My calculus for going home with Hohemi didn't exist. It happened. I said the words. Now, I live with them. However, on the way to her place squeezing through the cracks of Artist's Mount, I managed to come up with good reasons. My scarf is wild. My loafers aren't in line either. My abilities aren't enough to enforce my rules on reality. Giving up is a favorable option, but in that moment of panic, I said those words to Hohemi. It wasn't conscious choice. From the moment I entered this world, it's been one strange turn after the next.

Having my heart torn out and Negi half killed by Yarko gave me some perspective on my situation. It takes guts to reflect. If I didn't heal Negi myself, he'd be dead. Yarko did 9999 damage. I could have forced Dojiko to bear whatever burden healing a Wilder would have brought on her. She was crying. So. I couldn't accept that.

Reviewing my memories of what happened since I came to Nephilz, I felt lost. I've already sent the city spinning into chaos. And, I didn't even do much. Since I've been here I was fumbling about after losing my memory, approached a moon elf with a love letter, met Kirei. It's all been one stumbling to the next.

Now, the No Life King is dead, killed by Niji, Yarko, or both. That was on my order. A flippant desire to take over the city, I said it once and they actually listened. Rebellious or loyal, I can't pin down any of my clothes. My trust is thinner than their fabric. Stehy's serious, Niji's living in another world that exists in her head, and Yarko is a brute. Homunculi are running rampant all over Nephilz. The dwarves are retreating, left by the rest of the city to fend for themselves. There has been death.

And it's all because I have little idea what I'm doing. If I wanted to tentacle beam the city and accept that mass murder for the sake of my selfish desires is part of being an adult, there wouldn't be a problem. Well, if I had a clear idea of what I wanted, I wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

The memories of Heaven(pillow rat tree) became ever more rosy in my head. Glitters, bubbles, and sparkles against a brightly colored background. Fatness and fur. Why did I leave?

And, what do I want to do, about all this? I haven't decided. No, I don't want to decide. If I close my eyes and pretend it's not my problem, it won't be. After all, I don't think I need to call out my clothes. And if it gets too unsavory, I could ditch them. Though, I felt heartless thinking of ditching my clothes. Is it in my nature to dump people the moment they are more trouble than they are worth? Aah, it stings because it's true. Such is the life of an internet loner, even in another world my murige(impossible game) mindset is stuck.

And to make it worse, I'd need new shoes. And be down two lolis.

When we got to Hohemi's 'boutique' she wouldn't stop fussing over my wound. Exploring it with her hands, she was in joyful awe of how I had no internal organs. I didn't check, but Hohemi told me in great detail how I don't have blood vessels, or muscle tissue. There's a heart. She was confused about the shape, saying, "I've seen a lot of corpses, never a heart this cute. Even your heart is cute? How is this fair? What, when you barf does it come out like a rainbow?"

I haven't barfed yet. I'm sure it's a rainbow though. I have faith. If Aqua from Konosuba can barf rainbows, then so can I. Not that I'm in a hurry to check. Eventually after much prodding and worrying over my body, being very close with a flushed face, I gave in.

She knit up my wound with some string. Explored my mana with her Strand. I decided to let the question of how she knew such a spell slide for now. Curiosity is a hell of drug, especially when it's questions about someone who you might be better off not knowing about. Hohemi feels like she fits in that category. I have the sense that the knowledge that it's dangerous to know more about her inspires me to ask her.

Lounging around her suspiciously drab 'botique' in the early morning hours, picking at my sewn up chest under the shirt Hohemi 'loaned' me, I decided to ask her about a few things. I need some structure here. Someone to bounce ideas off of. Maybe I'll learn something by talking to her, that was my thinking.

Common sense.

The phrase strikes fear into my heart. The common sense of a commoner in this world differs from mine entirely. I knew a few here and there details from Kirei's Tome about this world, but because of the rules of magic here it wasn't helping me much.

I have no idea what I need or what I want. It's all nebulous on nebulous. Clarity is a cloud you upload something to, and I don't know what.

My grumbling morning progressed like that until I heard sounds from the shop below. Inside Hohemi's boutique there was a drab entry room with an omnious door, and a drab upstairs with one bed and some cooking implements and food.

I figured a crime lord or whatever Hohemi is, leader of the Assassin's Guild? Would have a better place. Guess not.

Venturing down the stairs, I caught a sight of the open door below. A huge factory floor, shapes moving about, lots of noise. Needles? Sounded similar to a typewriter. Sewing, so, she did make that tentacle dress so she's a clothier? I snuck towards the door, peaking my head in to take a look.

A wide expanse opened up. A cavern. Holes and tunnels in the rock dotted the horizon of my sight, and in the middle were rows and rows of worktables. At each table varied creatures worked pieces of cloth. Dwarves, Low Elves, Homunculi, even Hybrids. I knew it was a Hybrid because bunny ears, there was no other way I could have guessed. The somber looks on their faces as they busied themselves in wage slavery made me think of the part time job I used to have. I pray I'll never have to get a real job as long as I live.

Hohemi stalked around them, hunched over. I swear I saw a whip in her hands, but no, it was her long pointed dagger. She stabbed some Homunculi a few times when it looked like it was staring off into space. The Homunculi got back to work without complaint.

Is this a sweatshop? And, there's so much volume of clothing. It's piling up in boxes, then someone comes and carries them off. I got scared. I don't want to work. Not that I thought Hohemi would put me to work. If that were to happen that I imagined violently resist to gain freedom.

Hohemi made her way through the rows, catching my line of sight. The look on her face scared me. I dashed a little to the door, thinking of leaving, but the thought of heading back out through Artist's Mount without even a goodbye after last night felt cold and rude. She did stitch my chest up. That was nice of her.

I retreated back upstairs and waited, taking stock of the 'food.' It looked like powder. There was water too. Why is there no solid food here?

Hohemi's hand slid across one of my shoulders as she made her way to the bed. She laid back, staring at her own ceiling, pretending I didn't exist. I, in a rare burst of curiosity and courage, had to ask.

"You eat this?"

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"I'm used to it."

"You can afford better, right? You're rich, right?"

Hohemi's arm layered over her eyes. "Ugh. I don't want to talk about it."

I spied her out of the corner of my eye as I milled through the powder. Hohemi instructed me on the preparation of her food. Add water. This is cooking with a difficulty level I can handle. 

I came and sat by her beside, offering her a bowl of gruel. She looked pale, her forehead shined. Hohemi snatched the bowl from me and drained it. Then, she lobbed the bowl across the room to a pile of similar bowls. The smell wafting from them was a little much for me, so I opened a window in her room. 

The window didn't fold out. It cracked outward a little. A small square vista into the blue sky above, with the Moon City visible even in daylight. That's all I got. The smell in the room didn't change.

"This is like a jail."

"Jail?" Hohemi groaned.

"There's jails in this world, right?"

Hohemi shifted one of her arms and levered it towards me. "Alien." 

"It's not like you're wrong. Where I'm from, jails are where people who did what society didn't want them to do go. They look like Artist's Mount, but, a lot more open space for most of them. We have standards even for prisoners where I come from."

I sat down crosslegged in the sunlight, enjoying the warmth of the sunbeams. The view of the sweatshop below weighed on me. Is this girl really a clothing crime overlord? What does she even get out of this— I turned to her.

"D-do you like this sort of thing? Living like this?"

Hohemi gave me a depraved look. Her eyes reminded me of Kirei's and mine for a second, sewage tinted, before some light began to pool into them.

"Survival."

"What? You're pretty healthy. When you ambushed me in that cave, I couldn't move, and that tentacle hoodie you made was finely tailored. Isn't there something else you could be doing with your life?"

I have little idea why I'm interested, but as I squeezed out the words I became bolder. I don't like how this looks. I know that much. Hohemi shifted her body onto her side, staring into my eyes like a cat. 

"I don't want to hear that from some Alien."

"Anime Girl."

Hohemi traced along the floorboard below her bed a single finger.

"The rules of this world don't apply to you. I spent years learning Agility Magic, and I couldn't keep up with you in a straight run. Do you know how painful it was? How many times I almost died? And, that was in the harder days after I got expelled from Healer's Dome..."

She's still bitter about losing the race? And now I know where her Strand Magic came from. Those catacombs under Healer's Dome. To know where Dojiko lived amongst all those unmarked stone doors, how many years did she live there?

"There's still the reward I promised. I could help you find a better way to live. You won't have to torture people to make clothing anymore."

"Uwah~" Hohemi said. A low, groan sigh combo. I felt like I saw it in Anime before, maybe it's Anime Girl's translation taking liberties. "I'm helping them survive. You're new to Nephilz. You don't know. If someone steps out of line, it's death. We don't have 'jails' or 'prisoners.' The commoners on the Commoner Mounts who has to fight every War Season. Those who aren't strong enough to be an Adventurer or offend their tribes, they get chased out to the other Mounts. Most of the time, that means death on sight. Me? I'm a hero."

"A hero?"

"Yeah," Hohemi said, lazily pushing her body flatter into her bed. "I give the outcasts work. Low Elves who have self-esteem. Dwarves who are too smart, too clever. The Homunculi who aren't mindless. The Hybrids who got abandoned and bullied in the barrack houses on the Commoner's Mounts. They all flee to Artist's Mount and seek refuge here. There are four Guilds here. I chose to lead the Dark Clothing Guild. Someone has to make all the clothes in the city. We do that here, and no one bothers us. We survive."

"You didn't have to do this? You chose to become a slavemaster so the outcasts could live?"

Hohemi raised her hand. "Yes." She dropped her hand.

I don't know if I would call that a hero. She's an assassin who half killed Ouji tons of times. She must have needed the money to help her people survive. I know I wouldn't have done the same if I was like her. I'd be out for myself. When I first met her, I thought she was controlling. She has good reason why— but, she also made clothing for a complete stranger. I missed that part, distracted by her breasts and the constriction spell. 

Am I talking to an unexpectedly good person, here? I tilted my head and ran my thoughts. A decision, half baked, popped out.

"You could come with me. Forget about all these people. Make a life for yourself. I'm strong, so, as your reward for helping me out of the sewers, I can free you from all this."

A somber reply came from Hohemi's face stuffed into her pillow.

"I won't abandon the weak. How heartless are you?"

"You don't have to help them. You really enjoy living like this?"

"What are you talking about? This is my charge. If I don't do it, they'll fall apart, get killed by the other guilds of Artist's Mount. We're the weakest guild. Then, the other guilds will make the clothing. There will be a lot of corpses if I walk away. That's mad."

Eh. I suppose I rushed it a little there. I felt the urge to help, but it's her life. It's not like I know her that well either, playing the prince riding in on the white horse right away... was that what I was doing? I read about White Knights on the internet, but I never thought I'd be thinking of myself as one.

This is stupid. In many ways. The cities structure doesn't allow for people to live. There's a War Season where most of the weak or unskilled go to die. If you're good enough at magic you might get a better position. From what Hohemi said about the Dwarves, being smart is cause for exile. Even if you manage to have talent, skill, or build your magic, you can still get killed for stepping out of line.

And the only people stopping the outcasts from dying are people like Hohemi. Maybe conquering Nephilz was a good idea after all. Not that I have much in the way of plans, despite the city already plunged into chaos because I can't control my clothes. It's not my fault. And, it's my fault.

Ergh. I struggled. Magic. How. To. Magic. First things first. There's Hohemi here, I need her help. Got to get her on my side.

"Hohemi. I, uh, killed the No Life King."

"Nah, I saw it, it was a little gir-" "Loli." I interjected. "What's a loli?" I explained in detail. Hohemi's smile returned. She sat up on her bed.

"So. The No Life King is dead. I saw you turn the girl into a shoe and put her on, I decided to ignore it at the time because I thought I was going insane. She's your magical... clothing summon?"

"yep yep I'm weird. This sort of thing happens around me. A lot." I admitted it.

Hohemi's smile expanded. "Well. This is awful. Whoever kills the No Life King becomes the No Life King. You have a shoe who's the No Life King, she's your summon, your magic. To get the Homunculi back under control your shoe would need to assume command as the new No Life King. But, you can't hold a single conversation without her ripping your heart out?"

Truth hurts.

"Actually. That was the first time we talked. She's shy."

Hohemi and I brainstormed for awhile after that, sharing information about my experience with my magic an intensive back and forth drilling session. Anime Girl, Yarko, the tentacle beam. I said it all. Exhausting, but felt necessary. After all, dwarves are dying. Hohemi's surprisingly clever and insightful. I thought as much when I met her, but my mind was on more important things at the time. The breakthrough came when I managed to remember something Yarko said way back, an offhand comment.

"Yume Nasai?" Hohemi said.

"No, it's [Yume Nasai]." 

"I can't do whatever you're doing with your voice when you say it, sounds like you've got an instrument in your throat."

I suppose this is the case. I am an Anime Girl, the sound design is very important. 

Hohemi sat back, propping herself up with her arms. "This Yume Nasai sounds like a place to discuss things. If you went there and talked, you wouldn't risk another fight with Niji. And, I could come too with my Strand."

"You can? But, why would you being there help?"

"Because you're terrible at people."

"ohhhh. yeah." I froze for a second, coming face to face with the obvious. Hohemi has much higher skill with people. This sounds like a reasonable idea. My eyelids narrowed. Too reasonable for someone like me.

"Wait, these are clothes though!" 

"From what you've said about your magic, they are modeled on people. Idealized, artistic versions of people, these anime girls. Plus this Anime Girl you talked about and Stehy seem level headed, Yarko doesn't sound like she's going to disobey you. If we meet all of them at once in Yume Nasai, we can convince Niji to take the role of the No Life King. The war ends, and you get a better handle on your magic."

Hohemi's smile beamed down on me. She looks fresh now. I guess going home with her paid off. Good idea, me, even if it wasn't planned. I sighed.

"Okay. This sounds like it might work. Let's do it. Let's end this war."