Travel Preparations
Rustle, rustle. Thud. Thud.
...How long is she going to keep this up?
The Demon King had said we'd pack tomorrow, but she was still bustling from one end of her room to the other, pulling things out and putting things together. The racket carried straight through her firmly shut door and into mine.
Fuck! Let me sleep already!
Back when I was living outside the Tower with those bitches, I'd slept just fine in the middle of a battlefield — arrows flying, fireballs dropping out of the sky. ...Have I gone soft? Maybe that was it. Maybe I'd turned back into a sensitive modern guy who couldn't sleep through a little noise. I wasn't sure whether that was something I ought to be glad about.
Crash! Thud-thud!
...Crazy bitch.
Guess she didn't need sleep.
Ehehe! A trip! We're going on a trip!
The bright smile she'd worn at dinner came back to me.
Just leave her be. She's this loud because she's that happy.
And besides, I owed her after what I'd done.
...And what was I going to do if I didn't leave her be, anyway? I was cannon fodder compared to her.
Yeah! Yeah! I love it! I love it! I love it so much!
She was cute, though.
Crash-bang! Crash-bang!
Th-this is a friendship trip... right?
She was cu—
CRASH-BANG-BANG! CRASH-BANG-BANG!
I'm so... I... I'm so...
Cu—
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Crash-thud!
Hmph.
Fucking horned demon bitch. What the hell is she doing instead of sleeping?
I yanked the blanket up over my head. The moment I did, all I could see was her face, smiling so prettily. The irritation melted almost at once, drowned in a thick wash of guilt.
...Someday. I have to tell her the truth...
I used the sleep that wouldn't come as an excuse to stop thinking, and let myself drift on the sound of her crashing around. Picturing her hurrying about, busy with her preparations, I finally felt drowsiness settle over me.
"...Haaah."
I opened my eyes to a smell of cooking that had been hammering at me for some time.
...Fine. I'm coming.
The kitchen was far enough from my room that a smell this strong shouldn't have reached me. Which meant this was the Demon King's magic fan, wafting the smoke my way on purpose.
I threw off the blanket, opened my door, and walked toward the kitchen. Rounding the corner, I found exactly what I'd expected: the Demon King fanning a skillet of bacon as it sizzled and popped.
"H-huh? W-when did you..."
She whipped the fan behind her back. Did she actually think that would hide it? My eyes went straight to the spot, and she gave up, pulling the fan back out with the air of someone who'd accepted her fate.
"Ahem... it's hot."
Then she started fanning herself, as if that had been the plan all along. Hot, my ass. Who did she take me for?
"You're up early. You could've slept more."
"Oh. Yeah. I'll do that."
"...What did you just say?"
"...Huh? I said I'd sleep more..."
"......Come again?"
A crackle of killing intent slid across the air between us.
"Is there anything I can help with?"
Only then did she answer with a bright smile. Full marks.
"Wait — do you even know how to cook?"
"No, I don't know the first thi—"
I cut the lie off right as it reached my teeth.
Cooking, laundry, cleaning, meals, dishes — every household stat I had was already maxed out, and I knew every kind of recreation game inside and out.
...But.
I wanted to keep eating the Demon King's cooking. I absolutely did not want her finding out what I could do in a kitchen. That was why I'd been so eager to help with doll-making and cleaning and every other chore — and why, when it came to cooking, I'd been pretending I couldn't even fry an egg.
...Just this once.
What I'd done to her yesterday was too much. I'd help with this meal.
I'll just play it like some naturally gifted first-timer.
"You — what are you?"
Ah, crap.
The second I picked up the spatula, an artist's soul burst into flame. By the time I came back to my senses, I was carving her bean omelet into the shape of a star. The eggs had been cooked to a perfect golden yellow, right on the razor's edge of not burning. The trick is mixing a little milk into the beaten eggs.
"You... you..."
It was over. My skills — probably the second-best cook among all the Baeks in Korea — had been found out.
Oh my, Mr. Baek? I had no idea you could cook like this. All this time you were eating that stuff I made that barely counted as food, and you must have been laughing on the inside, weren't you? We're done. Goodbye.
Slam!
I could not let that happen.
"I've been watching you cook this whole time. They say even a poetry-dog at a schoolhouse recites for three years."
...What the hell am I even saying, you moron.
I'd gotten so spooked the word order came out as garbage.
"Ohoho. I think you mean even a schoolhouse dog recites poetry after three years. Come here."
The Demon King corrected my mangled proverb with a mangled correction of her own, then patted me on the head like she was proud of me.
"You always put things so nicely."
That was a first.
Still, I had been cursing less lately than I used to. I was worried she'd pick it up from me.
"Then from now on we can take turns cooking. Yeah. You're kitchen staff now, too."
She gave my shoulder a couple of pats, smiling like I'd passed. I'd seen it coming, but it was still a catastrophe. Only getting to eat her cooking half the time. Well, whatever. I'd eaten plenty of it already.
Hm? Why hasn't this been cooked yet?
A pot sat there with vegetables and meat in it. A bottle of broth stood beside it, so I picked it up. I was just about to pour it in when—
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!"
A boom cracked through the kitchen. Black lightning erupted from her feet, wrapping the whole room in a charge so violent that even a magic-null like me nearly pissed himself.
"Wh-what is it with you?!"
"Put it down! That broth! Put it down right now!"
The Demon King had gone into combat stance. My brain didn't even get a vote — I set the broth back where it had been.
What's with the psycho fit this time?!
Was it some kind of elixir made from dragon's blood?
"...Hah. Sorry. Did I startle you?"
"No, it's fine. What was that about?"
You scared the living shit out of me, you immortal.
"You were about to cook the hotpot we're supposed to make at the campsite, so I just... reacted..."
"...Ah. No, I get it. I didn't think of it as a portable hotpot."
"Sorry I almost turned you into charcoal..."
So I almost became a lump of charcoal. Got it.
Once the lunch boxes were finished, she spoke up.
"...Hey."
"Yeah?"
"We're not immigrating, are we?"
Finished dishes covered every surface of the kitchen. A ridiculous amount of them. Sandwiches, hotpot, barbecue, omelets, canned goods, baguettes, kimchi pancakes, salad, all kinds of fruit, and on and on.
And then there was that.
"...What is that?"
I pointed at a whole roasted wild boar so enormous I couldn't even guess where she'd been hiding it.
"Oh. We're going to stop on the way up and give that to Leviathan on the 82nd floor. It's his favorite."
Leviathan had been killed by Nine. You didn't actually have to kill the demon of each floor to climb higher, so she still didn't know he was dead.
What am I supposed to say? Here? Now?
She was a demon. I was human. Confessing that I'd been a member of the party that killed Leviathan was no different from telling her I'd taken part in a group that slaughtered her own kind.
She might turn hostile. With her temperament, there was no telling which way she'd jump — a fireball might drop on my head.
Stop making excuses.
Be honest. More than any of that, what terrified me most was not knowing how her feelings toward me would change. I remembered an old movie. All through the story you watch two friends build a real friendship, and then one of them finds out the other killed his family seven years ago, and he puts a gun to his head. A revenge picture.
...I can't tell her.
The last time we'd talked about the Ghost Plateau, the Demon King had said there was nobody there, and her face had gone bitter. This probably wasn't the first time something like this had happened to her. So...
I just hope you don't get too sad this time, either.
...I wish this were a game.
Then dead Leviathan would just respawn like any other mob.
"Alright, we can't carry all of this with us, so..."
The Demon King raised both hands, and just like that time I'd handed her Omniscient Donkey Perspective, the empty air in the room began to split apart like cracking glass.
A shatter rang out, and those demonic hands appeared again, carrying her dishes one by one away to the other side of the dimension.
"...Hey."
"Yeah?"
"That's some kind of high-level sealing magic, isn't it?"
"Yep."
"...And you're using it to store food so we can take it with us?"
"Mm-hm. It'd be heavy if we carried it. Hell's chilly, so it actually works pretty well as a fridge. Come on, let's go pack the travel gear."
"...So you didn't bury the book I gave you in there after all?"
"What? Of course not. The story was horribly terrifying, but you wrote it for me."
What's this. A campfire kindling kit... the single most useless object in the world for the Demon King.
This was someone who could conjure high-grade Hellfire anytime, anywhere.
"...Should we leave this?"
"What? Are you stupid? Why would we leave it?"
"...No, I mean. You can start a fire in midair. Why would we bring this?"
"My. You really need a talking-to."
She tapped her pale forehead with her palm and looked at me like I was beyond help. Infuriating.
"Listen up. Camping and campfires are a symbiotic relationship. You cannot separate them. Got it?"
Ah. That.
The romance of it.
Unlike her, who handled fire as easily as breathing, I'd spent every trip outdoors busting my ass just to get a flame going. I hadn't been able to relate.
"I think I get it. I'm a camping noob, so my camping stats are lacking."
"Be more careful next time."
She was stuffing things into a bag with both hands. Curious, I peered inside.
...No! What the fuck is this?!
A chessboard, a toy crocodile, matching-picture cards — the bag was packed with games.
"Hey! Are you bringing all of that?"
"Mm-hm! Don't you think it'll be fun?!"
Fun, my ass...
It was like that scene in an old comic where the final boss resurrects every monster you've ever beaten and sends them all at you at once.
"Then why didn't you pack that one?"
"Hm...? Oh... that? That's a damn shit game."
I pointed at the Barrel Roulette, and the Demon King spat — ptoo! — copying the crude language I always used. Fair enough. Get wrecked a dozen times in a row and you'd never want to see it again either.
"...Isn't this a bit much?"
"...You don't want to?"
The Demon King looked up at me with big, round eyes like a fawn. This kid used to be a one-trick threat machine, but lately I could have sworn she'd started mixing in sympathy plays. Maybe I was imagining it.
"...That's not it. There's going to be plenty to do on the trip. And we're going to keep playing these here anyway, since we live here."
At that, her face lit right up.
"You're right! Heh. Then I'll just pack the essentials. Oh, and — let's play a game!"
The night before a trip, and she was still challenging me without fail. I wondered what the stakes were this time.
"We each pick a game to bring on the trip. Whoever brings the more fun one wins."
...What kind of vague rule was that. Anyone could see it was rigged in the Demon King's favor.
"...Alright. Let's do it. What's the prize?"
"Huum... ten cans of beans?"
"Pass."
"Nngh... ten pieces of jerky?"
"Feels like it's missing something."
"Huum... ten cheek squeezes?"
"Deal."
And with that, we went hunting through the dark warehouse, searching every corner.
Tent, things to play with, things to eat, fishing rods and foraging tools, paper — we packed it all.
Thanks to the hell-demon's hands she summoned, we didn't have to drag any of the heavy stuff around. I did wonder whether it was safe to eat anything that had been in a place like that... but anyway, two light backpacks were all we'd be carrying ourselves.
Once the packing was done, we ate dinner and went our separate ways. I was lying on the bed in my room.
...How many months has it been since I last left the 100th floor.
I looked at the window where the moonlight came in. There'd been a time I'd had the stupid thought of jumping.
...Please.
I hoped the Demon King, crybaby that she was, wouldn't cry on this trip. I hoped she'd laugh a lot. I hoped she'd be happy.
"You're there, aren't you?"
I asked the question toward my door. The Demon King hadn't made a sound, but I was somehow certain she was there.
"Ah, guess not. So the game I'm gonna play with my friend on the trip tomorrow is—"
I started to spill the surprise I'd prepared for the bet, all at once.
"Nooo!! I'm here! I'm heeere! Don't say it!"
The Demon King yelped in a panic. She was probably covering her ears with both palms. That's what she got for testing me.
"I-I just got here. I was passing by and stopped in. Really."
She's been sitting there at least twenty minutes.
"H-hey."
The Demon King started from the other side of the door. She hesitated for a long time before she opened her mouth again.
"Thank you."
"...You know. I don't know if I'm allowed to be this happy."
"Lately, it's like... magical things just keep happening? My friend holds my hand, and touches my face, and makes me omelets. And now he says he'll even go on a trip with me."
"...Hehe. It's all thanks to you. All of it."
"Hey."
"...Yeah?"
"I'm so excited for tomorrow's trip."
"Yeah! Me too."
"The most of any trip I've ever taken in my life."
"Me too, me too! Hehe."
After that, just like last night, we talked back and forth about where we were going. For a long time. Even with the door between us, it didn't feel stifling.
At this rate I wasn't going to get any sleep.
"We're leaving tomorrow, so... let's sleep. You go to bed too."
I said it gently, to the Demon King who I was pretty sure would otherwise sit in front of that door all night.
"...Okay. Good night."
Pad, pad.
From the far end of the dark hallway, her footsteps grew quieter, and quieter, until they were gone.