Mist Lake (2) — Skipping Stones and Portraits

"..."

"..."

Someone once said the true joy of fishing lies in the wait for a bite. Whoever coined that line had clearly never set foot at Mist Lake.

Three hours in, and not a single nibble. And, as you'd expect, not a shred of fun either.

Had the fish vanished along with every last demon who used to live here?

"...Should we call it?"

"Uuu..."

Her hands still clenched the rod with everything she had, the corners of her mouth drooping in disappointment.

"L-Let's wait a little longer, okay? I'll recast the bait."

Unable to let go, she hurled the bait she'd prepared toward a lake that held nobody at all. Mashed sugar and beans — her favorites.

Maybe the fish will fight each other over the bait?

That was the thought she'd been nursing, counting her chickens long before they'd hatched, as she laid out the fishing gear. The mist-veiled lake, not a single bubble rising from its surface, seemed to mock her for it.

The bait the Demon King had thrown landed with a soft plop and sank slowly into the clear water. We lingered a while longer after that, but the slack line never went taut.

After we set the rods down, the next order of business was skipping stones. She went first.

Her stone whooshed out, skipped twice across the water, and sank with a plunk. The smug look on the Demon King's face seemed to say, See that? That's how you skip a stone!

"Hehe. Winner gets to throw rocks at the los—"

I let mine fly.

Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip...

I didn't even need to count past five. I'd blown past her cute little two-bounces with room to spare. Even if the Demon King cloned herself and they jumped me two-on-one, I still would have won.

The Demon King's jaw dropped. Watching a kid who could summon ice dragons and Meteor Drive without so much as a chant make a face like that... there was a peculiar satisfaction in it.

"What was that just now about throwing rocks?"

"Uh, uh?... D-Dunno? I was just... talking about, like, stone-throwing or whatever."

She hastily changed the subject, stuffing that utterly brutal wager back into her pocket. I'd heard every word, you little brat.

We settled the penalty as lighting the campfire for the barbecue. Anyone who's ever been stranded on a desert island or stuck under a river bridge trying to start a fire would know — this is no easy task.

"Can't we just light it with Hellfire..."

"Tsk!"

"Fine."

The Demon King insisted we absolutely could not use magic to start the fire. This is why romantics are a problem. In this harsh world, every last romantic either froze to death or ended up isolated on the 100th floor of the Tower.

She wasn't good at it. No — she never even got a single skip. Those two bounces earlier had been her career high. What on earth made her think she could challenge me?

Plunk. Plunk. The poor lake just kept swallowing stones, its belly growing fuller and fuller.

"...Uuu... This can't be... I was the skipping-stone champion of this lake..."

"Want me to teach you?"

"...Yeah."

The unchallenged champion dropped every last stone she'd been clutching. An admission of defeat.

She didn't whine the way she used to — none of that Thiiis... no faaair... I waaas the chaaampion...

"Watch closely. First, you gotta pick a flat stone."

"Okay."

"No, that's a round one."

"Wait. Angh."

She popped the stone into her mouth. Her cute white cheeks worked it around, and then she spat it back out. Holy shit. The stone had flattened out like a plate.

"There. I melted it a little in my mouth and bit down. How's that?"

"...You win at life."

"What's that supposed to mean? And why are you backing away from me all of a sudden?"

"...It's nothing."

"Young enough to chew rocks" — that saying was coined for her, I swear.

I corrected her form like a golf instructor. Bend at the waist a little, hips back, and don't throw the stone from top to bottom — skim it across the surface like you're drawing a line on the water. Like this.

"Watch."

The stone whooshed out and skipped five times across the lake.

"Woooow..."

She collapsed right where she stood, trembling. Her reaction was so over-the-top it would've put the most theatrical grandmother on a countryside variety show to shame. She'd been sitting at the peak of total ignorance about skipping stones, and now that she'd finally learned the theory, she understood the true value of my skill.

"Think you can do it?"

"Yeah."

Plunk. Skip, skip — plunk.

"...Let's eat."

"Tsk... You think I can't do five?"

Whoosh. Plunk.

Yeah.

Once the Demon King started something, she couldn't rest until she saw it through. She kept at it for a good while longer. I sat in the grass behind her, watching her relentless practice.

If I ever took her to an arcade on Earth, I might not get out of there for years.

And then.

Whoosh. Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip — plunk!

"Uh... Whoaaaa!"

She'd never managed it properly even once, and now she'd pulled off five skips. Terrifying talent. Terrifying tenacity. I'd felt it during the Iron Fist 6 Wind God Fists, too — when she set her mind to something, there was nothing she couldn't do.

"Woooow! Did you see? Did you see?!"

"Nope."

"Huh?"

A mischievous streak I didn't usually have kicked in.

"Didn't see it."

"I-I just did it though? It bounced five times."

"Didn't see it. What now?"

"I-It's true! Believe me."

"...Hmm. Then do it again."

Thoroughly flustered, she reluctantly picked up a stone, popped it in her mouth, and flattened it again.

Whoosh. Skip, skip — splash.

"That's two."

"Really! I really did it just now! I swear!"

"Hmm."

"Aaaah, this is so unfair. I did it. I really did! I swear before God."

...Who's going to believe a Demon King swearing before God. You little horned gremlin.

"Ah, fine, fine. I'll believe you."

"You...! Tsk... You're not believing me at all!"

Damn. This was so much fun. Her reaction was so cute I almost grabbed her cheeks without even dropping the buffs. Get this cute and even the beasts of hell would go, Yeah, okay, I'll give you that, and put their fangs away.

"No, I really believe you."

"You don't! The corners of your mouth are twitching and your nostrils are flaring! You're laughing at me! You devil!"

Take the horns off before you call someone a devil.

Unlike Ghost Plateau, this place had a sunrise and a sunset. After playing all day, we found ourselves facing evening as the sun went down.

The Demon King and I were making barbecue skewers. She'd said she wanted to make a special memory, so we should make each other's skewers, and I'd agreed.

Still sulking over earlier, the Demon King loaded my skewer with a mountain of carrots. At first she was just putting meat and carrots with no other vegetables. Not to be outdone, I started increasing the carrot ratio on hers, and the Demon King, cheeks puffed out like a blowfish, started putting nothing but carrots on my skewer — a full-on carrot kebab.

This carrot Demon King brat. Fine. You wanna go? Forget the barbecue party ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— let's just have a damn carrot party.

Poke, poke, poke, poke. Poke, poke, poke, poke.

"Stop, stooop..."

"Hm? Why? What's wrong?"

"Stop putting those on... If I eat that, I'm actually going to die."

"What are you talking about?"

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠played dumb. If I too obviously loaded her skewer with carrots in a go-choke-on-these-and-die kind of way, Chain Lightning might come flying at my head. So I'd been sneakily adding one or two at a time so she couldn't complain — but it seemed the Demon King had caught on.

"...I-I'm not in the mood for carrots today. Put something else on. I'll put meat on yours too."

"I don't know what you mean, but okay."

I don't know why, but the Demon King would rather die than say she doesn't like carrots. She always comes up with some excuse to pawn them off — I took your meat, so I'll give you my carrots. She seemed pretty embarrassed about being a picky eater.

The Demon King stopped my hand as I tried to put carrots on her skewer. Then she pulled the carrots off her own and started adding meat and other vegetables instead. A handshake of a peace treaty. The matchup never even made sense to begin with — me, who'll eat anything, versus her, who can't eat carrots. Why'd you even pick this fight. Seriously.

"War is a terrible thing."

Then she sent me a pitiful look, a silent plea to take the carrots off. Just this once. Next time, you're getting nothing.

The pork belly skewers sizzled over the campfire. The Demon King and I stared at them, drooling like a pair of starving orphan brothers who'd never gotten enough to eat. If anyone so much as stepped on these skewers right now, I'd throw hands even if it was Nine.

"Hnnngh."

Over the campfire, three skewers. Mine, hers, and the Paper Crane's.

"...I think they're done?"

"Ah, not yet. Stay calm..."

The Demon King, who looked far less calm than I did, tried to settle me down.

Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle.

"O-Okay, they're done."

She pulled one skewer off and set it on the Paper Crane's plate. Then she pulled the other two, compared them, and handed me the bigger one. I was feeling a little touched by her thoughtfulness when — goddamn it, she'd just given me the one with one extra carrot.

"Well then, let's dig i—"

"W-Wait!"

She stopped me just as I was about to put a thick piece of meat from the end of the skewer in my mouth. Then she dashed over to her bag.

A bad feeling washed over me.

"...Before we eat, we, we have to take a, a proof shot? We have to document this!"

Damn travel guidebooks. Every last one of them pisses me off. If we're assigning blame, my share is probably the biggest, but still.

"Come here."

Excited at the thought of taking a commemorative photo, she linked arms with me and dragged me in front of the camera.

"The way you do it is like this... Ah."

Then she opened her mouth in front of the skewers and stared at the camera.

"...What are you doing? Like this, ah, you open your mouth and take the picture."

"..."

"Come on. Say ah."

"...Ah."

Click.

"Hehe. Hey. I've got something to show you."

"...What is it?"

When I asked, the Demon King carefully, carefully tucked the camera into her bag, terrified she might drop it. Then she pulled a booklet from inside.

"...What's that?"

"...Ohoho. I made this."

What the Demon King flipped open was a photo album. A completely empty photo album.

"I made this. The photos that'll come out a year from now. I'm going to put them all in here."

I flipped through the album she'd handed me, one page, then another. Beneath the empty photo slots, titles written in wobbly handwriting, prepared in advance. All of them things I knew.

After finishing the barbecue, we sat in the short grass by the lake.

"Phew... That was so good."

"Yeah."

"...What? Was it not tasty?"

"...No, it was."

My mood had sunk. I'd wanted to make her laugh as much as possible on this trip. And yet here I was, crushed under the weight of my own lies — what kind of pathetic display was this.

Idiot.

I tried to shake off the sadness, tried to keep it off my face, but it wasn't working. Veteran, my ass. One-trick liar. Hollow idiot. Garbage. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Con artist. That was Baek Dongha.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

The Demon King asked from beside me as I stared blankly at the lake.

"...Sure."

I didn't know what it was, but I felt uneasy. Lately her words had been giving me a whole new kind of fear. A completely different color from when we'd first met.

"We had that bet about bringing a fun game... right? What did you bring?"

"..."

There was anxiety mixed into her voice. She seemed worried I might have forgotten the bet and brought nothing at all.

"I brought something."

"Huh?! What is it?"

Right. There was that.

Leaving her sitting in the grass, I ran to the bag I'd propped against a tree. I unzipped it and pulled out the one game I'd brought.

"Phew... This."

I handed her what I'd taken from the bag.

"...Blank paper? A drawing-guessing game?!"

Whatever it was, she seemed happy about it. She clapped her hands together in delight.

"No. It's a draw-each-other game. Whoever draws better wins. How about it."

At that, the Demon King's mouth stretched into a crescent moon.

"That's such a great idea!"

I'm no artist, but I've dabbled a bit in portraits. Being a photography major, I'd naturally taken an interest.

"When we did that drawing quiz before, you were really bad at drawing... You're not gonna draw me all weird, right?"

You're one to talk. You drew a seagull like a bastard sword, you little shit.

"Don't worry. I can draw pretty well."

"Okay. Then..."

The Demon King would draw first.

I sat with my back to the lake. She'd said she wanted the lake as the background. This was the first time anyone had ever drawn me. Because of the mist, she didn't sit too far — about four steps away.

...Honestly, I couldn't have cared less about a drawing of me.

"Don't move."

"Okay."

Scratch. Scratch. The Demon King drew with the same care she'd used connecting a week's worth of stacked dominoes. How much time passed like that?

"Done."

At last, she finished the drawing and stood up. She looked at the picture with a proud face, then trotted over.

"Here!"

I took the drawing she handed me. Honestly, I couldn't have cared less about a drawing of m—

Hmm...

...

Was this a declaration of war?

She'd drawn me like complete shit. And she'd somehow captured all the distinctive features just well enough to make it even more infuriating. Fine. Let it go. It was made with her heart in it.

"Now you come sit here."

"Okay!"

I sat her down in the grass where I'd been, and I went and sat where she'd been.

I poured every ounce of effort and sincerity I had into it.

Scratch. Scratch. I drew harder than I ever had in my life. Scratch. Scratch.

...Done.

I looked at the finished drawing.

It was beautiful. Insanely so. Even with the mist veiling her, even with the sunset casting shadows across her face, I was satisfied. I hoped she'd recognize even a fraction of the sincerity I'd put into capturing her beauty.

"Here."

I handed her the drawing.

"..."

"..."

Thinking back to when I'd sealed away Omniscient Donkey Perspective... she had a transparent personality, and she'd laugh off most things, but she'd also say no when something really wasn't it. If she tore up my drawing because it was complete trash, it might hurt a little.

...But then.

That would feel like atonement, in its own way. That might actually be a relief.

"...Thank you."

"...Huh?"

"...Thank you, thank you so much..."

The Demon King, eyes round as saucers, stared at the drawing as if she might fall into it, casting buff after buff. That meant it passed.

...Thank god.

At least this way, I'd left her with one memory on a journey that might otherwise have given her nothing at all.

"...Hey, I have a favor to ask."

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

After staring at the drawing in a daze for a long while, she spoke.

"What is it?"

"Can we not do a skipping-stone match? Just this once?"

"...Sure. What's the wager?"

"....Gulp... Our drawings."

"...Why? You don't like the one I gave you?"

"No? What are you talking about? Are you stupid?"

She hid the drawing I'd given her behind her back, scowling. Wow, that's infuriating.

"...I want to put them together."

"...What?"

"The drawings... yours and mine... I want to join them so it looks like we're sitting next to each other."

That's a good idea. Then it wouldn't be any different from a photograph. Same place, same people in the frame.

"...So we're doing this?"

She picked up a nearby stone. Popped it in her mouth and flattened it.

"...Hahh..."

The Demon King, so tense her hands were shaking. She looked as serious as someone betting their entire fortune.

"...Hah!"

The stone whooshed out, skipped twice... and sank.

"Ah..."

A short sigh escaped her lips. She knew my skill. She knew two skips had no chance of winning.

She hurriedly unfolded the drawing I'd given her and stared at it. Her eyes darted around as if trying to burn it into her memory before it was taken away.

"...Uuu... Your turn."

"Yeah."

Whoosh. Splash!

?!

A look of bewilderment was plain on her face.

"Y-You didn't go easy on me, did you—"

"My hand slipped... Hahh... I really liked this drawing, too..."

I handed her drawing back with a clumsy performance. She snatched it up even as a dazed look crossed her face.

"Ah, maybe we could go one more round?"

To my shameless acting, she answered firmly.

"Absolutely not! Who goes easy in a bet."

And then she quickly tucked both drawings into her bag.

The sun was almost gone. Night was coming.

The end of the trip was approaching.

She'd been glancing at the sky for a while now.

Probably looking for stars.

In the sky outside the Tower, there were no stars — only the sun and moon. Naturally, there were no stars outside the windows of the Demon King's Castle either. I don't know why. Nobody in this world does. That's just how this world is.

A glance.

The first time I saw stars was after I'd climbed this Tower. My old party members hadn't seemed interested, but I was different. More than all the repulsive things on the ground, I'd preferred the pitch-black night sky that resembled Earth's.

A glance.

On the ceiling of the 100th floor where the Demon King lived, there were stars drawn in white crayon. She loved stars, and she'd often stare at them, lost in thought.

A glance.

...So.

On the last day of the trip. I hoped she'd see bright stars.

I hoped the mist would thin.

I hoped the Tower's fickle weather wouldn't throw a tantrum, like it had at Ghost Plateau.

A glance.