Soot and Ice Cream

"...Nngh."

The unconscious Nephilim opened his eyes to find the Demon King and her friend standing over him.

"Flare..."

The same Demon King who'd put his teeth back in while he was out cold — and here he was, trying to attack her without a shred of gratitude.

This bastard was first-rate, I'd give him that. He'd been unconscious until a second ago, and his recovery was lightning-fast. Just not as fast as the Demon King.

Before Nephilim could even finish chanting, a beam shot from the Demon King's fingertip with a sharp beeeep and struck his arm.

A thud. Then a clattering roll. The staff in his hand lost its support and fell to the floor.

"W-what is this?!"

Both of Nephilim's arms, which had been gripping the staff, had transformed into bird wings.

"Ghhhk! Transmutation magic?!"

He flailed his hands — no, his wings — wildly, feathers flying in every direction. Ugh. Avian flu.

"You keep acting nasty, so I turned your arms into parrot wings. Keep it up and I'll do your legs too."

"You filthy gutter-water demon! How dare a wretch like you inflict this humiliation upon me, Nephilim! I'll extract your entrails this instant—"

"Your mouth's nasty too, huh?"

Another sharp beeeep. Nephilim's mouth, still trying to spit out more, transformed into a parrot's beak.

Screee! Screee!

I had no idea what it meant, but Nephilim was probably cussing out the Demon King in fluent parrot.

So that thing she said before wasn't a lie.

The thing about turning people into parrots if they lied. I'd come this close to living in a cage myself. As usual, the Demon King pulled a coin tied with string from her pocket.

"Here. Watch this."

The coin dangled. Dangled. And just like that, she turned the half-parrot who'd been flapping around into a drooling idiot and sent him packing. The wings and beak would apparently go back to normal in about a week. Imagining Nephilim unable to even unzip his pants for seven days, pecking at birdseed instead — that was some sweet, sweet justice. That's what you get, you fucking arsonist. Why'd you have to mess with the Demon King.

"Ugh, it smells burnt... Let's air the place out and wipe down the scorched spots."

"...Don't you have magic for getting rid of soot?"

"I do, but the grime doesn't come off well. Gotta do it by hand. ...More than that, thank you."

"For what?"

The Demon King padded closer, her eyes half-lidded in a way that was almost pretty. Her mochi-soft cheeks twitched as she spoke.

"Just... everything. Heheh..."

"...Oh."

"And thanks for saying you'd write me a fairy-tale book every week, forever."

? When did I say that?

The Demon King and I scrubbed at the soot on the walls of my room — the ones Nephilim had left charred. My arms were going numb.

Ghhhhk. This is fucking exhausting!

This was all because of that damn son of a bitch Nephilim... no, son of a bird. Should've tied his beak shut so he couldn't even eat before kicking him out.

Scrub, scrub, scrub. And suddenly I remembered the toothpaste sewing-machine drill Sergeant Koh used to make us do in the army.

Grrrr!

The moment Sergeant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Koh's shitty mug popped into my head, every villain on my personal ranking flashed by like a panorama. Nine, Rebecca, Dorothy, even Yuria. Ugh. It was a Suicide Squad all its own. My mood soured considerably.

"Hnnngh. Hnngh..."

I glanced sideways.

I'd been dwelling on those twisted, plague-ridden pieces of trash, but looking at the Demon King's face as she wiped the wall with a dry towel beside me, I felt a little purified. Even with those slender arms, she was scrubbing away without so much as a grimace. Or maybe she'd just gotten used to this from how often it happened.

...Those damn bastards.

There were way too many mannerless pieces of garbage in this world. If you came to fight the Demon King, just fight her clean and get the hell out. Sure, it was only her appearance, but against a girl who looked that delicate they'd have ninjas throwing the first strike, greatswords coming down, fire dragons getting hurled, four-on-one beatdowns... ah. I did that last one too. Anyway, they were bad people with not a shred of chivalry to be found.

"...Yaaawn."

"You wanna sleep?"

the Demon King asked. I'd been up since the crack of dawn, and the sun was already high. Of course I was drowning in drowsiness.

"You can sleep. I'll clean up."

"...By yourself? That's hard. Just wait. When I wake up we'll do it together."

"No. No. I'm good at this anyway. My friend's sleepy, right? Yeah?"

...!

Demon King!

You've grown!

The lunatic who wouldn't let me sleep for three days while making me play Bubble Bobble was gone. All that remained was a merciful, squishy little mochi. You really have grown in this time—

"If you're gonna write me books, you should sleep a bit now. And you bought a new Golden Hoe, didn't you? You're not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gonna play Little Farm?"

As if this girl would ever let that slide.

"...Yeah. I'll play Little Farm."

If I said no, she'd probably go, You're not? Then lend me the Golden Hoe. I'll use it for you, borrow it, and never give it back. That's how she stole the Red Hare too. Little thug of a girl.

Luckily the bed hadn't burned, so I lay down right away. The Demon King, who'd been wiping the wall, pattered over and perched on the edge of the mattress. Without warning, she started stroking my hair.

"Good boy, good boy."

She looked down at me lying there, her face full of contentment.

...

Her hand.

"...Is your hand okay?"

I asked her. I'd seen it heal completely with restoration magic, but I still wanted to hear her say it was fine.

Come to think of it, she'd been unharmed when she took Dorothy's Flare Storm before. Why did she get hurt this time? Flare Wheel was only fast to cast — its power was far lower. Was Nephilim just that strong?

"Yep! I'm fine. Look."

She showed me her white, pretty hands front and back, smiling brightly. It felt like she was doing it to reassure me, and I found that a little admirable.

I reached out and gently took her hand. No particular reason. I just wanted to. Her eyes went round again at the gesture. Honestly... she scoffs and swats away disaster-class magic, so why does she get surprised by every little thing like this? I couldn't figure it out.

"...Huh? Uh-uh?"

"This hand saved me earlier. I was saying thanks."

"..."

Had she lost the ability to form words? The Demon King's spinning pupils darted around the room, avoiding mine, then finally landed on my eyes.

"...Like. You. Fairy tales... um... thank you. Me too."

...What is she even saying.

Her word order was a complete mess. The language was chaotic, but the meaning came through.

"Yeah. I'm gonna... yaaawn... sleep now..."

I tried to pull my hand away. She gripped it tight and wouldn't let go. She must ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have been holding on as gently as she could, because luckily my hand didn't get crushed.

"...Why?"

"You sleep. I just wanna stay like this a little. Just a little... heheh."

"Okay..."

My heavy eyelids closed.

Comfort. Warmth. Things I could have searched this entire world for and never found. Looking at it now, they'd been sitting in the palm of her small hand all along.

...A nice smell.

The sour soot from Nephilim's arson was gone. A faint fruit scent brushed the tip of my nose.

"Y-you're up!"

I opened my eyes to find the Demon King still sitting in the exact same spot. She looked as delighted as someone who'd gone a week without food spotting a chicken delivery driver.

...Mmm.

Outside, it was already evening, just before sunset. I'd slept the whole day. The soot that had been caked in every corner of the room was almost completely gone.

"Heheh. Good thing you woke up."

She looked down at me still lying there. It wasn't like I was going anywh—

"I was just about to use Roar of the Berserk Dragon... heheh."

Fuck! Whose eardrums were you trying to shred?!

I was treated to a feast so lavish the table legs were buckling. It had always been this way, but when the Demon King decided to cook something delicious, the food that came out was endlessly, impossibly good.

"Whoa. This is seriously dog-good."

"'Dog-good'? Is that tastier than 'fucking delicious'?"

"...Yeah, something like that."

"I see. Then I dog-like you."

"Don't use that word. It's a bad word."

"Okay! I fucking won't!"

"Don't use that one either."

Over a meal so delicious my tongue went slack, a happiness so unreal it barely felt like reality settled over me. And the even more amazing part was that this wasn't the end.

"Heheh... There's dessert today too?"

"Dessert?"

"Yep."

...Jerky? Or canned beans?

But what the Demon King brought was...

Oh my god.

"..."

"Hm? What's wrong? That's the same face you made the first time you saw kimchi stew..."

"...Hey. You didn't just cast hallucination magic, did you?"

"No? I haven't used it since that time we played Iron Fist... ah, no! I've never used it even once!"

Oh, fuck. What kind of dirty tricks did you pull during Iron Fist? No wonder you were ridiculously good sometimes.

No. That didn't matter right now.

"...This is a Ssang Ssang Bar... right? A Ssang Ssang Bar."

There was ice cream right in front of me. The exact one they used to sell back in Korea. The one with two sticks so you could split it down the middle and share.

"Yeah, an adventurer from before... preserved it with magic... there's only one... I really treasure it..."

She was rattling off the Ssang Ssang Bar's specs, but unfortunately none of it was going in. In this moment, I just wanted to grab the stick and take a huge bite. How long had it been? Obviously I'd never seen anything like ice cream in this world.

"They say this is super, suuuuper delicious."

She was right. It definitely would be. There was no way that chocolate-colored ice bar wouldn't taste good.

She tore open the wrapper. From within, a Ssang Ssang Bar radiating cold air revealed itself in all its noble glory.

I swallowed.

"Here."

"Huh?"

She didn't split the Ssang Ssang Bar in two. She handed me the whole thing. After holding it out, she cupped her cheeks in her palms like always, grinning from ear to ear as she watched me.

"...What are you doing? Aren't you gonna eat?"

"...You're giving me the whole thing?"

"Yep. Hurry up and show me you eating it. Heheh."

Whoa. Jackpot. Honestly, a Ssang Ssang Bar was a bit of an awkward amount to eat alone anyway.

...

Snap.

Ah... fuck.

I made a mistake at the worst possible moment. I'd split the Ssang Ssang Bar with one piece abnormally large and the other one small.

"Huh? Why'd you split it! That's precious!"

"...This is how you're supposed to eat it. You share it. Here."

She took the piece I held out.

"...Hm? This one's way bigger?"

"You eat the big one. It was yours to begin with."

"But still..."

Before she could say anything more, I put mine in my mouth. It was ridiculously sweet, just as expected.

"You eat too. It's melting."

"...Okay."

Crunch.

Her eyes went so wide they looked ready to pop out.

"Wooow...! It's so, so good! It's like sugar. It's as good as a six-second Wind God combo!"

The Demon King held the ice cream in her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mouth, chewing away in bliss. Watching her, I felt like I understood a little of why she'd wanted to give me the whole thing.

Sweet. A Ssang Ssang Bar, through and through.

"That was good."

"Me too!"

"...But why didn't you just eat it yourself? Why'd you wait?"

When I asked her, she tapped the empty ice cream wrapper with her fingernail. Printed there was a commercial slogan.

...Well. It wasn't a lie.