Kyle (2)
“…What the heck is that?”
Kyle muttered absentmindedly, eyes drifting across the crowded central market.
“What’s this about, brother? You don’t know?”
The speaker was a laborer who had just stepped out to catch some air.
His sleeves were rolled up, leaving faint white salt lines on his neck where sweat had dried. Shoulders worn from hauling burdens far too many times.
Kyle’s eyes had seen enough of men like him.
Curved spines, cracked palms, faces that rarely smiled.
People who sold themselves day after day for pennies that barely bought bread.
Most hated what they did, and their faces always looked grim.
But this one was different.
He looked tired, sure, yet somehow… excited.
“This new game just came out. Blue Magic Tower made it.”
“A game? Isn’t that thing only for computers?”
“Yeah, well…”
The laborer pointed with the handle of his shovel at the glowing box resting nearby.
“Once that arcade opens, everyone can play.”
“Yeah, but it’s for nobles, right? The one who made it is a noble, so of course you’ll have to pay—”
“One copper coin.”
“…Huh?”
“That’s the cost for one game. One match.”
Kyle thought he had to have heard wrong.
He’d haggl ed over stale bread and still paid three coins for it.
This was a magic device from the magic tower. One coin? Absurd.
The laborer must have read the doubt on Kyle’s face, because he grinned.
“Don’t believe me? Just wait. You lose, you step back. You win, you get another match. That’s the rule.”
It was true.
People were already lining up at the narrow entrance, shoving coins into slots.
The moment the man in front lost, the boy waiting behind him shot forward.
“Damn it! If I’d landed one more hit, I’d have won!”
The man’s face burned with frustration, but he shuffled to the very back of the line anyway.
Angry, embarrassed, it was hard to tell.
But the strangest part? He didn’t leave. He waited again.
Weathered leather armor, patched trousers, boots worn to holes.
Just another poor mercenary, nothing special.
“…It’s really one coin?”
“I already told you.”
Computers that commoners couldn’t afford. They’d only ever dreamed of playing Tetris. That was for the rich.
“Why is it so cheap?”
“Who knows? The maker decided it. What do we know about bargaining?”
“The maker?”
“Reven Graham. One of the nobles from Blue Magic Tower. Word is he’s famous among chess-loving nobles.”
Nobles.
At that word, Kyle’s expression hardened.
Of course. Only nobles could create such things, and only nobles set the price.
The world was like that—rich folk invented wonders, and everyone else just stared in awe.
No… wait. Wasn’t that wrong?
Even touching a magic device should cost a silver coin. One copper for a whole experience?
“That’s a noble, right? The guy who made it.”
“Who knows. Maybe just someone with too much money.”
The laborer shrugged.
“Could be someone who just doesn’t think like us. Or crazy.”
The other workers around him chuckled.
“Probably crazy. Making something and charging only one coin? And they let you keep playing if you win?”
“That’s why we poor folks get to try it too. We never got to thank nobles before.”
“Plus, the arcade says you line up no matter your status. Watching nobles cut in line and back off… that’s hilarious.”
Kyle glanced back at the line.
A laborer in oil-stained overalls. A fish vendor reeking of the market. A maid running errands. A street urchin with bodyguards.
Even a young man in fine clothes.
More commoners than nobles, yet the nobles stood out easily. People from completely different worlds standing in one line felt… wrong.
“You should try it too. We might never get this chance again.”
At those words, Kyle unconsciously clutched his pouch.
Jingle.
Inside, a few copper coins clinked softly. Bread was what he needed today.
Mother and little brother were waiting. The sun was setting; maybe they could get it cheaper later.
But… one copper coin. It was almost nothing.
Kyle’s family wasn’t well off. That almost-nothing money still couldn’t be wasted.
“…I’ll pass.”
Kyle turned to leave when a roar exploded from deeper in the warehouse.
His head snapped back.
“How many wins is he on now?”
“I’ve seen him hit ten already?”
Clean leather gloves. A cloak without a single speck of dust.
From the thin smile on his lips, the bitter taste of missing teeth returned, the gap still throbbing.
…That bastard.
The noble who had thrown a sword at Kyle, slapped his cheek, and ordered him to fix it.
“You’ve been talking a lot. Is no one else around anymore?”
The crowd fell quiet. The commoners who had been chatting moments ago quickly looked away.
Losing in a game didn’t mean losing your head. But the opponent was a noble.
Win, and you suffer. Lose, and you’re mocked.
Above all, the noble was too good. He won match after match. No one wanted to pay for one copper with humiliation.
“They said it was allowed for commoners too, but… this is it?”
Kyle’s heart jumped.
One copper coin.
He could probably sell one missing tooth for a silver coin.
Hold on.
His father’s voice seemed to echo.
Hold on.
Just a little longer.
…No. It was time to speak up.
“I’ll do it.”
When Kyle snapped out of it, he was already standing in front of that noble.
His head burned. He wanted to punch that face right now.
The noble’s eyes narrowed.
“The blacksmith’s brat. Did you fix the sword?”
“….”
Kyle didn’t answer. He reached into his pouch, pulled out the worn copper coin with its edges dulled, and held it up.
Kyle stared at it for a second, then shoved it into the arcade’s slot.
Clink.
The machine wasn’t far away. Red and blue lights flashed quickly, brushing his face.
Inside the screen, the characters moved like they were just breathing. The noise around him felt strangely far away.
He moved the stick, pressed buttons.
Completely different from a hammer. Yet the feeling of something solid in his hand was familiar.
ROUND 1
FIGHT
The moment it started, Kyle pressed buttons fast.
On screen, his character punched forward. He must have hit.
Fingers moved, body leaned in.
But the fist sliced empty air.
The next instant, the opponent was right in front of him.
“Total beginner, huh?”
Thud!
Kyle’s character flew back.
Kyle pressed again.
Thud!
No attack landed. The opponent moved first every time.
Reach for a punch—already hit. Back away—follows.
…Why?
Kyle tried another button late. His character raised arms to block.
But a low kick came in. Everything felt predicted.
Thud! Thud!
Health dropped fast.
Attacks don’t land.
Why do the opponent’s attacks always hit?
Kyle pressed buttons desperately.
Punch. Kick. Punch again.
Fortunately the opponent had taken some hits. All blocked.
The screen character looked confused, flailing like it copied Kyle’s panic.
Boom!
K.O.
Pathetic.
“If it’s your first time…”
“The opponent’s a noble. Annoying, but he’s good.”
The man clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. Even here it’s nothing special.”
Kyle stared blankly at the screen, realizing it wasn’t over.
ROUND 2
FIGHT
A second match started. Kyle grabbed the stick again. The opponent rushed forward.
Same as before. The opponent moved first.
One step forward, pause.
Kyle pressed—stepped back.
Fist swung through air.
Opponent dug in again.
Thud!
Hit again.
“Impatient. So impatient.”
The words hit deep—deeper than the forge.
His father’s voice echoed.
Hold on.
…Hold on? If you hold on, you just get hit.
Then Kyle felt it—a strange sensation.
Every time he reached for a punch, strength filled his arm. Every kick, his leg trembled.
On screen, when he was knocked back, his own shoulders hunched. When the opponent approached, his breath caught.
Just like fighting in real life, he held his breath.
He closed in quickly, then stopped.
The opponent’s fist swung empty.
“Oh? You can dodge this?”
A brief moment—caught the rhythm. Right after the swing, a tiny moment of stiffness.
Kyle rushed in and drove his fist.
Thud.
Connected.
The opponent’s health visibly dropped.
Boom! Boom!
He landed two more punches. Health plummeted.
Then the opponent suddenly stepped back.
Kyle lunged forward when a blue blob shot straight at the center of the screen.
“What the—?!”
He couldn’t dodge. His body didn’t react. He couldn’t predict the timing.
When he tried to close in, the blob came again. When he blocked, health slowly drained.
He couldn’t even reach. Couldn’t block.
He could dodge sometimes, but the attacks came right back.
The opponent watching from beside the machine grinned. The red-haired girl next to him crossed her arms, staring at the screen.
“Look at this dirty play. Using Niwa and Yabashi.”
“He’s playing dirty because he knows he’ll lose.”
Niwa? Yabashi?
Kyle didn’t understand the terms. But he understood one thing.
The opponent was stopping him from getting close.
Every time he approached, he was pushed back. Every time he tried something, it was blocked. His fingers moved, yet the screen character didn’t obey.
He swung, but it didn’t connect. He blocked too late. He dodged, but it came back.
Health hit the bottom.
K.O.
Second loss.
He slammed to the ground, arms limp. Moments ago his fists flew, his legs kicked, his body lunged. Now nothing.
Kyle stared blankly. Strange feeling washed over him.
The character on screen who fell wasn’t him.
Yet his shoulders felt empty. His fingertips went cold. The palm holding the stick was wet with sweat.
Like he had been the one hit and fallen.
His fingers still hovered over the buttons. Sweat made them slippery.
He had moved. Punched. Kicked. Blocked.
But only after it ended did he realize.
He could do nothing.
“Hah… You really can’t do anything, can you?”
Laughter stuck in his ears. The tongue-click from the forge, the ringing in his ear from the slap, the sound of swords scraping the ground—all mixed together.
“Hey, brother. Clear the spot. Next player’s waiting.”
Kyle slowly stood up. He said nothing.
Neither did the noble, the waiting people, or the people from the magic tower.
Everyone was staring at Kyle.
Shame burned in his chest, anger rising.
Deeper still, something felt hollowed out.
He had put in one copper coin and ended up on the same screen, holding the same stick, pressing the same buttons, fighting by the same rules.
The result never changed.
Not in the forge, not in this game. In the end, he was the one on his knees in front of the noble.
Kyle turned his head down, about to leave the arcade when…
“Hey, kid.”
Kyle’s foot stopped.
“Do you really think those hands that hammered cheap iron will do?”
The area fell silent. The noble laughed, clearly enjoying himself.
Just like in the forge—voice saying crushing one person meant nothing.
“Well, I get it. Everyone has their place, right?”
Kyle started walking again. He had no intention of waiting in line.
“Tsk. Commoners are like that. They accept defeat but don’t know how to respect their superiors.”
Kyle didn’t look back. He couldn’t.
If he did, he didn’t know what face he’d make or what he’d do.
Hold on.
His father’s voice again.
He had to loosen the strength in his hands like always. Spread his fingers, bow his head, act like it was nothing.
Kyle looked down at his own hands.
Calluses from hammering, burned by fire, cracked from pounding metal.
That hand slowly clenched into a fist.
This time, no blood came.