From Everlasting and All Generations (2)
"Do you remember that joke I made, a while back?"
"Um… if that's all you give me, I can't quite… Oh. You mean that story? The one about holy knights, or whatever it was?"
From that exchange, Han Seoyeon's account went on for a long while. The supernatural things that existed in this world. A realm split off from the surface, the one they called the hidden world. The plain fact that the anomalies—handed down until now as nothing but superstition, ghost stories, and legend—were real.
And at the end of it, that she herself, Han Seoyeon, was the one charged by order of the Church with putting down those among such beings that had strayed past the proper bounds.
"Honestly, it's hard to believe."
Unsurprisingly, that was Ninomae's first reaction upon hearing all of it.
"But you told it to me this seriously, Miss Shion, so I'll believe you. You aren't the sort of person who'd invent a story this long just to tease me."
At those words Han Seoyeon nodded, looking a little relieved. However firmly you steeled yourself for a confession, it meant nothing if the other person refused to believe it. There were any number of ways to prove it, of course, but if she could be spared the trouble, so much the better.
Well. Ninomae had another reason for accepting what she'd heard.
…Yeah. I really can't say that.
Even in the middle of confessing the "unclean work" she had done, those eyes—worried, afraid that Ninomae might be disappointed, that Ninomae might grow frightened of her—could not possibly be mistaken for a lie. Always trying so hard to be strong, and yet at a moment like this letting a fawn's anxiety flicker through: faced with that, she couldn't even bring herself to think of doubting her. And anyway, how was she supposed to say any of it to the woman's face? Ninomae could only smile, awkward and shy.
"Thank you for believing me."
Han Seoyeon drew up the corners of her mouth in a faint smile. Whether it was truly only the smile of someone whose story had been believed, or whether it came from the joy of seeing Ninomae show not the slightest sign of disappointment, even she herself couldn't quite tell.
"Anyway… all those times you said you had 'Church business,' I should take that to mean it was holy knight work?"
"Yes. For the most part, that's right."
Church business had been a kind of unspoken agreement between the two of them: when Shion couldn't go into the details, Ninomae wouldn't dig, and would let it pass with a suitable amount of grace. The phrase Ninomae used, in turn, whenever she was papering over VTuber work, was a part-time video-editing job.
"So there are that many of these anomalies……."
Ninomae murmured it, startled, thinking back over how many times Han Seoyeon had begged off with Church business. If, by her own account, she only "dealt with" the ones that had truly crossed the line, then once you counted the anomalies that hadn't, the number would be far greater still.
"At that rate, isn't there probably one somewhere around me, too?"
"Haha……."
Han Seoyeon smiled, and there was something bitter in it.
"Counting only the ones I know for certain, there are already three people at Anapro with a foot in the hidden world."
"Come on, you're kidding, right? That many?"
Tsunashi Tenka, a werewolf—as a VTuber, Charlotte Lupus of Gen 2. Akaba Akane, a shrine maiden in active service—as a VTuber, Yugure Tama of Gen 1. And Hyakurenno Yuri, daughter of a great house, who could hardly fail to know the hidden world existed: Amairo Tsubasa, Gen 2's holy knight.
"Don't tell me Anapro was a den of monsters this whole time…?!"
"Who can say. In all likelihood, it's nothing more than simple coincidence."
"Well. I used to think the same thing myself, for what it's worth," Han Seoyeon added, turning the past over in her mind.
"The truth is, the first time I watched Shutang's stream, I had no idea what a VTuber even was. I didn't know what RP was, either."
"Ah. So you thought I was a real vampire, brazenly broadcasting on the internet?"
"Something like that. And not only Mary Tepes. The other VTubers as well."
At that, Ninomae ran through her colleagues one by one. Five in Gen 2—vampire, werewolf, holy knight, a witch who doubled as a phantom, and a devil. Gen 1 was not so different: an oni, a bakeneko, an itako, and an ancient serpent god. East and west changed with each generation's concept, but that roster was crawling with monsters too. How it must have looked through Seoyeon's eyes back then was obvious.
"So at first I seriously considered going through the government and having the company searched. I realized quickly enough, once I kept watching, that you weren't a real vampire."
"So that was my life in danger, plus my workplace's continued existence in danger."
Learning only now that a critical hit had very nearly landed on her life without her ever knowing it, Ninomae's expression grew distinctly complicated.
"Lucky me, then. That I wasn't actually a vampire."
It was only a what-if, after all, and so Ninomae could smile as she said it.
"No, wait… now that I think about it, maybe it wouldn't even have been a problem if I were? There's no way you'd ever do anything to me, Miss Shion."
"Of course I wouldn't have touched you. You, Miss Ninomae, are the last person who would turn a vampire's power to anything wicked, even if you came by it."
"Pfft. Honestly, where does that kind of trust even come from?"
"I could ask you the very same thing."
In the end the two of them looked at each other and burst out laughing all over again.
"Shall we lay out the bedding and sleep?"
"Yes. I'd like that."
Before long they pushed the beds together, the firearm left where it was on top of the bed. Then they spread a second set of bedding and lay down side by side, the light switched off, of course.
In the pitch-dark bedroom, their eyes slowly grew accustomed to the dark. No one had suggested it, and yet Han Seoyeon and Ninomae turned toward each other at the very same moment.
"Lately."
It was Han Seoyeon who spoke first.
"Have you been having nightmares, or anything of the sort?"
Ninomae frightened terribly easily; after a horror film she would sleep poorly for days afterward. Because of that, talking to her until she drifted off had lately become part of Han Seoyeon's routine.
"I've been sleeping well. Thanks to you."
Ninomae smiled, soft and a little shy, and then, as if embarrassed, let her gaze slip gently aside.
"…Will you hold my hand tonight, too?"
"As much as you want."
"Hehe……."
Han Seoyeon reached out at once and laid her hand over Ninomae's. Then, sounding faintly worried, she asked.
"Are you still very scared? Does that game still hang in front of your eyes?"
"No. Not exactly……."
Ninomae went on with a smile.
"What if I just wanted to? Would that not be allowed…?"
"…How could it not be."
She said so—and yet, for an instant, Seoyeon's hand tightened over the one she held. And Ninomae felt, for no reason she could quite name, as if she had finally landed a hit after a long, long time.
"…So, yeah. We slept holding hands. But that was all, okay?"
The platinum-blonde character said it with an expression that seemed, just a little, shy. Between her lips, sharp fangs showed for an instant.
"Wh— what are these people even saying?!"
That was how she answered, on the surface: Mary Tepes, vampire queen. In truth, the reaction had been at least partly expected. Mary knew perfectly well that viewers went weak in the knees for this so-called teetee, these syrupy little yuri moments. She had brought the incident up in the first place expecting exactly that kind of response. To borrow the company president's words, yuri moments made money.
Of course, her relationship with Sister—with Shion—was itself sincere, and had nothing to do with business. But if she claimed that, while recounting some friendly little anecdote about the two of them, she'd had not the slightest intention of steering viewers into reading it as something like a same-sex romance, that would be a lie.
I'm not the good person Miss Shion says I am.
Just a shrewd woman who put on an innocent face whenever the stream called for it. Ninomae—Mary—muttered it at herself, sourly. But a moment later she was wearing a bright, clear smile and calling out with all her energy.
"Anyway! The game we're playing today is The Bell That Does Not Ring!"
The game's title screen was already up on the broadcast. A dreamlike backdrop, sunset bleeding across it, and halfway up the gentle slope of stone beneath, a clock tower rose sheer.
The Bell That Does Not Ring
"A 2D platformer? A Metroidvania? Either way, going by the reviews, it's supposed to be quite the well-made game. And of course, spoilers are a bannable offense. Please be careful!"
Bong. The instant she pressed Start, a magnificent bell began to toll, and at the same time the screen slowly drew in.
The clock tower came closer and closer. Its hands pointed to six. And when the bell tolled for the fifth time, a section of the tower's outer wall turned transparent, and what lay inside appeared.
"Oh, cute…!"
In there, a hooded chibi—two heads tall—had climbed a ladder with a hammer as big as their own body, and was swinging it with all their might at the great brass bell set in the center. Only after the sixth toll, another bong, did the figure hop down off the ladder. The hooded cloak fluttered with the motion, and a tail that had been hidden beneath it showed itself: a reptilian tail, about as long as the character was tall.
"Not human, maybe? A fantasy setting with other species in it?"
Right after that, the protagonist—presumably—went pattering over to the clock tower's window, and the screen followed their gaze out over the village at the foot of the mountain.
They reacted as if puzzled. Then the game, as though meaning to depict the past, flashed one after another through views of the village in a murky palette. The same buildings as now. The people, though, were out and moving in far greater numbers.
"Did something happen to the village? The people are gone."
The screen returned to the present. At the desolate village, empty of anyone walking its streets, both the protagonist and Mary tilted their heads.
And then, as if something had just occurred to them, they trotted off in small quick steps, toward the stairs that left the room at the very top of the clock tower. They meant, it seemed, to go and see the situation for themselves.
"So this is where it starts. The truth of the world, from the tagline—is that about what's really behind all this?"
Whether because the opening had ended and control had come back to her, Mary started moving the character this way and that.
"Hmm… the controls aren't bad, but there's a bit of momentum to them. Double jump works, too……."
Reading the signs that explained the controls as she went, she came at last to a small clock. Well—not small, exactly. It was a good twice the character's size, so "small" was only in comparison with the clock hung on the outer wall.
When she approached, there was a tick, and a clock hand dropped free into the protagonist's grip. An unusual shape, but for the moment it had the look of a two-handed sword.
Combo: Z
That impression hadn't been wrong. From the moment the clock hand was in hand, attacking became possible.
"The combo is four quick hits, and then a slow heavy attack at the end? The third hit's a thrust, so the spacing… no, more importantly, can the heavy be canceled?"
Mary muttered it while laying into the training dummy set up in the next room, blow after blow. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Bong… Every time an attack connected, it made a sound that called a grandfather clock to mind. As a hit effect, it was rather peculiar.
"Uh— no. Look at the damage numbers displayed here. Sure, the heavy does the most damage, but it isn't on some overwhelming level, is it? With numbers like these and this attack speed, four hits, cancel, four hits, no heavy, comes out ahead. I'm telling you."
Mary said it as if she had already finished the arithmetic in her head.
"Excuse me. What on earth is this person saying? The foundation of a real clear is minimizing the patterns you have to deal with by maximizing your damage, you know?"
In the end, Mary did not leave the room with the training dummy until she had gotten her hands used to canceling even the fourth hit—the one whose damage ran a little low—and chaining the combo straight through.