10. Demon in a Bottle (10)
10. Demon in a Bottle (10)
We stared blankly as she stepped into the dining room.
It was Maya, unmistakably — but not the Maya we saw every day.
Her usual clothes were gone.
In their place, she wore a pale sky-blue blouse, a white blazer, and a matching white skirt — the ensemble crisp and radiant against her skin.
We knew the outfit.
Ella had modeled it for us earlier, turning a full circle to show it off.
It was the Rekachev formal school uniform.
All that white — the cloche hat, the stockings, the shoes — made the red of her eyes burn even deeper.
"Oh my! Miss Maya, are you going to audit classes too?"
Yurakne studied Maya in her uniform and let out a stream of admiration.
"Yes."
Maya nodded, and the rest of the troupe simply stared, spellbound.
Until today, the word "neat" could not have described her wardrobe even as a polite lie.
Her stretched-out sweater was covered in pills, her cardigan two sizes too big, the shoulders perpetually slipping off. Her skirt stayed on only because Yurakne had fastened the suspenders so firmly it couldn't slide down.
She threw on her clothes with such indifference that some of us had genuinely begun to suspect her beret had started life as a crumpled cone hat she had simply never bothered to fix.
She cared about nothing outside the work that absorbed her.
Fashion was not the exception to that rule.
So when she suddenly appeared dressed with such composure, the troupe could hardly help being astonished.
Maya paid no attention to the murmuring around her — her eyes were fixed on me alone.
I was just as taken aback by the change.
Yesterday she had been a wild lynx giving a lazy stretch. Today she was a graceful white lioness.
"Miss Maya — you look beautiful."
Her eyes widened. Then she abruptly turned her head away and walked toward the stairs.
I blinked, thrown off.
I knew compliments about her appearance meant little to her.
Even so, I had not expected no reaction at all.
"I'm tired. I'll go to bed early."
That was all she said as she climbed the steps. The faint quaver in her shoulders told me the fatigue was real.
Long after she was gone, the troupe kept buzzing about her transformation.
"I didn't know Maya could look that pretty!"
Umon was still staring at the empty spot where she had stood, his mouth hanging open. The Trimery Triplets watched their youngest member and snickered.
"Hey! You're drooling!"
"We oughta take turns standing guard outside Maya's door tonight. Who knows what Umon might try!"
"Yeah, yeah! If he decides to go at it with brute force—!"
Their teasing drove Umon's red skin an even deeper crimson.
"Grrrr! You older boys keep twisting everything into something weird!"
"Yikes, Umon's pissed!"
"Run for it! He'll eat you!"
"Kahaha!"
Amid the commotion, Ella sat quietly, something pensive stirring in her expression. She glanced toward the stairs where Maya had disappeared, her lips pursed in a slight pout.
Maya's surprise transformation lasted exactly one day.
The next morning, Yurakne went to her room carrying the pretty clothes she had bought as costume pieces — and was chased out before she could coax Maya into trying on a single outfit.
Maya brushed off Yurakne's tearful protests and put her old clothes back on.
The uniform, it seemed, would not reappear until the next school function.
"Are you sure you don't want help preparing for the class?"
At my question, Maya gave a vigorous nod.
"I'm fine."
I still had no idea what had shifted inside her — the girl who had been so thoroughly uninterested in acrobatics.
Maya headed off to the square as usual, delving into her riddles.
I spent the morning practicing acrobatics with Ella.
She pushed harder than usual. The program itself veered from what we had planned.
"Why the sudden focus on shooting practice?"
She had been inspecting a dagger. My question made her look up, flustered.
"I, I just felt a little lacking in it?"
Several more days passed without anything of note.
Now the start of classes stood only one day away.
I had just finished a conversation with Reina — she had been out of contact for three days — when Ella knocked and let herself into my room.
She handed me a stack of magazines.
"Here. This month's releases. I'm done with all of them."
Unlike the hotel, this building provided no periodicals, so I got my news by taking her hand-me-down copies.
I opened them and scanned the articles. Any piece related to us had already been marked by Ella, which let me find them quickly.
I flipped past a satirical illustration of Reina and Ella arm-wrestling.
On the next page, a headline caught my eye.
<The Sacred Flame of the Circus Grand Prix Has Been Lit!>
The Sacred Flame?
Something stirred in my memory. I read through the article.
The moment my eyes crossed one particular paragraph, a brilliant flash of light erupted before me, accompanied by a cacophony of chimes.
More than a dozen notification windows flooded my vision.
***
Duke Slagbort was a passionate fan of the playwright Christian.
Rumors even circulated that he knew Christian's face — a face no one aside from the editor-in-chief of the Christian Guide had ever seen — and that he owned the legendary, never-published "Illusory 13th" play.
But the Duke knew both rumors were false.
He had never laid eyes on Christian, and he did not possess the Illusory 13th script.
At this moment, however, the second rumor was inching toward the truth.
His young secretary read aloud from the manuscript in his hands. The man did not possess a single speck of acting talent.
Every character — the innocent, the wicked, the bright — was delivered in the same stiff monotone of a late-twenties Imperial University graduate. He even recited the stage directions and blocking notes word for word.
"R-Remarkable."
Phairen, the taming instructor at Rekachev, could not fully hide her consternation.
Whatever schemes she worked behind the scenes, at her core she was a stage performer. Even she could not help recoiling at the sight of a man who, without a single change of expression, seemed to negate the very craft she had dedicated her life to.
Oblivious to her reaction, the secretary read the script in its entirety, exactly as commanded.
The Duke spoke, his face utterly unsurprised by his secretary's bizarre performance.
"It's the 13th. Undoubtedly authentic."
He nodded to himself.
He had never owned the Illusory 13th.
But he knew its contents.
The script Phairen had brought was unquestionably Christian's work.
"How did you say you acquired this?"
The Duke held the manuscript close as he asked.
"Were you aware that my mentor and Christian were acquainted?"
"Ah, yes. That."
The Duke nodded, picturing the man among the Five-Person Gang who had specialized in taming.
"A cabinet that belonged to him was recently discovered in a school storage room. I undertook the task of sorting through it. The script was inside."
"I see."
The Duke gestured to his secretary.
They had met today for a trade.
Phairen had brought him this script; in return, he was to procure an item she desired.
The secretary retrieved a glass vial from the safe.
The item had arrived in Yeterinpurk at lunchtime — won at auction in Vegas only a few days before.
Inside the vial, sparkling powder gleamed as though crushed gemstones had been poured into the glass.
***
When I had told the troupe that "there might be a way to fix what's wrong with you," there had been no real basis for it.
It was a vague hope I had tossed out — that the system might respond to their wishes and issue a quest.
But for an entire month, the Member Quests had not stirred.
The system had judged it impossible.
I wondered if retracing the game's content would yield some clue.
Yet no matter how much I sifted through my memory, all that surfaced was Wonderstein's record of atrocities. The notion of him rescuing anyone was beyond my imagination.
As a gamer, the only thing I could rely on was what the system rewarded.
Perhaps the final reward for reaching a certain average Affection level — or a certain Circus Troupe Fame — would be the ability to manipulate Innate Traits.
I reread the magazine article.
After the second pass, then the third, I let out a long breath and sank into my chair.
The answer had been in the original story all along.
I felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.
The article included a photograph.
Robed figures stood amid flames, using iron tongs to extract something from the fire.
It was a massive gemstone, larger than a human head.
Around the space where it had rested, glittering powder — like pulverized glass — lay scattered in heaps.
I recognized it.
Anyone who had played TTT would recognize it — how could they not?
The thing was embedded in the title logo itself.
The rapid pounding in my chest — was that excitement surging from this body's original owner? Or was it my own excitement at finding a thread to pull?
Either way, the existence of that gem pierced straight through my composure.
I stared fixedly at the printed photograph.
That was the reason Wonderstein attacked the Sky City Hippodrome in TT1.
That was the object his soul had clung to in TT2, spreading contamination through the Six Great Theaters.
That was the key he used in TT3 to open the gate to the final stage.
The treasure the Black Magician sought.
The Sacred Flame of the Circus Grand Prix.
The sacred relic that symbolized the Demon God of performance and festivals.
A gem known by the alias 'Eye of Kirkeus.'
The icon of the series, alongside Wonderstein and the three heroes.
The thing embedded right in the title of the game.
The sacred relic that housed the power of the Demon God Kirkeus — 'Trill.'
The instant I finished reading the article, a notification window appeared.
Its color and shape differed from the notices I had been receiving lately.
I had seen this style only twice since arriving in this world.
[Main Quest - Prequel]
[Main Quest - Circus Grand Prix]
And now, a third Main Quest.
['Main Quest - Trill' has been activated.]
*Main Quest - Trill
: The thing you have desired to lay your hands upon.
Completion Condition
: Devour the Trill once it has turned fully red.
Success Reward
: Manipulation of 'Innate Traits' is possible without incurring 'Demonization Penalty.'
Failure Penalty
: None.
The moment the Main Quest activated, the system sensed new possibilities.
The Member Quests that had been locked all this time flared to life.
['Member Quest - An Ordinary Body' has been activated.]
['Member Quest - Divided into Three' has been activated.]
['Member Quest - Escape the Loser' has been activated.]
['Member Quest - Molting' has been activated.]
['Member Quest - Flesh and Blood' has been activated.]
The implication was unmistakable.
With the Eye of Kirkeus, Innate Traits could be manipulated.
But I could not feel simple elation.
Because of the message that followed.
[The relic 'Trill' of Kirkeus has manifested in the world. As a result, the Demonization progression of troupe members can now be confirmed in the Status Window.]
Demonization progression.
I could guess, dimly, what that meant.
It had only appeared beside the names of the monster members.
I opened the Member Management Window and checked their statuses.
Most showed a Demonization progression of 0% — except for two.
Name: Umon
Age: 10
Affection level: 21
Title: Red-Blood Ogre
Role: Strongman
Traits
: [Blade Juggling]
Demonization Progression: 1%
Demonization Penalty: [Bloodthirst]
Name: Yurakne
Age: 26
Affection level: 38 (Next Reward: Affection level 50)
Title: Spider Woman
Role: Tightrope Acrobat
Traits
: [Yurakne's Devotion], [Wall Climbing]
Demonization Progression: 22%
Demonization Penalty: [Eros and Thanatos]