Rock-Paper-Scissors
BANG!
Heh. I'm fucked.
I was so spectacularly, orbit-leavingly fucked that a hollow laugh slipped out of me. The way people in action movies giggle right before they die isn't just them trying to look cool, I guess.
"Did you write this?"
Her accusation came as naturally as breathing. And my answer, of course, was already decided.
"No? What kind of bastard would go and call someone as warm-hearted as you evil?"
I shook the gift box she'd given me up and down as I shot the question back, making sure to huff in a tone of sheer disbelief.
"...You're saying it wasn't you?"
"Would it be me? Meals provided, a place to live provided, can't lea— anyway, every single moment I spend with you is fun."
A glib lie — but even to my own ears, it didn't ring false in the slightest. I was already thoroughly, spectacularly fucked. Which was another way of saying I had nothing left to lose.
"...Seriously. Did you just seriously give me that answer?"
I couldn't read the feelings on her face the way I usually could — not from those restless eyes, or her nose, or her mouth. Whether she was angry. Or anxious. Or sad. I didn't know — but my policy was already set.
Just because you tell me to answer seriously, I have to spill everything truthfully?
"Of course. I really didn't write it."
The words had barely left my mouth.
KRKRRRK!
A wave of black thorns punched up through the floor behind the Demon King's feet. The table — denser than Rebecca — was instantly riddled into a honeycomb of holes. Her face heavy with shadow, she pressed me again.
"...You really didn't do it...?"
I was terrified.
More terrified than when Rebecca had dumped me in White Fang's territory as a joke. More terrified than when Dorothy had messed with me by throwing a low-probability instant-death spell. More terrified than when Yuria had set an apple on my head and started loosing arrows at it. More terrified than when a drunk Nine had decided to act cutesy.
"Yeah. I really didn't."
I was scared out of my mind, but there wasn't a shred of physical evidence. I'd written it in blood from my fingertips, so there was no handwriting to examine, and this world didn't have the technology to match the blood on the paper to mine.
Panic is poison. Freaking out would only be admitting guilt. Stay calm.
Pad, pad.
The Demon King came striding toward me on pale bare feet.
This scene. I've seen it before...
It was just like the beginning — when she'd wiped out my party and come walking toward me after we'd all piled on her together.
D-don't tell me.
She might be about to erase me for shamelessly denying the crime.
...Should I throw the first punch?
I was a pathetic small-fry adventurer who hadn't awakened a single ability since coming to this world — but back on Earth, I'd held my own in a fight.
Striking first is always right.
Yeah. Fighting's nothing special. What matters is a powerful first hit.
...
What kind of insane thought is that!
Apparently the fear had blown so far past the threshold that I'd lost my mind. Would I think the same thing if an elephant or a bear were walking toward me? The Demon King standing in front of me was a being even further off the scale than those. If she told me to die, I would just have to die.
She halted right in front of me. Both hands came up all at once —
— and seized my cheeks.
Then she shoved her own face directly into mine, and made me look straight into a pair of wide-open crimson eyes.
My life flashed before me. Every memory I'd accumulated up to now. Every grief. Joy, loneliness, cynicism, regret — the feelings raced past in a blur. It wouldn't even have been strange if she'd twisted my head off right then and there.
I couldn't think at all. Like a fuse had blown in my skull.
Still staring straight into my eyes, the Demon King parted her tightly pressed lips.
Had my lips frozen solid? The words What kind of bet? caught in my throat and wouldn't come out. I hadn't asked, but the Demon King told me the game anyway.
"Rock-paper-scissors."
Rock-paper-scissors. Same as Barrel Roulette — a game where luck decided everything. And what, exactly, were we staking on it?
When I didn't speak, the Demon King parted her lips again. From her mouth, right in front of my nose, came the sweet scent of fruit.
"If I win, you don't leave this place."
The fuck? When were you ever going to let me out?
"...If I win?"
The answer I'd finally managed to spit out sent her expression through a whole run of colors. Her pupils spun round and round, and her pale pink lips twitched as if struggling to find the next words. Going by the penalty if she won, the equal stake if I won should have been getting to leave.
"...If you win, I'll believe what you said just now."
After a long hesitation, what came out of her mouth was a proposal in which fairness was nowhere to be found.
...What. These were some gangster-ass rules. If she won, I was locked up for good. If I won, she'd believe a claim with zero evidence.
The Demon King let go of my cheeks and took a step back, and a little of my reason finally returned.
Well, it's not actually that bad a deal.
Originally, I'd already been lined up to get my skull caved in. If I won, I could get past this fucked situation; if I lost, nothing about my existing circumstances would change.
The only way I'm getting out of here anyway...
I'd already long since figured it would take someone challenging this Tower and killing her.
"...Alright. Let's do it."
At my agreement, the Demon King — who'd already put one step between us — took two more.
"Hoo..."
She shed her killing intent and drew a deep breath. She looked more serious than in any game we'd played so far. Then she laced her fingers together, twisted her arms around, and peered through the hole they made with one eye.
...She believes in that kind of superstition?
As if that weren't enough, she closed her eyes and started muttering.
...No, I mean... a demon kid shouldn't be praying to a god...
This game seemed even more desperate to her than I'd thought.
...Whatever. Fine.
Honestly, winning or losing, I didn't care. I genuinely didn't mind either way.
Having performed every luck ritual she had — prayers, finger-fortune, the works — the Demon King spoke in a trembling voice, as if steeling her resolve.
"We throw together on three, two, one. You can't throw late."
"...Got it."
All this fuss over one round of rock-paper-scissors. Did she really hate the idea of letting me go that much?
"...Here we go. Three, two, one!!"
Her hand, wound tight with fighting spirit, and my own limp, drooping one shot forward at the same time.
The Demon King spun on her heel. She walked off just like that, putting a long stretch of distance between us.
"...I'll believe you. It was a bet."
Is she about to cry?
That was how the Demon King's voice sounded to me.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom."
...You don't have to come back.
Pad, pad, pad.
Click, creeeak. Thud.
Once she was gone, the waves of thorns that had erupted from the floor crumbled into black sand and vanished.
"Hahh... fuck."
I swear that took ten years off my life. To think the paper airplane that had fluttered off that far was on the first floor of the Tower.
One of them was a dud.
I'd sent two in total. Now I had no choice but to count on the remaining one.
More than that — I'd survived again.
This time I'd been dead sure I was going to die.
I still couldn't relax. The appearance of her suspicion being lifted was only a formality because of the bet. Who knew if she was still boiling inside. She might even snap my legs to cut off any means of leaving this place.
...Where did she go.
I couldn't stand the anxiety. It felt like a technician who'd come to change the water filter and a kitchen knife had vanished at the same time.
Pad, pad, pad.
As if she'd heard me, the Demon King's footsteps beyond the door she'd closed and gone through turned back this way.
The door flew open.
"Hey."
I couldn't wipe the dismay off my face. You know that look, right? The face of someone who'd spent every second they had desperately trying to erase the fact that they'd been crying. That was the Demon King's face right now.
...Why, though?
I was about to ask, then let it go. It was the kind of thing that couldn't even answer the obvious question of what for?
The Demon King went on.
"That Wish Coupon I got."
The Demon King, abruptly spouting nonsense.
Wish Coupon? Does she mean the one we'd DIY'd at the Captain Hook Making Parade?
Apparently it had been a somewhat serious championship prize for the Demon King, winner of the First Arm-Wrestling Tournament.
"I'm using it. Right now."
As if she were drawing some incredible trump card, she pulled from her neck a scrap of paper she'd made herself, with Wish Coupon written on it. Holy shit. She'd turned the thing into a necklace and been wearing it around.
Must be granted upon presentation.
"...What's the wish."
I'd have to grant whatever it was. Arguing the legitimacy of that Wish Coupon right now would accomplish nothing except pissing the Demon King off.
"I believe you didn't do it. I believe you, but."
...How to put it. Rather than I believe you, it was the tone of I want to believe you.
"You absolutely must not do that. Writing that kind of thing on that kind of paper — don't."
"...Got it."
The Wish Coupon was meaningless, honestly. If she wanted something, she could just leak a little magic, manufacture some terror, and force it through. That she would still spend a wish that meant so much to her could only mean she was desperate.
"...Promise."
"I promise."
She raised her pale hand, then held it out with only her thumb and pinky extended. Knowing what that meant, I hooked my pinky through hers and pressed our thumbs together.
"...Want some kimchi stew?"
Her complexion had improved a little, and the next thing out of her mouth was violently out of nowhere.
"...Nah. I ate a lot today. I'm good."
"Yeah. I don't think I can play today. I'll play with you tomorrow."
No, it's fine. Get lost. Get lost tomorrow too.
The Demon King turned and went out the door. Then she held up the promise-finger from a moment ago and gave it a shake. Keep the promise, no matter what — that was the idea.
Click. Thud.
I tidied the kitchen, picked up the gift the Demon King had given me, and went back to my room.
...Could that even be. I kept running into bizarre situations.
The Demon King...
The thought that she might have feelings.
...Let's not think too deeply. I don't think I'll be able to sleep.
Being hounded by the Demon King while I was awake was more than enough. I didn't want her invading my sleeping hours, too.
Click, creeeak.
The Demon King, who did not have the concept of knocking installed, opened the door and walked in. She was wearing oversized pajamas printed with a blue elephant, which didn't suit her in the slightest.
"...What is it?"
She was hesitating. I could tell — I had nearly two weeks of Demon King service under my belt. Counting the all-nighters, it was actually longer.
"Hey. I've been thinking... I think it was a misunderstanding. I'm sorry."
"What misunderstanding?"
She scratched her cheek and gave me a sheepish little grin.
"Suspecting you wrote that paper earlier. You always look like you're having so much fun playing with me, right? At chess, at Barrel Roulette, at Bubble Bobble..."
Did this kid eat a bad can of beans or what?
That was all the joy of having survived. The rush of getting out of whatever bind I'd been in at the time.
It's not because playing with your ass is fun, damn it!
...Still, it wasn't a bad stance for her to take. If I lowered her guard, I might catch another chance to escape, or catch her off-balance. Building her trust could only help. It wasn't going to hurt me.
"Starting tomorrow, we play and have fun again."
There it is.