Chapter 3 | Contents | Chapter 5
In a corner of Thamel, wedged between a carpet shop and a hat shop, was a supermarket which also had its exterior painted in bright colors. That was where I parted ways with Yatsuda.
There were many things I wanted, but I urgently needed an umbrella. I hadn’t packed one because even a compact umbrella takes up precious luggage space, and I’d assumed that you can buy an umbrella anywhere in the world. Nepal was currently in its rainy season. I couldn’t feel the humid air cling to my skin like it does during the plum rain season in Japan, but it would definitely rain sooner or later. I wanted to obtain an umbrella before that.
The supermarket’s floor and ceiling were pure white, causing its interior to be bright. From vegetables to sweets, the shelves were practically overflowing with products. The only things different from the supermarkets I was used to were the product labels, which were written in both Nepalese and English, so they posed not much of a problem to me.
The umbrellas came in multiple types. The black umbrella was sturdily built, and looked like it could handle strong winds. There was also a transparent umbrella, but its ribs and shaft were thin. After agonizing about it for a moment, I decided to buy the transparent umbrella. Since I might take a photo of something, I should avoid blocking my vision. I could just buy a new one if it breaks.
Under the crisp blue sky, tourists were exploring Thamel with umbrellas hanging from their arms. Using the path that Yatsuda had taught me, I walked straight after passing through Indra Chowk to get back to Jhocchen.
The warm rays of the sun finally shone on the alley nestled between sun-dried brick houses, and some people had started hanging laundry at their windows. Just like the clothes worn by locals at the bazaar, the laundry hanging from string attached across window frames were also in vivid colors, like yellow, green, red and white.
I walked while tapping my umbrella on the ground like a cane. The smell of soil was strong. Tokyo Lodge’s sign and green doors soon came into view. As I put my hand on the door, a voice called out to me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
It was in English. I turned around, but saw no one. As I scanned my surroundings, the voice spoke again, this time with a smug air.
“I’m on top.”
I looked up. Diagonally across from Tokyo Lodge, on the second floor of a house that was, like the others, made of bricks with chipped corners, a small face peeked out of a wide-open ornamental window. It was Sagar, who was apparently about to start hanging a white shirt up to dry on the clothesline tethered above the window.
“What should I do?”
I asked, but Sagar shrugged. He buttoned up the shirt, leaned far out with his hands on the window frame, and dangled out of the window. Getting a foothold on the brick wall, he let go of the window frame and leapt into the air. By the time I realized that it was dangerous of him to do that, he’d already bent his knees and landed.
Rather than being surprised, I was dumbfounded. What agility!
“Do you always come down like this?”
“I always use the stairs.”
He lightly replied, then pointed at the doors to Tokyo Lodge with his thumb.
“Tachiarai, try peeking from there.”
I brought my face close to the skylight covered with iron bars. Since it was bright out and dark within, the conditions were bad for looking in, but I was able to see after squinting for a while.
There were two people in the lobby. One of them was the lodge’s proprietress, Chameli. She was in Western clothing of a blouse and long skirt. Perhaps she lived a life of not being out in the sun much, or perhaps she had some Caucasian ancestry, but her skin was white.
The other person was clad in a well-fitting cyan shirt. I could only see the back of their head, but judging by their short, neatly-trimmed hair and more significantly, their broad, imposing shoulders, it was probably safe to assume they were a man.
“Someone’s there.”
“That’s a soldier.”
“I see. So, why shouldn’t I go in?”
Sagar explained slowly, as though he were speaking to a particularly slow-witted child.
“You don’t get it? That guy’s currently flirting with Miss Chameli. There are lots of guys like him. He’ll definitely get mad if he’s interrupted. On top of that, he’s quite a big shot. It’s better to stay away from powerful people like him.”
“I’m just a good-natured tourist.”
“That so? If you’re fine with being investigated for three whole days, do whatever you like. I’m just giving you a tip as a bonus for buying the kukri.”
I made eye contact with Chameli through the skylight. As if noticing that, the man slowly turned around to look in my direction. I instinctively ducked.
Thinking that he might come out to look for me, I headed towards the shrine while feigning a casual attitude. I directed a question at Sagar, who was trotting after me.
“Would a soldier in this country really go so far even to a tourist?”
I turned back to see that Sagar had his hands behind his head.
“They might bully you for some pocket change. The adults say it was worse in the past, though.”
His expression suddenly turned serious.
“But that guy… Warrant Officer Rajeshwar is a little different.”
“What do you mean by different?”
“He’s a spy from India.”
He said it with such a solemn tone that I couldn’t help but repeat after him.
“A spy?”
“Fine, then. If you don’t believe me, suit yourself.”
“No, I was just surprised. I’ll listen to your advice. I’ll come back after killing some time somewhere.”
After staring intently at my face for a while, Sagar replied with a look of disbelief on his face.
“You really are weird. You really believe what someone like me says?”
“I make it a point to take advice to heart. It was kind of you to give me advice. Thanks for that.”
The umbrella I’d bought just in case had now become a hindrance. With that thought, I turned around, and Sagar spoke.
“Since we’re here, let me show you around. I know the area well.”
I stopped walking. Looking at my watch, I found that it was just past two. I wansn’t very familiar with the daily life of the Nepalese, but it seemed a little late for an afternoon break.
“…Sagar, what about school?”
The boy shrugged.
“Gotta earn money.”
“I see. Well, I’m in your hands.”
I’d just started thinking that I could use someone who knew their way around, anyway.
When reporting in a foreign country where one had no contacts, it was customary to hire a local coordinator. Besides interpreting the local language, they would arrange interviews with local authorities and influential figures. Arrangements for accommodation and transport were also often left to them. While there were those who made a living as a coordinator, some locals would only treat it as a part-time job.
However, a local coordinator had not been hired this time, partly because I’d come here on my own for preliminary research. I’d thought about looking for a tour guide at a travel agency, but it would be enough for me to hire Sagar.
Though he’d brought up the subject in the first place, his eyes widened in surprise.
“Really?”
“You know the area well, right?”
Seizing the opportunity, Sagar puffed out his chest.
“Of course! If we’re starting now, how about 300 rupees?”
That was quite a cheap offer. Hiring a professional would probably cost three times as much. After a bit of haggling, we agreed on 280 rupees as the guide fee. Sagar instantly brightened up, as if all his worries were gone.
“I want to leave my umbrella in the room and bring out my camera. Could we wait until that warrant officer leaves?”
White teeth peeked out from the corner of Sagar’s mouth.
“Well, that will be the first thing I guide you on. Follow me.”
The space between buildings that I was led into was narrow, like the alleys a cat might prowl. On the other side was a dimly lit back alley, where the dirt under my feet felt damp. The scent wafting through the air wasn’t that of incense offered to the gods, but rather the appetizing aroma of spices and oil. With a hand, I brushed the part of my shirt that had rubbed against the wall as I was passing through the gap. I wasn’t wearing my Sunday’s best that I would worry about a bit of dirt, though.
The place that Sagar had led me to was the back entrance of Tokyo Lodge. The front had dignified metal doors, but the back only had a wooden door. That said, the weathered solid wood had taken on a blackish hue, and also looked sturdy.
“So, how do we get in?”
Sagar put on an exasperated look.
“You don’t know what to do first when you see a closed door?”
He knocked on the door.
A dry, high-pitched sound echoed. Should we really be knocking if we want to sneak in? As I had that thought, the door opened from the inside.
A sullen-looking, clearly childlike face peered out. It was a boy with frizzy black hair and a wrinkled T-shirt. He had facial features that would look charming if he smiled, but he was currently pursing his lips and had a dull look in his eyes. He exchanged a gaze with Sagar, then muttered something while looking down. They seemed to be acquaintances.
A few words in Nepalese briefly passed between them. I’d picked up some basic vocabulary on the fly before leaving Japan, but judging by the tone of their words, I could tell that it probably wasn’t a very refined conversation. Sagar turned back to face me and tapped the other boy’s shoulder.
“This here’s Gobin. He’s my buddy.”
Gobin looked a little annoyed, but didn’t seem to mind that much. Perhaps you could call them partners in crime. Gobin was half a head shorter than Sagar, and they were probably a year or two apart in age.
“Tachiarai, what number is your room?”
“Room 202.”
“Got it.”
In a haughty tone, Sagar said something to Gobin, who spat out a reply, but seemingly didn’t intend to go against him.
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘Tachiarai’s my customer, so don’t cut corners when cleaning her room, and don’t go pinching anything there.’ So he said, ‘I’ve never stolen anything here.’ Yeah, right.”
Gobin seemed to understand English to some extent, for he chided Sagar with a jab to his ribs. Sagar grinned mischievously and patted Gobin’s shoulder.
“I’ll be waiting here, so come back when you’re done.”
Tokyo Lodge was a small accommodation, but there were separate staircases for guests and staff. Following Gobin’s lead, I went up the staff staircase.
After opening the door to the second floor, I emerged right next to room 202. I’d wondered what kind of room it was since the door had no room number, but never imagined that it would connect to a staircase. In front of my room, I rummaged through my pockets and gave Gobin a tip for leading me up here. He put on a nervous smile and spoke in a small voice.
“Thank you, miss.”
My room had not been cleaned yet. The sheets were still all rumpled. I leaned the umbrella against the wall, then opened my travel bag and searched for my camera.
The branch office I was at had no specialized photographer, so pictures were almost always taken by journalists using the company-owned camera. I’d bought a single lens reflex camera to learn how to take photos, but I’d never taken it out for work. I’d also left it at home this time.
The one I’d brought here was a digital camera. It was light, small, and could take a lot of photos. Digital cameras were lightly regarded in Toyo Newspaper, but in the field of sports, they were used more than film cameras, at least during the Sydney Olympics last year. They would probably become the mainstream method of taking photos in the entirety of journalism before long.
To protect it from shocks during travel, I’d wrapped the camera in a spare shirt and put it in my bag. I took it out and stuffed it in the pocket of my chino pants.
Facing the mirror with its yellowed edges, I quickly reapplied some sunscreen. After checking the cash I had on hand, I left my room, to find that Gobin had already disappeared.
I returned to the back entrance. Sagar had his hands in his pockets, and was humming to himself. When he caught sight of me, he stopped, as if embarrassed.
“Let’s go, then.”
He started walking off.
“What about the guide fee?”
“You can give it to me later.”
It was already past three in the afternoon, but there was no sign of the sun’s rays letting up. After we passed through the alley and went out into the main street, Sagar asked a question with his back turned towards me.
“By the way, do you have any interest in glass?”
A chill ran down my spine. I knew this topic would come up sooner or later, but I’d let down my guard a little. After licking my lips, I answered.
“Not at all.”
As expected, Sagar did not turn back.
“I see.”
He then casually added.
“Don’t judge me. I need to earn money.”
Even though I knew he couldn’t see it, I nodded in place of a verbal reply.
Glass was slang for cannabis. Growing it used to be legal in Kathmandu, so cannabis enthusiasts from all over the world flocked here. Even though it was prohibited now, enforcement was lax, and it wasn’t hard to obtain if you really wanted to.
Suddenly, a voice called out from somewhere.
“Sagar!”
I looked in the voice’s direction, and saw a boy waving his hand while crouching at the entrance to a private residence. Sagar waved back with an air of annoyance, then said a couple of lines in Nepalese. It was probably something along the lines of, “I’m currently working.”
We passed a girl who was carrying a large rattan basket. In front of a shrine, a few boys were talking with somewhat serious expressions on their faces. When they caught sight of Sagar, they all smiled, raised a hand and said a quick word to him. Sagar also waved back to them.
“Quite popular, huh.”
I said, causing Sagar to turn around quizzically.
“What is?”
“You.”
“I was born here. Everyone knows each other.”
He replied proudly.
“Good point. Anyway, there sure are lots of kids here.”
“Walk with a kid, and it’s a kid’s city. Walk with a monk, and it’s a monk’s. It’s the same everywhere, isn’t it?”
He was completely right. When I was walking with Yatsuda, this city looked like a tourist’s city. Now that I was walking with Sagar, I’d started noticing more children.
“Is that a Nepalese proverb?”
“No, it’s just my own saying.”
Sagar answered with a smirk.
Even if he did have a point, I couldn’t help but feel that there were too many children out on a weekday afternoon. In Nepal, rest days are not on Sunday, or on Friday like in Islamic countries, but on Saturday. Today was a Friday.
As if he’d sensed my doubt, Sagar added in a bored voice.
“Well, there are certainly a lot of kids.”
“You’re saying that it’s just in this area?”
He shook his head in resignation.
“That’s not it. In this country, it was common for babies to die. Because there weren’t enough doctor, you see.”
“…”
“A bunch of foreigners came in and let everyone in the world know what was happening to children here. Thanks to that, money started flowing in, and the number of babies dying dropped sharply. According to my mother, I would have been in danger if not for them.”
“By a bunch of foreigners, do you mean the WHO?”
Sagar frowned.
“I don’t know. But I can ask around if you really want to know.”
Did he consider that part of a guide’s job as well? I was happy that he felt that way.
“No, it’s fine.”
“Alright… oops.”
Sagar suddenly stopped. Since I was walking right behind him, I stumbled forward. He turned around and scratched his head.
“Sorry, where did you want to go? You did say you weren’t going to do glass.”
So we’d been inadvertently heading to some place related to cannabis. It would certainly be useful to my job to know where the dangerous areas were, but since Sagar was still a child, I wouldn’t want him showing me to those places, even if he was a bit of a smart aleck.
“Anywhere is fine. Why don’t you take me to a place you like?”
A look of bewilderment crossed Sagar’s face.
“A place I like? There’s nothing like that…”
Even as he spoke, he thought about it deeply.
“It could also be a place you want to go to.”
He gave me a wry smile in return.
“What’s the difference? …Well, fine. I’ve thought of one. It’s a bit far of a walk, but you’ll be fine, right?”
“Yeah.”
With our destination decided, Sagar increased his pace.
After leaving Jhocchen via Dharma Path and turning right at an intersection, a wide, asphalt-paved road appeared. One side of the road was lined with modernistic white buildings. A sign read “NEW RD.” in English letters. That was most likely shorthand for “New Road”. Cars came and went, but looking closely, there was no center line drawn on the road.
It had quite a different atmosphere from Thamel, that Yatsuda had introduced me to. The buildings along the street had no overhanging eaves, and their windows were unadorned. There were also no shrines dedicated to deities in sight. They were probably trying to recreate a European-style streetscape. Many of the buildings had shops on the first floor. As we passed by, I peeked into these shops. Videotapes, CDs, lightbulbs and radios caught my eye. This seemed to be an electronics district.
On the other hand, the sight of tourists with backpacks looking around with curiosity as vendors swarmed around them was reminiscent of Thamel. Among the vendors, a few of them were kids who couldn’t possibly be ten years old. There might have been some children among the vendors at Thamel, but I hadn’t noticed them. Sagar’s saying of “Walk with a kid, and it’s a kid’s city” was completely right.
“Actually…”
Sagar started hesitantly.
“I wish I could sell here.”
“Why don’t you?”
He stared at me like I was an idiot for not understanding something so simple.
“It’s not my turf.”
“I see.”
“There’s a lot of competition around here, but there are also a lot of wealthy customers. I can’t earn much if I’m only at Tokyo Lodge.”
A crowd of people, made up of both tourists and vendors, approached us from the front. As we stepped to the edge of the walkway, I recalled a question that had been on my mind.
“By the way, there’s something I want to ask you.”
“Me? What is it?”
“This morning, when you saw me, you immediately tried selling me an ammonite in Japanese.”
At that time, Sagar had a weak, pleading look in his eyes. In contrast, his bravado and brazenness was now clear to see. Even though I knew he’d put on an act to sell souvenirs, I still found it to be a dramatic change.
“You didn’t buy it, though.”
“I don’t need something so bulky. But it’s not about that. How did you know that I’m Japanese?”
Sagar glimpsed up at me and replied nonchalantly.
“It’s not that I knew, but I had a feeling you were Japanese, so I tried selling it to you with words I knew.”
So it was intuition, huh.
“What if I didn’t understand Japanese…”
I started another question but trailed off, realizing my foolishness. As expected, Sagar shrugged.
“I’ll say sorry, and that’s it. It’s not like you would punch me, right?”
“You’re right.”
“But it also wasn’t just a wild guess. Many Asian tourists go to that lodge, and if they’re not from India, seven out of ten of them are from Japan.”
That made sense. After all, it was named “Tokyo Lodge”. There were probably other Japanese people who had come to Nepal without booking a hotel room and wanted to stay in Tokyo Lodge after being intrigued by its name.
Suddenly, a hand was thrust towards me from the side, and I instinctively retreated. I looked in the hand’s direction to see a mustached, black-skinned man holding a small Buddha statue in his hand and rambling on about something. I thought I couldn’t understand because he was speaking too quickly, but it seemed to be in Nepalese anyway. When I walked forward, the man brandished the statue in front of my eyes while following me. Sagar turned around for a brief moment, but didn’t say anything, probably not wanting to interfere with a peer in his line of work.
I ignored him and continued moving forward, but the man was persistent. He kept following me while chattering away. Even so, I ignored him, until he eventually spat out some rude words and left.
A smug smile spread across Sagar’s face.
“Shall I tell you what he said?”
“It’s fine.”
They wouldn’t be words worth knowing, anyway.
Sagar turned back and spoke as he watched the man leave.
“There are also guys like him. They don’t know any English and don’t know when to quit when selling things, but think that they can make it around here. For a grown man, he’s a real idiot. Well, he’ll be gone in about three months, I bet.”
Again, I had a realization.
“Your English is really good.”
Though he had a few quirks in the pronunciation of certain words, he could communicate effectively in English. He also had a rich vocabulary, and sometimes casually used terms that I couldn’t quite get the hang of.
Sagar smiled shyly.
“That so? Well, it’s a sales tool.”
“Who taught you?”
“Not anyone in particular, though the school did teach it when I could go… but I think it was all because I helped an Indian businessman with his business.”
He then chuckled quietly to himself, as if he’d just recalled something funny.
“He was doing business in Nepal, yet he didn’t understand a word of Nepalese. It was like he was determined to speak English no matter what. I had no choice but to desperately learn it. At that time, I thought it was a shitty job, but it wasn’t all bad.”
As someone who didn’t know much Nepalese either, that hit a little too close to home.
At the end of New Road was a T-junction. Beyond that was a large park, but it was fenced off with iron railings, so we couldn’t go in. There must be a gate somewhere. Sagar turned left at the junction.
The streetscape completely changed. It now featured a row of stylish, modern-looking buildings constructed with glass and concrete. The pedestrians were also mostly young, and dressed in neat, tidy outfits. The traffic volume increased, with cars I’d never seen before in Japan passing each other non-stop. But the road still had no center line, and only had ropes strung in place.
“This area is really booming, isn’t it?”
I said, and Sagar replied proudly.
“This is Kanti Path. If you remember this road and King’s Way, which is on the other side of the park, it’ll be easy for you to get around in this city.”
The familiar striped pedestrian crossing had no traffic lights. Instead, there was a police officer stopping people or cars. Sagar suddenly ran off, so I hurriedly chased after him. After crossing the road, we continued further on, passing the park thick with lush green trees.
We then crossed the road called King’s Way that Sagar had mentioned, and the scenery gradually shifted back to buildings made of sun-dried bricks. We’d started from medieval brick streets, gone to the main street of concrete, and now returned to a streetscape that was filled with the scent of earth. As I thought back to that transition, I asked a question.
“Just now, you said that you had to earn money, right?”
Sagar looked puzzled, likely wondering why I was saying something so obvious.
“Yup.”
“Sorry if this is too personal, but are you supporting your family?”
Sagar had been on the second floor of a building diagonally across from Tokyo Lodge. After spotting me, he’d descended like an acrobat. It had seemed like a familiar action for him, and he’d also mentioned that he was born around that area. I could probably safely assume that that was where he lived.
In other words, he had a home to return to. I didn’t think that he was living alone in that place diagonally opposite from Tokyo Lodge. He should have a family.
Sagar didn’t seem to take offense.
“It’s not that I’m alone.”
He replied.
“My mother’s working at a hotel. It’s not a small place like Tokyo Lodge, but a big one. She got a uniform and works there until late at night. But if I don’t earn money, I won’t be able to support my little sister.”
I could only nod in response to his words.
“My father went to work in India, but we haven’t heard from him since. He might have started a new life over there, but I don’t really care.”
Sagar’s tone suggested that there was another possibility. He might have some reason to think that something bad had happened to his father.
While walking with a kicking motion, he continued.
“Tokyo Lodge is a dead zone, but it’s fortunate that I was taught some Japanese by Yatsuda. There was a difference in earnings when I started selling souvenirs to Japanese customers using my broken Japanese… Well, it didn’t work on you, though.”
He was strong. And above all else…
“You’re a smart kid.”
Sagar looked bewildered, then gave a vague, troubled smile.
Though Sagar didn’t say anything, I followed after him for over an hour.
A river came into view. It looked to be about 20 meters wide. It was so shallow that I could see the riverbed, perhaps because rain was scarce in these parts. The flow of water was slow, and even seemed stagnant at times.
I lifted my head, and noticed a dense cluster of lush trees where we were heading. It felt like the first time I was seeing living greenery for the first time in this city that sported the muted colors of sun-dried bricks and bare soil. In front of the forest was a dome bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. I’d seen this place before in a photograph.
“Pashupatinath Temple, right?”
I said its name, but Sagar only replied, “Yeah,” in a somewhat vacant manner.
“It’s a popular tourist spot. I thought you would like it.”
Pashupatinath Temple is the biggest Hindu temple in Nepal. Souvenir shops started to pop up here and there along the cobblestone path following the river. It served as both the approach to the temple and a market street.
The number of people increased as we got closer to the temple. As Sagar had mentioned, it was a tourist spot, so there were many people who seemed to be tourists, but they were actually outnumbered by people who looked like locals. Just as there were men in crisp white shirts, there were also men wearing T-shirts with stretched-out collars and colors that had faded beyond recognition. Additionally, I noticed ascetics with their long hair tied into dreadlocks, and beautiful women bowing their heads toward the dome.
This place was both a Hindu holy site and a crematorium. Whether rich or poor, everyone must eventually come here.
“So this is a place you like?”
He answered in a strangely calm voice.
“No, I just wanted to come here. There’s no place in this city that I like.”
With a slight wave of his hand, he motioned for me to follow him.
The souvenir shops sold sold classic items like statues of deities and mandala1 paintings. A blond-haired woman with sunglasses was in the midst of haggling, a faint smile on her lips. I started crossing a stone bridge with Sagar. On the way, he suddenly stopped and looked down at the riverbank.
“Look.”
From there, I could see several cremation platforms jutting out over the river. Under my eyes, firewood stacked in a pyre was starting to burn. Someone’s death was being mourned.
I’d heard that an unpleasant odor is produced when the dead gets cremated, but right now, I didn’t feel that there was anything in the air that could cause discomfort. There was only the smell of fire, similar to what you get after a campfire or controlled burning.
Sagar muttered.
“I need to apologize. I took your money to be your guide, but I brought you to a place I wanted to go to.”
“I don’t mind.”
“This is where my older brother was cremated.”
He spoke while staring at the raging flames below.
“Continuing on the story from just now, I had a brother five years older than me. He was working at a carpet factory. Tachiarai, have you seen a carpet factory?”
“No.”
“I wish I could show one to you, but I guess it wouldn’t make for fun sightseeing. Tiny bits of lint keep flying around, and it’s incredibly dusty. Thanks to that, many workers get their lungs damaged.”
“So, was your brother…”
Sagar shook his head.
“No. My brother was fine. I was the weak one.”
He placed a hand on his chest.
“I almost died when I was born, and when I was five, I got a terrible fever. It was so bad that people said I was a goner. My older brother worked hard to earn money to help me, but it was a bad time.”
“…What happened?”
“Foreign TV stations broadcast to the world just how terrible working conditions in the carpet factory was. I was only five years old, and I was also dying, so I don’t really remember the commotion at the time. The only things clear to me were the closure of the factory and my brother losing his job.”
Next to the blazing cremation pyre lay a pile of charcoal that had already burned out. A man in a white shirt approached that area, and with a stick, pushed cremated remains from the pyre into the river.
“My brother was unlucky. He looked for another job, and he became a ragman because it allowed him to start right away. But on the fourth day he cut his arm on something. That spot got swollen and filled with pus. On the morning my fever went down, my brother, who had a strong body and was fine working at the carpet factory, died just like that. It’s been six years since then.”
Another body wrapped in a yellow cloth was brought over on a wooden board.
“I should have attended the funeral, but I don’t really remember it. All I remember is that after the funeral, I was zoning out, and Yatsuda bought me a sel roti. I never imagined that a monk would give me food, so I was surprised.”
Sagar continued in a slightly more cheerful voice.
“Because of that, I don’t remember what that day was like, though I feel bad for blaming Yatsuda for it. I always thought about coming here one more time, but I spent every day just making ends meet… I’ve gone to places near here many times, but I’m never come here until today.”
Sagar rotated his head and looked at me.
“Thank you. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, though I didn’t really do anything.”
Our daily lives were so different that I couldn’t even begin to guess what was on his mind. That was why two words was all I could manage.
“I see.”
Sagar placed his hands on the railing, used the momentum to push off, and turned to leave the bridge.
“Tachiarai. You came here for work, right?”
Yatsuda had already pointed out that I didn’t seem like a tourist from how I spent my time. I wasn’t surprised that Sagar had also noticed that.
“Yeah.”
“Then let me help you with your work. I know this town very well. I’ll make sure you’ll earn a lot of money.”
I nodded, but my response was not an encouraging one.
“Unfortunately, it’s not such a lucrative job.”
Above the river shrouded with smoke, Sagar tapped my arm.
“It’s like that for everyone at the beginning. It was the same for me. When you start earning money, you can give me a cut. This is… umm… how should I put it… ah, right. This is my investment.”
Captivated by his smile, I felt the corners of my mouth turn up.
Chapter 3 | Contents | Chapter 5
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