Return Route

She first met Log when she was about to enter high school.

Log had known about her existence since shortly after she was born. Her mother had contacted him after their relationship ended and demanded a DNA test.

The result confirmed what Echo had already suspected.

But until that day, he had never seen his daughter in person.

For Rutile, he had existed mostly as information.

Her father.

A man somewhere outside the resort.

Someone her mother occasionally mentioned without affection.

She had never formed an image of him.

When he came to pick her up, he was remarkably quiet.

Surprisingly ordinary.

And strangely familiar.

Well dressed.

Not flashy.

He wasn’t the type to immediately catch anyone’s eye, but he was slender, with refined, well-defined features.

He looked less like a father than someone she might have passed in the lobby of an expensive office building.

His eyes.

The way he looked at things before deciding whether they were worth responding to.

She stared at him long enough that he noticed.

“What?”

“You look like me.”

Log looked at her face for a moment.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Her mother had already decided the schedule.

She would attend school near Log.

After graduation, or university at the latest, she would return to the resort.

That was how it had been explained.

Not discussed.

Explained.

Mother had instructed Log to cover Rutile’s living expenses and tuition while she attended school.

She had also given Log two instructions.

Make sure Rutile learned to take care of herself.

And keep an eye on the people she spent time with, especially any boys who might cause trouble.

He understood that this was his responsibility.

Privately, though, he thought it sounded like a hassle.

He arranged a modest apartment for her, the sort typically rented by students living on their own.

She packed her things.

Log did not ask many questions.

On the first evening, he showed her the room.

“If you need anything, tell me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

“What’s within reason?”

“We’ll find out.”

She moved in.

The first few months were uneventful.

Gradually, however, Rutile began spending more nights at Log’s much more luxurious apartment.

There were plenty of spare rooms, so accommodating her was hardly a problem.

Eventually, she stopped going back to her own apartment altogether.

One evening, Log finally asked:

“Why don’t you ever go back to your own place?”

“I’m terrible at cooking. I’ve never had to do it before. If I stay here, meals just appear. Besides, aren’t you worried about me living alone?”

Log considered that.

What the hell has that old woman been teaching her?

He paused.

Right. She always had someone else doing everything for her, too.

Log sighed.

“Guess I’ll have to teach you a few things myself. Bit by bit. Someone has to turn you into a functioning adult.”

“I really don’t want to do chores.”

“I know you hate housework, but someone’s gotta do it.”

“Then maybe I should go back to my own place.”

“You’d have to do everything yourself there.”

“My apartment’s tiny. Barely gets any sunlight. And there are these guys who keep trying to follow me home, or hanging around outside waiting for me. It’s so annoying.”

Log looked at her.

“And I have to eat out every day, which gets expensive. So I make those guys pay for my meals. I wouldn’t mind if they were good-looking, but they’re not.”

“...”

“Oh, but there was this one guy who said I could move in with him. That’s not a bad option, I guess. Anyway, I just can’t relax at my place.”

Log understood immediately.

Absolutely not.

That bastard knows exactly what he's doing. Get her to move in, enjoy all the benefits, and conveniently avoid taking any responsibility. The exact same trick I used.

If that old hag finds out her daughter's moved in with some creep after barely a month on her own, she'll kill me for real this time.

“I’ll clear out one of the rooms. You can use that.”

“Really?”

“Keep your apartment, though. The old hag’s going to make a fuss... I mean, your mother will worry if you give it up. We can use it for storage.”

Rutile considered that.

“...Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Thought so. It’s easier for me to keep track of you this way, too.”

“You’re in charge of dinner, Dad.”

Log sighed.

“Oh, and one more thing. Ten o’clock curfew.”

“What? I’m not a child.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“You need to maintain a proper daily routine. Regular hours. A healthy lifestyle.”

Rutile stared at him.

“Since when do you care about that?”

“Since you moved in.”

And that settled it.

Some time later, Rutile was checking the household supplies when she noticed several unfamiliar items neatly arranged in the storage cabinet.

Extra toiletries. Cleaning products. Replacement batteries. Even spare light bulbs.

She looked toward the kitchen.

“You notice things I wouldn’t even think to check. Have you lived with a woman before?”

“Yeah, but that’s not why.”

“Then why?”

“I used to handle this kind of stuff for my first boss.”

Rutile looked surprised.

“Your first boss?”

“Yeah. Supplies, errands, maintenance, that sort of thing. Nobody really wanted to do it, but it’s important work. Someone has to make sure everything keeps running.”

“I didn’t picture you doing that.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing every day?”

Log returned to what he was doing.

“My boss was a woman. Her partner was a woman, too. She owned a massage studio she was particularly fond of and spent a lot of time there.”

“A massage studio?”

“Yeah. And most of the regulars were old ladies. The place was full of them.”

Rutile laughed.

“What kind of workplace was that?”

“A perfectly normal one. Just a lot of demanding old women.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It could be. Keeping that place supplied was a job in itself. Towels, toiletries, drinks, things for the treatment rooms. And someone always wanted something specific.”

Rutile looked back at the cabinet.

“So that’s why you notice every little thing.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s easier to replace something before you run out.”

Log glanced toward the kitchen counter.

“By the way, we’re almost out of dish soap. Come with me next time we stock up. I’ll show you what to look for.”

Rutile stared at him.

“Are you trying to discipline me?”

For a while, she assumed that fathers simply took care of the housework.

Log, for his part, assumed this was simply what having a daughter was like.

When university began, she interned at Log’s company.

When the internship ended, she stayed.

When the semester ended, she stayed.

When the year ended, she stayed.

Her mother sent increasingly direct messages.

When are you coming back?

Your room is still prepared.

There are things you need to learn here.

Eventually:

You were supposed to return.

She showed one of them to Log.

He read it.

“You want to go?”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

That was all.

She never returned.

It wasn’t that she disliked the resort.

Her mother had always protected her. Her education had been excellent. She had never lacked anything.

But life here was different.

There were more opportunities, more people, and more things to do.

She enjoyed working at Log’s company. School had introduced her to an entirely different world.

And frankly, the boys were much better-looking.

After getting used to all that, the thought of returning to the resort simply wasn’t appealing.

She could visit her mother whenever she wanted.

There was no reason to move back.

So she stayed with Log.

After that, joining his company permanently was a natural progression.

They talked about work every day.

One day, Rutile brought up an employee who had recently left.

“Do you know where that employee went?”

Log replied without looking away from his laptop.

The terms Pedigree Chart and L3F appeared on the screen, surrounded by rows of dates, figures, and detailed numerical records. What they represented was anyone’s guess.

“Where?”

“That company. The one we’re competing with.”

“Oh, really?”

“He was a jerk from the day I joined. Every time I accomplished something, he’d casually say something like, ‘Great work. Of course, it’s not really your own achievement, is it?’ Always with a smile.”

“Sounds unpleasant.”

“It was! I was glad to see him go. Good riddance. But then he goes and joins our competitor? That makes it even more annoying.”

“That sort of thing happens all the time. Not just to you.”

“There could be trade secret issues, but that’s not even what bothers me. It just pisses me off.”

“Well, people are free to choose where they work. These days, moving to a competitor isn’t unusual.”

“That’s not the point. It’s how I feel about it.”

“I did something similar myself. Switched sides and teamed up with your mother without even telling my first boss. Working directly with someone higher up was more profitable, you see. After that, those two stopped getting along. That’s how this company got started.”

Rutile stared at him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? Same principle.”

“That’s not even remotely the same thing! You practically betrayed your entire organization!”

“More or less. Well, it worked out.”

“For you!”

“Yes.”

No wonder Mom dumped him. What an asshole…

“What did your first boss do when you betrayed her?”

“Nothing, really. Your mother probably worked something out with her at the top. I figured she would.”

“I feel sorry for your first boss. What’s she doing now?”

“I heard she passed away three years ago.”