Ghost Plateau (3): Camping

"Alright, this nail-looking thing is a stake! And this stringy bit is called a guy line — it connects the tent's ceiling to the floor…"

She launched into an explanation of camping terms, as excited as a kid describing a stag beetle she'd gone out and caught over summer vacation.

"So you slot the stake into this groove to connect them?"

"That's right! You're so smart."

"Shall we put it together now?"

"Yeah!"

Crunch, crunch. Thud, thud, thud. Click! Click! Thud! Thud!

Her whole body refused to sit still as she built the tent.

The tents from the booklets that had always sat on the table — A Camping Guide for Newbies, A Journey Without Boredom, and all the others she'd read until the pages were worn through — were becoming real before her eyes.

"Here! You have to hammer this part first."

"Okay. On it."

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

"It's starting to look just like the one in the book!"

She was this happy just staking a tent into the ground, as if she were building some magnificent secret base.

"There. Now if we raise the frame…"

The tent poles bent and crossed at the center. A plump little dome took shape, and she hopped in place with delight.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Wooow… so this is what it actually looks like."

How many times had she assembled an imaginary tent at the top of the Tower? As many times as there were dinosaur plushies stuffed in that sack? As many as the coins she'd saved in her piggy bank to buy the Orb of Eternity?

"Now we just put the fabric on!"

"Yeah. Hook it on this wire…"

A series of clicks, then a great whoosh as the rainfly unfurled. Every crumpled wrinkle stretched taut, wrapping the frame in a crisp, clean skin.

"Wow!"

Oh…

Room enough for two grown men without feeling cramped. A perfect tent.

She darted inside and, without a second's hesitation, flopped onto the dirt and started rolling around.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Ihihiit. Ehehehehe!"

The tent had an open floor, which meant you were supposed to lay something down before you sat. Naturally, the place she was wriggling around was the sticky dirt of the Ghost Plateau.

"So what! It's our tent!"

"Still…"

I went over and brushed the dirt from the black clothes she'd worn again today.

She had been giggling the whole time. Then she grabbed the arm I was using to brush her off and yanked.

I went down hard. My face buried itself in the dirt, and there was no telling what might have been underneath.

"Hey…"

"Kihihihit, ahahaha! Your face is so funny!"

She lay on the ground clutching her stomach, laughing.

…Wasn't this the kind of thing people usually did at the beach or a river?

The Demon King, who repaid the person trying to brush the dirt off her by slapping a full mud mask on his face without a shred of gratitude. This was why they said you should never take in a black-haired beast.

"Hmph."

She scooped up a handful of dirt and smeared it across my cheek.

"Ahahaha! You look like a moon bear!"

…She meant a panda. And pandas have the patches on their eyes, not their cheeks.

The Demon King's animal encyclopedia was a complete mess, so there was no helping it.

…In a situation like this, paying her back was only proper, right?

I scooped up a generous handful of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dirt, ready to spread it across her cheek.

"Ah, you're gonna do that for me!? Wait a second!"

And then she started turning off every last buff on her face.

Honestly… even a simple prank required this much process and procedure. Give me a break.

With every protective spell stripped from her features, the Demon King and I spent a while smearing mud all over each other's faces. It was barbaric, but there was no helping it.

I'd started out just playing along for her sake, but… honestly, it was a little… no. It was quite a lot of fun.

"Uwahaha… ihihi… I'm gonna die laughing."

…That would be a problem.

"Shall we start getting the campfire ready?"

"Huh? You?"

"…What?"

She stopped cackling and gazed steadily at my face.

…Did I just smile? Me?

"Let's go make a campfire!"

"Alright."

That damned god had to hate her. The guy didn't seem particularly fond of me either, but he seemed to have a special dislike for her. The proof was that I — someone who would be personally offended to be called the second-unluckiest person alive — had never once lost to her at Barrel Roulette, rock-paper-scissors, or that crocodile toy game.

"…"

"…"

Rain came down in sheets, hammering the already perpetually damp floor of the Ghost Plateau.

I glanced at the Demon King. She hurriedly turned her face the other way. She didn't want me to see the disappointment on it. At her feet sat the barbecue set and the precious pork belly — the kind I liked.

"Let's wait until the rain stops, then we can grill and ea—"

I shut my mouth. I remembered wandering this place a long time ago with my old party, searching for the stairs up, and how it had poured then too.

That shitty conversation with Dorothy brought the natural laws of this place rushing back. And of course, today had to be that once-every-few-months day.

"…Can't you do something with magic?"

"…Sorry. Magic like that doesn't exist in this world."

I already knew that. Even so, I'd asked on the slim hope that if it was her, maybe it would be possible.

She sometimes seemed like a transcendent being, but she never got the things she wanted most. Skeleton friends. A clean carpet. Picture books. And now, a barbecue party she'd been waiting for who knew how long.

"…Can't be helped. Ehehe…"

She turned around with a smile she'd forced into place, making sure I could see that she was fine.

"Let's do the barbecue at Fog Lake."

"…Okay."

"Tents are fun to play in anyway."

"…Okay… Heehee. You're a camping newbie, but you keep acting like you know everything. Hehe…"

She grinned, took my hand, and pulled me into the tent.

The rain hammered the tent ceiling even harder, as if it were offended that she was smiling.

Once we were inside, I took one look at what she'd pulled from her bag and could not keep the shock off my face.

"…What is that?"

"Uhohoho. I knew you'd react like that."

She dangled a packet in the air, waving it back and forth.

"Me, me! I can do an impression of you. Watch."

Out of nowhere she cleared her throat, preparing a voice impression.

"Wow, this kimchi stew is so good."

The voice didn't sound like me. The line didn't sound like me. Nothing about it sounded a damn thing like me. I was serious. It was so secondhand-embarrassing that goosebumps broke out on my arms.

"…"

"…"

I couldn't even force a laugh. Her face flushed redder and redder.

"I-I'm not giving this to you!"

She hid the bright red packet behind her back.

"I'm sorry! It's all my fault!"

The packet she'd hidden was ramen. The food I'd wanted to eat more than anything else if I ever made it back to Earth.

"How sorry are you?"

"As sorry as the Paper Crane."

"Alright. You pass."

I built a very small fire on the ground. A blaze the size of the one we'd planned for the barbecue would have caught the wind and rain and burned the tent down.

Of course, for her a tent fire would have been about as serious as cranking the heat in her room. For me, I'd have been a fine powder by morning.

The Demon King started pouring water into the pot in a steady stream.

"Stop. What do you think you're doing."

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

Whether she wanted ramen or a bowl of flour soup, she'd gone and made a miniature Han River in the pot. You could have dumped in five seasoning packets and it still would have tasted like nothing.

"With ramen, the water ratio is everything."

"Eeh? Really? Is it a bit much?"

"It's fu— I mean, it's too much, anyway. From here on, leave it to the expert."

I took control of the pot. We'd come within a hair of eating our only pack of ramen as flavored water.

The pot bubbled and burbled. We both swallowed.

A rainy day. Inside a tent. Outdoors. Every last condition that made ramen unbeatable had been stacked on top of each other. It reminded me of that old comic where a fire-powered protagonist jumped into magma, awakened on the spot, and proceeded to demolish the villains.

The Demon King swallowed again. Her saliva didn't seem to be drying up anytime soon; she was staring at the cooking ramen with glittering eyes. If an intruder kicked this pot over, I had a feeling this would be the time the Demon King actually killed someone.

"It's done."

"Okay, okay… I'm shaking."

…Shaking seemed a bit much.

No — maybe it wasn't. From her perspective, this was the food she'd been staring at, waiting to eat on the trip she'd so desperately wanted.

"Here. Bowl."

"Ah, okay."

I filled her treasured flower-patterned bowl to the brim and handed it over.

"Uh… uh… hey. Mine is way too much."

"There's barely a difference. Just eat."

It was her own food, and still she had no greed about it at all. It struck me once again that no title in the world suited her less than Demon King.

"Blow on it first."

"Okay. Hoo, hoo… slurp."

"How is it?"

"Mmph, this is…"

The Demon King hunched in on herself as if she might burst. Then she sprang upright and shouted.

"Whoa! This is fucking insanely good!"

"I told you not to use that word."

We'd only split a single pack between us, but somehow it didn't feel like too little. The Demon King promptly ranked the ramen she'd just eaten for the first time in her life as the number-one most delicious food in the world. Ssang Ssang Bar, which had held the throne until then, was forced to step down.

"Haaah…"

"Huh? Are you sleepy?"

"…A little?"

A whole day of treasure hunting, plus a long stretch of Red Light, Green Light, had the drowsiness hitting hard. It had to be well past midnight. The actual activity was nothing compared to the grinding I'd done on the outside, but after the peaceful days I'd been spending with the Demon King, it was enough to overload the system.

"…Want to lie down, then?"

"…Yeah. I think I'd better."

She spread a mat on the floor. Unlike her, my clothes were still clean, so I lay down on it right away.

"Ah, I'm going to change."

I turned the other way before the Demon King could tell me to. I'd been in parties made up of nothing but women before, so looking away immediately in situations like this had become a habit.

The rustle of fabric. Then she settled down beside me.

…This brings back a memory.

The night I'd been planning my secret escape from the Demon King. The night I'd made a rescue letter until my hands bled. I'd thought I was asleep, and she'd secretly lain down behind my back before leaving. The memory surfaced all at once.

"…Are you going straight to sleep?"

The Demon King's voice came from behind my neck.

"Mm? No. I'm not that tired."

Rain roared against the tent. Drops drummed and scattered across the fabric.

"Hmph."

Without any warning at all, she put dirt on my neck.

"GYAAAH! Shit!"

I whipped around to glare at her, and she tumbled backward in a full-body flinch. Her eyes went as wide as a startled rabbit's.

"…Uh… th-that was… a joke…"

Ah, damn it.

The back of my neck. For some reason, pressing there and there alone set off a violent reaction. My old party members had found out about it and made it a favorite target.

…Surely the Demon King wouldn't torment me with this too…

"I-I'm sorry."

…What?

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd hate it that much."

"…It's fine. You didn't do it on purpose."

The Demon King, who had tumbled away because I'd shouted.

"…I'm fine too. I was just a little startled."

I never thought a girl who wouldn't blink if a dragon came flying at her would jump just because a mere Porter raised his voice. I even felt guilty.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry for yelling."

The Demon King kept glancing at the spot beside me, like a puppy that needed to go outside.

"…"

"…"

"If you're coming, just come."

I patted the space beside me. The Demon King's face lit up at once. She crawled over and settled down right next to me.

"…Ehehe."

"…"

"Hey. So, um. There's something I want to try."

The Demon King said it with her face going red. What with the shouting a moment ago… as long as it wasn't asking me to take a flick to the forehead or demanding a golden hoe, I was ready to say yes to anything.

"…Go ahead."

"…I, um."

She was so embarrassed that her soft pink lips just kept moving without producing words. Her cheeks flushed even redder than her eyes.

"…Could you… let me use your arm as a pillow?"

She was lying on my left, so I stretched out my left arm as a yes. She settled her right cheek onto it, light as a breath.

…Soft.

It wasn't heavy at all. It was incredibly soft. Her tiny breaths clung to my arm, a little ticklish.

If she'd been lying the other way, her horn would have pressed into the floor and it would have hurt her. Good thing she wasn't.

We looked at each other for a while.

"…Ihihit."

She smiled, her mouth opening in a way that was somehow pretty.

Maybe it was the trauma from my old party. She was a woman too, so I'd never been able to look at her face properly.

Skin so white and clean it hadn't a single blemish. Soft pink lips that no lipstick or tint on earth could imitate. The cheeks I loved most were flushed red. Above the teardrop mole set in that exquisite spot, her crimson eyes — filled entirely with my face — made me reach for that tired old phrase about eyes shining like jewels, and mean every word of it.

"…Heh. I'm happy."

…Me too.

More than when we'd first fully cleared Bubble Bobble. More than when she'd given me that hoodie. More than when I'd eaten the pork belly she'd grilled.

I think I was happy… right now.

"Hey. Can I ask a few more favors?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks. Then… can I put my arm on your stomach?"

She was smaller than me, so asking to put her arm on my stomach was essentially asking if she could hold me.

"Yeah. Of course."

With an expression like she might melt from happiness, she wrapped her arm around me and held on. Her whole soft body came to rest against mine.

…That's nice. The smell.

A fruit scent I'd never tasted wrapped around my whole body, seeming to seep into every last wound I had.

…I found myself registering, all over again, that she was a woman.

"…I."

"…Yeah. Go ahead."

Her small white arm felt good. I could feel sleep creeping up on me.

"…I know I'm being really, really greedy, but…"

"…"

"Could you tell me your old stories? It's okay if you fall asleep in the middle."

"…Alright."

…My old stories.

Stories from Earth?

No. She'd already lived cut off from the outside. She wouldn't understand. I didn't want to hand her any more reasons to feel left out.

…Hah.

After some thought, I decided to tell her a sanitized version of my adventures since coming to this world.

"…So, um… at first, in this little country village…"

Half-dreaming, I unpacked my stories for her. I picked out as much of the filth as I could, sifted and sifted for the parts that had been fun. Before long, the whole bundle had run empty.

"…So then Nine…"

!?

"Wh-what's wrong?"

Tears spilled from both her eyes. Gravity carried them onto the arm she was using as a pillow.

"Why? Why are you crying? I'm sorry. Don't cry."

The bizarre thought that her eyes might have defensive buffs on them crossed my mind for a second, but strangely, my hand moved first. I wiped the tears running along the pretty outer corners of her eyes. I wiped and wiped, and they wouldn't dry.

"What's wrong? Did I say something I shouldn't have? I'm sorry."

"…Hic… uhhk… hk… I'm sorry… it's just… hk… it was too sad…"

…Sad?

"What was…?"

"…Your story… hk… uhhk…"

I'd sanitized it as much as I possibly could, and it had still been too much for her to hear. I apparently had a natural-born talent for making the Demon King cry. A truly damned talent, that.

"…I'm okay. I'm with you now, aren't I?"

"…Hic… uhhhk… uhhk…"

The Demon King was crying with her ears gone bright red.

For my sake.

…I wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do, but.

I pulled the Demon King into my arms, shamelessly, even though I was the one who'd made her cry. If I had one advantage over her, it was probably the size of my body. She kept sobbing against my chest.

Thank you.

Trying to soothe her, I started rambling about crop efficiency in the potato fields of Little Farm. The Demon King's tears stopped. Once they'd dried up, she told me the contents of the two fairy-tale books that had burned, and kept telling me until I fell asleep. As expected, the stories were bizarre in the extreme.

I found myself thinking that someday, it might be alright to talk with her all night long.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't keep going.

I was too sleepy.

And then, all of a sudden, there was something I wanted to say to her.

"And so, then the Snow Queen…"

"Hey."

"…Hm?"

I cut her off — she was probably still telling the story of the Snow Queen. My drowsy eyes had fallen shut, so I never saw her face.

"…What is it?"

I have no memory of anything after that. I'd fallen asleep the moment the words left my mouth.

Tears slipped down her face.

"I'm sorry. After you went ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to all that trouble wiping them away."