"Mmmghhhhhhh—"
With the grand opening fast approaching, Celeste had today invited the Prime Minister in under the banner of an 'Advance Preview Privilege,' and after a full spa experience, subjected him to—that is to say, treated him to—a turn in the massage chair.
"My, what an unusual sound you're making… Is it really that good?"
"No, it's nothing but pain— or maybe it isn't, aahhhhh—"
As a rule, Earth animals other than humans and certain great apes do not sweat across their entire bodies. Whether because Tusita's Antero are similar in this regard, or simply because they are covered in fur despite having humanoid builds, they generally perspire only from their palms, the soles of their feet, and the tips of their noses—meaning body odour and the like are rarely a concern. Add to that the sheer effort of boiling large quantities of water, plus the ordeal of drying a full coat of sopping wet fur afterward, and it becomes clear why bathing had never become a regular habit, and spa culture had never had occasion to develop.
Celeste still had vivid memories of the last time Daharat had visited the apartment back on Earth—it had been fine enough to put him in the shower to sober up, but attempting to dry his entire coat with a hair dryer had been, in a word, an ordeal. That said, a resort hotel without proper bathing facilities was simply out of the question—a very Japanese sensibility, and one Celeste had no intention of compromising on.
The solution had come in the form of a box-type pet dryer.
The Amashiro household cats had been advised by their vet to avoid baths for health reasons, and since indoor cats apparently manage perfectly well without them, Celeste had largely filed such devices away under oh, those exist, do they—but when it came time to devise a spa for Antero guests, the humble pet dryer turned out to be nothing less than the key to victory.
If saunas were out—they'd only leave paws and feet dripping in a sweltering box—then surely the space could just as well be filled with dryer units instead. The idea came to Celeste in a flash, and when it was put to the test (with the Piglet hotel staff and the Alabaster Hall household all drafted in as guinea pigs), the results were, simply put, a resounding success. Multiple units were installed throughout the spa, with one placed in each guest room as well.
…Though it must be mentioned—as a separate matter entirely—that while the short-coated Roderick brothers had emerged from the test without incident, Reinbardt, whose coat ran considerably longer, had exited the dryer with every last hair floating magnificently away from his body. This had caused the entire assembled company to dissolve into helpless laughter, the Roderick brothers to receive a thorough thumping, and the thoroughly dejected Reinbardt to require a full brushing before he could be considered restored to working order. All of which, of course, is neither here nor there.
"A giant Pomeranian…"
"My lord—!"
Celeste found it rather entertaining to see the typically composed and unflappable Reinbardt come so thoroughly undone—that is all that need be said on the matter.
At any rate, the staff-and-servant test had yielded the following findings:
- Bathing is inherently pleasant; it's simply the preparation and cleanup that have kept it from becoming habit
- Earth-made brushes capable of collecting shed fur received high praise
- Could the dryer boxes please have curtains installed, so one may brush out any floating fur before emerging without being seen by anyone
"This last one is Reinbardt's, isn't it."
"My lord."
With this survey data in hand, pre-opening preparations continued to proceed apace.
"Still, though—you were rather adorable. Giant Pomeranian."
"I will be cross!"
And so it was that, following all manner of such incidents, the Prime Minister—a guest of the most distinguished standing—had found himself ushered in for what Celeste privately thought of as an experiment… or rather, a pre-opening inspection.
"I feel as though I just heard something rather impure running through your head…"
"Now, whatever could you mean?"
"…Well. I had rather assumed I would never warm to baths, but I must say, the experience here is something else entirely. Whether it's that shampoo of yours—my coat feels positively silky."
"High praise from a Prime Minister with such discerning tastes. It is, in essence, a liquid soap for fur care—effective against tangles and matting, and excellent for bringing out a healthy sheen. The ladies in particular have taken to it tremendously."
"Ha. Plenty of men who fuss over their coats and sheen too, you know."
"The Finance Minister, for instance."
"Can't argue with that."
They shared a good laugh at that. The Prime Minister narrowed his eyes at Celeste, still smiling.
"And I take it you intend to sell all of this?"
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"Even if I didn't, I suspect the ladies would be at my door in tears begging me to."
"Ha, quite so. I'd like to get some for my wife—might I purchase a set before it goes on sale?"
"Actually, I've already had one set put aside. Consider it a token of appreciation for your participation in today's inspection."
Celeste gestured, and a waiting Piglet attendant stepped forward bearing a neatly prepared gift box.
The Prime Minister watched all this with narrowed, somewhat exasperated eyes.
"You're far too clever for your own good."
"Better than being oblivious."
"Be that as it may—my wife will absolutely give me an earful when she hears about this. 'You went to a place like that alone?' she'll say."
"Then by all means, do bring her along when we open. We look forward to welcoming you both."
"Ha—knowing her, she'll be going on her own plenty often enough. I'm more worried about what it'll do to our finances."
"That's a fair point… I suppose I ought to put together a membership discount scheme."
—Now that was something Celeste hadn't thought of until just now.
'If I introduce membership tiers with exclusive privileges per tier, nobles will fall over themselves to join…'
"Did you say something?"
"Ah—no. Will you be returning to the palace via the Gate, or shall I have you driven home?"
"Driven?"
"Ah, we haven't anyone else qualified to drive yet, so this would be just for you. My Retes will take you in the automobile."
At the word automobile, something lit up in the Prime Minister's eyes.
"I'll take you up on that. I've been wanting to try one of those for some time—you wouldn't consider selling it, would you?"
"I'd love nothing more, but we've a long road ahead before that's possible. The electrical grid would need to come first."
"Couldn't you simply sell it alongside that solar power contraption of yours? Plenty of people saw the lighting at your estate and have been asking after it ever since."
It wasn't as though the thought hadn't crossed Celeste's mind.
"That's certainly one option—but if the charge ran out while someone was out and about, they'd simply be stranded on the road. That's actually the problem I'm up against; my own automobile can't travel very far from the capital as it is. As long as I'm in it, I can just Gate back to the estate before it runs dry—but anyone else…"
"Ah, that would be a rather significant inconvenience, yes. …Still—laying down an electrical grid, is it. You're plotting something, aren't you."
The Prime Minister narrowed his eyes again, this time with a sly smile.
"It's still very much a dream at this stage."
"If it goes well, the Finance Minister may well be making nocturnal visits to your bedchamber."
"I would ask you to spare me that, of all things!"
Chatting in this vein, they made their way out through the spa entrance to find Celeste's Rolls-Royce and Retes waiting.
"Take the Prime Minister home for me. You remember where his estate is?"
"Yes, sir. No trouble at all."
The Prime Minister looked at Retes—clad in that driver's suit that was, well, extremely— ahem, that drew the eye regardless of one's tastes—and asked:
"Your groom?"
"Driver, actually. He'll probably make the history books—as Tusita's very first."
Retes kept his expression perfectly composed as he received these words, though he could not quite suppress the faint, happy wag of his tail.
"That Gate of yours, though—it cannot be opened without you present, can it? You're busy enough as it is; you can hardly be stationed here permanently."
"Ah, about that—with the structure Arimecalises prepared, once it's open it can be held open until we choose to close it."
"Truly."
A Gate that cannot function without Celeste is one thing. A Gate that can be operated at will, opened and closed at Celeste's discretion, on a permanent basis—the value of that requires very little imagination. Today it is being used for the thoroughly peaceful commercial purpose of admitting resort guests, but…
"Prime Minister, if you'll step in."
Retes arrived quietly at his side, opening the car door, and the Prime Minister's train of thought was cut short.
"Ah—yes. My apologies."
Settling into the car, sinking back into its deep, plush seat, the Prime Minister found himself thinking, with fresh conviction: Thank goodness that one is on the King's side.
"Well then—we'll send the opening event invitations to you and your wife!"
The person in question, meanwhile, was simply waving cheerfully at the departing car.
After the automobile had passed through the Gate with the Prime Minister aboard, Celeste turned back toward the entrance—only for the spa manager to approach, bearing a document with a respectful bow.
"Owner, your review of the amenities sales plan, if you please."
"Ah, good work. Let's see—package configuration… this is the one I showed the Prime Minister earlier. Well done. But in addition to this, I'd like you to look into diversifying the lineup—differentiation through premiumisation, that sort of thing. And then we'll introduce tiers."
"Tiers, sir?"
The manager had rather assumed that offering high-end products as a matter of course was simply what one did for a noble clientele—and found this talk of tiers somewhat difficult to follow.
"Right. Something I hit on while talking to the Prime Minister earlier. Nobles love privilege, don't they? Simply being able to come here already makes them the privileged class—but what if we created tiers of privilege within that privileged class? The prospect of treatment that's just a little more special than everyone else's… I can't imagine a single noble who wouldn't open their purse for that, can you?"
The manager felt as though something had struck her sharply about the head.
"Remarkable… I must say, I am never anything less than overwhelmed by your business sense, sir."
"Business sense is putting it a bit strongly—I never did much more than school festival stalls, when it came to commerce."
"With respect, I have always fancied myself something of a merchant—but every day in your service, Owner—no, Your Excellency, brings something new to learn."
"Well… let's call it that, then. The opening isn't far off, so do give it your best. The Corporation turned out a great success, and we can hardly afford to be outdone. You can look forward to a bonus, you know."
"Y-yes, sir!"
The manager hurried off with renewed purpose to shore up the plan, and Celeste stood watching her go with the faint ghost of a shiver.
"Owner… Ohhh, that really does have a ring to it. 'Your Excellency,' now—somehow that one never quite feels real… Yes. Yes, indeed."
And so, as the resort hotel's grand opening drew near, invitations went out to noble households across the capital.
Each envelope was a thing of evident luxury—embossed with intricate raised designs, adorned with glittering decorations—and within, on an inner card printed in elegant script, were the following words:
Beyond the sea of clouds, a paradise adrift in the sky.
It is our honour to invite Your Lordship and your household to grace that place.
We humbly ask that you lend it the brilliance of your presence.
P.S. We warmly welcome the attendance of your children.
Regis Celeste Marc Tenger
The nobles who received these long-awaited invitations found themselves tilting their heads at that final line. It was not quite the done thing in Felidelia's social circles—short of an actual debut—to bring children under thirty to social engagements.
And yet: We warmly welcome the attendance of your children.
Whatever could that be about?
With various questions and speculations turning in their minds, the day of the opening dawned.