The Soccer Game
The Demon King and I were playing Little Farm.
"...Huh? What'd you say?"
The Demon King's hand, which had been slipping into my vault the way it did every other day, froze mid-reach. She'd only ever picked up the rotten habits, this one.
"No. I'm not saying I won't give them to you."
"...Then what?"
"We need to set a regular collection day for the tribute. That's how the industry works."
I laid it out for her. Don't just take them whenever you feel like it — observe a proper tax day. Even if you're going to shake me down every single day, there should at least be a pattern, a formula. You greedy little gremlin.
BANG!
...Don't flinch, Baek Dongha.
If I backed down here, the Demon King would keep raiding potatoes from my warehouse without a shred of guilt for the rest of time.
And this was, in fact, a critically important turning point.
I was going to correct my friend's rotten habits, even if only a little at a time. Ideally she wouldn't take other people's potatoes at all, but this was step one.
I believe in my Demon King...
Gulp.
"...Yeah. Fine, whatever."
The Demon King made a listless face. Her character put the king potato she'd been pulling from the warehouse right back where it came from.
YES!!!!
I was over the moon. I wanted to stretch her cheeks and praise her, but getting torn apart by a hellbeast wasn't on today's agenda, so I held back.
What a magnificent first step this is.
This was the first time I had ever stopped the Demon King from doing something. The first time I had pushed one of her demands even a single square back.
This was humanity's counteroffensive, plain and simple. The one who landed a hit on her wasn't the Archmage of Fire, or a ninja, or those four lunatic women — it was a kind friend. It isn't the fierce wind that strips a traveler's coat, after all. It's the sunshine.
...While I was on a roll. Should I go for this one too?
"...Hey. About the fairy tale books. If I write one a week, I think I'll be chasing deadlines. Then the nice writing I want to give you will have that rushed quality all over it. Like those old exam-cram poems. So how about one a month?"
"Uuuugh..."
Anyone could see how disappointed the Demon King was. She deflated like a popped rubber balloon. She'd clearly been looking forward to next week with everything she had.
"...Okay. Can't be helped. Yeah. I'll wait..."
The Demon King was unusually compliant today. This was a concession, a retreat made possible only because she cared about me too.
...Should I push just a little more?
"...The thing about art is, when you set a deadline, it creates this invisible frame around the writer. They say constraint crushes inspiration, right? So from now on, irregular serialization..."
CRACKLE-ZZZAP!
Lightning streaked past my ear again. Smoke curled from her fingertips.
"There was a mosquito... Hehe. Anyway, what did you just say?"
"A fairy tale book published every month — please look forward to it!"
...What do I do.
I needed to go to the merchant guild in the next village, but walking would take forever.
Neighhh!
The Demon King's character was drinking carrot juice with Red Hare. She practically hated carrots in real life, yet here in Little Farm she was buying five-hundred-potato carrot juice and drinking it with gusto.
"Heheh. Slurp. Delicious."
...Are YOU eating that? Your character is eating that.
"...Hey, so."
"Hm?"
"Could I borrow Red Hare for a bit?"
If I just rode that over and back, it'd be quick. What's a friend for, if not this? Helping each other out in times like these is what friends do. And besides, even though she'd long since stolen the ownership, it had been mine to begin with.
"Sure. Then I'll tend the potato farm for you until you get back. Be careful out there."
...!
Ziiing...
Sometimes the Demon King could be dazzlingly kind. This was one of those times. The sunlight pouring down behind her character seemed even brighter than usual today.
Sorry I hoped you'd fall off Red Hare and die!
"Th-then...! I'll take it?"
I grabbed Red Hare's reins. I was about to hop on before she could change her mind, when the Demon King's character caught my character by the pant leg.
"Huh? What?"
"You need the Golden Hoe to farm. Hand it over before you go."
!!!!
This bandit bastard!
This goddamn selfish brat! She never had the slightest intention of lending me Red Hare — not even as much intention as Rebecca has intelligence!
When I come back, she'll take Red Hare and she won't return the Golden Hoe.
In other words, she was saying she wouldn't lend it in a high-level roundabout way. She'd read so much Peter Pan she'd learned to negotiate like Captain Hook.
"...Come to think of it... walking might be fine. Walking is the best exercise for your health..."
My character let go of the reins and trudged away. His retreating back looked especially bitter today.
"Hey. Let's make a bet. I'll put up my Red Hare against your Golden Hoe! And if you beat me, I'll teach you something even better!"
You greedy poisonous toad. She'd been eyeing my Golden Hoe with envy for days, and now she'd finally put it up as a wager.
Granted, I was the one who'd deleted her Mars City tycoon character — the one rich enough to bitch-slap Mansour across the face thirty thousand times... but that was in the past, wasn't it? All this pomp and circumstance just to borrow a horse once...
"...What kind of bet?"
Even so, I couldn't help being interested. It wasn't news, but my win rate against her was overwhelmingly in my favor.
Besides.
This time, the stakes were already set. No goddamn forehead flicks or ass-kicking mixed in. Meaning whatever game she was proposing was at least worth hearing out.
"Soccer!"
A nostalgic intro poured out of the speakers. Tecmo World Cup 20xx, the classic soccer game.
The Demon King hit the play button, and the screen switched to team selection.
Tap-tap-tap-tap!
Crap!
"Hm? What was that just now?"
"Ah, I was just testing if the controls work."
Caught up in the familiar BGM, I'd almost pressed left twice and right three times to pick my main, Brazil. I'd pretended this was my first time in front of the Demon King, so I absolutely could not let her find out I was a veteran.
"Dongha, if you keep playing games like that every day, what will you have left when you're older?"
What'll I have left, Mom? Red Hare, that's what.
The little rice cake who had no idea of her own situation cheerfully picked the United States.
Huh? Why the US of all teams?
The US wasn't a particularly strong or distinctive team in this game. All the stats were even, which meant they didn't excel at anything.
...Why, though? Now I'm curious.
"Hey. Why'd you pick the US?"
"The US?"
"The team you just picked."
"Oh, this one's the prettiest. There's a bunch of stars in a square box."
...That was the reason.
The Demon King loved stars. The dark ceiling of the Demon King's Castle had stars drawn here and there in white crayon. She must have liked the American flag.
...Don't you start with the sentimental act.
I'd put up the Golden Hoe I'd poured the last two months into. I'd pretend to be a beginner, then smash her with everything I had. But apparently she was thinking the same thing.
"Ohohoh. I'll sell the Golden Hoe and buy more golden calves."
"...This is a lending bet, isn't it?"
"Hm? What did I just say?"
"...That you'd sell the Golden Hoe and buy golden calves..."
"Oh my. A slip of the tongue. A mistake. Come on, let's start."
As I thought. She had zero intention of giving it back. Fine. I'll tear you to shreds.
I looked around like it was my first time, then promptly picked Brazil.
Given her personality, if I demolished her one-sidedly again, she'd throw a tantrum for sure. I could already picture it: Grrr! I've never lost at this! Daaamn! — and then she'd snap my legs like Nolbu from the old folktale. So I needed to put on a show of give-and-take.
I've got this. Some amateur whose main is the US.
Hell, I was confident I could start three goals down and still cruise to a win. But then she hit me with a proposal I hadn't seen coming.
"Want to score two goals first?"
"What?"
"Score two goals. It's your first time, right? Hehe. I'm fine with it!"
...?
This little...
Daring to act cocky in front of Sinchon's own Gerrard? But a pro doesn't get rattled by cheap provocation like this.
"Yeah. Thanks. You're going easy on me because it's my first time?"
"Pshh, going easy... It's just to make it fair."
Fine. No reason not to play along. Take a good look at Red Hare, who'll be living happily with me starting today, and regret it.
Preeeep!
The referee's whistle blew and the game began. She actually took her hands off the gamepad and just watched me.
"I-is this how you move?"
I deliberately made my character stagger and wobble as he dribbled the ball, running like he might collapse at any second.
"Ohohohoh! Oh my, oh my. He's running so well!!"
The Demon King was so delighted her huge grin threatened to split her face. She clapped like a seal, giggling, with the expression of someone watching a toddler take their first steps.
"What's the shoot button?"
I rolled my eyes around wildly, putting on a full clueless-rookie act.
"Kyahahaha! You're so cute! Youuu!"
The Demon King burst into a huge smile, blocked my path, and stretched my cheeks. I could only pray she wouldn't misjudge her strength and tear them off.
"This one. Press this."
The Demon King stacked her finger over mine on the gamepad I was holding and pressed.
A fanfare exploded across the screen. My player did a forward roll as a celebration.
"How is it? Huh? Exciting? Huh? Super fun, right?"
"Yeah."
"....It's exciting, right?"
"Yeah. Super exciting."
"........Guess it's not that exciting. Hmph."
The Demon King's lips jutted out in a pout.
...Ah. Shit.
Gotta do it again.
I shot to my feet, nailed three consecutive backflips, planted my foot on the chair, and then used a rag from the table to furiously polish my instep as a celebration.
"HOOOOUUU!"
"Kyahahaha! Ahaha! Don't you like it a little TOO much? Now I'm happy too... Ihihi."
...Looks like the celebration passed.
Since the Demon King had promised two goals, I scored another one right away. Of course, I had to do that moronic celebration one more time. The Demon King flipped onto her back cackling. And then, at last, she picked up the gamepad.
"Ohohoh. Then I'll play for real now?"
"Yeah."
You'd better not talk any more smack. Not if you don't want to completely embarrass yourself.
The Demon King's game sense was pretty sharp, but there was something she was critically lacking. Experience points.
...She's never actually played against another person.
That was why she was only good at solo games like Bubble Bobble. In games like Iron Fist, where PvP experience mattered, she'd only ever played against the computer. So she could never break through the ceiling.
Even so... I can't go easy on her.
If I went easy on her out of pity, she'd just take from me. Get what I need, then treat the Demon King well in return. Sorry, but I'm taking this game too.
THWACK!
GYAAAAH!
?
My character, who'd been dribbling the ball, took a deep tackle from the Demon King's US player and rolled across the ground. It hurt so much he clutched his leg and couldn't get up.
...Was that a mistake?
Veteran Baek Dongha's footwork kicked back in. She immediately had the ball stolen by my next player. My attack turn again...
THWACK!
GYAAAAH!
?!
"...Eheheh."
Oh no.
Her disadvantage was a lack of experience playing against other people. She'd probably never even watched a soccer match.
But there was a dilemma here.
Even when she'd played like shit against the computer, nobody had ever tackled her.
Plus, this game was old. There was no referee.
THWACK!
GYAAAAH!
THWACK!
GYAAAAH!
After that, she tore across the pitch like a horse with its reins cut, snapping my players' legs as she went.
...Wow. Seriously.
Two of my players took career-ending injuries from her surprise tackles and were sent off. What should have been the prime of their youth had become a retirement match.
...You think you're the only one who can tackle?
The Demon King, who'd been the only one using tackles against a computer that always played fair.
I'd teach her what sportsmanship was.
THWACK!
GROOAN!
The Demon King's character, who'd been dribbling away with a sunny expression, tumbled across the ground from my tackle.
"Ah?"
Probably the first deep tackle the Demon King had ever taken. How's that? Different from the gentlemanly computer, isn't it? Real competition?
"Uh... where'd he go? He's gone."
She was searching the monitor for her character, whose playing career had just ended from that last deep tackle.
He's not here. He's already in the ambulance.
"Huh? My player..."
While the stunned Demon King's hands slowed, I blasted a mid-range shot. Goal, immediately. That made it 3-0.
"Wh-wha?"
Only then did the Demon King start to grasp the situation.
"W-what's going on...?"
"You used tackles earlier, so I watched and learned. As expected of a technique you were using — this is great."
Crunch. I could hear the Demon King, having received a dose of mirror therapy, grinding her molars.
So, what now? Going to use violence like a child? Go on, flick my forehead. I dare you.
...Of course I didn't actually say that.
"You... daaamn."
The Demon King puffed her cheeks way out and grabbed the gamepad again. Looks like she was going to play for real.
THWACK!
GYAAAAH!
...She's tackling even more properly now.
Fine. Let's go to a war of attrition. Whose legs break first.
What the Demon King and I played after that was not soccer. Leg-breaking. That was more accurate.
The tackles, which at first had only been launched at whoever was dribbling, grew steadily worse, until it reached the point where we were passing the ball TO the opponent just so we could plant a tackle.
THWACK!
GYAAAAH!
"...Heheh. Killed another one. Kikik."
The Demon King was so absorbed she was blurting out her inner thoughts. You've really hit rock bottom, haven't you.
Since two of my players had already been injured and sent off first, I was naturally at a disadvantage. In the process I ate three more goals, and the score became 3-3.
Tecmo World Cup had become more of a fighting game than Iron Fist. Now we each had only one striker and one goalkeeper left.
WAAAAAAAH!
The crowd, which had no idea what was going on, was cheering like crazy. This is why classic games don't work.
And so began the last ball.
I made my player who'd caught the ball run toward my own goal.
"Huh? Why that way?"
I deliberately gave the Demon King a little bit of distance. Then, as expected, she came running joyfully, about to launch a tackle.
...Got her.
Now.
I immediately passed the ball to the goalkeeper. No ball, no tackle. The Demon King seemed to finally catch on to my scheme and scrambled after him, but the goalkeeper had already crossed more than half the pitch — a distance she couldn't close — and all of the Demon King's defenders were in the hospital.
All that was left was her goalkeeper.
One-on-one.
I snuck a glance at the Demon King's face. Her rapidly trembling eyes followed the ball my goalkeeper was dribbling this way and that.
The Demon King's goalkeeper charged out. She knew that launching a slide, at least, had a better chance of blocking than just standing there.
...This is a fake too.
I passed it straight to the striker who'd been secretly following from right behind.
"...Huh?"
The opposing goalkeeper threw himself at my goalkeeper. That one was a decoy to draw out the Demon King's keeper. The real deal was the last remaining striker.
A dramatic victory.
Hoo...
"....No... no..."
The Demon King, now the manager of the US team on the monitor, stared at the 4-3 score with empty eyes.
Did I go too far?
The Demon King didn't know tackles were bad. She might have just thought it was something she was good at. In other words, she was purely evil.
Did I really need to break every single player's legs?
...Should I say I'm sorry?
...The Demon King's drooping eyes. I was about to apologize somehow, when she did something astonishing.
"...Hehe. I lost."
!!!
The Demon King... the Demon King...
This was different from everything before. She was wearing a bitter smile, submitting to the result of the game.
...You've grown, haven't you. You too.
Just as I'd developed the guts to carefully say a word or two to the Demon King, she too had clearly achieved some inner growth.
"...Then, that thing I said I'd tell you earlier? Since I lost, I'll tell you... We're going on a trip soon."
"...A trip?"
Come to think of it, she'd said something like that before.
"Yeah... Hehe, you're happy too, right?"
It was a surprising announcement, if you wanted to call it that. We'd just be going somewhere inside the Tower anyway... but was this leaving the 100th floor for the first time in months?
"Ohohoh... Then I'll go get dinner ready."
She smiled like an adult and stood up.
I grabbed her pale wrist as she hurried to leave.
"Hey. You've gotta hand over Red Hare before you go."
"...N-nooo... I don't wanna... Daaamn..."
Correction. This little shit. She hadn't grown even a little.