The Demon King Walking on Eggshells

After days of eating and sleeping in the game room, I finally made it back to my own. I felt like I'd just crawled home from an arctic survival camp. I threw myself onto the bed. Never thought I'd hear myself say it, but my own room really is the best.

"Haaaah..."

I stretched out spread-eagle, trying to shake the fatigue lodged in every last joint.

I'd scraped through again, somehow. Gained nothing. Just a mountain of suffering for my trouble.

I'm exhausted. Completely drained.

The games never stopped, and neither did the penalties. I kept clinging to life by the skin of my teeth, riding a razor's edge of skill. Was this life ever going to end?

Maybe it was because I'd been standing in death's shadow this whole time, but this place had started to feel comfortable. I was adapting to a place I should never have been able to adapt to. My memories of the outside were growing faint.

...It's been over a month since I got here.

The day before I came to the Demon King's Castle, I said my goodbyes to a few people in this world. Some of them had treated me like shit. Even so, thinking it was the end, I wanted to tie up the loose ends.

...The end, my ass.

Could the people of this world even imagine it? Me, locked up in here with the Demon King, betting my life every single day playing games from Earth.

...Should I just try talking to the Demon King?

If I said that to those guys outside, I'd get beaten to a pulp. But the Demon King has a personality, unlike ordinary demons. She laughs when she's happy, cries when she's sad, and even uses her head when she plays. For someone so pathologically competitive, she even cheats when she's desperate.

She's like a human.

That ninja who showed up a while back said she was skilled at playing human. But would the strongest predator in existence even need to wear a human shell?

No.

She's not pretending to be human. She just has some human in her.

Of course, she has her demonic side too. Locking people up. Wanting to beat them with fighting-game combos. Crippling an entire group's arms over a single arm-wrestling match. Deleting decades of game data just because she wanted to hear someone say they'd play with her for decades.

...But aren't those just the traits of a person with a rotten personality?

Anyway, the reason I couldn't even try talking to her was that vicious streak mixed in. If I approached her like a human and she answered like a Demon King, I was finished.

"Can't you just let me out? Playing with you is exhausting."

The muttered words just spun around in empty air.

You coward.

The low grumble somehow bled a little of the stress out of me. It was stupid, but it couldn't be helped. This was how the weak survived.

"You're a real piece of shit. The way you half-ass being human is even more annoying. I fucking hate hanging out with you."

Footsteps approached from the end of the hallway. If I kept running my mouth, this was going to turn into a gag comic. Time to shut up.

The door clicked, then creaked open.

"D-dinner."

The Demon King stood in the doorway, unable to meet my eyes.

The Demon King being in a funk was the most natural outcome in the world. She, who was supposedly incorruptible when it came to competition and never told a lie, had kept that principle in the worst possible way.

Who could have predicted it? That Demon King. That competition-obsessed girl. The one who'd even accepted ten flicks to the forehead. That she'd cheat after snatching the controller right out of my hands. And when even that failed, she'd thrown a completely absurd, nonsensical ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tantrum. The bet had fizzled out in a way that was nothing like her.

Was letting me go that fucking hard for you.

My ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trust in her promises had been sliced down to a quarter. Maybe that was why she was watching my mood. If she wasn't careful, every wager from the next match onward would lose its weight.

"Pass me the salt."

"O-okay."

I tapped salt onto my food, and there she was, reflected in the shaker, sneaking glances at me from the corner of her eye. Having a being who could kill me with a single finger walking on eggshells around me was a strangely novel feeling.

The moment I turned to look at her, she whipped her head away as if she'd never been staring at all. Did she actually think I hadn't noticed her glancing at me? She was so naive it was almost impressive.

"H-hey."

"Yeah?"

"Want some of my meat too?"

She opened her kimchi bulgogi sandwich and showed me the meat inside.

"Nah, I'm fi—"

"No. I'm giving it to you."

Then she yanked the meat she'd been devouring right out and slapped it onto my sandwich. What was this, a newly invented method of torture? I knew exactly what would happen if I refused, so I just chewed. A faint fruity scent from the Demon King's mouth still clung to it.

It's not harassment. It's probably meant as a kindness.

She did love meat, after all.

"This, this—want me to lend it to you for the day?"

She was fidgeting with her now-meatless sandwich, pointing at the paper crane I'd given her. The one she wore around her neck around the clock.

"...It's fine. That's yours."

You keep it... From a gift-giver's perspective, having it treated so preciously was a nice feeling. If it weren't the Demon King, that is. The truth about that paper crane needed to stay buried forever.

"Th-then... then, um... also..."

The Demon King rolled her eyes, fishing for something else to offer. I decided to stop paying attention.

Just eat fast, go back, and get some real sleep. She won't bother me today.

I shoved the kimchi sandwich into my mouth. I was too tired to taste anything. But then...

...What's with her.

The moment I sped up my eating, the Demon King started fidgeting restlessly, like she had something she wanted to say. Her pale fingers were wriggling.

...Should I ask what's wrong?

Like hell. Ask her what? As a one-month veteran of Demon King's Castle survival, my instincts said the correct play was to eat and pass the hell out.

"Thanks for the meal."

"Huh...? Yeah."

I stood up. I was about to turn and leave when the Demon King snatched my hand. A cool chill ran through my knuckles.

"...What?"

I wasn't particularly scared. The Demon King was still a threatening, terrifying being, but after surviving so many near-death crises, I'd apparently built up a tolerance for sudden hand-grabbing.

"So... hey."

She was uncharacteristically hesitant. Don't tell me this goddamn lunatic wanted to play games again after wrecking me for days on end. Please no.

"...So. Um."

"...What?"

"What??"

It wasn't the kind of question I'd ever expected from her mouth, so my brain went blank. Looks like that whole Little Farm serf business had scrambled her brains.

"Are you mad? Because I... that bet earlier... with that..."

Unable to find the right words, the Demon King worked her lips, trailing off. The sentence was a mess, but the gist of the question was this:

Was I pissed that she hadn't kept her promise earlier.

...Was I mad?

I didn't even know where to start correcting this. Mad, huh. The earlier incident had been absurd, sure, but if she was asking whether that made me angry, I had a lot more to say.

The Demon King was considering someone else's feelings. She was trying to analyze my emotions — which might have changed because of what she'd done — and she was worried about it.

Then, then before that. Way before that.

When she locked me in here, she should have been able to consider my feelings then, too.

Why had she just glossed over that?

...No. That's not right. Back then.

Before the Demon King could split my skull as an intruder, I had said it myself, clearly. I'd do anything she asked, so please spare me. And the Demon King had stamped that contract and had been following it ever since.

But what's different now is...

This was a proposal the Demon King had made herself, first.

She'd probably offered it as a half-mockery, assuming I'd never clear it — but the fact remained that she had failed to keep her word.

In other words, just as I had stayed here and kept my word to fulfill her demands, she should have kept her promise to me, and she hadn't. If that was what was bothering her, this attitude of hers made perfect sense.

...Then.

If that was really the case. If she was only thinking about how I felt after the promise got crushed by her own fault, then I could afford to be a little honest right now.

"Huh? Huh? What did you...?"

"It felt a little shitty."

"...C-can you say that one more time. What?"

"It felt a little shitty. I trusted you, you know. You've kept every promise until now. But honestly, this time you didn't..."

"Huh...? Uh..."

The face of the girl who'd swatted away Nine's Absolute Piercing with one hand, dodged Yuria's arrows with a blank expression, and reflected ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dorothy's highest-tier magic was painted in a dozen different colors. Looking up at me while holding my standing hand, the Demon King's expression spun as fast as a slot machine.

What... is she about to explode?

Her features were shaking violently, her hands trembling. She looked like a bomb rattling right before it went off. If you lit the tip of her long ponytail, it would probably burn down just like a fuse.

Fuck. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

"...No, that's not—"

"W-wait just a second. You. Stay here. Don't go anywhere."

The Demon King let go of my hand and bolted off somewhere. Looking at where she'd gone down the hallway... there was nothing down there but the armory and the storage room.

W-why is she going there?

Had I gotten too comfortable? My military discipline had gone completely slack, and I'd just committed insubordination against Her Majesty the Great Demon King without even realizing it. A little chat I once had with that bastard Sergeant Go came to mind.

...Fuck. This was it. Just because she asked didn't mean I should've actually said I was mad.

...Where the hell did she go.

Did she go grab a morning star or a battle-axe? She didn't even need to. She could beat me to death with a spoon...

While I was letting my imagination run wild, the Demon King came rushing back, gasping for breath.

And what she was holding in her hands...

"Haaah... H-here, let's drink this together. Okay? They say it's a potion that makes you feel better."

What she'd brought, panting for breath, was alcohol.