Alkkagi (2)
She had six white stones left. I had nine black ones.
"Hurry up already."
Don't rush me before I get the living shit beaten out of me.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm going."
She had absolutely no control over her own strength, which meant she was guaranteed to lose one stone per turn. Six turns, and she'd be finished. Even if I spent every remaining shot missing on purpose and knocking all my own pieces off the board, I'd still have three left. I'd still win.
I'd have to be spectacularly, historically terrible not to.
Could that innocent Demon King even begin to guess at the agony I had to shoulder every single time, all because she was so god-awful at this?
This round, there was genuinely no way out. How many brilliant schemes had I already thrown in the trash?
One. Own-goal my own stones.
In plain terms: knock out two of my pieces in a single turn, a two-for-one special. If I started now, the count would run Me 9, Demon King 5 — then Me 7, Demon King 4 — Me 5, Demon King 3 — Me 3, Demon King 2 — Me 1, Demon King 1 — and I'd be done.
That would mean my defeat, and the whole thing would end with me rubbing those slender shoulders of hers. Except the Demon King had a sixth sense for when you were going easy on her, no matter how slick you tried to be about it. Pull a stunt like that in front of her, and a Meteor Drive would come crashing down on the top of my skull. Scrapped.
Two. Force a forfeit.
Pretend to blow my nose, lift my hand, clip the Baduk board — scatter the stones on top and send them tumbling — forfeit by foul.
I'd actually used this one before. During the arm-wrestling tournament, I'd planted a soccer kick in Blue's shin under the table and taken the foul. Realistically, it was the most viable option I had right now. Except...
The Demon King wouldn't like it.
Not something I could keep pulling. Aside from that golden-calf-in-the-pepper-field incident, she'd been almost squeaky-clean in every match we'd ever played. Stack up enough of these cheap tricks and her trust in me would start to rot, and that was a one-way ticket to life at the Demon King's Castle going spectacularly sideways.
Worst-case scenario...
That memory of hers was sharp as a tack. She'd just put every stone back where it belonged and resume the game. I'd walk away with nothing but the disgrace of being a dirty cheater, and not a single thing to show for it.
Three. Tell her this is boring and suggest something else.
The strategy I'd used during bingo. In practice, it was a better way to get under her skin than actually winning. And this game? This was her passion project, something she'd gone to a lot of trouble to bring back from outside, boxed up and wrapped as pretty as you please. Talk it down? That was just suicide.
Besides, last time I'd had the bingo sheets themselves to lean on — a natural way to sell her on how fun the previous game had been. I wouldn't get that luxury here. And even if we did switch games, if the shoulder-rub penalty carried over, the whole point would be shot.
Four. Pitch her a brand-new rule, and then—
"...You're not going?"
The Demon King, blissfully unaware of the crisis unfolding in someone else's head, tapped the Baduk board with a fingernail. Tap. Tap.
"...Yeah. I am."
No matter how I turned it over, there was no exit. At this rate, How I Survived the Demon King was never getting published.
I reached for a stone, praying she'd handle my shoulders the way you'd handle a baby bird—
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Intruder detected!
A warning alarm, going off at the most dramatically convenient moment imaginable. Maybe I got a little too excited about it. I launched into a standing high jump without so much as glancing at the Demon King's face.
"...Why do you look so happy?"
"...No, I mean — it could be a delivery, right?"
"A delivery?"
"...Yeah. That's a thing that happens."
The Demon King stood up from her chair, the way she always did, ready to go greet the intruder. Right. I'd been eating shit every single day. Every now and then, luck was supposed to break my way like this—
"Hey. I haven't lost yet. Hurry up and throw them out, then we'll pick this back up."
...What? I thought we were done?
I'd been in such high spirits I was already reaching to sweep the stones off the board. Her death sentence froze me solid, right down to the groin.
"...Maybe we should just stop here..."
"Huuuh? What's that supposed to mean? You think you've already won, don't you?"
She puffed out her cheeks and snapped at me, sharp as a cat.
"No, that's not it — it's just, the flow got broken, so..."
"...The flow got broken?"
"Let's wreck that damn intruder bastard real quick and keep going. Before the heat on the field dies out."
...Fuck. I'm completely screwed.
"I am Kaiyan, Five-Star of the Scorpion Guild. Until now, you have—"
Is there a skip button on this guy or what...
I'd heard so many of these intruder speeches that I was thoroughly, bone-deep sick of them. Why every last bastard who showed up here had such impeccable manners was one of life's great mysteries.
"...That's enough. Let's begin."
Give the Demon King this much: she was a real sport about it. She'd sit through every last rambling backstory these paper-thin, pathetic invaders had to offer, and then she'd wreck them. If she hadn't, my own skull would've been cracked open a long time ago.
Kaiyan-or-whatever charged in with a greatsword as tall as he was.
"Haaaah!"
Ping!
Grab.
The Demon King caught the greatsword one-handed — a full overhead smash, stopped cold.
"...Huh."
Bewilderment flooded Kaiyan's eyes. That reaction was getting stale, too.
...Obviously, you idiots.
A Demon King who looked like a little girl being ridiculously strong was just the law of the universe, wasn't it? This backwater world barely had any exposure to modern comics or novels, so the classic tropes — the white-haired old man with the slit eyes, the pretty girl Demon King who could level a mountain — hadn't made it here yet.
"This blade's got a nice grip. I should use it as a kitchen knife. Leave it here."
She took it from him as smoothly as drawing a sword from its sheath, turning it over in her hands with a look of genuine satisfaction.
Kaiyan had the look of a man who had just realized he was fucked. His eyes met mine. Ah. That expression. That was my face, the first time my party got absolutely demolished by the Demon King.
"...I'm sorry. I'll just see myself out."
"...And saying sorry makes it okay?"
The Demon King held up a pale little hand, ready to flick him in the forehead. Same as always: knock them out, take their money, wipe their memory when they woke up, send them on their way...
...Who the fuck am I worrying about right now.
This was no time to be sweating some extra who reeked of bit-part from a mile away. I was the one with my ass on the line. I needed an escape from Alkkagi, and I needed it now—
Ah...!
A lightbulb went on in the head of Baek Dongha, King of Survival. The Demon King's dainty finger was a hair's breadth from the guy's forehead when I threw everything I had into a shout.
Both of them turned to look at me at the same time.
"...Huh? What Alkkagi King?"
We'd been playing Alkkagi not two minutes ago, so curiosity lit up in her eyes.
I sprinted over and slung an arm around Kaiyan's shoulders.
"What timing, showing up right now. This guy's a huge deal. Anyone who knows Alkkagi knows him."
"...Really?"
"Pardon? Alkkagi? I've never— ngh!"
I pinched his side. Then I winked at him: shut up, and if you want to live, do exactly what I say.
"...Oh. Now that I think about it, that does ring a bell. Ghost... yeah. That's me."
Thank god. At least this idiot had more social awareness than the Demon King.
"Perfect. We can all play Alkkagi together with Kaiyan!"
".....I don't like this guy. I'd rather play with you."
A line that could have been a compliment or a curse, coming out of the Demon King's mouth.
"C-come on, let's just try it, okay? You don't get a chance to play Alkkagi against this guy every day."
"...Hmmm... if you're saying so... fine."
Kaiyan... you poor bastard... thank you.
"Then let's make it a tournament. I'll play him first. You play whoever wins."
The proposal had a way of making her own skill sound like the main event, and that was apparently enough. She went for it.
I leaned in and murmured to Kaiyan.
"You win the Alkkagi tournament, and I'll let you walk out of here alive."
"Allow me to demonstrate the skill that once earned me the name of the Crimson Fury Alkkagi King."
I never introduced you as that... stop making shit up...
And so the three of us sat down to Alkkagi. I talked Kaiyan's skill up to the Demon King until it was inflated past all recognition. Then I said:
"I'll definitely win, so wait for me in the finals."
"Okay. You better make it there, got it?"
Once the production value got this high, even the Demon King bought it. She agreed to scratch the previous board and start fresh.
Click!
Clack!
Click!
I played it reasonably straight, just enough to sell that this wasn't a thrown match. Kaiyan was pouring his entire soul into Alkkagi, cold sweat rolling down his face. I'd have done the same, if winning meant I got to live.
"...Hahh... please."
Click!
Tap! Tap!
Kaiyan, two-for-one!
"WAAAAAH! That's what I'm talking about! You see that? That's the Ghost Alkkagi King for you!"
Somewhere along the way, Kaiyan had fully method-acted himself into the actual Ghost Alkkagi King. Acting, my ass — he was genuinely, unhingedly thrilled. It overlapped a little too well with the way I'd once lost my mind celebrating with Langplgank during that oak-barrel game.
...You idiot... I feel bad for you.
Time to throw it, just enough.
"...At this rate, the promise I made to meet my friend the Demon King in the finals..."
I kept playing, hands trembling on cue.
"...Do your best."
Moved by my fighting spirit, the Demon King cheered me on, all wistful and sincere. Fuck off. Do my best? What am I lighting incense for, a funeral?
Click!
Tap!
We traded shots at a measured pace, and then, right on script, I gifted him the last stone.
"I won! It's the finals!"
The Alkkagi King was beside himself. I bowed my head in defeat — partly to sell the bitterness, and partly to hide the smile that was trying to crawl up the corners of my mouth.
The Demon King's pretty hand patted me on the back. Even then, some animal part of me flinched, wondering if this was the one that would actually hurt.
"....Avenge me. Get him back for me."
"...Yeah. I'll give it everything I've got."
...Nice.
A sour smell hit the air. The Alkkagi King had pissed himself.
BAAANG!
"Eek!"
He was playing Alkkagi while dodging the Demon King's stones, which came in like cannonballs. The board state was far better for him than it had been against me, and he did not look happy about it in the slightest.
"Nngh! Why won't they go in?!"
The Demon King was putting more and more power into every shot. Kaiyan was trying to win a game of Alkkagi while simultaneously dodging incoming gunfire. I sat there watching the whole thing, sipping the gold kiwi parfait the Demon King had bought. It did not get more entertaining than this.
BAAANG!
The Demon King's nineteenth stone went wide. And then came his last attack, after dodging death more times than anyone should reasonably survive.
"Please!"
BAAANG!
Tap!
Just like that, the game was over. The Alkkagi King — no, piss-pants Kaiyan — leapt out of his chair in delight. His legs gave out completely, and he went down face-first, mouth kissing the floor.
"...I'm alive... I can go home..."
My eyes met the Demon King's. She looked furious, and on top of that, guilty — sorry she hadn't been able to avenge me. It's fine! These things happen.
"...A promise is a promise."
The Demon King walked over to Kaiyan.
"Y-you'll let me go now, righ—"
"Turn around."
Kaiyan had no idea what was going on. He still turned his back to her, wearing the blankest expression in the world. Which meant his eyes met mine.
"...Why am I suddenly turning around?"
"You won, so I'll give you a shoulder rub."
At the Demon King's announcement of his prize, his eyes started darting around at high speed.
Thud.
A small, heavy palm settled onto Kaiyan's shoulder.
"...W-wait. This... did you...?"
His face had gone white. He'd finally pieced it together. A little late, of course.
I gave him a pleasant smile and answered with a quiet little round of applause. Then I turned my back, walked to the door, and opened it.
Click. Creeeak.
"...You! You son of a bitch! From the very beginning you were—"
THUD.
"Ngh?! AAAAAAAARGH!!!!!"
The screaming that followed went on and on. One bedroom door was nowhere near enough to muffle a grown man's grief.