Why bother to deliver it himself? Isn’t that the guard’s job…? Maybe because I’m the star of today’s show…
He unlocks the door with a big key, and it loudly creaks open.
This door… Upon closer inspection, it’s flimsy. I can probably smash it with brute force if I really want to.
The man sets a platter of bread, soup, and a small piece of meat on the floor in front of me.
“I reckon this is your first time even eating meat, right?”
……Does this mean the sort of person who is exiled doesn’t get much to eat?
I’d love to see the look on your face if you find out I’m a daughter of nobility. I guarantee I outrank you by a great deal.
I ignore him and reach for my food. He snorts, watching me. He certainly thinks I’m a quintessential starving little urchin.
Keep your guard down like that, and I’ll easily destroy you.
“How can a scrawny kid like you beat a lion?”
I savagely chew on my bread. I have to play the part of a classless boy, you see.
“Well, that’s a stupid question. Just give us a good show, okay? Y’know, getting ripped in two by the lion barely after the fight starts doesn’t paint such a bad picture.”
“You’ve got it backward. I’m ripping the lion in two.”
“You never shut up, do you…? The fight is at noon. The king will arrive by then.”
And without a word more, the administrator leaves the dungeon.
In the time between breakfast and noon, I do some light stretching and exercises before meditating to channel my focus.
I hear the arena gradually filling up with spectators. There appears to be quite a crowd, as the noises quickly grow more and more rowdy. I can tell the cell I’m in is the closest to the arena.
There’s surreal fervor in the air, even though these people are planning on watching someone die. Fights to the death aren’t a sport in Durkis. How funny that a kingdom just on the other side of the border can have such a drastically different culture.
“It’s time.”
The guard’s voice booms through my cell.
I feel like a dead man walking. I mean, I have no intention of dying—the guard is just forcing that vibe onto me.
I exhale and leave the cell. Our clomping footsteps echo down the hall.
“You really are a fool, boy, choosing a fast death,” the guard blurts out. He seems to feel sorry for me, and he gives me a look of pity.
……Could he be a good man? Well, don’t worry. I’m just walking the path I choose and enjoying every moment of it.
“Is it odd for a boy my age to be in the show?”
“Yeah… Rules say only grown men fight. Women and children are put to work with odd jobs. Once the boys grow up, they fight in the arena, and the women work there until they die. It’s a living hell.”
“Ah, interesting.”
Stay in a place like this until I grow up? Deplorable.
“By the way, aren’t ya gonna take off that blindfold? I’m sure you can’t see very well.”
“I’m fine. I’d rather die than show anyone my mutilated eyes.”
Okay, that sounds a little melodramatic, but I really will be in trouble if people see my eye color. The guard doesn’t seem to buy it, but at least he doesn’t ask any further questions.
The closer we get to the arena entrance, the thicker the fervor in the air. The sheer volume of the cheers is quite impressive, considering nothing’s happened yet.
“I wish you luck, kid.”
“Thank you.”
I assumed prisoners would be treated much more harshly, but he’s actually been rather nice to me. Maybe because I’m so young…
There are bars at the entrance that are apparently rigged to go up when the fight starts. The audience looks down on us, the fighters, from a higher level.
It’s just like the ancient Roman Colosseum.
“You’d better show us a good time!”
“What poor sap is up to fight today?!”
“He’s fighting a lion, right? It’s gotta be a buff guy!”
The voices from above get more and more intense.
It might be a little late to ask this, but if their culture is so different from ours, why do we all speak the same language? Is it just because this is an otome game?
As I stand there pondering, the bars rise slowly. As they do, the cheers explode.
“Use this.”
The guard hands me a short sword. I grip the hilt and immediately realize the shabby quality of it.
……They give their challengers janky weapons on purpose. I’ll bet people who may have otherwise won lost because of this.
Then again, a short sword works to my advantage.
Larger swords deal more damage, but they hamper your ability to move quickly. That being said…I’m not sure a dull short sword like the one I have stands a chance against a starving lion, but it is what it is.
I’m nervous, but the jeering crowd erases the pounding of my heart from my ears. The bars rise all the way up, and I step into the arena.
Just as I do, the crowd falls silent.
Oh, come on, surely one of you can yell something? I guess nobody was expecting a kid. And a blind one, at that. I don’t blame them for being shocked speechless.
While I can grasp the aura of a person or an object, I’m not capable of seeing long distances.
The king of Laval is out there somewhere…but I can’t pinpoint his location.
I cast a spell on my blindfold, so nobody will realize just how much I can see. I don’t want to use magic in Laval, but my hand is forced.
I take a panoramic scan of the arena. Thanks to the transparency spell I cast on my blindfold, I can see everything quite clearly.
…There’s the king. Right in plain sight.
There’s a roofed area in the middle of the audience, and beneath it a lavish chair and a table spread with luxurious cuisine.
It’s difficult to tell from a distance, but that has to be the king and queen. There are two boys beside them—princes, most likely.
Laval has no magic. That means ordinary people rule the land.
…………Now that I think about it, did the devs really give all the power to Durkis? It’s a good otome game, sure, but they really skimped in some areas. Unless they had a reason?
……Don’t get distracted, Alicia. Eyes on the king!
I focus all my energy into my right eye and observe the king. He has bright blond hair and yellow-green eyes. The queen has dark gray hair and the same yellow-green eyes as the king. The princes have bright platinum-blond hair, one long, the other short. Perfect balance, in a sense. They both have the same bright yellow-green eyes as their parents…
If I just go off vibes, I’d say they’ve definitely got powerful auras. But I don’t think they can use magic.
It goes without saying that they’re all ridiculously beautiful. What exactly is it that makes the royalty in this world so drop-dead gorgeous? Not only are they rich, but they’re perfect tens? How’s that fair?
“Can that little brat dish?!”
“Give us somebody with a backbone! That little kid’ll get gobbled up in a flash!”
Oh, I’ll show them my backbone.
More and more people are raising their angry voices after that initial cry of protest, and the arena is in an uproar. The earlier silence seems like a dream now.
I wish somebody would bring me some earplugs. If this keeps up much longer, my eardrums will burst.
“Send him back to the dungeon!”
“This’s no place for a kid!”
You know, even the jeers are starting to sound kind. Are they really that concerned for my well-being?
“Did ya get lost, little boy?”
The audience bursts into laughter.
Okay, now I feel stupid for thinking they were concerned about me. I’m entertainment, nothing more. They hate the idea of their entertainment ending too quickly.
Well, don’t worry. I’ll show you all a good time.
“Here comes the lion!”
Somebody’s voice booms. The crowd erupts into an awed roar.
The bars holding back the lion slowly rise. I can feel the tension swell the moment they move.
Beyond the bars, a savage pair of eyes glares at me. Those truly are the eyes of a predator who just spotted prey.
“Don’t piss your pants, little boy!”
Ignoring the mocking shout, I focus all my energy on the lion before me.