home where you have a more comfortable room than this."
"You want me to go home this late? In the dark?"
"You want something to happen to me?"
"It's not fair that I have to go back to that house with mom and dad, either, you know? But I don't have anywhere else to be free."
"Maybe I should call the police myself—tell them that an adult man just let a young schoolgirl into his private room."
"I'm sure things would get interesting then."
"Especially with your record, you know..."
Damn demon. She's used to getting her way with our parents, and now she wants to do the same. Giving my parents a spare key to my room for emergencies was a mistake. This is what I get for trying to be a good person. But while I was thinking about what to do, I felt a small movement in my backpack, followed by a tiny whisper from Rory.
"Don't bother playing against your sister—she'll win no matter what you do."
"Don't do anything rash. Not now."
"Instead, completely change the game. Take your most valuable things and get out of here. Spend the night somewhere else."
"She'll have to leave in the morning whether she wants to or not."
"We'll figure out what to do about this later."
Rory was right. She was trying to advise me, to look out for me—probably one of the only two people who know me. Following her advice, I start walking without saying anything to my sister and pick up Tamamo, who's still among the boxes, and put her in my backpack. I grab my laptop and leave. I go to the landlord and tell him I have an urgent work situation and a relative is unexpectedly staying in my room, but I don't fully trust her—could he keep an eye out to make sure she doesn't steal anything? The landlord is an older man who looks at me with disapproval, but when I mention that she's my sister and the legal trouble I can't risk, the man seems to somehow understand and says he'll try to keep watch tonight.
Without any direction or idea of what to do, I try to walk back toward the city center looking for a place to spend the night. I'd like to spend the night working in the library—if one existed or was open after 10 PM. Besides, public spaces get dangerous when night falls. I have to play my cards right. An internet café like they have in Japan would be good—if such a thing existed in this country in the first place. I have to get creative...
Or maybe, not that creative...
After getting off the bus in the neighborhood with the major bars, I see a simple sign on the next block: "Love Hotel." Bed, shower, pay by the hour—at least it's a place to lay my head tonight. The problem is, I've never done anything like this in my life. Armed with necessity rather than courage, I approach the lobby trying to act like the kind of guy who doesn't want questions.
"One room, 4 hours."
"Third floor, room 304."
"Is it for company?"
"I just need a place to sleep."
"Okay, tell you what—same rate. You can leave at 9. Just leave the room clean so the cleaning person isn't late top clean other rooms"
"Umm... okay..."
"Key. Phone is on the table next to the bed. We serve food all hours, but the price is separate."
"Excuse me, do you have Wi-Fi?"
"????"
"Okay, people don't usually ask that here, but yes. The password is next to the phone number behind the door."
"Thanks."
Nervous about any more interaction, I rush out of there at full speed to go to the third floor. I don't want to bother anyone; I don't want to be bothered—in fact, I don't want anyone in this building to speak to me directly. But the sounds, the creaking... it's a strange environment, no doubt. As I go up the stairs, I see two "workers"—they're laughing and trying to talk to me. They want me to hire them, but that's not what I'm looking for. I say no and continue on my way. It's difficult, but I manage to cross the threshold of room 304.
I set my backpack on the only available chair and take a moment to look at the place where I'd be spending the night.
It was... exactly what you'd expect from a budget love hotel. The bed was the absolute center of the room—enormous, covered in sheets of an intense red that pretended to be passionate but, under the dim light of the wall lamps, looked more like a low-budget movie brothel. The headboard was black synthetic leather, padded, with sunken buttons forming a diamond pattern. Above the bed, a mirror. An enormous rectangular mirror covering almost the entire ceiling above the mattress, reflecting my own image looking down at me with an expression of exhaustion that not even the glass could hide.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The lights were dimmable, with a wheel switch next the nightstand allowing adjustment from clinical brightness to a reddish twilight that tinted everything a color between burgundy and crimson. At the moment, they were halfway, and the glow made the cream-colored walls seem flushed.
There was a jacuzzi tub in one corner, without division or door, directly exposed to the bed. The faucets were gold—or at least they had been before time and use gave them that yellowish tone of things that once wanted to be luxurious. A plastic plant in a pot. A white phone on the nightstand. A small fridge with a sticky note reading "Drinks — Check prices at reception."
And Wi-Fi. The password was behind the door, just as the receptionist had told me. Small mercies.
I stood there, not really knowing what to do with myself, when I felt the familiar movement in the backpack. The zipper slowly opened, and a head of black hair peeked out, followed by red eyes that widened like saucers at the sight of the room.
Rory jumped out, landing on the chair with her usual agility, and stood completely still for three full seconds. Three seconds that for Rory Gremory are an eternity of doing nothing.
Then, her smile widened in a way that could only spell trouble.
"Well, well, well..." she said, spinning on her heels to take in the entire room.
"So this is what mortals call a 'love hotel.'" Her eyes stopped on the bed, the red sheets, the mirror on the ceiling.
"Interesting. Very... interesting."
"Rory..."
"No, no, let me process this."
"I have to savor it." She raised a hand to silence me, her expression one of absolute delight.
"Rory, it's not what it looks like..."
"Oh, honey!"
"It's exactly what it looks like. And I love it!"
"Rory, keep your voice down..."
"And the mirror! HEAVENS, THE MIRROR!" Her head tilted back as she looked up. For a moment, she stood completely motionless, contemplating her own reflection in the ceiling. Then, very slowly, she brought her hands to her face.
"There's a mirror. On the ceiling. Above the bed."
"Yes, I saw that."
"So you can see yourself. While..."
"Yes, Rory, I know."
"......"
"Rory?"
Her laughter exploded like a contained storm. She doubled over, tiny and trembling, clutching her stomach with both hands. Real tears started rolling down her cheeks.
"THIS IS THE BEST THING THAT'S HAPPENED TO ME IN A THOUSAND YEARS! CESAR!, THE MAN WHO FAINTS IF I SAY SOMETHING EVEN SLIGHTLY RISQUÉ, BROUGHT ME TO A LOVE HOTEL!"
"I didn't bring you to a love hotel! Well, yes, technically I did, but not for... not to..."
"Not to what, Cesar?" She straightened up, wiping tears with the back of her hand. Her smile was now that of a predator cornering its prey.
"Not to enjoy this round bed? Not to use this ceiling mirror? Not for all the things normal people do in a place like this?"
"I needed a place to sleep. And work. And... the library was closed. There are no internet cafés. It was this or the street."
"Right. The street. So dangerous. Good thing you found this... safe place." She hopped lightly on the bed, making the mattress bounce slightly.
"Look at this. It's elastic. Do you suppose it's for better bouncing? What do you think?"
"Rory..."
"And these lights." She pointed at the lamps emitting a dim reddish glow.
"Why are they red? Can't normal people see each other's faces while... you know? Do they need darkroom lighting?"
"They're for atmosphere."
"Atmosphere for what? Developing photos? A submarine on red alert?"
"For... romance."
"Ah! Romance! Of course! Nothing says 'I love you' like a round bed and a ceiling mirror to watch your double chin while..."
"RORY!"
She placed a hand on her chest in a gesture of mock innocence.
"Cesar, is there something you want to confess?"
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Besides, you brought Tamamo here too."
"So both of them? In a love hotel? With a ceiling mirror?" Her grin was now ear to ear.
"Cesar, this is bolder than I ever expected from you. I'm genuinely impressed."
"Well done, stud."
"Rory, please..."
"No more..."
Her laughter filled the room again. But this time, when she calmed down, her expression changed. It softened. Her red eyes looked at me with something not mocking, but understanding.
"Okay, Cesar. I'll stop." She sat on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the abyss of red satin.
"I know why we're here—I'm not stupid."
"I know what happened with your sister. I know you needed a place."
"......"
"But don't expect me to pass up the chance to tease you about this. I've waited a thousand years to have someone to tease. I'm not going to waste it."
At that moment, movement in the backpack announced Tamamo's emergence. The fox goddess emerged with her usual grace, her Indigo kimono shining under the red lights of the room. Her Blue eyes scanned the surroundings: the round bed, the ceiling mirror, the velvet curtains, the suggestive lighting.
"......"
"Tamamo?" I asked, dreading her reaction.
"It's... an interesting place," she said with her usual diplomacy. "Very... red."
"That's it? 'Very red'?" Rory crossed her arms.
"Come on, fox, admit it—it's horrible and ridiculous and wonderful all at once."
"It's... certainly unique." Tamamo smoothed her kimono with a nervous gesture. Her cheeks, I noticed, were slightly flushed that she hide with her goddess red hand fan.
"But Rory is right about one thing—you shouldn't be here for the wrong reasons. You're here because you need a quiet place. To work. For your presentation."
"Yes, I still need to finish my assignment," I confirmed.
"And I have class tomorrow."
"Then we should make sure you can concentrate." Tamamo nodded with determination.
"Rory, stop teasing Cesar about the ceiling mirror. There will be time for that another day."
"Another day?" I repeated.
"ANOTHER DAY!" exclaimed Rory, her eyes gleaming with renewed malice.
"Did you hear that, Cesar? Tamamo just said there will be ANOTHER DAY for the ceiling mirror."
"Your fox girlfriend is planning a return trip to the love hotel!"
"She wants the two of us girls against just one... you."
"I didn't say that..." Tamamo tried to say while her face became even redder.
"You implied it. That's enough for me."
Tamamo sighed with the patience of someone who has lived centuries and is no longer surprised by anything. She turned to me, ignoring Rory.
"You're hungry," she said—not a question.
"And you're tired. You worked all day. Your sister kicked you out of your own home. You need to eat something and then focus on your assignment. I'll handle the first part."
"But... I'm not very hungry..."
"Liar." Her golden eyes stared at me.
"You're a terrible liar, Cesar. You always have been. Sit down. Turn on your computer. Work. I'll take care of everything else."
"But..."
"Sit down."
"Just let your beautiful and cheerful Fox Goddess, your humble wife Tamamo-no-mae, help give her brave warrior husband a rest," she said with the elegance of a geisha.
I settled at the small desk by the window. My laptop powered on with its familiar hum, the screen illuminating my face with the blue coldness of a blank document. Cybersecurity. Digital threats. Defense protocols. Words that at that moment seemed absolutely meaningless.
Meanwhile, Rory had decided the room was her new playground.
"What's this?" she asked, pointing to a switch next to the bed.
"Don't touch it."
She touched it.
The room lights changed from dim red to a psychedelic purple that would have been the envy of any 1970s disco. A moment later, a panel on the wall began emitting what I suppose was meant to be "romantic music" but sounded more like a saxophonist being slowly strangled.
"THIS IS INCREDIBLE!" Rory shrieked, pressing the switch again. The lights turned neon green. The music changed to something that aspired to be jazz but had abandoned all hope.
"Rory, turn that off."
"No! It's my new favorite toy!" She pressed again. Electric blue. Jungle sounds.
"Look! All the colors of the rainbow! And all the sounds of hell!"
"Rory..."
"Shhh. I'm exploring."
"Look, Cesar," she said, turning the wheel.
"Now we're in a brothel. Now a dental clinic. Now a brothel again."
"This place has more modes than a nightclub."
"Rory, I need to concentrate."
"And I need entertainment. We're in a love hotel, not a monastery." But she turned the intensity down a bit, leaving it at a warm tone that wasn't as distracting.
"See? I'm reasonable. Sometimes."
I let her explore. It was easier than arguing with her. Besides, while she was occupied with the switches, she wouldn't be making comments about the ceiling mirror. Small victories.
Tamamo, meanwhile, had managed to figure out the phone and was speaking to reception. Her voice was barely a murmur, but I could hear the polite but firm tone with which she placed the order.
"They have miso soup," she announced.
"In a love hotel?"
"And ramen. And curry rice." She paused.
"And something called 'House Special' that has no description but costs twice as much as everything else."
"Order whatever you want," I said without thinking.
"Well, whatever's reasonable. I have some money."
Tamamo looked at me. Her blue eyes blinked slowly.
"You don't order anything. You work. I'll handle the food."
"But..."
"I'm a thousand-year-old goddess, Cesar. I've survived wars, betrayals, and the void of non-existence. I think I can handle a phone order."
With that, she picked up the phone and, with a perfectly polite and absolutely firm voice, proceeded to place the order. Watching her talk on the phone—she, a twelve-centimeter anime figure, using a full-sized phone like a lectern—was an image my brain still didn't know how to process.
"Twenty minutes," she announced, hanging up.
"Work."
I worked.
Or I tried to. The cybersecurity presentation was a group project, meaning I was doing most of the work while my classmates "researched" (read: watched YouTube videos and waited for someone else to do everything). I had to explain the fundamentals of encryption, the most common types of malware, and best practices for protecting corporate networks. Things I knew. Things I could write.
But my mind wasn't in it.
My mind was on my sister, sleeping in my bed. On my parents, who would never believe me if I told them what happened. On tomorrow's work. On the money I didn't have. On the precariousness of everything.
And then, a noise.
A small tinkling sound. Like porcelain.
I looked up. Tamamo had found, in some corner of the room, a small courtesy electric kettle and a couple of tiny cups probably meant for serving coffee or tea to couples visiting the place. She, with her twelve-centimeter body, had set up a small service station next to the desk. The kettle was heating water. The cups were arranged with millimeter precision. And at the center of it all, Tamamo stood with her hands clasped in front of her, waiting.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"When the food arrives, you'll need something to drink. Something hot. Something that reminds you of home." She paused.
"Or what we try to make into home."
"Tamamo..."
"I haven't been able to do much today. Your sister showed up unannounced. I had to hide. The food I prepared..." Her voice broke slightly.
"The food I prepared for you—she ate it."
"I know."
"It was your favorite from what you told me. The recipe I learned from the innkeeper's grandmother. In the game. When..." She stopped. Shook her head.
"Never mind. Tonight I'm going to do it right. Tonight I'm going to take care of you the way you deserve."
I felt a lump in my throat.
"Tamamo, you don't have to..."
"Yes, I do." Her sapphire eyes stared at me.
"You saved me. You gave me a home. You cried for me for years. Do you think I won't do everything in my power to give back even a fraction of that?"
I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing. I just nodded silently and returned to my presentation.
Rory, meanwhile, had moved from the light switches to investigating the bathroom.
"Cesar! THERE'S A HEART-SHAPED BATHTUB!"
"I don't care, Rory!"
"IT'S PINK! PINK! LIKE A FLAMINGO! LIKE COTTON CANDY! LIKE THE BLOOD OF MY ENEMIES!"
"Rory, I'm trying to work!"
"AND I'M TRYING TO PROCESS THAT A HEART-SHAPED BATHTUB EXISTS IN THIS WORLD AND NO ONE TOLD ME!"
I let her process.
Twenty minutes later, exactly as Tamamo had promised, someone knocked on the door. I got up, signaled for both goddesses to hide, and opened it just enough to receive the food tray. The employee—a young man with an expression of absolute boredom—handed me the food without questions. He'd probably seen much stranger things in this place than a guy ordering miso soup at nine o'clock at night.
I placed the tray on the table. Tamamo, with the efficiency of a mistress of ceremonies, organized the plates. Rory emerged from the bathroom, still muttering about the bathtub. And I, for the first time all day, sat down to eat.
It wasn't the best food in the world. The ramen was slightly overcooked. The curry rice was acceptable. The miso soup was lukewarm, not hot.
But Tamamo sat beside me, on the edge of the table, her small teacup between her hands. And Rory perched on my shoulder, still with her feet dangling, distractedly playing with her miniature big halberd. And the red lights of the love hotel, which earlier had seemed sordid, now seemed warm.
"Thank you," I said.
"For what?"
"For this. For the food. For being here."
"It's my duty as your—" She stopped. Her cheeks flushed pink.
"As your companion."
"As my wife," I said, before my brain could stop me.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Rory stopped playing with her halberd. Tamamo stopped breathing. And I, I stared at my bowl of ramen as if it contained the secrets of the universe, wondering what the hell I'd just said.
"......"
"......"
"......"
"Well," Rory finally said, with a voice that was trying too hard to be casual,
"it seems the love hotel is working after all."
"RORY."
"No, no, don't look at me like that. This is progress. A week ago he couldn't say 'I like you' without turning red."
Tamamo, who had remained silent throughout this exchange, finally spoke. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.
"Wife?"
I looked at her. Her golden eyes were bright, wet. Not with sadness. With something else. Something I didn't dare name.
"Sorry," I said quickly.
"I shouldn't have said that. It's too soon. You don't have to..."
"Wife," she repeated, savoring the word.
"I like it."
"......"
"I like it a lot."