Calculator of Slaughter

……Of course I was.

I just had to kill time until nightfall. That was all.

I snorted and tapped at the touchpad.

These idiots had no idea in their wildest dreams how smoothly my "route" was going.

In an instant, the comment refresh froze solid.

A silence like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over the thread.

I hit refresh once, and a string of visibly rattled replies stacked up one after another.

Their reactions were hilarious.

The ghosts haunting this place had always treated Mocca Mellow as a hidden boss where even a meeting was impossible — never mind route difficulty.

They knew perfectly well that even Beatrice had given up on her.

So hearing that a single sheet of paper had opened the door must have short-circuited their brains.

The magic-engineering city of Arche.

Home to the Magic Tower, boasting civilization far beyond other cities — and here, there existed something called the "Mystic Network," essentially the internet.

There was even something like a delivery app. A city that resembled the modern world I'd come from so closely it was uncanny.

In a place like this, slamming a shut-in NEET with state-level sanctions like "internet cut off" and "no more deliveries"?

Anyone would fold.

Even the gallery rats seemed to buy my explanation; their tone shifted.

Granted, the gallery rats had a point.

Forcing a door open was one thing. Forcing a mouth open was an entirely different problem.

But I smiled with quiet satisfaction and checked the last comment.

This guy's reaction was delicious.

Normally this was the moment he'd snark or start cussing, but he was asking with a strangely serious edge.

I drove the nail in with a reply.

Right.

That bastard's ability was the Heroine Encyclopedia.

Just like he said — no matter how pathetic she looked, a wicked woman was still a wicked woman.

Even a broken hikikomori was never someone to underestimate.

Hold on. What?

The mood in the comment section went ice-cold in a heartbeat.

Even the guys who'd been clowning around seemed to flinch at the keyword "ten thousand massacred."

I felt it too — the smartphone in my hand had started to tremble, just slightly.

Gulp.

I swallowed dry spit without meaning to.

Suddenly, the warning signs I'd seen stuck to her door that afternoon flashed through my mind.

Back then I'd written them off as a hikikomori's cute little tantrums.

But if the being on the other side of that door was a Calculator who could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠erase a city with one button press—

That changed everything.

Did she actually curse people to death for knocking?

Shit... these gallery bastards have my heart racing…….

While the others ran their mouths about a mass murderer, the guy who was usually the loudest was just dropping dots.

That wasn't the reaction of someone looking at a killer.

It was the reaction of a coward crushed under guilt, barely able to breathe.

Yeah. Whatever the lore said, it didn't matter.

This world was crawling with broken heroines anyway.

Ten thousand people or a hundred thousand — what was that to me?

What mattered was the quest window in front of my eyes right now, and the fact that she was my only lifeline.

If I stopped here because I was scared, because I refused the route — I'd die either way.

So the only option was to push through.

I steadied my shaking fingers and left one last comment, putting on a show of bravado.

With that, I powered off the hologram.

I looked at Fenrir beside me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and steeled myself.

"Let's go."

— Grrrrrr.

You had to walk into the tiger's den to catch the cub.

Either clear her route in one shot and turn her into a good girl, or make her pay for her sins.

Well. In the end, it'd probably be both.

And so, right on schedule, I found myself standing once more in front of Mocca Mellow's house.

First I had to climb the stairs……

My mouth had been running off about how it was no big deal, but were my legs this heavy just my imagination?

The signs that had looked ridiculous in daylight now felt unnervingly sinister in the night air.

……On the other side of that door, a mass-slaughter weapon was coiled and waiting.

……Hoo.

I drew a deep breath.

Violet mana was seeping through the cracks in the door like heat haze.

It wasn't murderous mana.

But it was densely compressed, high-concentration power that made the skin prickle just from contact.

I forced my trembling hand still and rustled the plastic bag I was holding.

Something I'd ducked into a shop for right before closing, just in case.

What was inside was my lifeline — and the bait to hook the Calculator.

Knock, knock.

"Is anyone home. It's Counselor Aris."

"……."

As expected, no answer.

But I could tell.

The presence I felt through Psychological Insight.

— Zzzzt.

A faint ringing in my ears.

Right behind the door, holding her breath, gripping the doorknob tight — her presence was crystal clear.

I spoke toward the door in a deliberately easy voice.

"I know you're not asleep……. I saw you on the gallery…… no, the Mystic Network earlier."

A flinch.

— Zzzzzzzzzzt.

The ringing spiked harder, like I'd hit a nerve.

She was probably watching me through that little fisheye lens installed in the door.

I shook the bag a little louder to drive the point home.

Clack, rustle.

The sound of plastic containers knocking together echoed down the silent hallway.

"It's getting late — have you eaten? Felt weird showing up empty-handed, so I brought some late-night snacks."

"……."

"It's Golden Custard Pudding — hard to find in Arche these days. Limited edition, expires tonight…… if you don't eat it now, I'll have to throw it out."

Even a murderer had to eat, right?

Especially a NEET who self-medicated stress with sugar — she wouldn't be able to hold out.

Without putting my hand on the doorknob, I made a show of setting the bag down on the floor.

"If you don't want it, I'll just leave it at the door. Well, some stray cat or a rat will probably get to it. I saw a tomcat prowling around earlier……."

……Another cold silence settled after my words.

How long did that awkward quiet stretch on?

Click.

In the still alley, the sound of a massive triple lock disengaging rolled out like thunder.

Clunk, clatter.

Accompanied by the mechanical whine of a magical barrier deactivating, the door opened — just a little.

Exactly wide enough for a single finger.

Creeeeak—————.

The rusted hinge screamed like a dying animal.

Through the dark crack in the door.

From the pitch-black darkness, a single bloodlessly pale eye looked up at me.

That gaze belonged to someone called the Calculator of Slaughter, and yet……

It was the eye of a tiny animal — terrified, and at the same time starving for prey.

"……That."

A cracked voice leaked out, rough with disuse, edged with metal.

"……Is it really, limited edition?"

For the first words of a grand mage who'd killed ten thousand people, it was an absurdly humble, trivial question.

I felt the tension drain out of me all at once and curled the corner of my mouth up.

I shoved my shoe into the gap in the door and answered.

"Of course. I can't lie to a client. That's a counselor's ironclad rule."

"……Uuuugh."

Mocca Mellow looked me up and down through the crack.

Eyes caught between wariness and appetite.

I smiled and delivered the finishing blow.

"Have you made your decision about counseling?"

I threw the door wide open before she could even answer.

Whoosh————.

The moment it opened, a rush of cool air and a strange sweetness hit me.

And from the darkness, the low hum of machines whirring.

"………Can't I just take the pudding?"

"I can give it to you. But if you refuse my counseling, you'll eat this pudding and then immediately lose Mystic Network access……?"

"……Uuuugh."

Mocca Mellow let out a long sigh like she'd lost everything, and muttered under her breath.

"For now…… come in."

At last, it was open.

But I couldn't let my guard down either.

If she went berserk, I had White's Oath — one chance, and one chance only.

"Pardon the intrusion."

And just like that, I walked of my own free will straight into the maw of the Calculator of Slaughter — the one who had massacred ten thousand ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠people.