The Secret Box

Same as every other morning, the Demon King was hanging buff after buff on the Paper Crane. She seemed in unusually high spirits as she turned to me.

"Hey. I've got an incredible secret, you know?"

"...What is it?"

I answered in a low voice, avoiding her gaze. I still couldn't bring myself to look her in the face.

"I can't tell you! It's an incredible secret."

...Then don't bring it up in the first place.

She whipped her head this way, then that, tracking me as I looked anywhere but at her.

"Why do you keep avoiding my eyes?"

The Demon King asked, narrowing her crimson eyes to slits.

"...I'm not."

Even trying not to notice, there was no escaping the way those crimson eyes bored straight through my heart.

The aftermath of yesterday's horror game still lingered. The kimchi stew somehow tasted like blood.

What even is this secret of hers?

Don't tell me she was mocking me for dancing in the palm of her hand yesterday. Thinking I didn't know a thing, watching from a distance and toying with me?

If that was the case, she was seriously twisted.

...Haa.

Wouldn't it be better to just ask her outright?

Hey. You wouldn't happen to have already cleared Annabelle once... and just kept quiet so you could play word-chain with me all night, right?

A chill ran down my spine.

...Surely not.

The reason I didn't ask her outright wasn't because I was afraid of her. The truth was, most of the things I left unasked — buried and unspoken — were the kinds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of questions that could hurt her.

Like how I never asked why someone who so desperately craved companionship had stayed locked inside the Tower all this time.

This kind of thing should be okay to ask, though, right?

That's right. She and I were friends. We couldn't just keep running on parallel tracks forever, wrapped in veils. If you were going to raise a bear, you needed to know the strength of its paws. If you were going ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to raise a wolf, you needed to know the sharpness of its fangs.

It wasn't like I was digging into something deeply dark. If she'd just be a little honest with me, my anxiety would vanish. Those cute-yet-unnerving qualities of hers that surfaced once in a blue moon — I wanted to shine a light on them, clearly.

I cleared my throat with a couple of pointed coughs, and the Demon King, who'd been feeding a bean into the Paper Crane's beak, turned to look at me.

"Hey. We're friends, right?"

"Of course, of course. Precious friends."

"How much?"

"Hmm... how should I put it... Ah! I know! Let's say we were trapped on the 100th floor of the Tower."

We actually are trapped here.

"And there was only one can of beans left. I'd give it to you. Hehe."

"...Then what would you eat?"

"...Heehee. I'd be fine."

As she said this, she poured the kimchi stew she'd been carefully, sparingly spooning into my bowl. ...Gross. She didn't have to go that far.

...Well, anyway. The groundwork was laid. You're up, Baek Dongha.

"So, hey. About that game yesterday."

"Hm? Oh, the one with the ghost? Annabelle?"

"You've actually cleared that before, haven't you?"

"..."

I swallowed.

I'd tossed the question as lightly as a game of catch, expecting it to come back just as lightly — but her delayed reaction thickened the air with tension. That familiar scent of the battlefield brushed the tip of my nose.

...So what's it going to be, Demon King? You told me you wouldn't lie to me.

"...Dunno? Me. Clearing it or whatever."

...Playing dumb, are we?

"Is that secret you mentioned earlier related to Annabelle? Like, how many times you've cleared it, or something."

"..."

"..."

"...No. I can't say. It's a secret."

After the meal, we sat down to play Little Farm.

What... what the hell?

Two hundred king potatoes I'd stored in the warehouse were gone. The Demon King had already confessed last time that she'd taken fifty to buy golden carrot juice — but another hundred and fifty had vanished on top of that.

"..."

Knowing the value of a hundred and fifty king potatoes, how could she do this? At the very least, she should've written it in the ledger before taking them.

"Hey."

"Yeah."

The Demon King answered, brushing Red Hare's coat.

"You haven't seen the king potatoes that were in the warehouse? Two hundred of them."

"...D-Dunno?"

Hold it in. Just hold it in. I was the one who'd destroyed her city on Mars. Complaining about stolen potatoes would be hypocritical.

Whatever. I'll just harvest a few more hours.

Ever since I'd bought the Golden Hoe, harvest speed had improved dramatically. The thought of my character hoeing under the blazing sun for a while longer made irritation surge, but what could I do? Such was the life of a serf.

Huh?

It was gone. The Golden Hoe I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠put in my inventory had vanished.

The Demon King's character was following mine around with an innocent expression. I dashed past her and burst into her house.

...Just as I thought.

Two golden calves I'd never seen before were sitting right there.

This little shit?

This crossed a line. Even if I was a subordinate slave, this was too much.

"You haven't seen the Golden Hoe?"

"I haven't seen it."

"...Is your secret related to the Golden Hoe?"

"...I can't tell you that. It's a secret."

How many things was she hiding? Fucking hell, acting like she was the coolest, most mysterious person in the whole world.

Wasn't yesterday and today a bit much? She'd goaded me into playing a horror game that nearly scared me to death, kept me up all night, stolen my potatoes, stolen my hoe. And honestly, though I hadn't said anything, the fact that I'd become a Little Farm serf in the first place was very likely her design.

The daily plunder kept piling up. I couldn't stand by and watch any longer.

I didn't want to go this far, either.

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom."

"Okay. Hurry back."

I trudged back to my room and pulled the mayonnaise lid from the crack in the wall where I'd stashed it. I'd found it back when the Demon King had left the castle empty, and I'd kept it, thinking it might come in handy as a bargaining chip. Now was the time to use it.

Even if I owed her a debt, I couldn't let this kind of violence pass without any response. If she was going to nibble away at me with these petty little scratches, I had thoughts of my own. The Dongha Peasant Movement was locked and loaded.

"Huh? What's that?!"

The Demon King's eyes lit up at the treasure chest I'd brought in. Calling it a treasure chest was generous — it was just a small box from the warehouse that I'd colored a bit with crayons.

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

"Ah, this is my secret box. My treasures are inside."

"...A s-secret box!? Show me too!"

The cool-and-aloof Great Demon King came running over, hand outstretched.

Not a chance.

I yanked the treasure chest up and out of reach before her pale hand could grab it.

"No."

"Wh-why not?"

"You do know what a secret box is, right?"

"...Huh?"

"Don't tell me you don't? A Demon King who doesn't even know what a secret box is? You're not some friendless loner."

Confusion spread across the loner Demon King's face in an instant.

"...N-no. I know. Secret boxes."

"Good. Then you also know you can't force your way into a friend's secret box. Someone who does that can't be called a friend."

"...Uuh... Yeah. O-of course."

Done. With this, she couldn't trick me with illusions, or pretend to swat a fly while firing Chain Lightning. Her use of force was completely sealed.

Now.

I cracked the secret box open slightly and made a show of peering at the contents. Of course, all that was inside was a mayonnaise lid.

"Phew, my treasure is so magnificent."

I kept my gaze buried in the box for a while, turning it this way and that, and she crept closer, eyes glued to it, curiosity written all over her face. But the secret box snapped shut, as always. The Demon King, who'd been staring only at the box, startled and quickly looked away, pretending nothing had happened.

"...Why'd you get so close? You're not thinking something bad, are you?"

"...I'm not."

Don't think my combo string is over, Demon King. The weight of goading me into a horror game and all those potatoes you pilfered is anything but light.

"Oh, right. Let me introduce you. My new friend. This is Langplgank."

"...Uuh. A f-friend?"

"Come on, you should say hello too."

"...Hi."

I patted Langplgank's head the same way the Demon King always did with the Paper Crane, and she looked back and forth between me and the doll with a bitter expression.

"Ah, Langplgank. Wanna be secret friends with me?"

Anyone watching would think I'd lost my mind, but I talked to Langplgank the way she always did.

"Here, look at this. Sick, right?"

"H-huh? Why are you showing Langplgank the secret box!?"

The Demon King jumped to her feet.

"Well, because this one and I are 'secret friends.'"

"Th-then what about me?"

"You're just a regular friend. I mean, you don't tell me any secrets either."

"..."

True to her status as the strongest of the demon race, she didn't just sit there taking hits. She counterattacked with a method so obvious it didn't deviate from my predictions in the slightest.

Meat sizzled on the pan, flaunting its combat power to the fullest. Just from the smell wafting into my room, I could precisely gauge the Demon King's childish tactics.

"Kihihi! This is secret meat! I only give this to secret friends... If you become secret friends with me too, I'll give it to you!"

The Demon King said this, having grilled the very last piece of pork belly.

"I'm good. Langplgank and I are fine with this."

And I conspicuously, deliciously scooped up the canned beans she'd given me. A few months ago, maybe. But I wasn't so desperate for food anymore that I'd throw everything away for a single piece of pork belly.

"...F-for real? This is pork belly, you know?"

"Yeah. Can't be helped. I'm only secret friends with Langplgank. Ah, Langplgank. The beans are good, right? Let's hurry up and eat so we can play with the secret box?"

"..."

The Demon King stuffed the huge piece of pork belly in her mouth and chewed. She looked like she was gnawing on a rubber band.

I was sewing a dinosaur doll's head when the Demon King approached with her hands behind her back. She was clearly hiding something.

"Uhoho! Uhoho. Ta-da, what could this be?"

She set something down in front of my sewing that looked similar to the box I'd made. There were traces of clumsy crayon coloring.

"...Beats me."

"Don't be shocked, okay? This is my secret box."

With a flushed, excited expression, she whipped out a box with something scrawled crookedly across the lid.

"I see. That's impressive."

"Kihihi! If you become secret friends with me, you can find out what's inside my secret box..."

"Ah, Langplgank. Want me to give you an airplane ride this time?"

And I spun Langplgank around in circles, giving it a plane ride.

"How was that? Fun hanging out with my treasure, right?"

"H-hey. Aren't you curious about my treasure?"

"Nah, I'm good. We're not even secret friends, so it can't be helped."

"...Then let's do it! Secret friends! I'll be..."

"I'm good."

The Demon King, now dejected, picked up the box she'd brought and left again.

My bedroom.

"Look this way when you sleep..."

I said this to Langplgank, having turned my back completely on the Demon King.

"What? 'Dustbin'? Then I'm 'net.'"

I was playing word-chain with Langplgank, muttering to myself like a lunatic. A grown man who'd even done his military service, hugging a stuffed doll — the sight would have been surreal. But it seemed to be working like a charm on the Demon King.

"T-toad..."

The Demon King tentatively butted into the word-chain.

"Could you be quiet? Langplgank and I are playing word-chain, just the two of us. You can't just give away the answers."

"...Uuh."

"Ah, I'm getting bored of word-chain."

At that, the Demon King's face brightened. The faint trembling was proof she was swelling with anticipation.

Not a chance. I still had my finishing move.

"Langplgank. Want to play a 'new game' together?"

"...Ah! A n-new game!?"

"It's a game called Going to the Market..."

I whispered the rules to Langplgank like a madman. Of course, it was the Demon King whose ears were perked up, listening.

"Going to the market, going to the market, there are strawberries too."

"...Ba-bananas too..."

When the Demon King tried to answer, I whipped my head around and glared at her.

"Sorry, but... we're playing a two-player game. Could you not interrupt?"

"..."

"Alright, Langplgank. From now on, let's play new games every day, just the two of us?"

"....!!!"

"Going to the market, going to the market..."

She trembled.

"There are bananas too."

She trembled harder.

"There are eggplants too."

"There are strawberr... huh?"

Wait. This trembling?

I whipped around, and she was sobbing, a mess of tears and snot covering her face.

"I'm sorry!!! I'm so sorry!!! Please don't cry!"

"Euhk, hngk... I... euhk... messed... hueuk... up... hueuk. Hick."

"You didn't do anything wrong! Just hitting me... that's not allowed! N-no!!"

I launched myself off the bed and tumbled across the floor like Rambo. I grabbed a handkerchief and vigorously wiped the Demon King's face. Her cheeks were red, her nose was red...

"Hngk, sniff, I'll never... euhk... never take the king potatoes again... hnk... the carrots too... once a week, sniff, two spoonfuls... hnk... I'll eat... them. And.. sniff... Annabelle is..."

"No! Buy and drink whatever you want. Let's go buy a golden calf tomorrow. Okay? You don't even have to eat those damn carrots!"

"Hnk... euhnk... give... euhk."

"What?"

"...Sniff... look at... sniff... look at me...."

After crying for a long while like a high-performance alarm clock, the Demon King finally stopped. Now she was nestled against me, clutching the Paper Crane around her neck and the mayonnaise lid from my secret box, playing Going to the Market. Langplgank had been kicked into a pulp by her again. Sorry.

...I picked a fight for nothing and couldn't even recoup my losses.

To earn her forgiveness, I promised a tribute of five glasses of golden carrot juice and one golden calf. All of it was what I had coming.

I was probably going to be the Demon King's lackey for the rest of my life. There was simply no path to victory.

"Sniff... you're my secret friend now, right?"

The Demon King asked in an uncertain tone.

"Yeah... I told you I am."

"Only with me?"

"Only with you."

In the end, I never found out. On top of last time's Little Farm account deletion, now this Annabelle all-night word-chain trap. Whether all of it was the Demon King's design or not... I probably couldn't uncover it now. The truth had vanished into the back alleys of history.

...I do want to ask, though.

The Demon King who'd deleted a Little Farm ultra-wealthy account — the kind whose greatness I only truly understood after experiencing it myself — and who'd goaded me, trembling with fear, into playing a horror game.

...If, hypothetically, all of it really was her design. The reason would ultimately be loneliness, wouldn't it? A terrible loneliness. What other reason could there be?

...Because she was lonely.

Thinking that, the resentment that had been boiling like lava melted away like snow. That was the part I'd already promised to fill, going forward.

The Demon King's pale hands were wrapped tightly around my back. As if she never wanted to let go again.

"...H-hey. Secret friend."

The Demon King looked up at me. Her face was a mess of smeared tears, but it didn't diminish her beauty in the slightest.

"Yeah."

"...If we're secret friends... do we have to tell each other all our secrets?"

If I said yes here, would I get to know all of the Demon King's various secrets?

...I didn't want that. The serious secrets she had been clumsily, painstakingly wrapping up and living with. I had not the slightest intention of seizing those and tearing them open. Earlier, I'd just briefly felt a childish desire for revenge against her selfish loneliness.

"No. You don't have to."

"...Okay."

"..."

"W-wait just a second."

The Demon King, who'd been nestled snugly in my arms, climbed down from the bed and ran out the door. Then she came back with the secret box she'd shown me earlier.

"...Open it."

...Showing me because we were secret friends, I guess.

"Thanks."

I grabbed the box and opened it. Inside was a scarf. Why a scarf when it wasn't even cold out?

"...What's this?"

"...Hehe. I knitted it while you were sleeping. Last time we went camping, you hated things touching your neck, right?"

"This is the secret?"

"Yep yep! Heehee. I was originally going to give it to you later. But you showed me your secret box today, so I'm giving it to you too."

I wound the scarf around my neck. It was clumsy, but it was warm. The camping trip hadn't been that long ago... but she lived each day twice over, so it must have been possible.

...She'd spent all night on this.

The guilt from earlier was crushing. Tormenting a kid like this. I was a rotten adult. No — I was just a brat myself.

"...Hey."

"Hm?"

"Want to play Little Farm? Until late tonight."

"W-we can!? What about your sleep?"

"It's fine. Let's go."

She tugged my arm toward the game room, as excited as an elementary schooler whose vacation had been extended one more day by a blizzard on the first day of school.

...Huh?

"Hm? What's wrong?"

The Demon King, buzzing from the late-night Little Farm session, asked.

"...Nothing. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Let's go buy a golden calf."

Looking at the Golden Hoe I'd left forgotten in the corner of the warehouse, my guilt only grew heavier.