Barrel Roulette (2)
The tears hadn't fallen. Not yet.
But if a lifetime of experience had taught me anything, it was this: once a woman's eyes well up, those tears are coming down. Nine times out of ten.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what? I'm not mad."
...Yeah, right.
She was forcing a composed little smile. The ragged breathing and the faint tremor in her lips gave the lie away.
"I'm sorry. Let's just stop. I only hit you that hard because you told me to—"
A sharp shing cut me off as she drew her sword.
"Stop what? I really am not mad, okay?"
Fuck. I knew this would happen.
There's always one. The type who will never, ever call it quits if the pain in a hitting contest isn't evenly distributed. In the real world, you'd just take a few hits, tell them to piss off, and walk away.
Neither of those is an option right now.
The grinning, delighted girl from earlier had vanished without a trace, replaced by a Demon King wound tight with genuine fury. She jammed the pirate doll that had just popped out back into the barrel.
"Your turn."
Anyone with eyes could see she was livid, and she wanted the game moving. Fast.
I'm so dead.
I pulled a sword from the crate and stepped up to the barrel. The blade gleamed, wickedly sharp.
Yeah. Or maybe...
Right now, she'd stripped off every last defensive buff. Judging by the flick I'd just landed, her durability was sitting at ordinary-woman levels.
What if I just cut her down with this?
That was the whole reason I'd climbed this tower in the first place. Who knew if a chance like this would ever come again. Even a Porter like me might actually have a shot.
This might be it. This might be the last chance I ever get.
I hesitated, then shoved the blade into the barrel.
"Why are you taking so long?"
She watched me with open irritation.
I can't win.
Defense wasn't even the real problem. This was a woman who'd dodged every last one of Yuria's Swift Arrows without so much as blinking. There was no way a sword swung by me would ever land.
A springy fwip—
The second round was over in an instant. She'd ended it herself. The pirate doll shot into the air and dropped onto the startled Demon King's head.
"Let's just call this one a mu—"
"What?"
Killing intent spilled from her feet again, coiling across the floor.
"Are you going easy on me? Why? Because I suck that much?"
She trembled, wrapping herself in a murderous aura.
"No way in hell! Fuck! Of course you gotta take it! Stick that forehead out!"
What do I do. What do I do.
The terrified Demon King shuffled up to me.
"Go on. Hit me. Hurry up."
"...Uh, I need you to show your forehead..."
She reluctantly pushed her bangs aside, and the look on her face was so pitiful I almost couldn't stand it. Her words and her body language were living in two different countries.
Does she want me to hit her, or does she want me to stop?
I raised my flicking hand, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She looked like a movie character biting down on a belt to endure the pain.
Alright. Softer than last time...
"...Hard. Hit me really, really hard. Y-you got that?"
...Sigh.
I did as ordered.
THWACK!
What the hell is wrong with this girl? Is she possessed?
Funny thing to say, really. A demon possessing the Demon King. This girl was the demon.
Fwip—!
"Nngh—!"
Round nine already. Her astonishingly cursed luck had produced nine consecutive garbage shots in a row, and I was starting to feel sorry for her.
If you weren't the Demon King, I'd just take a few hits and call it even.
But this wasn't a few hits. In reality, one would be enough to finish me.
I'd floated the question earlier, casual as I could. If I ended up popping the doll, maybe she could go easy on me?
"What? That's up to the person doing the hitting."
Hadn't even made a dent. I'd gotten my hopes up since she'd dropped her defensive buffs, but no.
She was so far gone now that she yanked her bangs aside with a snarl, all raw nerves. Under the bombardment I'd been delivering, her forehead had gone so red you couldn't find a trace of that original milky white.
Stop. Please... just stop!
I was stuck blowing up a balloon that could burst at any second. I screamed on the inside, but not hitting her wasn't an option. My flicking hand rose on autopilot. She'd gotten used to the timing too — she sucked in a sharp breath and braced herself right on cue.
THWAAAACK!
Flick number ten, a direct hit.
"Hic... sshhk."
The Demon King bit down hard on her lower lip, trembling, then whipped around to face the other way.
...Is she crying?
With her back to me, she scrubbed at the corners of her eyes with her arm, then picked up the pirate doll and jammed it back in. Her nose had gone strawberry-red. She'd cried. She'd definitely cried.
Should I say something?
The excuse I'd been sitting on this whole time. What if I told her my flicking finger hurt too much to keep going?
No. Absolutely not.
Telling the girl who'd been taking hit after hit this entire time that my finger hurt? That'd be like sitting at the next table over from a guy drowning himself in solo drinks because his wife cheated, and launching into a rant about my clingy girlfriend.
Fwip—
Oh, for fuck's sake! Are you kidding me!
She was ending rounds in a single shot now, not even leaving me a gap to take my turn. Time to prepare flick number eleven...
"Goddammit!"
Her own mental state had clearly shattered, because she soccer-kicked the innocent pirate doll across the room.
A thunderous crash slammed through the chamber.
I swallowed.
That was not the sound of a plane making an emergency landing. That was the sound of a stuffed doll meeting a wall after taking her soccer kick to the face. Cotton burst out in every direction. The pirate doll was a rag.
That's gonna be me pretty soon.
She was panting, but apparently still intended to keep the game going, because she stomped over, grabbed the doll she'd just punt-kicked, and brought it back.
"Sniff. Go on. Hit me."
Fuck... that "go on, hit me" of hers.
Her forehead was already swollen an angry red, like a volcano seconds from eruption. If this next flick could just kill her, how perfect would that be. Should I put every last ounce of strength I had into it?
Yeah... let's do that.
Seek life and you die. Seek death and you live.
I was winding up what I fully believed would be the last forehead flick of my life when Admiral Yi's famous maxim sparked something better. A way out.
Alright. If you're that much of a competitive freak, I'll use it against you.
"Ah, this is so fucking boring."
The words came out of my own mouth, and even I was surprised.
"...What?"
She'd been holding her bangs up, waiting for the bomb to drop, and now she snapped the question at me like a whip.
"It's so boring I can't fucking stand it. What even is this? I'm the only one doing any hitting."
Venom gathered in her eyes.
"...So?"
I swallowed.
Don't flinch, Baek Dongha. The die is already cast.
"Let's make the next round the last one, and the loser takes ten flicks. How about it?"
Ten. The exact number she'd already eaten. A proposal that would let her dump every ounce of festering resentment in a single payload.
"...We can just keep going. Why does it have to be the last round?"
I'd seen that question coming.
"Why? You already think you're gonna lose? So you're making an excuse to play more — before we've even started? Don't tell me you're..."
The one thing you must never say to a competitive freak. Time to pull the trigger.
"A coward?"
"You're on!"
Yes. I was going to live. An inescapable kill shot, locked in, nowhere to dodge.
And if I lost? What then?
Fuck it. One hit and I'm crossing the River Jordan anyway. What's ten?
Whether she flicked my corpse in the forehead or force-fed it shit, it wouldn't make a difference.
I drew a sword, put some real spirit into it for the first time, and declared:
"Last round, let's GO!"
Only four slots left.
The Demon King, who until now had popped the doll on every single insert — five times, no exceptions — had somehow made it this far without triggering it once.
"Hoo... here!"
She studied the barrel from every angle, then jammed her sword into a slot that caught her fancy.
A heavy thunk.
A dud.
"Yes! I-I'm alive! I'm alive!"
Granted a stay of execution, the Demon King spun in a full, delighted circle.
Three left.
The terror was so extreme I thought I might piss myself. Confession: I leaked a little.
This is insane. This shouldn't even be possible.
I drew a sword the way you swallow bitter medicine, tears in my eyes.
One in three.
Please. Please.
I was a better person than her. Obviously. That little shit was an evil Demon King, and I'd even been to church. When I was a kid. Only at Christmas, but still.
I swallowed. So did she. The thought of that volcano — only just starting to settle — going fully active again was clearly a nightmare for her too.
Stay calm.
A deep breath.
I knew it was a game of chance. But if this was the last moment of my life, I couldn't just jam it in like it was nothing.
Hoo...
"Now!"
The blade slid home.
An instant stretched into an eternity. I stared at the still, silent barrel...
I'm alive!
My legs gave out and I dropped right there. I pressed a hand to my chest, kissed the floor in gratitude for still being among the living.
"Ahh..."
A groan of pure despair from the Demon King. She wore the face of a high school senior who'd just gotten rejected from every college on her list.
"Your turn."
"...I know. Don't rush me."
She drew a sword and stepped up to the barrel.
One in two.
If the pirate doll didn't pop, I was dead. One slot left, and that would be the one that launched.
She didn't just jam it in. She closed her eyes and started murmuring under her breath.
Wait. Was she seriously...
No way. Is she praying?
Live long enough and you'll see everything. The Demon King, so terrified of a forehead flick that she was asking God for luck.
As if. You'd need a conscience for that to work.
Over a handful of forehead flicks, she was prepared to recant her entire existence. Whatever pride the demon race was supposed to have, she'd thrown it to the dogs a long time ago.
Prayer finished, she drew her arm back and settled into a thrusting stance.
A sharp whoosh—
PLEASE!!!!!
The blade punched in.
A long, singing fwiip—
The pirate doll launched off the end of her sword.
"YEEEESSS! HELL YEAH!! I'M ALIIIIIVE!"
I sprinted. I snatched the pirate doll out of the air and crushed it to my chest. You magnificent little bastard! I knew you could do it! The most thrilling leap of my entire life!
From this day forward, your name is Langplgank!
I tossed Langplgank in the air and soaked in the victory, every last drop of it. Unlike that time with chess, when I'd been faking the hype — this time I was genuinely, profoundly, fucking overjoyed.
A heavy collapse.
"Hic, hhk..."
The Demon King had crumpled to the floor, trembling.
Not my problem. Losers, exit stage left.
Trying to kill the vibe while someone else is celebrating? Please.
I ignored her completely and rolled around on the floor with Langplgank.
"Tch..."
The Great Demon King, still shaking, pushed herself to her feet and brushed off her skirt.
"Where do you think you're going?"
She'd been hastily gathering the swords and making for the door.
"Get over here. Time to settle up."