It took thirty-four minutes for Miach to arrive, five for Naaza to explain the situation to him, and precisely twelve seconds for me to be ushered into the backrooms of the pharmacy and sat at a table by an overly enthusiastic god.
Miach was a handsome man with blue hair, and I'll leave it at that. If I had to describe someone, it would be Naaza. She was much more pleasing to the eyes. Sure, she was head over heels for Miach from what I remembered, and I wasn't interested at all, but I could still appreciate beauty when I saw it.
For the next half an hour, I basically repeated everything I'd already told the chientrope — only this time in front of a living lie detector. It was almost funny how my admission of being homeless and having no family or friends "I can rely on" hit the god right in the heart. Naaza had to physically stop him from applying the Falna on me right then and there.
And it's not like I'd even tried that hard. I didn't play the pity card too much — just enough for them to be able to create their own narrative around me despite my clear "I don't want to talk about my family, my previous location, or my past overly much."
Now, if I were in their shoes, that alone would've been a red flag the size of Babel. No way in hell would I allow someone as shady as me anywhere near my home. But then again, I didn't have a living lie detector.
----------------------------------------------
"Are you a criminal?" Naaza asked.
"No."
Miach confirmed it with a soft hum.
"Were you a criminal at any point in the past?"
"No."
"Do you think your presence here would hurt the Miach Familia in any way?"
"Not as far as I'm aware, no"
And so it went. She worked around my refusals, probing for anything that might trip me up. Temperament, moral values, whether I harbored ill intent toward them, whether this was all some ploy to sabotage the Miach Familia.
Miach himself looked uncomfortable with the way Naaza pressed me, but I appreciated her professionalism. It showed awareness of their own situation.
Objectively speaking, joining them wasn't the optimal choice, at least for a normal adventurer. I could've squeezed myself into a mid-sized familia if I really tried — bootlicking, smiling, plus some ass-kissing and I might even be able to join the Apollo familia. But for what? A few hand-me-downs and the privilege of being supervised in the Dungeon? Shitty people I would be forced to interact with on a daily basis? Maybe even dealing with a capricious god or goddess who'd treat me like a pet project? No thanks.
Miach was the better option. I'd get to learn potioneering and combat, have a roof over my head, and stay under the radar. Maybe even get to interact with the Takemikazuchi Familia or Bell when he finally rolled around, if I ever felt like it.
And if I wanted to leave eventually, I just would. Nobody would stop me. Simple as that.
Another hour passed like that. I kept my story straight, every answer short and impossible to misinterpret. Naaza, in turn, kept trying to find an edge, a crack, a point of contradiction. The air grew heavy with the unspoken tension between her suspicion and Miach's warmth.
Eventually, Miach sighed — tired or satisfied, I couldn't tell — and stood up to prepare food.
That left Naaza and me alone in what I assumed was their multipurpose room: storage, living space, and bedroom all in one. The shelves were stacked with neatly labeled herbs and potion bottles, the faint scent of crushed mint and alcohol hanging in the air.
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I glance toward the window and notice that night has fallen at some point during the conversation. The sky outside is a deep, ink-blue canvas dotted with silver dust. The stars here are startlingly clear — not the faint, washed-out pinpricks I remembered from Earth, but bright enough to almost sting the eyes.
For a moment, I lose myself in that quiet view. The faint scent of herbs and old wood lingers in the room, the walls breathing softly with the night air that seeps through the cracks in the frame.
I think about making small talk with the girl sitting next to me, but one glance at her posture — straight back, stiff shoulders, ears tilted slightly backward — tells me the interrogation isn't over yet.
"All right," she says at last, voice careful, "I only have two more questions for you…"
Hah. Knew it.
"What would you do if we didn't accept you into this familia?"
I blink. "Umm, shouldn't we wait for Lord Miach to return so that—"
"STOP WITH THE 'LORD!' IT'S ONLY MIACH!" the god shouts from the adjacent room, loud enough to make both of us flinch. Something clatters — maybe a spoon against a pot.
"Shouldn't we wait for Only Miach to come back, then?" I correct dryly.
Naaza doesn't smile, but her tail twitches once, betraying the effort it takes to keep a straight face.
"This isn't something that I need to know," she says, folding her hand and her prosthetic on the table. "Feel free to lie or to not answer. This is just me being curious."
With that look in your eyes? Yeah, sure.
"Well," I say, "I appreciate the honesty, but I feel no need to hide it. My backup plan is joining the Hestia Familia."
"OHH, LITTLE HESTIA!" Miach shouts again, clearly eavesdropping. This time, I don't even twitch.
Naaza blinks, caught between irritation and amusement. "I think Lord—" she stops herself, almost rolling her eyes, "Miach mentioned a goddess with that name living somewhere nearby. She's freshly descended, isn't she? I don't think she has a familia to speak of."
"Well," I say evenly, "I'm aware of my current lack of value as an adventurer, but I'm confident that I'll be able to sustain myself from the moment I get a Falna. As such, my only real requirement for a familia is that there's a god to bestow and update said Falna. Anything beyond that is a luxury."
"I see…" she murmurs, eyes half-lidded. "I think I understand. Your proposal sounds like charity toward our familia, at least to my ears — but to you, it's just an equivalent trade."
Her gaze drifts toward the table as she mulls it over. Silence settles between us — not awkward, just quiet. I can hear the faint bubbling of whatever Miach is cooking in the other room, the distant hum of nocturnal insects through the open window.
I feel relaxed. There's no poisoned apple here. If anything, it's a golden one. They're simply lucky they fit my current needs. The benefits they'll get from me sticking around are just side effects of me following my own plans.
"All right," she says finally, "and for my last question: if you join, do you have any intention of leaving the familia in the near future?"
"No," I reply. "Barring exceptional, life-altering circumstances, I don't see myself leaving in the next few months. And even if I do, I'll make sure my departure doesn't leave you in a worse position than before I joined."
I speak slowly, meeting her purple eyes straight on. There's a flicker of surprise there — not at the words, but the steadiness. She opens her mouth, probably thinking to call Miach to validate my claim, but then stops. Instead, she nods once, curtly.
The silence breaks with a soft humming as Miach pushes the door open with his leg, balancing three bowls of steaming soup in his hands. It smells herbal, earthy, with the faint bitterness of medicinal roots. He sets the bowls down on the worn wooden table and takes his seat, grinning all the while.
"Well, Naaza? Are you satisfied with our new familia member?" he asks, voice light but smug.
Naaza exhales, rubbing at her face with one hand, the tip of her tail flicking once in resignation. Then she grabs a spoon and points it at me.
"I suppose… welcome to the Miach Familia."
"Glad to be here."
"HAHAHA! FINALLY, A NEW CHILD HAS JOINED MY FAMILIA!"
"DON'T RATTLE THE TABLE, YOU'LL SPILL THE SOUP!" Naaza barks, already leaning forward to steady the bowls.
I let myself laugh, quietly at first, then more freely as Miach continues to grin like a proud fool. The air feels lighter now.
I doubt I'll ever see them as family. But friends?
Yeah. Why the hell not.