Chapter 10: Sleep Management is Not an Exclusive Contract

The next morning. What greeted me upon arriving at work was a thick stack of parchment placed right in the dead center of my desk. On the cover, written in beautiful penmanship, was 【Draft for Rest Management Provisional Protocol: Second Revised Edition】. When I flipped it open, it was lined with items like “Definition of Late-Night Activity” and “Recurrence Prevention Measures for Violations” — it read more like military regulations than a lifestyle improvement plan.

Fran’s voice from last night came rushing back: “Then, you should be the one to decide the standard.” Drawing an outside line for someone who can’t stop themselves. I get the logic, but if we adopted this as is, she’d only end up suffocating herself even more.

I gently closed the stack and pulled a fresh piece of parchment toward me. What she needs right now isn’t a perfect set of regulations. It’s the bare minimum guideline — an excuse to say, “It’s okay to stop here.”

【Lifestyle Improvement Rules for Fran (Tentative)】

Late-night training is prohibited.

Do not open grimoires for one hour before bed.

Eat at least two meals a day.

Measure mana only once a day.

Do not leave the bed, even if you can’t sleep.

This should be enough. There’s no point in handing strict rules to someone who will start executing herself the second she fails to follow them perfectly.

“What’re you writing?”

“Whoa!”

A voice suddenly came from beside me, making my shoulders jump. Before I knew it, Lise was standing next to me, peering at my hands. Lately, this person’s presence has been getting harder to sense. I’d really rather she didn’t exercise an A-Rank swordswoman’s stealth capabilities at a consultation desk.

“Morning, Nagi. Lifestyle improvement rules for Fran?”

“It’s the result of downgrading a genius mage’s sleep schedule into human specifications.”

When I answered, Lise compared the single sheet I wrote with the thick stack piled next to it.

“What’s the thick one underneath?”

“The original draft the person in question brought in. It has things like penalties for violations written in it.”

“There are penalties for sleeping? That’s scary. Are you giving that to her?”

“It’s my job.”

Lise puffed out her cheeks slightly in dissatisfaction.

“You could make some rules for me, too, you know.”

“Your rule is ‘increase the amount of time you spend away from the guild’.”

“That’s a no-gooo.”

Shot down in a second.

＊　＊　＊

Before noon. Just as the guild began to be enveloped in its usual hustle and bustle, Fran appeared right on time, clad in her dark blue robes. The tension in her shoulders was slightly looser than yesterday. Probably because an external standard — namely, me — had been established.

“Good morning, Nagi. There were no additional instructions last night, so I operated on my existing judgment. I slept for three hours.”

“That’s short, but it’s a step up from zero. Anyway, this is your standard.”

When I held out the parchment, Fran scanned it with the kind of serious expression one might use to read a high-tier grimoire.

“…This is quite vague. What is the definition of ‘late-night’?”

“Roughly around the time the date changes.”

“A rough estimate will lead to operational inconsistencies. It should be explicitly stated as midnight. What about the quantity and nutritional value of the ‘meals’?”

“Just enough to say you ate. Even just soup is acceptable.”

“These standards are lax.”

Fran looked down at the paper in dissatisfaction. For a perfectionist, rules with this much “wiggle room” are probably stressful in their own way.

“Listen, Fran. This isn’t meant to bind you.”

I lightly tapped the paper with my finger.

“When you can’t give yourself permission to ‘rest,’ you shove the responsibility onto these rules instead. You aren’t slacking off, you’re just following an outside rule. It’s that kind of escape route.”

“…Placing the logic for resting on the outside, I see.”

Fran’s expression softened just a fraction. It was the face of someone touching an “indulgence that meant they didn’t have to decide for themselves” for the very first time.

“Understood. If you recommend it, I will accept it as a treatment protocol. However,”

There it is, the “however.”

“An observation period is necessary for initial implementation. To ensure early detection and correction of errors, a shorter reporting interval is preferable. Therefore, I will report to you sequentially.”

She talks about lifestyle improvement like she’s troubleshooting a system error.

“Understood. Then, just keep the reports brief, please.”

“Yes, leave it to me.”

That line is the most untrustworthy thing of all.

＊　＊　＊

And then, evening. The time when the guild was at its loudest with adventurers returning from requests.

“Nagi. The first interim report.”

Along with an overly clear voice, Fran appeared at the counter clutching a thick notebook.

“I thought the reports were going to be brief?”

“I cut it down considerably.”

That’s after cutting it down? Fran flipped the notebook open and began reading aloud from a page crammed densely with text.

“Bedtime last night: 23:45. Time to fall asleep: 47 minutes. Mid-sleep awakenings: two—”

“Stop.”

I made a T shape with both hands.

“Too detailed. I don’t need the number of mid-sleep awakenings, nor the ten-point evaluation of your fatigue levels.”

“Vague implementation increases the failure rate.”

Fran shot back with a straight face, but eventually her voice grew a little quieter.

“But if you don’t look it over… I won’t know if I’m in the correct state.”

She’s wrapping it in logic, but underneath it all is a desperate SOS crying out, “I can’t decide for myself, so I need you to confirm it.”

“…Alright, I’ll accept the reports. But keep the details a little rougher.”

“I will make the effort.”

Just as Fran closed her notebook, a low, reproachful voice flew in from the standard forty-five-degree angle.

“…What’s that?”

It was Lise. Cheeks puffed out, she was in a noticeably foul mood.

“Why is she reporting to Nagi in such detail?”

“It’s a treatment progress report. My rest management is currently operating under Nagi’s standards. Therefore, sharing information is necessary.”

Before I could stop her, Fran answered with a cool expression.

“What do you mean ‘necessary’?! Isn’t that basically like an exclusive contract?!”

Lise tightly grabbed my sleeve. Squeeze.

“It’s not exclusive.”

“But Nagi is even involved in your bedtime!”

“It’s assistance.”

Fran piled onto my strained defense.

“At the very least, my purpose is much clearer than someone who just hangs around from morning till night.”

“I was just giving him cute little reports like ‘I drank water’ and stuff?!”

“Your self-evaluation is far too high.”

“Fran, don’t provoke her. And Lise, don’t touch your sword.”

The surrounding adventurers started looking our way with amused expressions, so I let out a deep breath and told the two of them in a flat voice.

“Sleep management is not an exclusive contract. I’m just assisting Fran because she can’t stop on her own. And Lise is currently in the middle of increasing the time she can act independently. It’s not a competition.”

Lise pursed her lips, and Fran still didn’t look entirely convinced, but at least no weapons were drawn for the time being.

“…Understood. I will amend the reporting format to a simplified version.”

Fran was the first to back down. She readjusted her grip on the notebook.

“Then, I shall return tonight.”

“Come again?”

“To submit my end-of-day report.”

“I ask again, what is an end-of-day report?”

“I need your confirmation on where to cut off today’s activities, don’t I? If you don’t tell me ‘that’s enough for now,’ then in my mind, I’m still in operation.”

I get the logic, but it’s way too heavy.

“Then, until later.”

Before I had a chance to stop her, Fran gave an elegant bow, turned on her heel, and walked away. Leaving behind me, and Lise, who was still clutching my sleeve.

“…Nagi. What’s an end-of-day report?”

“I’d love to know the answer to that myself.”

Psychological Consultation Desk, day ten since opening. I’m on the verge of becoming the strongest swordswoman’s home to return to, and apparently, I’m now being entrusted with determining when a genius mage’s activities end. In my past life, this would definitively fall outside the scope of my job description.