New Clothes, Old Friends (1) Reunion

"..."

My heart dropped into my stomach.

On the screen the Demon King had conjured, there they were — faces I never wanted to see again. The same ones that still crawled into my dreams now and then, leaving my back soaked in cold sweat.

The tall woman with long crimson hair. One of only two on the continent to hold the title of Sword Emperor, her magic blade had torn through the hide of Leviathan himself. Violet hair curling at the tips like a whirlpool, and those purple eyes — a genius Archmage of high noble birth who could command all four elements. The white elf whose golden hair I used to braid every single day; she had held the northern wall alone during the Battle of Serhan and earned the title of Divine Archer. And the paladin with pink twin-tails. The densest moron on the face of the earth.

...

Why? Why? Why? Why?

Why are they here?

Did they come to take down the Demon King? She said their memories were wiped, so maybe they forgot how strong she is and came back for another round.

But "defeat the Demon King and bring peace to the world" was just their PR line. The truth is they're lazy, overfed pigs who only chase whatever mood strikes them. Last time it took them years just to get around to the Demon King raid.

...

Wait.

Did they come to pick me up?

...

"...Oh. Those guys."

The Demon King, still watching the screen, clapped her hands as it came back to her. That terrifying memory of hers hadn't forgotten a single intruder.

"New clothes."

...?

"You said you'd make them. When your old party members showed up."

"Ah."

Right. I did promise that.

Fuck.

"Dongha!"

"Dongha!"

"Dongha!"

Those nauseating voices came shrieking inward, loud enough to shake the quiet of the Demon King's Castle apart.

...What the hell is that, a butterfly net?

On the other side of the screen, Nine was carrying a butterfly net and a cage to go with it. What the fuck. She looked like a grade-schooler out insect-hunting for summer break. Was she planning to stuff me in that thing and haul me off?

A tremor ran through my arm before I even noticed it.

"...Huh? What's wrong with you?"

The Demon King stroked my shaking arm and looked up at me.

"...Ah. It's nothing."

"Nothing? Your whole body's trembling."

"..."

I had faced plenty of intruders in my time living with the Demon King. I had never shaken like this.

"...They're the ones who used to pick on you, right?"

"..."

"They're bad kids, then. Wait here. I'll go tell them off."

...

Whether I went with her or not, those fearless, psychotic thugs would try to kill the Demon King anyway.

...

I was scared.

Scared she might get hurt. Scared a wound might open on the softest cheeks in the world. Scared the horn I had touched every day until it carried the print of my hands might break. Scared Yuria's poisoned arrows might find her. Scared she might not dodge a slash from Nine's sword in time. Scared Dorothy's fire magic might scorch that snow-white skin. Scared that moron Rebecca might say something unhinged and the Demon King might pick it up.

She had already shown them an overwhelming gap in power once before, of course. But a fight never plays out the same way twice. Take Earth's World Cup — even Brazil can lose to Croatia.

...

The dread would not shake loose.

The Demon King's pale feet padded away as she turned to go, and today they looked even smaller than usual.

I stepped after her and caught her hand. Still soft, still ice-cold, still so small.

"Let's go together."

"...Huh? You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Gotta cheer for my friend."

"Hehe. Wanna touch my cheek?"

"Later. More importantly — did you turn all the buffs on?"

"Yeah. Of course."

At some point it had become the natural order of things: when she fought the intruders, I stood on the sidelines and cheered.

They had come to take me back, so they wouldn't attack using me as a hostage. And maybe — just maybe — I could talk them into leaving.

"You won't get hurt, right?"

"...Yeah. I'm feeling lucky today."

We rounded the corner, and my eyes locked with Nine's as she came walking from the far end of the hall.

"Oh!!! ...Wait, no?"

Nine tilted her head, squinting at my face.

"Nine. I found— hnn?!"

Dorothy, the party's rear-line dealer, trailing behind her, took one look at me and made the exact same face.

"...Dongha...? Is that you?"

"...Dorothy. I don't think so? He's put on a bit of weight for Dongha, his color's better, and he doesn't look exhausted. Most of all, that's not the look of someone who's annoyed every second of the day."

"A fair point. Perhaps the Demon King has him under her control."

Whatever the reason, they didn't seem to recognize me as I was now. All except one.

"Oh! It's Dongha! It's really Dongha!"

Clank, clank. Rebecca, wearing several dozen kilograms of armor over her entire body, came running with a dumb grin plastered across her face.

"Dongha. Hurry up and do Bamtan. My hiatus has gone on forever and I'm dying over here, okay? Play track seven!"

...

"Get lost, you dumb fucking bitch."

"...What?"

"I'm not doing it. You wench whose only reason for existing is being hard as a rock. You're genuinely disgusting, so turn your head and get the hell out of here. Before I hit you with something worse."

Ah, shit.

I had accidentally dumped profanity straight into the Demon King's ears. I wasn't supposed to swear. She picked things up. Nice words. Nice words.

But then—

"That's Dongha's voice!"

"Kyah! It's Dongha!"

"Dongha!"

The other three came pounding and click-click-clicking over at a dead sprint and swarmed around me, shrieking. In the scramble I lost the Demon King's hand, the one I had been holding so tightly. The composure I had barely managed to gather started to crack.

"Dongha! Dongha! Do you have any idea how much I needed you? Which merchant caravan even distributes fairy grapes? I searched everywhere and nothing tastes the same!"

"Dongha! That four-strand braid you used to do for me — you remember it, do you not? I shall undo what I have now, so you will redo it at once! Ah! And I have a few things here that require your signature."

"Ooggh-ooggh. Nine-ieun, Nine-ieun missed our widdle Dongdong sooooo much. C'mere, our Dong-puppy. Let's give the back of that head a good smack for old times' sake."

Urk.

These twisted scraps of hell-trash had me surrounded and were shitting out of their mouths. If this wasn't the realm of hungry ghosts, I didn't know what was. Vomit surged all the way up to my uvula.

If I could have, I would have hit them with a Whirlwind or some party-wipe kick combo and wrecked every last one of them.

"Come on, hurry over here! We'll take down the Demon King together and go back—"

Dorothy's hand closed around mine.

"Let GO!!! You fucking bitch!"

The instant those violet-painted nails touched my skin, the rage boiled up so fast I couldn't stand it. I yanked my hand free, and bewilderment flooded Dorothy's eyes.

"...Excuse me?"

"I'm not going. I'm staying here. Get lost."

"..."

"..."

The garbage each of them had been shoving at me died in their throats. For a moment it was like I had been dragged back into that hell from a few months ago — a stretch of time that still felt like a nightmare.

"...You're not going? You, Dongha?"

"Yeah."

...

"...Dongha. That sounds rather like you mean to leave the party."

"That's right."

...

The three of them wore faces that said they couldn't believe it. Fair enough. I couldn't even blame them for that.

No matter how much these bitches had tormented me, I had clung to the party like a tick. Right. They knew that no matter how much they treated me like shit, I couldn't leave — so they had piled it on without a limit.

"Dongha. I'll be good to you if you come back."

"Fuck off."

"We'll eat together, and I'll buy you snacks."

"Fuck off."

"You only have to order fairy grapes seven times a week."

"That's the same as before, you level-ten moron bitch."

"I'll change your water every day and take you on walks."

"You fucking bitch."

No matter how much they babbled, I didn't budge.

Since when did these people ask for things? If they didn't like something, they usually just beat me up and dragged me along.

...

"Dongha?"

"What."

...

"Why won't you go? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You like us, don't you?"

"...What?"

...

...

What.

Were my ears broken? Or had the meaning of the word "like" changed in the months I'd spent in the Demon King's Castle?

It was so absurd I nearly made a scissors-hand and jammed it into Dorothy's eyeball. I still might.

"What did you just say?"

"...There was someone among us you liked, wasn't there? Or maybe you liked all of us."

"...I'm going to ask what kind of algorithm produced that sentence."

"Well... I mean, isn't it obvious? If that weren't the case, you wouldn't have had any reason to cling to the party the way you did. We barely even fed you, and the, ah... working conditions were poor in any number of ways... so why else would you have stayed?"

"...I cursed you out plenty, didn't I? I'm pretty sure I told you I hated you."

"You were just playing hard to get."

...

Wow.

Okay.

...

Wow.

I had figured they were garden-variety idiots. They were not garden-variety idiots. They were next-level, off-the-charts, historically unprecedented idiots. The sheer out-of-spec stupidity made my head spin.

For a second, a torrent of profanity rose up in me violent enough to blend all of Dorothy's deceased ancestors into peanut butter. I swallowed it back down past my throat with everything I had.

"I'm going to beat this through your eardrums, so listen carefully, Dorothy. The rest of you too. I genuinely hate you. I hate you so much. I hate you so, so much that when I cooked, I used to think about mixing in poison and killing all of you, and then I'd go, 'Ah, but I've toughed it out this far. Just hang on a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠little longer,' and I'd grit my teeth and endure it."

"..."

"You get it? Every single morning when I opened my eyes, I worried. Ah, what if Rebecca's crushing me again today? Is Nine going to start drinking at noon and doing that baby-talk shit? What if there's a bug in today's fairy grapes? Am I going to have to run another chase with the military police because of Yuria?"

"..."

By the time I got that far, irritation was swelling through my whole body like it might burst. But I could hold the anger down.

How?

Probably because I wasn't looking at these bitches when I said it. I was looking at the Demon King's pretty face.

...

And yet, for some reason, her expression looked a little uneasy.

I pushed out from between ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the four women, the air around them thick with stench, and walked toward the Demon King — kind, beautiful, and smelling of fruit.

I took her soft hand. Then I looked back over my shoulder.

"...That thing?"

"Don't call her 'that,' you fucking bitch. She's my friend."

"...The horn? So she is the Demon King."

"And so what. Don't stare, you'll wear it down."

"You've lost your mind, Dongha."

"Yeah. She and I are both out of our minds, so leave us and go."

"..."

"You don't actually care about world peace or slaying the Demon King anyway. When I first joined the party, I said I'd stay until we took the Demon King down, and you all agreed. Well, we're done now, so all of you get out."

"..."

"You've got plenty of money. And her bounty... I worked for you for years, and we had an agreement I'd get paid when I left the party, remember? I won't take it. Call it even. That bounty more than covers it."

"..."

Right.

Back then, I had told myself I'd hang on in the party somehow until the Demon King raid finally launched. Of course, the reason these bitches had actually set out on a journey they had postponed for years had nothing to do with me — it was the Demon King's bounty shooting through the roof.

"The day you walked into the Demon King's Castle, I had already left the party, for all intents and purposes. I'll handle things from here, so just wipe your memories of this place and go. We each walk our own road."

"..."

Whatever they had done to me out there — I could throw away the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hatred. I could throw away the need for revenge. I just wanted them to leave nicely, without a fight.

"...Dongha."

If they fought, the Demon King would take damage again. The furniture she loved might get smashed. She might get hurt.

I didn't want to see that.

...

"I don't want to."

Nine said it.

"What?"

"Who said we were letting you go? Listen to you, talking about leaving the party."

"That's right. Ahaha. We said we would slay the Demon King. Did we ever once say we would let you go?"

"You are mistaken, Dongha. Quite apart from you, the Demon King dies here — and you shall remain with us for all time."

"Dongha. Track seven. C'mon? Hurry up."

...

"Can't you just leave quietly without a fight?"

I said it.

"Of course not, Dongha. We're all quite fond of you, you know."

Dorothy said it.

"Dongha's not being honest, is he? That horned kid next to you is the Demon King, right? We were going to kill her anyway."

Nine said it.

"Bamtan! Bamtan!"

The moron said it.

"You've been brainwashed, Dongha. Let us return and share our happy days together once more."

Yuria said it.

"Who said you get to decide?"

My friend said it.