Just Borrow and Repay Later (1)
The dark elf chef Shemiri had received orders from the great Chekhov.
"Most of the bastards who come to the restaurant will be mentally broken, so encourage them to fight in the arena. Instill the will to fight in those who've lost it. Use provocative words if you want, pump them up moderately if you prefer, or resort to other methods if needed. What the great vampire lord Chekhov wants—and what the Human Alliance wants—is beings who can rise again and fight to win."
"A chance for the defeated. Mercy for deserters instead of summary execution." No matter what grave crime brought them here, as long as they held the will to keep fighting the Demon King's army, they'd be spared the death penalty. Chekhov's arena was a kind of execution ground. Stripped of freedom and confined to the prison of the arena, they'd live worse than dogs—until they ended up as fodder for training beasts. Or, having hit rock bottom, they'd steel their resolve, claw their way to survival, and climb back to the surface. The land of last chances. Escape from this place came in two forms: death or redemption.
In that sense, the twenty new men and women who had just arrived were a sigh-worthy bunch.
Twenty deserters. Civilians from the distant East who looked like they'd never seen a real fight. The men at least seemed to have some combat training, but even that appeared specialized in ranged weapons, judging by their muscle development. Out of the twenty, only one had the build of a proper warrior.
"Yoo Si-woo."
That one. Only he acted like he knew exactly what Chekhov's arena was about. Could he be a duke's agent sent to destroy the place? The thought crossed her mind, but he wasn't lying. As a dark elf—an elf—she had sensitive hearing and could clearly detect his heartbeat. No telltale spike like when someone lies.
What if he could even control his own heartbeat? "Weird. None of the recent captures seem worth sending mercenaries from outside to rescue."
Was he a mercenary in disguise infiltrating to extract a prisoner? Or just innocently swept up with the twenty? She didn't know the details, but the fact that he'd ended up in Chekhov's arena was what mattered.
"If he's got the skills, he'll escape on his own."
Without skills, no one leaves the arena. You can't survive without risking your life to win fights and following the order and rules inside Chekhov's arena.
"...He seems to have studied the survival journal well too."
It wasn't handed out for nothing. The survival journal was a magical duplicate of diaries compiled from previous arena inmates. Less a detailed guide, more a raw record of warriors' desperate struggles to survive. Shemiri's own entry was in there too—under a different name and race, but her shameful past of doing anything for a single exchange voucher was laid bare.
Did he know? Probably not. Using bread as a spoon instead of ordering soup wasn't special. Unless you're from a place where utensils are standard.
And so.
"H-how do we eat this?"
"According to the survival journal... we need to use exchange vouchers?"
"Hey, how do you even use these exchange vouchers?"
Shemiri's temper flared at the group of black-haired Easterners who'd filed into the restaurant en masse. They were quieter than the usual deserters or convicts, sure. But everything's relative—and She'd already met someone who knew how to survive the arena.
"Hey. If you're gonna act like an NPC, then—"
Crack!!
Shemiri shot her hand out at the spittle-flying young man in front, clamping his jaw in an instant.
"Guh, guhuk?!"
Sudden attack. The young man grabbed her hand, desperately trying to pry it off before it crushed his jaw, but it didn't budge.
"I don't know what NPC means, but say that shit again while looking at me, and I'll gouge out those eyes."
"Guh, guhuk...!"
"Listen up. I'm the owner of this restaurant you're assigned to. If you act like assholes, I'll assign your meals however the fuck I want."
Thud! She shoved her hand forward, and he toppled backward, landing flat on his ass.
"Want to live here? Remember three things. Act tough, you die. To survive, do anything. And..."
Shh. Shemiri pulled out two exchange vouchers and shook them.
"Everything runs on exchange vouchers."
A little later. By now, the ones out of their cells were probably getting reamed by Shemiri at the restaurant—or if they were late, scrapping in the plaza for exchange vouchers.
"One arena win! Proxy nomination once, basic 20 exchange vouchers!"
"Hey, bro. Handjob once for 5 exchange vouchers, deal?"
"Come on! Poison-coated dagger for 13 exchange vouchers! Poison type's a secret! Even if you win, the poison kills you later!"
Shin Yu-hee and I headed to the arena, where the front was packed with prisoner touts hawking their wares.
"...They're all doing that just to get exchange vouchers?"
"Yeah. Nothing special. Think of exchange vouchers as 'dollars,' and it makes sense."
Exchange vouchers were basically currency here.
"No need to stockpile a ton. Just enough for gear and supplies until five wins."
"Why? You said it's money."
"'Cause you can't bail out with a deposit."
"No system where you save up hundreds or thousands and leave?"
"Nope."
The arena's ultimate goal was 'recycling.' Like angels processing dead humans' souls into heroes in the tutorial, Chekhov's arena served the same purpose.
"Only way out is five quick wins. Bigger stakes mean more ways to win."
"...Like what, specifically?"
"Proxies, for starters."
"Proxies...?"
"You really don't game much."
Most summoned heroes—even women—would get 'proxy knight' right away.
"Shin Yu-hee. Give me 100 exchange vouchers, and I'll go fight under your name and win."
"...Leaving aside how you'd get 100 and give them to me, whose win is that?"
"Yours. But if I lose, you cover the lost vouchers. Perfect timing—look over there."
One of the arena pits was just about to start a match.
"Size is... like a UFC ring."
"Small-scale pit. Team fights probably use something colosseum-sized."
A village shepherd boy and a thief-guild type woman stood opposite each other, with a vampire-like woman in a suit acting as ref between them. She took four exchange vouchers from each, stepped back, and raised her hand high.
"Martin, 1 win. Riona, 0 wins. Duel starts. Ding ding ding."
Her voice was flat, like a bored civil servant. The bell rang, and they immediately swung wild punches at each other.
"Ugh..." Shin Yu-hee's face paled. It wasn't even UFC—it was a straight-up brawl.
"Gaaah!!"
The man jammed his fingers into the woman's eye; she kicked his balls without hesitation; he grabbed her hair to slam her down; she—
Squelch!
Somehow hidden in her prison garb, she pulled a rusty goblin dagger and plunged it into his gut.
"Guh, urk...!"
Splurt.
He shoved her off, the dagger yanked free, blood spraying from his abdomen.
"It's over."
"........."
The man crumpled forward. The woman sat dazed on the ground, staring blankly at her bloody dagger. Burly men appeared in the pit, hauling off the corpse.
"Let's see. Next match..."
"W-wait, sunbae. You don't mean we fight like that...!"
"Good enough."
I approached the reception desk, picking up one of the many papers there.
"Three exchange vouchers on the line. I'll fight this guy."
"...Hey, newbie. Maybe you scrapped outside, I don't know."
The desk guy eyed me up and down, snatching the paper.
"Not smart to pick anyone. Want vouchers? Go dig in the mines or farm..."
"I've got exactly three vouchers right now."
"........."
"All-in on my entire fortune. Throw in one more, and it's my life too."
"...Hey, newbie."
The desk guy shook his head earnestly.
"This fucker doesn't discriminate against guys. Especially pretty boys like you—he loves tearing up asses, the pervert."
"Exactly."
"...Your taste, maybe?"
"You nuts?"
Chekhov's arena, infamous named monster of the tutorial stages.
"Contact him. I'll stake all my vouchers and my body. He matches with triple—my three times three."
Win: nine vouchers. Lose: everything gone.
"S-sunbae...!"
"It's fine."
I whispered just loud enough for worried Shin Yu-hee.
"Not like I'm gonna lose. Worst case, bite my tongue and off myself."
One life left.
"Better die first than get my ass reamed by a dude."