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holes being quickly filled.
    Even though her “bed” was packed full of sword hilts, Holo was easily able to nap on top of them and pass the afternoon away since the road was so smooth.
    Then there was Lawrence, who had drunk no wine and spent the day looking at a horse’s backside, reins in hand. His jealousy made it easy for him not to look at Holo.
    “Mm, I ought to tend to my tail,” said Holo—her tail the only thing she was diligent about. She pulled it out of her robes without a hint of concern.
    Not that any was warranted; the expansive view meant there was no danger of being surprised by an approaching traveler.
    Holo began to comb her tail, occasionally picking a flea out or pausing to lick the fur clean.
    The care she took with her tail was visible in her silent, single-minded attention to the job.
    She worked from the very base of the tail, which was covered in dark brown fur, finally reaching its fluffy white tip, and then suddenly looked up. “Oh, that’s right.”
    “...What?”
    “When we get to the next town, I want oil.”
    “...Oil?”
    “Mm. I’ve heard it would be good to use on my tail.”
    Lawrence turned away from Holo wordlessly.
    “So will you buy some for me?” asked Holo with a charming smile, her head tilted.
    Even a poor man would be hard-pressed to resist that smile, but Lawrence only glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
    Figures larger than her smile danced before his eyes—specifically, the debt she owed him.
    “The clothes you’re wearing now, plus the extras, the comb, the travel fee, the wine and food—have you added them all up? There’s the head tax when we enter a town, as well. Surely you’re not telling me you can’t do sums,” said Lawrence, mimicking Holo’s tone, but Holo still smiled.
    “I can surely do sums, but I’m still better at subtraction,” she proclaimed, then laughed at some private amusement.
    Lawrence knew she was hiding some kind of comeback, but her manner was strange. Perhaps she was still drunk.
    He glanced at the wineskins that lay in the wagon bed. They’d taken the Latparron master for five skins of wine, two of which were now empty.
    It wasn’t impossible that she was drunk.
    “Well, perhaps you should try adding up all you’ve used. If you’re such a wise wolf, you should be able to work out my answer from that.”
    “All right, I shall!” said Holo with a smile and a cheerful nod.
    Just as Lawrence looked forward again, thinking how nice it would be if she were always so agreeable, Holo continued.
    “You will definitely buy me some,” she said.
    Lawrence cast his eyes askance to spy her grinning at him. Maybe she really was drunk. It was a very charming smile.
    “Just look what happens to the wits of the proud wisewolf when she has too much wine,” muttered Lawrence to himself. Holo’s head flopped from one shoulder to the other.
    If she fell drunkenly out of the wagon, she could be injured. Lawrence reached out to steady her slim shoulder, and Holo grabbed his hand with a quickness that was nothing short of wolflike.
    Surprised, Lawrence looked into her eyes. She was neither drunk nor laughing.
    “After all, it’s thanks to me that your wagon bed was so cheaply filled. You’ll pull in a tidy profit.”
    Her charm had vanished.
    “O-on what basis—”
    “I won’t have you belittle me. Surely you don’t think I missed you strong-arming that master? I’ve a sharp mind, keen eyes, aye; hut don’t forget, my ears are good, too. I couldn’t have missed your negotiations.” Holo grinned unpleasantly, showing her langs. “So you’ll buy some oil for me, yes?”
    In fact, Lawrence had taken advantage of the master’s weakness during his negotiations, and it was also true that things had gone just as
    Lawrence had hoped.
    He cursed himself for being so obviously pleased upon signing the contract. Once it was known that someone was going to make a lot of money, they were obvious targets for sponging and