Chekhov's Arena (2): Forged in the Tiger's Den
Even if you get thrown into a tiger's den, keep your wits about you and you'll survive. Even in a death game, your mental breaks at first, but humans scramble to pull themselves together and claw their way through. And this place was already full of people who'd died twice—once in the real world, once in the Goblin Forest. They had two lives left, but deep down, everyone figured it was just one. Why? 'Dragged to this shithole stage when we've only got two lives left—what the fuck's the main scenario gonna be like?' That's how people usually think.
Chekhov's Arena was like something beyond spicy—more like "super spicy tonkatsu" levels that even enthusiasts struggle to finish. Plenty choke it down to survive, some even enjoy it, but for normies, polishing it off is a Herculean task. But if finishing it is the only way to live? When your life's on the line, people shove it down no matter how mapo it is or whatever.
And it wasn't like nacho chips waiting after that would kill you with one bite. Estiel was an angel, sure, but one obsessed with results, desperate to churn out even one more official hero from the factory. She'd sweet-talk and coax them into going as heroes, unless they screamed future Demon King's vanguard—but even tutorial dropouts could steel themselves after being summoned to this otherworld. No paradise in the places they fled to, either. Like boot camp hell followed by a unit even worse, and eventually, you adapt.
"Hic, hic."
The reserve heroes checked their survival journals while sobbing. No smartphones, nothing to do, so they pored over the manuals during downtime, just like that.
"Hey, mind if I compare what's inside for a sec?"
"C-compare why?"
"Just to see if they're different. Maybe we need to cooperate to escape or something?"
"Y-yeah... maybe?"
Maybe one had worked at an escape room cafe or frequented them, 'cause they started bustling around, gathering info fast.
"Uh, looks like the contents are the same...?"
"...It's pretty long, so we should check every page."
Unfortunately, all the survival journals were identical. Not printed copies—magically duplicated items.
The real deal from Chekhov's Arena.
The arena might've been manifested by angels' holy power, but the journals themselves were run by the arena staff.
Which meant...
"Hey, there's something like a ticket at the end here...."
The journal's contents mattered, but the hidden item inside would spread word soon enough.
"Ticket? L-like a gacha ticket maybe?"
"D-don't rip it carelessly! Could be coins for exchanges later...!"
"...Anyone wanna volunteer to rip one?"
Rip the ticket or not? With zero info, the reserves tossed out opinions left and right.
"Hey! Don't just sit there—say something!"
"What? Fuck off and sit your ass down."
"What?! You little punk...!"
"Punk my ass—this ain't college. Fuck, we fuck up and we're all dead...!"
Park Chang-su tried playing leader to hide his weakened state, only to get called out head-on.
"......."
Only one person stayed silent, just sitting there: the blonde woman, Shin Yu-hee, who kept watching me.
Actually, others had been shooting me glances too, urging me to speak up or offer an opinion. But I'd stayed quiet, eyes closed, seated. Shin Yu-hee had observed me at intervals, staying still herself.
"Hey, Shin Yu-hee!"
Then the sparks flew her way.
"You too—say something! Heard you waltzed in top of the freshmen!"
"...Bullshit."
Park Chang-su might've expected something from pre-group transfer specs, but Shin Yu-hee just sneered at him and flipped the bird.
"What does top freshman have to do with chiming in now?"
"This...!"
"You look like you couldn't even kill a goblin—don't waste energy, just sleep. Or... wanna throw down?"
"Urk...!"
As Shin Yu-hee stood, brushing her hands, Park Chang-su clenched his fists without thinking. That brief move tipped off some reserves to his true colors, and they quietly went back to their journals.
"Hmph...! Fine, you won't cooperate! Anyone wanna team up with me to survive—gather up front!"
And Park Chang-su went full faction split. To hide his weakness and survive.
One by one, women approached the muscular, burly-looking Park Chang-su, and once a group formed, other guys slunk over too.
"H-hey, you...?"
"Pass."
A middle-aged guy asked politely, but I declined and closed my eyes again.
Twenty reserves. 14-6 split. Factions formed.
I'm still alive.
Today's opponent was a beastman from the north. When his axe grazed my left shoulder, I heard that scraping sound. Bone shaving. Luckily, I used an Exchange Voucher to fix it, but my arm still creaks.
At least I won. If I'd lost, I'd have been crushed under him, gang-raped amid the crowd's jeers and filth.
I slit his throat and snatched the blood-soaked Exchange Voucher from his pocket. Two sheets. Fucker.
Some use three just to mend bones, but this three-win bastard only had two. Maybe he used someone as a meat shield? Nah. No way he'd hand over vouchers.
A cheap painkiller bottle to dull chronic pain from untreated old wounds, and two hunks of rye bread I'm chewing while writing this. That's my tomorrow, bought with today's earnings.
The slave soldier next door skipped meals to save vouchers for medicine for his little sister in this cellblock. But at evening roll call, she was carted out as a corpse.
Hope is a luxury. Only the tremor and sharp edge of gripping a blade feel real.
Tomorrow, it's a runaway from the Empire's knight order. Scary, but he's just bare-handed with a sword like me—no armor.
Kill him, get five vouchers. Wins stack up, and five gets me a non-rusty dwarven sword. Gotta bolt to the shop at dawn when the cell opens and snag one.
Need to exchange for journal margins and pencil soon too. This isn't a last will for anyone.
Someday, when I get out alive, I'll carry these scraps and remember this brutal life...
Dawn. Park Chang-su's crew took turns sleeping, while lone watchers clutched their journals for catnaps.
"...Sunbae."
Very quietly, Shin Yu-hee approached. After the noisy ones including Park Chang-su dozed off, the woman on watch startled at her voice, then averted her eyes under Shin Yu-hee's gaze.
"...What're you gonna do?"
Shin Yu-hee came close, asking like she was recruiting for survival.
"......."
"I know."
"Know what?"
"If it's you, sunbae, you know how to survive."
Her eyes held conviction as she watched me.
"That's—"
Scritch.
I reached for her back. She flinched to pull away.
"Quiet."
"......!"
But she froze at my word, and I traced letters on her back with my finger.
[They listen to talk.]
Finger-writing. Still writing, but she entrusted her back to my fingers quietly. Smooth skin under the prison garb, no bra straps even.
[Staying up's impressive.]
Took time with big letters, but only she got my message.
[Only.]
She mouthed at my face, whispering shape.
[Only you and me stayed up, right?]
Then she reached for my back like me, poking letters with her index finger.
[Why no sleep?]
[You first, sunbae?]
[I asked.]
[Can't trust anyone.]
Nod.
I nodded big at her words.
[And me?]
[Trust skill and instinct, not people. Mine too.]
[I died in tutorial?]
[Deaths equal?]
She glanced at sleeping ones. Wanted to vent about them, but held back, tracing my back again.
[One Exchange Voucher—party up? Help each other?]
[You sure? You know a voucher's worth.]
[Gonna earn 'em anyway. Not begging free like some thot.]
[Hm.]
A bit disappointing. If she'd begged, I could've demanded payment another way.
[Before party—why pick me?]
[...Choose.]
She smirked, one corner up, asking me.
[After party, tell free. Or voucher.]
Cocky, but she got arena survival better than most.
"Deal."
I voiced it straight, straightening up.
"Rise. Dawn's breaking."
"Dawn...."
Clang!
Sudden noise. I shot up, Shin Yu-hee stumbling after, following me.
"Like mobile games?"
"Huh? N-no, never played."
"Got it then."
Screeech.
"Dawn, 5 AM."
While all slept.
"Daily quest refresh time."
I opened our cell door and stepped out.