A Cold

Cough, cough... achoo.

The dry coughs wouldn't stop. I sounded like some sick old man rotting away in an empty house.

"What do I do, what do I do, what do I do! Heal! Heal! Heal!"

Like a Heal spell is going to fix a cold.

The Demon King bustled around the bed in a fluster, huffing with every step. She was spraying recovery magic in every direction, but that was never going to cure a cold.

...I'm actually gonna die.

This was all that bastard's fault.

Last night.

The Demon King and I had been playing word chain under the blankets when an intruder showed up in the dead of night. Some guy who introduced himself as a Water Magician or whatever immediately turned the inside of the Demon King's Castle into an ocean.

"No! Don't turn our house into a bathhouse!"

Even the Demon King's shriek didn't stop him. Thanks to that, I ended up looking like a drowned rat myself.

A whoosh. A smack. Then a thunderous boom.

After that, it went the way it always did.

...Everything's soaked.

Crap! The Paper Crane!

Just like last time, when the fairy tale book had burned, the Paper Crane could get soaked too. If the Demon King's Paper Crane were ruined, the lie would be buried forever—should I be glad about that, or unhappy because of her grief?

For better or for worse, the Paper Crane was unharmed.

Unlike the last guy, who'd brought a board game, this intruder hadn't brought any luggage at all. The Demon King rummaged through the Water Magician's clothes. All he had on him was a coin purse in his coat.

"There's a few coins, though. Heheh. Gotta put them in the piggy bank."

She meant the piggy bank in the middle of the hallway—the one she was filling to buy the Orb of Eternity.

Clink, clink. The Demon King grinned from ear to ear as she dropped the coins in one by one. The house was a flooded wreck, and yet... I'd live a lifetime and never catch up to even half her optimism.

"...Have you saved up a lot?"

"Yep. Of course. You wouldn't believe how heavy it's gotten."

She hoisted the piggy bank like a plump little goat kid and glared at me.

"I told you last time... if you steal coins from this, you're really gonna get it."

A black aura rose from her core.

"...I won't steal any."

"Heheh. Then we're good! Let's toss this guy out and get back to word chain."

"Yeah.... A-achoo!"

Maybe it was because I'd been soaked to the bone. Or maybe it was because I'd been lying to this kind, kind girl all along, and making her cry every single day.

I'd come down with a brutal cold.

Patter, patter, patter, patter. The Demon King stamped her footprints into the stone floor, her face white with terror as she rushed around.

Patter, patter, patter, patter.

"No, no, no."

She kept repeating the same words, throwing nothing but healing magic at me. If this were a game, the mana potions bill she'd run up today alone would've bankrupted her ages ago.

My eyelids slid shut, weak and heavy—and she startled all over again, scrambling over in a panic.

"No! Why—why are you closing your eyes?"

"...Just gonna keep them closed for a bit."

"Keep them open. It makes me nervous."

All this fuss over a cold.

...Of course, there was no hospital here, and no cold medicine either. Calling a cold that wrecked your immune system "no big deal" would be a stretch, but still.

"Cough! Cough..."

The moment I hacked out another rough cough, the Demon King bounced into the air.

...Stop it. It's not working.

Bright light poured without pause from the Demon King's outstretched white hands. Her mana was close to infinite, sure—but burning through it like that, wasn't she getting at least a little tired?

"Wuuuh... wuuuuh..."

She paced around the bed, fidgeting, then dropped her head onto my chest and just lay there.

...This is gonna be a problem.

The cold wasn't the issue. The Demon King's face had gone dark. I couldn't make her cry any more this week. I was already over the limit.

"I'm fine. It's really just a cold, okay? It's the kind of thing that gets better fast."

"Wuuuh... that's a lie..."

She eyed my words with a thick suspicion that wasn't like her at all. Why? The usual Demon King—pure and gullible—would've said, Yeah, yeah! Then I'll sit next to you and read you Omniscient Donkey Perspective! and believed me without a second thought.

"It's not a lie. And you could catch it, so... get out of my room."

"...No."

...Right. As if she was going to catch a cold. You could pump her full of every vaccine on the planet and it still wouldn't come close to the Demon King's permanent buffs.

My drowsy eyes fell shut.

"No! Don't sleep! If you sleep, you'll die!"

She clung to me like a mountaineer who'd dropped into a crevasse on Everest, trying to haul me back.

"...I have to sleep. I'll be fine when I wake up."

"That's a lie! What if you just never wake up?"

The Demon King climbed onto my upper body and looked down at me.

"...I'll wake up. I will. It's just a cold."

"Nngh, that's a lie... hic..."

I'd made her cry. Me, the undisputed master of making the Demon King cry, had gone and done it again.

She made a pinky and told me to promise I'd be okay. If anyone saw the two of us carrying on like this over a cold, they'd hawk a loogie and walk off muttering about what a pair of clowns we were.

"I promise."

"Sniff... promise the Paper Crane too."

She dipped her head, and the Paper Crane dangling from her neck swung down in front of my face.

I made a pinky, hooked my finger around its tail, and stamped its head with my thumb. Only then did the Demon King climb off me and get down from the bed.

"...F-first we have to get you warm."

She lifted my head a little and wrapped the scarf she'd given me around my neck. She knew my neck was my weak point, and she seemed to take extra care winding it so it would sit just right.

...It's warm.

"And. Um... also."

The Demon King flicked her fingers, and a ring of black flame rose in a circle around the bed.

"This should keep you warm."

...Get rid of that. I look like a sacrifice in some dark ritual.

"D-do you need anything?"

...A doctor.

Not that there was going to be one.

"...You wouldn't happen to have any medicine, would you?"

"...Wuuuh, wuuuuh... I don't have anything like that..."

...Right. As if the Demon King's Castle would have cold medicine lying around.

The Demon King sagged under the helplessness of a castle that had nothing. Could a person look more miserable than I did? Apparently yes.

Then something useful seemed to occur to her. Her half-lidded eyes snapped wide.

"That's it! What do you want to eat?"

"...That secret pork belly you used to eat by yourself."

Her face had been so grim I tried the joke just to get a laugh out of her. The Demon King's face went pale. Yesterday's had been the last of the pork belly.

"...It's my fault. I... I ate it all by myself."

She bunched up those tiny fists and went to bean herself in the face. No! If those connected, even she would drop dead!

"I-it was a joke!"

I grabbed her white arm in a hurry.

"Hey! You think this is the time for jokes!? Do you have any idea how I feel right now!?"

She didn't even have a fever, but her face had gone scarlet, and electricity crawled along her fingertips. So this was how you died from a cold.

"I'm sorry!"

I barely managed to get her to lower her fingers.

"D-don't do that. Just tell me what you want to eat, okay?"

"...Chicken."

"Chicken? What's that?"

Was it the sickness... or the fever? What was I doing, throwing a food tantrum. Baek Dongha. In a Demon King's Castle that had nothing.

Maybe it was from being stuck to her all the time. Lately there were moments when I acted like a kid myself.

"Forget I said that. Boiled canned beans. That's enough."

"...Ah—okay! Just wait a second!"

She bolted out the door.

She hadn't been gone more than a moment before she was back, shoving her head through the crack.

"...I'm sorry... that there's no medicine or doctors or anything."

"...Cough. It's fine."

My nose was stuffed. I couldn't taste a thing. My throat stung, so I forced down just enough to take the edge off the hunger.

"Thanks. It was good."

I ate about four spoonfuls and handed it back. I didn't think I could manage any more.

"Why... whyyy? Why aren't you eating more...?"

...Because my throat hurts.

If I said that honestly, the Demon King would start worrying again.

"I ate a lot. I'm full."

"Wuuuuh... my friend's not eating like usual. No slurping, no chomping, no crunching..."

Fuck! When have I ever eaten that sloppy?!

...Though, thinking about it, the first time I had kimchi stew here, I probably had. That was why first impressions mattered.

"I really need to get some sle— cough! Cough! Hack!"

I whipped my head away from the Demon King and fired off the cough I'd been holding in. I'd been trying to soothe the tickle in my throat so I could get it out after I'd sent her from the room. I failed.

"Ah! Nooo! Please! Please don't do that! Hey! Hic..."

...Why was she making such a huge fuss. At this rate I'd get worse just listening to her.

"...I'm really fine. Go on, get out. I think I need to rest."

"That's a lie. You're gonna die, aren't you? If I leave you alone..."

"I'm serious. Just let me be by myself for a bit."

Even the Demon King seemed to understand she shouldn't stay any longer. She dragged her feet, shut the door, and left.

It'd been a while. That door, closing.

Cough, cough, khh...

My throat itched like someone had stuck a quill pen down there and started tickling. Every cough sent a throb through my skull, like a powerlifter who hit 1,500 on the big three was pressing his fingertips into my temples. I was just going to die.

For no reason at all, those grim-reaper bitches' voices seemed to drift through like auditory hallucinations.

...Hah...

When the body went to pieces, the ugly past came back up on its own. Looking back, this wasn't the first time I'd caught a cold in this world. I'd come down with a brutal one before, and taken a day off.

That fucking bitch.

My skull clamped down even tighter because of Nine. If I slept now, I was going to have ugly dreams.

...No choice. Even so. I had to sleep.

How long had I been out? My whole body felt stiff and wrong.

I drew a breath, hoping the illness had eased even a little. The aching head and the cotton-dry throat shattered that hope without breaking a sweat.

I glanced sideways. At some point the Demon King had sat down in the next seat and was looking down at me. I told her to leave. This stubborn little thing never listened, not even once.

When her eyes met mine—now open—a flush of red touched her bloodless face.

"...I told you to get out... you'll catch it."

"...Here."

The Demon King held out a bottle I'd never seen before. It definitely wasn't among the few dishes she owned.

"What's this?"

"Drink it. It's medicine."

"Medicine? Where'd you get it?"

"Hey. Just drink it first. It's medicine that cures any illness, okay?"

The Demon King urged the drink on me in a hurry. Where on earth had she gotten medicine? Medicine in this world was absurdly rare.

A medicine that cured anything?

This felt sketchy.

"...All right."

Pop. I pulled the stopper. I scrunched my face up tight and drank, and then...

?

It was just water. Plain water.

"Where'd you get this?"

"...I bought it. I went outside."

...Bought it?

She went outside?

"S-so? Are you okay?"

The Demon King asked, her face full of hope. Like a sip of water was going to make me better. Wherever she'd gone, she'd clearly been conned.

"...Yeah. I feel a little better."

"...Haaaah..."

At my words, she let out a long breath of relief.

Two lines of tears ran down her cheeks, and she crumpled, the tension going out of her whole body. My name is Baek Dongha. Guinness World Record holder for making the Demon King cry. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠In other words, a miserable piece of trash.

"I'm so glad... hic."

"...Hey. Why are you crying. I said I'm okay now."

"...But... because of me, you almost... you almost died here..."

"It's a cold, I told you. Die? From what. And how is that because of you."

"No. It is because of me. You're here because of me, and this place doesn't have doctors or medicine."

What was the point of this, now.

The Demon King blamed herself, thumping her own head with her fists. I was afraid my hand would shatter if I tried to stop her, but I gritted my teeth and grabbed her white forearm anyway.

"I said I'm fine. I even took the medicine."

"...I'm not fine."

"It'll get better soo— wait."

...What was this?

There was a small cut on the Demon King's soft cheek. A first. Seeing the Demon King wounded. She bled red, same as me.

The Demon King? Hurt?

How?

"You... here... you're cut."

"...I must've hurt myself cooking."

"...?"

"More importantly, do you really feel like you're getting better?"

"Yeah. I feel like it's easing up little by little."

I'd even gone and told another classic Baek Dongha lie, and still her white arm wouldn't stop trembling, as if something terrified her.

"Sniff... you... get some rest."

Then the Demon King, drained of all her energy, walked toward the door with slow, listless steps.

Patter, patter.

She took the doorknob and looked back at me.

And stayed like that, for a long time.

"..."

"...What?"

The Demon King didn't answer. Something inside her seemed to be welling up and up across her face. Then she just left.

...What was with that look. Like she had so much on her mind.

Her complicated expression wouldn't get out of my head.

I lay back down. A little more sleep. I had to get better fast—if I was going to lie and say the cold had broken thanks to the plain water she'd brought me.

Was a cold the kind of thing you could beat with sheer willpower?

I really did feel better after one more nap. The headache was gone. My body felt light. Now I could actually go thank the Demon King for that plain water.

I'm all better, so Iron Fist, let's go?

Woooow!

I had to tell her right away. I wanted to see the Demon King's face light up.

I got out of bed, opened the door, and headed for the kitchen, where she'd be.

...Huh?

A wrongness stopped my feet in the middle of a thoughtless step.

...Where did it go?

The pig piggy bank the Demon King had been filling with coins from the intruders she fought—the one she'd set on a dedicated wooden desk right in the middle of the hallway—was gone.

...No way.

It couldn't be.

I hurried to the kitchen. The lights were off; the kitchen was dark. The Demon King was face-down, both arms wrapped over her head. She'd lain like that before, too, that time she'd been drinking.

From now on you... if you don't leave this place... from now on you...

What was she saying? Face-down, the Demon King kept muttering, shifting her intonation over and over like she was running through a rehearsal.

"Hey."

At my voice, the Demon King who'd been mumbling something snapped her head up.

"...Wha!? W-when did you get here?"

"Just now."

"Are you okay now!?"

Her eyelids were swollen, like she'd been crying all day. She asked with her whole face full of hope.

"Completely fine. All better. All thanks to that medicine."

"W-woooow...! I'm so glad. I... I thought something had happened ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to you... wuuuh."

The Demon King stroked her chest over and over. Never again in my life would anyone worry over me this much because of a cold.

"...More importantly, what happened to the piggy bank?"

"...Th-that's..."

"You used it to buy the medicine?"

"..."

This idiot...

Had she handed over every last coin she'd saved to some con artist and come back with plain water?

Those were coins she'd gathered one and two at a time, getting attacked every single day. And she'd said she was going to buy the Orb of Eternity with them. Something she could never even afford.

"Thank you. Really."

...What else was I supposed to say to her.

The Demon King, who knew nothing of how the world worked, had spent every last coin she had on me. Thanking a friend for her sincerity. That was all I could do for the Demon King who'd bought me plain water with her entire fortune.

"...Hey. So, um."

"...Yeah?"

The Demon King went rigid, bracing with everything she had. Her whole slight body trembled.

"Hoo... haaah..."

Out of nowhere, she started taking deep breaths.

She'd called my attention—and then for a while she said nothing. Like she was fighting a war inside her own head. Her face crumpled, smoothed out, went calm. The expression that had been spinning through cycle after cycle came to a sudden stop.

It wasn't a face she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wore often, so I couldn't name it—but I knew one thing. It was an expression she'd made by thinking, and thinking, and thinking again.

With that look, she glanced at the Paper Crane for a moment, then shifted her eyes to me.

"H-hey. So, um."

Her voice shook so badly it was pitiful.

"...What is it?"