Chapter 1 - Why Won't Night Last Forever
Anon had trouble sleeping. For a long time now he had suffered from restless nights, unable to catch a break. The worst came during summer, when the sheets were too drenched in sweat for him to turn around anymore and the heat choked every reason to stay in bed out of him. But it was something else pulling his eyelids open, a pulsating anxiety prickling into his brain that would just not go away. It could only be quieted down by something else, be it work, pain or whatever. Regardless, he was not having a good time.
At that point, Anon knew rest was not an option. Every night he would instead come home from work, lock himself up and resume his working until the sun announced it was time to go back to the office, rinse and repeat. Every last moment he had to remain occupied, and every last second he remained restless. Life could only keep going because he would always remain the same.
That morning in particular, Anon’s attitude went unquestioned on the matter until his boss came to him and called him upstairs. The old man could also not bring himself to ask if he needed time off, as obvious as it was. No matter whatever was wrong with him, Anon kept replying the exact same thing.
“What’s wrong with me is that I took too much time off back then, mister. I’m here to work now.” For whatever reason, Anon pretended to like his job.
That was all the explaining he thought necessary to justify coming day after day as the falling mess of a person he was. Most poignant of all was the stench to clinical alcohol he would make everyone around him endure. His signature cologne, mosquito repellent, was one of those little quirks that proved Anon to be unhinged when left to his own devices. However, it was harmless enough that his lack of common sense only ever came across as not worth worrying about. The responsible man they barely knew, if he was not changing himself for the better, sooner or later some monstergirl would force him to.
But Anon did not meet many monsters, not often at least. He seldom found the need to leave his office anyways. It had been a year through which the only people he came into regular contact with were some of the field workers that would come to his office and Mr. Alcántara. Cramped inside his little office with files on top of files of reports and datasheets, there was no chance he could meet with those strong, scary monsters working in the plantations. Not that it would matter, since for all they knew he had married a human woman before they even crossed to this world. That was the one thing they would not mess with, where they could not get nosy.
None of those taboos were a concern Mr. Alcántara had nonetheless. He waited for Anon in his own office to discuss of some changes. When the man arrived, Mr. Alcántara left a long sigh out, etching at his desk with a finger and forcing his stare out to reach Anon. Mr. Alcántara’s office was the only other place as secluded as Anon’s office.
“Come, son, come closer,” the old fellow of his father asked him to.
Anon did not move, however, and stood there in silence as he listened. His eyes fixed down in the barely lit room. For a second he could have thought Mr. Alcántara had intended for them to discuss urgent, possibly underhanded matters like the initial serious façade would have otherwise informed. But Anon was used to what was coming next—it had to be one of the regular tirades he was sick of hearing.
Like he thought, Mr. Alcántara’s gaze soon turned to a familiar face of worry. “You look tired, boy…”
“Well, that’s normal,” Anon replied.
“It’d be better for you to not go around saying stuff like that at your age,” Mr. Alcántara punched forward with a laugh. “What you need is some time off, don’t you think? You could come with me for a drink one of these days.”
Anon did not feel the need to answer that. He knew what the setup was supposed to be like. Every time he agreed to it he had to sit there as Mr. Alcántara drank by himself, preaching the values of being lenient with oneself. Everything could be solved by fooling around a little—especially with women. Only Anon would not agree with a solution like it.
“I guess you won’t, then… That’s fine too.” Mr. Alcántara turned his eyes away.
The consideration took Anon by surprise. The thread his boss left hanging as by that closing acknowledgement made him feel sorry for thinking the least bit ill of him. For as long as Anon worked there, Mr. Alcántara had been a very mindful man; every attempt to get overly personal with him could be construed as a way to show he cared for him. The old man wanted no harm for him at heart.
“Anyways, what I wanted to talk to you about is something else, it has to do with the job. Though you could see it as an indirect way to get you the break you urgently need.”
Hearing the new topic at hand, Anon was of course frightened. He did not like the sound of that.
“You’ve proved yourself to be reliable, as reliable can be. It was a risky choice to hire you back then, I’m sure you’re aware, but favors come and go. Now it’s time for you to help me a bit. It won’t be hard. In fact, you’ll be taking some of the load off your back with this, and I hope it does you well.”
“Really, sir? You think it is a good idea?” Anon interrupted, immediately appalled with the suggestion. “I think I’m doing just good enough. I can keep up and handle what you need me to do, so if that’s…”
Mr. Alcántara lit up his smoke and stood up, taking a stroll around the room. He had not meant to interrupt Anon, but the message was clear, he was not done with it. As an underling, Anon understood.
“I’m not giving you any less responsibilities. Don’t worry about that, you have made yourself clear enough with it already.” Mr. Alcántara stared outside through the blinds. His thick mustache twitched with every pull on the cigar, and his nostrils turned wide when he exhaled the smoke.
“You’ll have an extra hand, that’s what I mean. I think it would help you, and it would help me. A man will come from the USA, sent by the Company. He’ll stay through winter, and we’ll see how it goes…”
“A man from the Company?” Anon had to pause at that to sort through his confusion. Having to work with someone else, let alone a foreigner, made it all the less enticing.
Mr. Alcántara backed away from the windows, closing the distance to his table. With another puff, he filled the air with that dry, dusty texture that had already stained the furniture gray.
“He’s not taking your paycheck. An important man up there wants his son to get some experience in the business, so that’s who’s coming. You’ll take him in and teach him about what we do. I guess handling that compensates the load he’d take away from you, right?”
The quick explanation served to alleviate most of Anon’s questions, but it did not help him from second-guessing the deal laid before him. He could not be satisfied with that. There was no need for any change of pace, regardless what anybody else said. Work was good as it was, and he did not feel comfortable getting “support” at all.
Nonetheless, Anon could not be oblivious to the fact that his place in the company was indeed a strange one, strange enough to expect be handed that type of job. Maybe that was why Mr. Alcántara was so sure about entrusting him with something of the sort. As it was described, it probably would not have been wise to refuse outright, so Anon did not. Not that he could—if Mr. Alcántara asked him to do something, he had to follow. Anon could only sigh.
“He’s coming around November, then? Just for winter?” Anon had to make peace with the idea. It could not be helped, so better resign himself to comply. A few months were doable without easing his routine too much.
“Around September, I think. But he’s staying until March, I’m sure. I doubt a gringo would like to stay with all the heat.”
With that settled, Anon turned around to leave. With nothing more to discuss, he had to get back to his office and work until he could forget he had reasons to refuse. Now he had to make sure he could impress that rich boy with his little experience, and that was the type of person he had the most trouble with.
“Alright, then. See y—…”
Mr. Alcántara stopped him. “Wait a second.”
The old man walked across the room towards the coat rack. As he got close to Anon, he smiled at him and said in a soft voice “Now that we’ve got this sorted, I got something to take care of out of town. You’re a lot of help here, boy. Don’t ever doubt I’m happy to have you here.”
“Thank you, sir. I will not.” Anon smiled back. The two of them left the room and closed the door behind them.
After that short meeting, Anon kept on working for many weeks as usual with his upcoming responsibility in mind. It struck as a little out of place for him to show someone around; Anon himself was probably the best and worst person to do that. His position as an assistant supervisor was incredibly lax, being in charge of diagnostics and reporting, but also regularly doing plenty of other tasks that no one was willing to take care of, like bookkeeping for instance.
When he was hired, it was on the pretense that he would be a one-man team, and that was true to a long extent. Nonetheless, as the only direct supervisor for the first line employees in miles and miles, he could not possibly handle all of it. No one could. That was why his logical solution was to not begin trying. Instead, he would set weekly appointments with the higher employees on the hierarchy, such as project engineers and foremen in charge of different sectors of the banana fields, having them as secondary monitors for him. If they could travel a few kilometers to the city and meet him for a quick review in his office and then go back, it would save him plenty of unnecessary work. He really did not have to be there to know what was going on.
In paper, Anon was taking it easy, barely breaking a sweat in his comfortable place, but only he could truly grasp how demanding his job actually was for a single person. Even with his cheating tactics, there was always too much for him to do. Anon had been aware of it from the moment he agreed to the job, and he only did because of it. To him, it was fitting to be overworked, no matter how passionless or unwilling he was to it all. Anon was ready to take everything thrusted upon him, hence why he was frequently trapped doing menial assignments no one else cared enough to do. After wasting an entire year of his life, that was what he deserved.
The world was not the same he once knew. After the time wasted cocooning in his room, he came to the realization that he had missed the most important event in human history, though it personally barely held any weight he could care about. Monstergirls coming in or hopping out, the recession was still shy from over, and the only thing he understood back then was that the United Fruit was in the midst of restructuring—they needed a way to reduce their wages. The Company was in the need for a person to do a team’s work all by himself, and Anon had nothing better to do.
That is how he ended up having to deal with a job that Heaven knew made him miserable. It was written on his very soul, but he made a show of his gratefulness by fulfilling his role and never once whining about it. To him it was fitting. It felt right.
What was not fitting in any way was how he now had to plan his schedule around the American’s arrival, that hammered on his forehead another layer of stress whenever he thought about it. If he wanted to meet him on a good starting point for a newcomer, he had to prepare and adjust himself to future changes that he could come to discover as necessary on the way, and so Anon decided to take much more work back home, to keep himself busy with the momentum he was currently building on.
After work and occasionally after having dinner with Mr. Alcántara, he would get back to his apartment and hit the typing machine until he met the sunrise. Around the same time he was picking back his old smoking habit, as a little thing to relax and keep his brain an inch from collapsing completely. Those weeks of anticipation both loosened him up and gave him a purposeful tension that he would ride to the shore. Having his fingers on the verge of falling off made him forget for a second everything he was supposed to be running away from in the first place. Soon enough, the prospect of a little change became something refreshing, and he looked forward to it.
Then, less than soon enough, the date for young Mr. Still to arrive was merely two days away, and Anon managed to have cleared every assignment yet due. There was no work delayed or left to be discussed, nothing left baking in the oven. He could start from true ground zero with his assistant, just as things came along. The accomplishment sparked a newfound confidence in him; little time did he have to wander in his own head, his job had given him an ecstatic satisfaction in the present, at least momentarily.
he closed the door with his key that one night, it crossed his mind that maybe he could go out to dine alone. Mr. Alcántara had been away in a nearby town for the day, but after so many weeks of nonstop work, it would not make him any bad to walk around and lose himself without him, he thought. For once, he wanted to breathe some fresh air. His heart had not been as serene as that in a long while, so he had to savor the moment.
The city had gone through a recent rainy season, and one could still feel the moisture in the atmosphere. Roads that were not paved yet were muddy and hard to walk on, and his reflection commonly looked at him from the puddles lit by the glow of those yellow lamps the Company had provided the city. They were good news, especially for a single man not brave enough to stray from the main road. He knew what sort of thing could wait for him if he were to go into a darker street. Strolling through the lively boulevard was a much better choice.
It had to pique Anon’s interest, the way modern life had come to develop with the arrival of monstergirls. It was commonplace now to see Centaurs pulling on fruit carts and carriages or Harpies flying through the skies with mail. Living in the same space as them made him feel as a stranger of his own land. The happy smiles of men married to those Beastgirls and even some demonic-looking ladies were to him not familiar enough to ignore the dissonance, the cultural shock; supposedly all the monstergirls wanted were husbands. Anon held on to his right to remain distant.
Everyone seemed so happy since the girls appeared. Disregarding the danger single men faced for the chance that an Ocelotl might want to take them as prey, life had become a lot safer. As overwhelming as his surrounding had turned, he had to admit that it was like living a dream, someone’s fantasy where nothing had to necessarily go wrong. What were a few forced marriages if nobody had to think things too deeply anymore? It was no wonder that monstergirls had been received with open arms.
Anon was an exception, clearly. He could hide himself from human women, but monstergirls were too perceptive. If they really could smell the “single” on him, then he had to conceal the fact in any way he could. Maybe repellent was the bare minimum he could use, but no Vamp Mosquito had gotten close to him since he started, so that must have been a net win.
Still, with that in mind, carelessly going out at night like that would have been something he avoided, but that night was different. Maybe he actually wanted to be jumped at the time. Anon contemplated it. Unlike most evenings, there was a calmness and collectedness in him that he rarely experienced. He had missed a bit the feeling of not caring much, so for a moment he considered that it could not be all that bad. Being able to gaze at the sky allowed him to think a man like him could probably find happiness somewhere too.
“Anon, is that you?”
Then the rug was pulled from under his naivety. Just as Anon was about to enter a restaurant, a voice he knew too well called up to him and torn the solace in his heart apart. Petrified as though his blood had run out, he looked like he had seen a ghost, but his sweat would not have turn as cold from it. As he turned to her, he could only lament the fact that it was not an actual monster, it was a human woman. It was his ex-fiancée.
Blanca stood right behind him. Like the last time the two ever saw each other, her fine nose arched upwards as she pointed her two black eyes at him. It was a different sight, however heartbreaking it was to think about how she looked like back then. Those two gems in her face and her straight, dark hair were still the same at least, never shiny enough. Her white coat and coronet hat only intensified them as the two defining traits of the frail, slender woman beneath that jewelry. The compassionate stare Anon received could have brought back life to a sickly heart, although it did not. On the contrary, it salted his wounds.
“Oh, it really is you, Anon! I thought I had seen you! How have you been?” she asked. “Do you mind if I come in with you?” She took a long look at him from top to bottom with those unforgettable dark eyes of hers coming from out her thin scarf. If there had been a single thing different in him, she would have picked it up in an instant.
He did not return the favor however. A desire to leave anxiously overpowered any curiosity left in him, but his body did not follow quick enough to win over his reflexes. In a tiny slip out of old muscle memory, Anon opened the door to her without realizing it.
“Hahaha, as chivalrous as ever, I see,” she laughed. She took the advance and entered with him, seriously making him want to die.
Only a few couples occupied some scattered tables around the room, but that did not stop Blanca from sitting across the same one as him. She, by all means, did not belong in a place as humble as that. She probably knew it, and that was why she clung to him as if he were the only thing between her and the more vulgar environment of regular citizens. Her demeanor never failed to convey how confident she was, never mind of the setting. She could be the same there or in the Palais Garnier, it was all simple when pitted against her.
“So how have you been, Anon?” she asked.
Anon dared to open his mouth, but bitterly avoided giving her the answer she wanted. “I thought you lived happily in the capital. Did not occur to me I’d ever see you here,” he hissed. He was none of her business anymore.
“Ah, you see, I came here in a hurry. Won’t be staying long. It just was Gustavo needed me to pick some things for him; he was too busy to come himself.”
Opening a menu, she entertained herself by swinging her legs playfully and eyes the room from corner to corner. Only after being done with that she turned her attention back at him and acknowledged his aggressiveness. “There’s no need to be so moody. Do you hate it to see me that much?”
“I just can’t stand you talking about him, but for some reason you keep doing it. I really don’t want to hear any of it, that’s all…”
“Are you still hurt perhaps? I’m very sorry,” Blanca lowered her head. “You know I’ve been sorry about it all this time. But it’s just how it is, you know? You cannot refuse your heart desires.”
Anon frowned as she taunted him. She could not stop herself from rubbing stuff in his face, and an unwonted anger came out of him. What he wanted was to forget it all; he anguished in the fact that he could not, no matter what, and it was to that day his greatest regret. He could feel his guts recoiling in pain every second he was near her, growing in intensity as he lost the peace he had just realized he could still have.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she continued. “It’s been so long. I thought you’d be over it already.”
A coming waitress had to ask herself if it would be appropriate to break in, wise to their awkward silence. It probably had troubled her to know there was a tension rising in the middle of the restaurant, but a Wererabbit like her lightened up the atmosphere bringing them their orders with a few hops. She smiled at them as she excused herself away from the table, hopping back to the kitchen and choosing to believe that she had been of a little help to them.
As soon as Blanca looked at her, she did not take her eyes off from her, even after she was gone. She kept her eyes locked on the door the Wererabbit went through, thinking to herself until she found it interesting enough to say without blinking “I think it’s safe to assume you haven’t gotten a girl since then, right? Anon?”
“Well, that’s mean,” Anon replied back.
“I’m glad,” she remarked.
Anon suddenly gave in. For a second, he stopped trying not to mind her and wondered what she could have meant by that, confused as to why she could still care.
“You still have some pride in yourself. At least you haven’t involved yourself with one of those monsters,” what she actually had in mind came crashing down. “It would be a shame, for a man from a good family like yours to be snatched by one of those things.”
“Right, yeah, haha…” He still could not, for the life of his, voice out a disagreement to her, and it pained him. Where was this pride of his? It probably had jumped out from the window just like he craved to do.
“There’s a lot of them here, but you should see them back in Tegucigalpa. There’s so many, you see a new one every day! Hahaha! It’s amazing! But really, you should look out, you know? Sometimes walking downtown feels like going through a haze with how decadent and depraved those are. I don’t know what sort of thing they’d do to a fine man like you.”
Anon kept quiet. He wanted the conversation to end at once and leave.
“You never answered me. How have you been? I heard you got a nice job in the United Fruit after you came here. Do you like it?”
“I don’t know” he answered. “I don’t want to talk about that. When are you leaving?”
Blanca looked conflicted. Her face turned to disappointment, apparently saddened by his response.
“About that… I’m leaving tomorrow, but…” She did not know how to say the rest. “I’ll probably be coming every so often, Gustavo and I w—…”
“I don’t care about that…”
“Well, you know how things are… Even if it’ll be just business matters, I think I could enjoy coming here like that. Him and me, would it really be that hard to l—…”
“I don’t want to know. God, stop telling me about it!” Anon cried out loud. “That should be enough, right?!”
They both stared down to the table, unwilling to say something else after that. None of them even touched their food, having lost all appetite. The only thing they could do was wait, and Blanca stood up quietly after a while, frantically looking for something inside of her purse. She had lost any intention to keep their conversation going, all she wanted was to disappear.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so, very sorry, Anon,” her voice cracked. “I won’t be bothering you again, so please, forgive me,” she said with her hand over her chest, leaving some money on the table. Done with that, she walked away and out to the street, not to be seen again.
Once his food grew cold, Anon figured he would not be eating anymore. He decided it would be best if he could do just like her and leave. Forced to use the money Blanca left him, he left it there as a tip to the waitress, ashamed for the scene they probably gave every other costumer. He stood up and paid the bill.
Taking his leave, he walked back to his apartment complex a few blocks away. How a car would ever go through a street like that was a miracle, but how a man could go on and stroll with all the stony footing in the wet sidewalk without tripping down was inconceivable. Somehow, he found the place, hidden by a weird turn most people would miss, and entered the building he called home.
Anon threw himself on the bed, forcefully closing his eyelids but unable to sleep as always, thinking again and again about what he could have possibly done, begging to himself to somehow stop thinking about the past, but free of anything to keep himself busy. Like a cheese grater torturously scrapping his skin, he hated every last second of it. No matter how many sheets he covered himself with, he still felt cold. In nights like those he would come across to the thought that he in fact preferred missing a day instead of going to work the next day. No one would miss him if there was nothing for him to do. Anon held the pillows tightly and asked himself why could the night not last forever so he could eventually get some rest.
By the next morning, Anon had reverted back everything he had achieved in weeks. He made all the inner efforts but was miserable despite the fact, maybe because of it. The only thing he desired was to escape his hole, and he spent the night cleaning his small apartment, trying to physically fix the mess he was trapped in. Naturally this left him more than exhausted for the day, so Anon figured he could go to his office and try to get some sleep there.
Gone, Anon walked to the office building, half-heartedly wasting every aspect of his presentation. He had become reacquainted with the toll for stepping out of line—a single night stroll was what it took for the imbalances in his life to crumble into pieces and squash him down. His hair was messy, his clothes were untidy and his suitcase was dusty, all of it combined with his smell; anyone looking at him would have gotten that things had spiraled out of his control. But in fact, a quick glance to his baggy eyes was enough to tell.
For the first time in a long time, everyone in the building crossed paths with him and wondered if he really was ok, from the receptionist, to the legal staff to even the old janitor. It slid off Anon, nonetheless, because he was too drowsy to even notice. His mind focused on a goal: enter the office, lock himself in, get some rest, and leave the office. If things were like any other day, he would have had no one coming in to bother. As isolated as he was from his coworkers, he could enjoy having that space for himself. He was vindicated. There truly was no need for human interaction, a genius he was indeed.
Anon opened the door as a desperate man unable to truly control his motor skills. His half-opened eyes had to widen when he glanced at what was inside. He was startled by a feathery woman, a blurry visage of light browns and soft cloth that hid behind her a thick, long tail. Anon was at a loss, he did not know who she was or what she was doing earlier than him in the room. The timing was awfully regrettable for him to also become aware of how he looked.
“Oh, Anon, you came just in time. Sorry for barging in before you got here,” Mr. Alcántara appeared by her side, scaring his soul out of him. His attention was completely dragged away from the lady in the room to his boss during what could have been a nightmare.
“Oh, God, he’s here too!” Anon stepped back as his eyes whirled down to check if he had not suddenly lost his pants or something like that.
All at the same time, a young blond man reached out from behind Mr. Alcántara, trying to get closer to Anon. It was a foreigner, a clear American from any distance he could be spotted from.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Imato. I’m Forrester Still. I’m so sorry to meet you here before it was scheduled, but there was a slight change of plans and I couldn’t resist coming in. I hope this is no hindrance to you.”
“Oh, no, absolutely not!” Anon Imato could only lie in favor of people who were a hindrance to him. Right then, lying was an easier job than breathing in and out.
His knees trembled. They really had pulled a fast one on him, Anon realized. He was at the very least glad he had managed to show up in time, but he could faint any second, and they caught him in the worst possible moment. With a few coughs he tried to collect himself before he could embarrass himself much more, grooming his hair a bit with his left hand and stretching his back straight.
As he did that, Anon gave his attention back to the person, or rather monstergirl, yet unidentified. A monstergirl unlike any he had seen, Anon could not piece together exactly what she was, with the tufts of feathers in her wrists, her head and her tail but no wings whatsoever; she made quite an elegant sight. Below her gray skirt, a pair of high heeled boots could be seen, though their texture gave them more of a resemblance to bird feet, which Anon correctly guessed were not actually footwear of any kind but her two legs. Even more so than Mr. Still who she accompanied, she gave the impression of a foreign land.
The woman did not last long without looking at him with similar curiosity, as if analyzing everything she could from his appearance, or at least that was what Anon got from her poker face. Thy both said nothing, and the room stayed quiet until Mr. Still noticed them exchanging glances.
“Oh, right, I was made aware that you weren’t notified I wouldn’t come alone. Allow me to introduce you to my secretary, Ms. Kassandra Resnick.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she bowed lightly, her dignified gesture having changed nothing at all.
“I—The pleasure is mine,” Anon replied with his dry voice and his averting eyes. Looking as he did, her poised class only made him look a lot creepier. He did not want her to suffer from what he assumed was his disgusting stare.
“She will be helping us both for the time I will be here with you, if you have no problem with that, sir,” Mr. Still indirectly asked Anon.
“Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem…” Anon said as nothing but a formality. At that point there was no way he could have refused and had her sent back to her country. That would have been insane.
Anon then looked at Mr. Still. He looked about his age, maybe older, but Mr. Alcántara had already profiled him as twenty-three-year-old, younger a whole three years by comparison. Anon had to be surprised, as the foreigner towered over him with the body of a football player—the American sort. This was the man he would be guiding for the next half year, someone who had been carved from marble, a man from the first world, with a slick haircut and a thin but determined smile.
“Also, you don’t need to address me as ‘sir’… I only three years older than you, you know? Just Anon is alright,” he tried rectifying that small detail before it could bother him. It was jarring to be referred to with such respect.
Mr. Still nodded and said “Well, then, I think there should be no reason for you to call me by my surname either, Mr. Anon.”
Mr. Alcántara saw the exchange and was glad to know things had begun rolling. A busy man he was, he could not have found a better time to escape for more pressing matters.
“Well, boys, I will leave you here. Mr. Still, I hope Anon can show you the ropes; maybe going for a tour around the plantation field could get the two of you started, get to know the place.” Mr. Alcántara waved from the door already by the end of it, only stopping and turning to address the silent secretary.
“Ms. Resnick, I’m sure you will be needing a desk of your own. I’ll send someone to bring everything you need in a few minutes, so please just wait for my employees.”
“Yes, thank you very much, sir,” she responded calmly as the man excused himself out of the room.
After a brief silence, Anon had to deal with the fact that all eyes were on him. Thinking about taking the rails was easier than doing it, and all the work he had to put mentally preparing himself depleted his capabilities to do so. He was not used to having more than one person in his office at a time. He hoped it could be something he would get used to soon by giving it a chance. A delusion like that was necessary now that his life would have been exactly that moment of awkward tension for the next few months.
“Uh, alright. Since I have nothing in the backlog, I think we could go for a walk and get you familiarized with the place, Mr. Forrester,” Anon placed his suitcase over his desk and spoke to him directly, unsure of how to approach the other person he was not prepared to handle.
Mr. Forrester agreed with a nod, beaming out a smile and gripping the strap of his own suitcase. “Very well, Mr. Anon. Let’s get down to it. That’s just what I came here for.”
Kassandra had taken a seat on a chair resting on a free space of the wall, beside the only window in the room. Her eyes were contemplating, she brought her legs together as she heard the conversation attentive to being called.
“Kassie, will you wait here?” Forrester asked.
“Yes, master. I will see them bring my accommodations,” she said.
The room’s space had been taken over by a second desk, intended in preparation for her master, right next to Mr. Imato’s. She sat in a lonely chair, however, holding her purse and keeping to her square. The room was surprisingly open, and she figured waiting was all she had to do.
Anon would not have liked to, but he became transfixed by her composure. She rested both her hands on her lap and there was no visible wrinkle on her skirt; it was like she had come out of a painting, with the whole purpose of being one with the room.
Both of their eyes met as Anon walked with Forrester to the door. Her pupils stared through him, and the shock made him pull the door shut in an instant. It occurred to him that it would not have been a natural thought to feel remorse for leaving her all alone after that, but being the one who closed the door with her inside gave him a bitter aftertaste. That short interaction between the two stayed with him throughout the entire day.
Anon and Forrester walked outside the office building. Being in the city meant they had to find a mean of transportation to the outer side of town, but it was much too late to take the railway for that. In its place, Anon called a Centaur, and she greeted them as the two of them got inside the open carriage she was pulling. Once the two of them took their seats, she faced East with a steady galloping, to the banana fields.
Heading further away from the office and the city, buildings became smaller and more spaced in between. Patches of green started popping up, and eventually all they could see were massive fields and unbarred lands. To the West, the range of mountains that towered over the valley; to the North, eventually they would hit the coast. The golden fruit was the prime product of the country. Every last part of the economy and industrial growth depended on its trade back then, so it came without saying that most of the arable land in the region was reserved for it.
When the cart stopped, there was nothing else in view but tall imposing, palm-like trees. There were so many bananas that they would fall off to the ground and sometimes rot over older piles of rotten bananas. The plantations were not far from what could only be described as an Apegirl’s Paradise, but that was not what Anon meant to show Mr. Forrester. They were going to the core, to the establishment hidden beneath all the layers of thick green and greener.
Inside the small jungle, something resembling a town hid away its population in buildings of adobe and logs of wood. Plenty of hardworking men and monstergirls toiled their lives away every day for as long as they might keep living, the only purpose of their labor being cultivating the selling product.
Anon and Forrester arrived to the confusion of the workers close by, as weird looks came their way. The foreigner was someone they had never seen before, but even Anon was a face they had almost completely forgotten about. The corporal-commissar received the two as they came previously unannounced, cheekily forcing them to go through some lackluster security system to prevent any proactive dating from the local monstergirls by labelling them as top workers. It was a very funny thing to do, apparently.
The surprise lasted short, and people did not mind having the two of them touring around. Forrester was filled with a found pride in the project, seeing how well the machine could operate without stopping. The place ran as productive as it should, like everything he had envisioned.
Anon scratched his head a little. It was not anything out of the ordinary, he thought.
The two of them walked for a while, looking at the bananas and the treatment they were given. There was always something to be done or to be had, and a great resource of support was monster-power. Weretigers, Minotaurs, Soldier Beetles… Even Trolls would help with hard labor, especially since they had a supernatural resistance to the thick poison the plants and soil had to constantly be moistened with in order to avoid the plague of pests. An entire harvest could be lost easily if not for the thick, purple insecticide that bespattered over the ground as it dripped from the leaves. Growing human bananas did not have an alternative around it, any use of mana would defeat the purpose by mutating the fruit into something else.
However hazardous the working conditions were, a general attitude of contentment was had all over the field. The mutual support between the girls and the men made their labor that much more tolerable. Anon quickly went over the bunkhouses and shacks where everyone lived, some separate and some in shared affinity. Markets would settle, and women would have food to sell every break. Even if the pay was low, things had taken a brighter turn for the regular José, and strikes had decreased since monstergirls showed up. Their immediate empathy with the rights that no one else seemed to provide these men made them happy. Just having a Holstaur apply bandages over their bruises made it well worth it for them.
The wonder of every sight did not go over Forrester. Every step of the way he was marveled by something, and Anon would follow with an explanation. The enthusiasm managed to rub its way to some of the field workers they happened to pass by, even they could tell the American was excited.
With a small notepad, Forrester wrote down anything Anon pointed out. Anon had to rationalized how everything he taught would even be of help back in his home country. None of it seemed relevant outside a meager banana republic. He could only envy his joyous interest. Mr. Forrester probably found the place to be exotic in a way that, no matter what he came across, it had something surprising to be discovered, Anon thought.
Before the sun got the most heated, Forrester and Anon sat in a bench under a hay roof, fanning themselves with whatever they had at hand. Exhausted by the same topic for what had been hours on end, the two of them rested silently until one of them had to bring up his inadequacy to the climate.
“It’s very hot here,” Forrester began with a laugh. “I was told about it, but it is intense. Must take a while to adapt, right?”
“I guess it could be fresher… This is the hottest region in the country,” Anon replied to not let the conversation die out. “But the weather might get better, don’t worry.”
“You don’t seem as bothered with it, though,” Forrester pointed out. “Locals are just built for it, then.”
“I’m not from here,” Anon said. “I wouldn’t know.”
“For real?” Forrester caught the flat response. Before they could be lost to the silent of strangers, he added another question “What is it, then?”
“… That I’m cold-blooded.” The sun hit down on Anon as his eyes fixed forward, marking his face with solid, dark strokes.
Forrester laughed. “That means you really are just built for it then.”
“I—It’s still a bit too hot for me here, you know? I hope we move to the next season already,” Anon moved on, subject to first-hand embarrassment setting in after not having meant to say anything funny.
“I hope so too… But I’m liking it very much so far,” Forrester told him. “How often do you come here to check on everything?”
“Uh… About that…” Anon was left blank. He knew beforehand that it was something that needed disclosing. Not having decided how to approach it yet made him worry. Could he tell him right there? Eyeing away, he wondered if that was the better option.
In the few hours they had been together, Anon had come to understand that Forrester was not only excited for the field work, it was the entire reason he had left his country. Maybe it had not been that bright of an idea to take the tour without addressing that matter first.
Anon took a long breath, getting himself ready to be honest with how things really were.
“I don’t. I usually rather just work from my office.”
“What? No way! But you know every last detail here,” Forrester loudly exclaimed.
“I’m sure it would have given trouble before, but employees comply with everything and work goes smoothly, I don’t think there’s a need to come,” Anon said. He paused for a second, thinking about what he should do.
From the seat they shared, both could see a building sitting on a hill close to them, the site office. A small and half-improvised set up for the workers at field, it was not as impressive as the central offices, but Anon himself had worked there for a short while before going away to the city.
Hot as it was, the light reflected in foggy waves that made that dusty old building look like a mirage out of a distant memory. Anon was staring down at the building when the look in Ms. Resnick’s eyes flashed before him for a short second. Anon contemplated on that elegant dignity of hers, very serious and almost intimidating. A string in him must have been tickled by that, because he was compelled to entertain his apprentice.
“But you can come here if you want to. It’d be of help, and you would get used to the heat, I think.”
Forrester stopped moving just a second. “I guess I could do that, right?” he smiled. “For a second you sounded just like my dad, like there is no need to see things yourself, but… I want to see. It makes me happy to see things going well and working out. It’s like seeing progress and modernity itself straight to the face.”
Anon could see where he was coming from. He was a young nobleman, looking at the success of his family’s business bare where it all grew. Things could have not been as bright as promised for some time, but right then it was hard not to count on the brilliant future of the operation.
“I’m glad,” Anon said. “Then I’ll be counting on you to come check here. I’ll keep coming with you just for a while since it wouldn’t hurt, but then you’re on your own, ok?”
“Yes! Thank you, Mr. Anon!”
Anon was content to at least keep the boy happy. Having him cover for him the side of the job which he was less disposed to do was the perfect development in his eyes. There was no reason not to work like that; with just a little time to familiarize with the procedure Forrester would be fine by himself. Picking more work for a little while would not hurt him, would it?
In his mind, Anon began drafting a schedule for himself, but sadly, it was not looking any good for the next couple of days. Forrester was also deep in thought, staring away into the distance.
“You don’t see many varieties here, I’m realizing,” Forrester claimed.
“Variety?”
“I expected the place to have many more types of monstergirls, but I guess that was just the way it was back home.”
“I heard there are plenty in the capital city,” Anon told him. “I doubt they’d find this place comfortable.”
“I can see that.” Forrester increased the strength with which he fanned himself.
The suggestion raised something that had irked Anon’s curiosity the whole time. He had wanted to find the time to ask, and a better one would hardly come by.
“Mr. Forrester… Your secretary, Ms. Resnick, I’ve never seen one like her. Is she a Harpy? Or something similar? A chicken girl or a Cockatrice…” he gathered all his courage to ask, hoping it would not be offensive to say such a thing.
“I’m not really sure what that creature is meant to be, but Kassie is a Kikimora. If you look close enough you might see her puppy-like ears dropping in her headful of feathers, so better think of her as a mammal,” Forrester joked, as if her human appearance was not enough to make the assumption. “I’m not well aware of the culture surrounding them, so I apologize. I just know they work around the house.”
“I see…” Anon added. “I guess she must come from some other foreign place.”
“Aren’t they all? It’s a double delight for me to see them adapting themselves no matter where they are. It’s like that never changes,”
Forrester shared his thought as Anon stared at him blankly, trying to figure out if he agreed. To him, monstergirls were a thing he could barely even grasp. They could share the same world, but what was there to be done about it? He did not know. There was no place for him to say, no reason for it to mean anything to him, that was his conclusion.
***
A few weeks before, Anon had managed to push everything in the way to the corners of his office, revealing the fact that it was fairly spacious for a single person to have. That had been the initial reason why it was so often used alternatively as a storage room, and it had crossed Kassandra’s mind that had been the case, which to her was a shame.
The window blinds had spiderwebs on them, Kassandra had come to notice. While she waited in the room surrounded by the same lonesome quietude, she had also realized how little sunlight came into the room. She had sat still, completely frozen, since her master left with Mr. Imato.
He was supposedly a reliable man, as he was described, but that was not close to the impression he gave at a first glance; neither did his office. It was clean, just barely so, but the cluster of things amassing randomly next to the walls set her alarms off. It was like an office for no one to use, where a mess would form because people occasionally placed an old drawer at the lack of a better place. That was a lonely room, she thought. It reeked of enclosure and alcohol, which did not feel good at all.
With all the time for herself, she looked around. She wondered how regularly the janitor swept or mopped the floor. If there was nothing for her to do yet, maybe she could get her hands started with that.
She quickly stopped her train of thought. It was wrong, unbecoming. As a secretary, she could not take away the janitor’s job from him. It was not why she had been sent there; it was not what was expected of her. Breathing in and out, she took a hold of herself, repeating that over and over. Nonetheless, there was something ticking into her skull unceasingly. Mr. Imato had left his suitcase over his table, the one he had walked with in the morning. Dusty as he had come with it, there was a leftover smudge of his hand drawn across of it, driving her insane.
She knew it would have been unbecoming of a secretary to clean it up, aware she had not even spoken to him yet, and for a while that was nothing but a passing thought.
Eventually, two friendly young men brought her a desk and plenty of office supplies she could have at her disposal, like Mr. Alcántara had promised. They left soon after that, though she would get to see them a little later when people wanted to meet her for a little during lunch break. With a short and polite welcome, she everyone’s efforts to greet her as a new coworker, though some were somewhat unhappy with what they perceived to be a cold exterior.
Maybe they had a set expectation of what an American was like, she curiously pondered. With everything set and done, she rested her head on her table. Not the type to complain about silence, she was not necessarily bored, just a bit disappointed there was nothing for her to do yet.
Her family had struck gold, selectively hired by the wealthy Still family, but out of everyone she had to be picked to be the one sent to Central America. Her pride to be entrusted with the young master was not enough to qualm the feeling that she strayed too far from anything she had gotten used to.
She could find positive joy in how small the city was at least. A tropical hub for developing industry, it was like the mishmash of an old west metropolis, endearing in a way that appealed to a sense of nostalgia she was not aware she had.
It was also hot. Not unbearably so, but it could make her break a sweat easily. At a certain point she did not want to think about what her master must have been going through, working straight under the sun.
Kassandra stood up. She opened the windows and turned the electrical fan in one of the corners of the room on. Kikimoras were not made to stand that kind of weather, but she had agreed to come, for some reason. A responsibility had been given to her, and there was no way she could ever refuse that. That is how Kikimoras were like. As long as she could take care of it, there was a weird sense of satisfaction in being relied on.
They just had to work with this Mr. Anon Imato person, who she wished they had caught off guard that morning by pure happenstance. He was the man who would overlook her master, so she did not wish to be fooled by appearances, especially since they had been told very good things about him. Truthfully, she wondered what kind of man he was.
Her eyes drifted again to his case. It was still resting over the table, and after she looked at it, it stared right back.
Sure, cleaning the room was probably the job of the janitor, and she would never, ever think about taking that for herself… But the suitcase? He would probably not notice anyway.
Kassandra pushed her chair back and stretched her legs. She had to walk over to Mr. Imato’s table. She had to see the suitcase closer. She had to grab it. As soon as she took the case by the handle, the flimsy bag opened, letting everything roll out into a messy pile of papers. Actually, he would probably notice it, she realized.
Before her sense of shame could act, she fell to a stinging annoyance irradiating from her. She had not made a mistake. She began blaming the man that was not even there at the time. It had to be his fault; he was careless, that was it. He probably had been zoning in and out the entire morning and forgot to close his suitcase, so she was absolved from it all.
Those feelings were not permanent, however, and the next second she apologized to Mr. Imato in her mind for what she had done, including the unjustified slandering. Quickly, she attempted to organize the documents and save them inside the suitcase. Done with that, she finally cleaned it all, patting it and rubbing the feathers in her wrist on it, so that she could swiftly shake the dust off.
Even after going back and taking a seat—or rather, especially after sitting down—she felt extremely embarrassed about the whole thing. She prayed she would not end up humiliating herself, or Monster Lord forbid, her master.
She was still obligated to wait in her place, and the thought of what the two could be doing and whey they would come back gave her something to lose herself in that did not involve stressing over her overreactions. She sighed and felt her eyelids closing, promising to behave better from then on out. Before finally falling asleep, the sound of steps came from door, and she immediately raised her head to receive her boss and his mentor.
“Oh, that’s a nice desk, Kassie,” Forrester said after opening the door and giving her a look.
“It is, sir.” Kassandra gently turned her eyes down to it. She was not too sure about the placing, but it was serviceable. Returning her attention at him, she asked “Did you manage to see all of the plantations?”
“We saw a big part, yes,” Forrester entered the room and faced towards his own desk. “Mr. Anon is an excellent guide.”
Forrester gave a thumbs up, while Anon had barely set foot into the room. He had been consumed by the exhaustion, and his steps were short and slow, dragging him across the floor. He was not sure his name had actually been said at all, and awkwardly walked between them without anything to say.
“Did you have anything to eat?” Forrester asked his secretary.
“Oh, no, master, I did not move from here at all.”
“Well, then, it should be about time for that, then. Mr. Anon and I couldn’t get anything yet, come with us.” Leaving his suitcase behind over his desk, Forrester turned around and invited her out of the room.
Kassandra stood up as her boss walked through the door, and as she did, Anon whispered “I am not going…”
“Pardon?” Kassandra responded, hearing his voice.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing. I’m not going right now…” he cleared up. He leaned forward over the table, half-way done going to his chair but not quite there yet.
“I see. I will tell Mr. Forrester then.” Kassandra replied.
However, as she was about to leave, she witnessed him open his suitcase, which brought a quiet “Eep!” sound out of her. Anon turned around. As the two of them looked at one another, he could not help but notice a slight blush in her face. She broke their eye contact, and Anon kept ignorant to her embarrassment. He lingered on her image for some more, but she avoided his eyes, as if suppressing a frown.
Anon shifted his attention back to his bag after that. “Is this my case?” Kassandra thought he would ask. It made her nervous, and she prepared herself to apologize and bow down for forgiveness once he noticed.
He did notice something. When Anon checked inside, everything was in disarray, mixed up in different places. The strange occurrence confused him, and he turned back again just to see Ms. Resnick’s face. She was looking away.
As Mr. Imato took every single file out, Kassandra heard him spread them all on the table, making a mess of the pages she had rearranged. The flipping sound of paper being moved, turned around and stacked drilled her shame right into her ears, and she gulped as she decided to end it at once.
“Mister, I’m so…”
“Ms. Resnick, could you please give this to Mr. Forrester for me?” Anon reached out a document to her.
Kassandra paused. She leaned back and blinked. Extending one of his arms to her, Anon offered her the hand out while looking to the other side.
“I almost couldn’t find it, but here it is. Sorry, now that you’re here, please remind him to read it carefully.”
Somehow, Kassandra felt even more embarrassed. To think she had been worrying about nothing drained her of all inspiration as a disappointed prosecutor.
“I will, mister. Thanks.” She grabbed the pages and held them with both her hands, before bowing down in a nod to accept her first job to do.
“Oh, no. Thank you. I must apologize we left you here all day by yourself,” Anon replied at gesture, overwhelmed by it. He covered his mouth, too nervous to know how to engage with someone he knew nothing about. “It must have been very boring. I hope you can overlook that for now at least.”
Kassandra raised her head and denied with a simple movement. “It is okay, mister. I understand.” She did not mind by then, but her detached mannerisms from it proved it difficult for Anon to know for certain.
“No, I m—I mean, it was rude from us to leave after barely saying anything to you, and it’s always such a mess with me… I thought everything was ready, and still there’s so much to clean up,” Anon replied sheepishly, almost to himself, but his words carried something that he could not keep locked up. “So it’s… Well, thank you… for your patience.”
Kassandra would have walked away, but she looked at him. He stumbled a bit with the idea, and still however she was surprised by his responsiveness; he was not at all oblivious. His trembling face and shrinking body posture had hidden away the fact that he was thinking about it. He was actually quite thoughtful.
“I—You’re welcome, mister,” she spurted out.
Bowing again, this time to excuse herself, she headed to the door. The last thing she saw as she left the room was Mr. Imato, stacking and saving files in drawers near his desk. She could feel a little more confident about him. Maybe—she allowed herself to think—she could trust her master with him, as eccentric and anxious as he came across. Discussing the matter seriously with Mr. Forrester could only be useful to seal her trust for certain.
“He’s very good at his job, that I can tell,” Forrester said. “Though he might be a little lazy, probably.”
Kassandra and Forrester sat inside a restaurant, each eating from their own plate a different order. They tried to get some local food, but their ideas differed a little and they ended up having enchiladas in one side and a regular steak in the other. With how spicy meals could be in that side of the continent, they had to be careful not to risk it too much.
“Lazy? What do you mean, master?” Kassandra asked. She worried there could still be some concerns about the man they were entrusted to.
“He will leave me to go do the supervising by myself after a few days. I think he does not like to get out from his office often, but it’s ok, he seems to have everything under control.”
“Are you sure that is just not how the position is meant to be, master? You might have gotten yourself involved back into a bureaucratic position.”
“No, it’s not supposed to be like that. I asked for a chance to be in on the field. But it’s ok, he seems complacent with giving me that free range for myself. For that I’m grateful.”
“Maybe he saw your smile, master, and thought it would be wrong to put a stop to such a gleeful, spoiled child,” Kassandra teased him.
“It’s a win-win anyway,” Forrester gloated. “I could not care, I’m glad he is dependable. When I saw him in the morning, I thought we were out of luck.”
Kassandra too wondered what that had been about. They had showed themselves without previous notice, which was an understandable issue, but the look he had was too deplorable to be taken as a something within the ordinary.
“Maybe he had a fight with his wife, I don’t know,” Forrester proposed.
Kassandra took a bite from her enchilada, munched it slowly and covered her mouth before saying “Wife? What do you mean?”
“Mr. Anon is married. I think I remember something like that being mentioned today in the field,” he said.
Kassandra finished her plate and wiped her mouth, thinking about it. “I wonder, she must be a human woman, then.”
Later in their lunch break, the two foreigners decided it was time to go back. The sun was dimming out a little already, early into the afternoon. The sky had turned a gentler orange, and they wanted to take out as much as they could from their first day working in the office with Mr. Anon Imato.
Going through the hallway, Forrester was the first one to dare head into the room, only to be driven out in a flash. Kassandra tilted her head, urging to know what happened. Forrester was blocking the path, obstructing the entrance unconsciously after he changed his mind about returning inside.
“I think this is enough for today. Mr. Anon was tired when he arrived, but he mentored me without any hesitation through the entire morning and into the afternoon,” he said.
“He told you we could leave now, master?”
“No, he’s asleep,” Forrester said, taking the handle once more and opening the door just barely until it creaked. Kassandra leaned in to look through the narrow view, getting to see Anon on the other side of the room.
He was there, laying his head over the table, resting it on his arms. He was deep asleep, pulling long, tired breaths in a snore-less, peaceful display. In contrast with his frantic, hurried self they encountered with, this Mr. Imato had all his defenses down, relaxed by the slow rhythm of an empty room.
Forrester closed the door again, just before Kassandra gave a step forward, curiously pushing inside.
“Wait, do you still want to enter?” He asked.
“I, uh… We would be leaving something inside, master. Please wait for me here,” she answered.
With the reasonable excuse, Kassandra entered the office, closing the door behind her to the hallway. The lights were all off, and the only source of light came from the window she had opened herself. The soft rays warmed the of the room in a layered pattern, covering some of Anon’s back against the placid darkness.
Forrester’s suitcase still laid over his desk, an important object almost forgotten in the moment; Kassandra reached for it to carry on her shoulder. The bad was not heavy in any way for her, but she stood straight with a firm grip on it as she found confidence being of service.
She then looked to the side, and there she stared at Anon, watching the man sleep. Kassandra did not need to walk up to him, they were already close. He was napping, so comfortable in his little office like he had no better place to be. With half his face hidden between his arms, he covered himself up as if the weather was too cold for him. She could see the bags under his eyes and the wrinkles on his shirt, but most importantly, she could see he had no ring on his finger.
“How careless,” she said, leaning close to him, close enough she could take a sniff. “What are you trying so hard to hide with that smell?”
Monstergirls could smell when a man was claimed by one of them. That was a little piece of trivia most people had learned in two years. They could not smell if a man was married to a human woman, though, and that was a common misconception. They were unable to tell between a single man and one married to a human woman. Either way, that sort of confusion was easily settled, and never had Kassandra encountered a man so obviously absorbed with hiding his scent like that, so much so that it piqued her interest.
If he did not like going outside, then he should have had no worries about being bitten by mosquitoes. That stench had been there all since he came in the morning, when they caught him by surprise. It was almost adorable, she thought, how thoughtless he had been about that single detail. When she first saw him, he looked like he was suffocating, like he desperately needed to gasp for some air. How much of that was because they had caught him off guard and how much of that was truly him?
She leaned back and walked outside, giving him one last glance, to finally leave him alone to a peaceful rest. A busy man needed sleep, and he was always looking for something to keep himself busy.
