Tell Me (1)
I sped forward with Meister riding behind me. It was a knockoff bike—no fuel tank, no engine, no muffler—but that hardly mattered. At least the exterior looked convincing, and it actually moved.
…Ha.
W-wow…
For the record, there was no special principle behind this engineless fake bike rolling along. Like a bicycle that moved when you pedaled, I was simply spinning the wheels myself with demon energy.
As expected, it burned through an ungodly amount of mana.
“What is this? What the hell is this thing?!”
Even for something so simple and crude, the engineer Meister was utterly thrilled. In an age when horses were the pinnacle of transportation, catching sight of something like this was only natural.
Meister, clinging to my back, grabbed fistfuls of my clothes and shook me hard.
“Is this the power of a demon too?!”
“…It’s from my hometown.”
“Is your hometown full of maniacs obsessed with mana control like you?”
“Hardly.”
There was no mana or demon energy there to begin with. I swallowed those words, unsure whether they would wound Meister, and furrowed my brow instead. I was trying to dredge up the principles of the engine as I remembered them.
“Originally… it includes a device called an engine. The engine draws fuel from a tank and sets off tiny explosions inside…”
“Explosions?”
“…The force of those explosions turns the gears. The spinning gears connect to the wheels and make them turn.”
Was that even the right principle? I had only ever used machines; I never cared how they worked. And I had almost never chosen steampunk settings as a hobby—they were a pain to draw.
“I don’t know the details.”
When I cut the explanation short, Meister let out a low, pained “Umm.”
“Fuel goes in and explosions happen… fuel won’t explode on its own, so there must be an ignition source… no, before that, materials that can withstand the blasts…”
Everything that followed was stuff I hadn’t mentioned. An eerie chill ran through me for no good reason, and I spun the wheels even harder. The corpse of the Behemoth I had killed came into view on the left; on the right, the overturned earth and the castle walls began to appear, perilously close.
“You. Later, tell me everything about the stuff from your hometown.”
…Terrifying. I was already regretting showing him the bike. A horse would have forced me to control every leg, so the bike had clearly been the better choice. But terrifying was still terrifying.
“If the temple gives me the chance, I’ll try.”
Thud.
I used a massive hill as a ramp, launched dozens of meters into the air, and at the perfect landing moment transformed Latel’s wheel sections into a thin liquid. It was the next-best option, since rubber-like elasticity wasn’t possible.
The wheels hit the ground with a wet slap, then reformed and rose smoothly. The slightly viscous material couldn’t completely swallow the shock of the uneven terrain, but at least we didn’t rattle around like an empty cart.
“If something like this became widespread, it would revolutionize transport.”
“It won’t cause half the revolution your batteries would.”
“…”
Earth’s bikes already used batteries in their construction anyway, so batteries won by default.
I nodded to myself without waiting for Meister’s reaction.
“Well.”
Rattle.
“That’s only natural.”
Of course a rock too big to dodge and too solid for the mucus wheels to handle caught us just then. The bike jolted hard. Meister’s words cut off, then resumed.
“Ah—by the way, could you take a look at one item?”
Around then I remembered something worth asking him. Amid the truth confession, the Shame Priest’s threats, and the future consultation, I had completely forgotten about the chest protector.
“What.”
Using the inventory, I smoothly handed over the protector still strapped across my chest.
“What’s this.”
“Equipment with explosion magic cast on it.”
“…A chest protector?”
“I made it intending to kill myself before I went berserk. Anyway, I tried to use it recently and nothing exploded. Is the magic properly engraved?”
Meister stayed silent for a long moment. I couldn’t tell whether he was examining the spellwork or simply speechless at my words.
“…It’s not explosion magic. Protection magic is on it. The circuit is cleverly laid so it’s easy to mistake.”
“…I see.”
Still, he finished the appraisal. Proof that I hadn’t spoken the wrong keyword after all.
“Going to change it?”
“Well. Not yet. There’s no need anymore.”
But why had White Wind scammed me? She had seemed like the type who would want me dead without any personal grudge.
“I’ll still have to settle the score, though.”
I let out a faint sigh over White Wind’s inexplicable actions. Thanks to her rewriting the magic, I had been given another chance—that much was true—but the feeling left behind was strange. A little regretful, a little unsettled. That kind of…
“…We’re almost there.”
Anyway, before long we reached the Behemoth’s corpse. It wasn’t far from the walls; the rest of the way could be walked without issue.
“Go.”
“Got it.”
We had already agreed that only Meister would return to the city alone.
Leaving the Behemoth corpse unattended made me uneasy, and if I approached the city myself they might take it as a threat. At this distance, even if they decided to turn hostile, I could still slip away without being caught.
All in all, a choice made for convenience.
How about going now? With the demon energy you have left, you could easily shake off the hero even if she chased you…
Of course, looking at the collapsed walls and the soldiers scattered like defeated troops, I had to wonder whether they even had the strength left to pick a fight with me.
“While you wait, organize some of that hometown culture of yours.”
More than anything, watching Meister made me certain he would persuade the temple if only for the sake of his curiosity. Something about him felt reliable.
“…Signal me.”
“Yeah.”
Still, you never knew with the world. I reviewed the emergency signal we had set for the worst case, then parked the bike a reasonable distance from the Behemoth’s body.
Meister’s back grew smaller while the walls grew noisier as he drew near. The two sights stood in sharp contrast.
Swoosh.
But there wasn’t much I could do about it. I turned my back on the walls and leaned against the bike. I wondered whether Mr. Licha and the vice-lord were still alive.
With nothing else to do, my eyes kept brushing bugs away while casually sweeping the top of the walls.
Ah…
But Faust found the person first. A stifled sigh reached me, and a beat later navy blue appeared. Covered in blood, dust, and every other filth imaginable, that navy blue honestly looked closer to black.
“…He’s alive.”
But he was alive. That was what mattered. He hadn’t died. Even if he stood only with someone’s support, he was still a living person on this ground, not a corpse.
And he was looking this way.
“….”
Suddenly I felt certain he was studying me. Even I couldn’t make out his face properly, yet his gaze came through with strange clarity.
…Ah.
And that was a sensation Faust would feel even more sharply.
The sound of swallowed tears spread through my head again and again. It was the sound people made when they clamped a hand over their mouth and killed even the escaping breath.
Making a racket…
Quieter than you, so shut up.
How long had it taken that boy to reach the point of crying in silence?
I measured the time without daring to comfort him. I simply could not gauge the size of the emotions he must be feeling right now.
Besides, realistically there was no room for it.
No matter how kindly I tried to frame things, the situation was the situation.
Choosing to accept the perpetrator as a victim, racing around to save people in the middle of it all, the Inquisitor’s enormous emotions crashing in, the bomb I had finally pressed after every distraction only for it to fizzle out…
I was doing my best to keep it light, keep it light—but I was reaching my limit. Silence that gave him distance to cry freely was the only best I had left.
What’s wrong? Starting to regret it?
And of course the demon chose that moment to prod. She was frighteningly good at finding people’s weak spots. Useless trash who dug them open for her own gain instead of offering comfort, but skilled all the same.
Why, hoping I regret it?
So you do regret it.
A probing line, then. But a meaningless one.
Honestly, as long as I was human it was impossible for those feelings not to surface at all. Calling it overseas volunteer work didn’t change the fact that nine years was not a short time.
At the same time, you’re genuinely disappointed the bomb never went off.
Of course even if time rewound I would not choose differently. Regret did not make the best choice stop being the best.
But… but did I really need to spell every bit of that out? I looked away from the snickering demon. Her laughter rose a little higher.
Ah, Gretchen. You really…
Ah, enough. What was that clothes regeneration earlier?
I had no desire to listen to that laugh any longer. I cut it off with a flat expression.
I don’t know what you mean.
When the body regenerated earlier, the clothes came back too. What was that?
Puck. A bug stuck to my neck burst under my palm.
Ah, that. If you consider that this body is currently composed mostly of demon energy, the answer should be obvious.
…Clothes are part of the body?
Yes.
My thoughts stalled for a second.
…Really?
Hearing that clothes were body parts left a strange taste. I filled my mouth with awkwardness and stroked the fabric.
This is actually part of this body?
It was… a lot to take in.
…What weird thoughts are you having? Metaphorically speaking, those clothes are no different from the shells snails or clams carry around. In human terms, they’re like hair or fingernails and toenails.
Still…
Comparing them to snail or clam shells made it a little better… umm. I didn’t know. I let go of the clothes.
Then why not wear real clothes?
Do you honestly believe clothes of that design—complete with restoration and automatic laundry magic—actually exist out there?
Ah.
Just convenience, then. I nodded in understanding before I realized it.
Right. So how did you match the design?
I referenced the game you were going to play.
But the weight of the answer shifted with those last words.
…How did you know about that game?
I pulled out the question I had been carrying ever since I accepted that this world was real—after forgetting it for a while.
And why does this world resemble that game?
It was what I had truly wanted to ask.
Firstly, I know the game because I read a portion of your memories. Secondly, why this world resembles that game… I don’t know either.
The answer that came back was not especially clear. Especially the second half. Strength tightened in my hand.
…We’ll put the memory-reading aside for now. Why is the second answer like that?
I say I don’t know when I don’t know. Should I pretend I do? Besides, you yourself once said, “If you can explain a coincidence, is it still a coincidence?”
So the resemblance between Legend of Heroes and this world is truly coincidence?
Yes.
Having my own past words thrown back at me… was this payback for earlier? I clenched and unclenched my fist while that thought circled. I understood the words, yet acceptance refused to come.
You look like you can’t accept it at all. Fair enough. It’s too suspicious to call coincidence.
If you understand that, then give me something I can actually accept.
Why should I? You only take what you want from me and never move the way I wish.
You conscience-swapped piece of shit. Fine. If you don’t want to talk, whatever. I’m the idiot for asking you.
Still, I had no desire to cling desperately to that bastard for answers. The same went for the hometown traces she kept flaunting as if begging me to ask.
I quietly gave up on getting an answer. A little later the demon spoke again.
I find you truly irritating and I hate you, yet even so I cherish you. I can at least share my guesses.
You said you didn’t want to tell me.
I just said it. Because I cherish you, I’ll tell you.
What the hell did you eat in the last few seconds…
I weighed the ulterior motives behind the sudden flip in attitude. Then again, she had been answering every question properly from the start, so calling it a complete reversal felt a bit unfair…
So, don’t you want to hear it? My dear Gretchen.
Still, I doubted it was kindness without reason. From what I knew of people like her, one defeat never made them quit or reform. Just like the way she had thrashed alone earlier when she thought she was cornered.
Really not going to listen?
I looked at the faintly smiling demon, at the robe and modern suit she wore. I remembered the game knowledge she had spoken so naturally, and the moment when everyone else cursed something as fucked while she alone called it shitty.
If you’re that confident, go ahead and tease me. Let’s see how well that mouth of yours runs.
Cunning, wasn’t it? Instead of blatantly stressing that she was from the same hometown, she subtly planted the idea and cultivated a sense of familiarity.
I had no intention of forgiving her even if she was from the same place.
Alas, I have no confidence I can meet your standards. As I said, what I’m about to offer is only my guess; I don’t know if it’s the true answer.
I’ll filter your tongue myself, so don’t worry.
Oh, good.
Anyway, the reason she was acting like this now came down to two possibilities in my mind.
Then shall I begin by explaining the circumstances of your summoning? But know this, Gretchen: we did not personally choose the one we would call. We only set forth the conditions we each desired.
First possibility: even though she hated speaking, cooperation was forced, so she was at least trying to build a cooperative image.
And the one who selected the target matching those conditions was an ancient magic. The old rules, also called the extreme laws—that magic judged you the most suitable.
Second possibility: she was pretending to cooperate while mixing in lies so she could stab me in the back at a critical moment.
So it’s not your fault I was chosen?
We didn’t choose, after all.
Fine, let’s go with that. So what conditions made me the pick?
That boy demanded someone who would not yield to malice, and I wished for someone who would prioritize their hometown over this place. That boy sought one who would triumph over demons, and I desired an able person who could survive here. Of course, overlooking the difference between someone capable of surviving and someone who wants to live is how someone like you got summoned…
Of course this could simply be my own bias, so nothing was certain. But so what? It was easier never to place hope in the first place than to hope and be betrayed.
I kept that firmly in mind as I asked the next question.
Looking only at those conditions, there doesn’t seem to be any reason it had to be me.
Well. Is that really true? Gretchen, what do you think is a strength that gives the greatest advantage for survival?
Combat power?
Not wrong, but there is something more decisive.
…Information?
Yes. Information. Information is the greatest power. In that sense, the fact that the game you know resembles this world is no problem at all. Dimensions are numberless; some may exist in forms similar to another world’s novels or games. What truly matters is that by playing a work so similar to this world, you seized something that could become information.
…Fuck. So I ended up like this because I played Legend of Heroes.
As I said, this is only my guess.
Yeah… of course…
Even knowing the information might be poisoned, I could not stop the sudden wave of existential dread.
Who would have thought that simply loving a game could screw me over this thoroughly? Of course it might not be the real cause—but still.
This really fucking sucks…
The game company and the game itself seemed blameless, yet even so I doubted I would ever be able to like Legend of Heroes again.
I quietly bid farewell to my memories.
“If there are no more injuries left to treat, there is no need to dispatch personnel.”
Meanwhile, while someone was saying goodbye to old memories, Meister—having climbed the walls—heard those words from the bishop.
After they somehow replenished his mana, he restored his own body. The reason he hadn’t come to the walls was worry that someone might make off with that fat pig of a demon corpse. The relieved expressions of the Inquisitor and Deathbringer twisted in their own distinct ways at the news.
“Bishop, even so…!”
“Then we shall continue with treatment and purification.”
But even that twisting stopped before the words that followed.
“We have already wasted a great deal of time.”
“Bishop…?”
The bishop added not a single word about how the Demon Knight should be handled. It was as if he were permitting the man’s existence.
“That means…”
“Proxy, I did not know him, and because I did not know him I was wary. Yet if you speak of him thus, it should be of no concern.”
“….”
“But remember this, Proxy: precisely because you are one who lays down the title of hero in order to save the innocent, you are called a hero.”
Of course, the fact that the bishop had made this choice now offered no guarantee that the temple would react the same way later.
Perhaps even the bishop had only changed the subject because the present moment was urgent, and would reverse his stance afterward.
“Then we shall attend to our own duties, Vice-Lord.”
But for the moment, the Demon Knight’s existence had been accepted. There had been no condemnation for saving him. That made the Inquisitor glad.
“I’ll go help save people as well…!”
The youth followed the bishop toward the ward, eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Whenever things go this smoothly, something always turns up…”
“…What’s with the ominous talk? Well, I agree, though.”
“Seeing the bishop accept it so readily, that Daniel bastard is probably planning to cause a scene.”
“Hey, don’t you know words become seeds? Watch your mouth.”
Even so, the remaining incarnations of distrust still wore sour expressions despite the situation.