Chapter 17

(0/4) Yuki safely boarded the rescue ship. She was welcomed by her agent, who had apparently been standing by after watching the game play out via surveillance cameras. The vessel appeared to be equipped with medical facilities, but since Yuki had sustained no major injuries besides the scars from extracting the implants, she did not receive a medical checkup and was instead guided to a cabin. Immediately upon entering the room, she lay down and fell asleep. While her wounds were not deep, she was afflicted with tremendous fatigue that caused her to sleep like a log until the ship reached port. Thus, Yuki had no idea how the game had ended. Who was riding the ship with her? Had she really managed to kill Essay? After stepping back onto dry land, Yuki was driven home by her agent and had ample opportunity to learn the answers, but she decided not to do so. After all, if any of them were still alive, Yuki would surely encounter them again. (1/4) Yuki had learned the location of the establishment from Koyomi when they had been cooped up together in the cottage. The date and time for the meeting had been set in advance as well. So Yuki traveled to the location during a time of day when most people would be snuggled up in bed, while night owls like her would only be beginning to stir. It was a magic bar, an establishment where patrons could enjoy watching a magic show while indulging in drinks. Since her mentor was a regular, Yuki had assumed it would be a luxurious affair, but it was surprisingly unexceptional. The bar was situated in a cozy little district, somewhat removed from an urban center. Upon entering the bar, Yuki discovered that the interior was quite small, with only ten seats in total and only one customer sitting inside. “—Long time no see,” the woman said in a voice that lacked any hint of penitence for not keeping in contact. She had a tall and slender figure and long, wavy hair. Her body was perfectly proportioned such that she had not even an ounce of unnecessary flesh. Her aura was one of invulnerability, and her voice carried oddly well. Her overwhelming presence would completely dominate the atmosphere of any room she was in. It was Hakushi. For the first time in a year and a half, Yuki came face-to-face with her mentor. “…Good to see you,” Yuki replied before taking a seat next to the woman. Quite frankly, she was still half in disbelief. After all, she had seen her mentor’s dead body lying before her very eyes, including the woman’s darkened organs and tattered bones. Despite everything that had happened with Essay, Yuki couldn’t erase the doubt in her mind that there had to be some mistake. However, her doubts were dispelled within one second of reuniting with her mentor. The woman was no doppelgänger. It would be impossible to find someone with the same distinctive aura as her, even if you searched the entire world. Much to Yuki’s embarrassment, the resigned thought that she would never reach her mentor’s level surfaced in her mind. She felt far more inferior next to Hakushi than she had with Maguma and Essay. She couldn’t believe that her old self from a year and a half ago had been on regular speaking terms with the woman. Now that Yuki had leveled up, she was finally able to perceive the difference in their caliber. “Order something.” Hakushi slid a menu over to Yuki. “My treat.” “…Thank you.” Incidentally, the government of Japan had recently lowered the legal age of adulthood. Thus, Yuki had officially become an adult, but the national minimum drinking age was still twenty. Although Yuki lived on the outskirts of the law and saw no issue if she were to drink, she decided to go for a cola instead. After placing her order, Yuki cast her gaze around the room—not to survey the bar, but to look for Koyomi. Yuki had heard it was supposed to be a gathering of the three of them, but had she not yet arrived? In the end, Koyomi never showed. With only the two of them, Yuki and Hakushi got to experience the “magic” element of the bar. Yuki understood why her mentor was a regular patron upon seeing the exceptional skills of the bartender magician, but she was unable to genuinely enjoy the show because she was preoccupied with desperately searching for the right words to say to her mentor. In Yuki’s mind, Hakushi had died a year and a half ago. Being reunited was all fine and dandy, but Yuki had no idea what to talk about. After the magic show had reached a stopping point, Yuki let go of her reservations and spoke. “Um, Master?” “What?” “So… You were alive all this time, huh?” “Sure was.” “I met Koyomi in my most recent game, and she told me about this place.” “Yeah. She brought me up to speed.” Of course. That was immediately obvious. Hakushi continued, “I hear you had a showdown with Essay.” “…Yes. She had an immortal body like yours.” “So it seems.” “Huh…? Does that mean you didn’t tell her about your procedure?” “Of course I didn’t. I didn’t tell you, did I? She looked into it all by herself.” Hakushi rested her chin in her hands, causing a shadow to form on one side of her face. “Master.” “What?” “Who would you have rather met up with tonight between Essay and me?” A player whose strategy showed utter disregard for her own body didn’t deserve to be Hakushi’s protégé—that had been Yuki’s reason for fighting Essay. And in the end, Yuki had claimed victory. However, how was it in reality? Which one of them would her mentor have wanted to survive? With a brief sigh, Hakushi responded, “Essay.” Yuki’s heart jumped. “—If I said that, would you go and swap places for me?” “…Nope.” Yuki shook her head. “Then that’s that,” Hakushi said. “You’re no longer my protégé. You shouldn’t care about how people on the sidelines view you.” (2/4) Yuki left the bar after finishing her glass of cola. Several minutes later, at the ideal timing for seat turnover, another customer came in. A woman who had the aura of an old lady despite only being in her twenties—Koyomi. “Hey there.” “Hey.” After that casual exchange of greetings, Koyomi took a seat. “You showed up late on purpose, didn’t you?” Hakushi said. “Sure did. Figured the two of you could use some time alone.” Koyomi chuckled. “Still, what a crazy coincidence for two of your protégés to run into each other in the same game.” “Seems like the games are matching players’ levels more and more. The possibility may be small, but it’s nothing to be surprised about… You didn’t stir things up between them, did you?” “Of course not… Probably, at least.” Really, now? Hakushi thought. Koyomi folded her arms on the table and rested her chin atop them. “I’m going to call it quits. That was my first game in a long while, and I’m surprised by how much the level of players has risen. I had no clue about the implants or Essay’s role, either. I only managed to survive in the end out of sheer luck… I couldn’t keep up with any of the others. It’s over for me.” “That’s fine, coward.” “Cowardice”: That was Koyomi’s playstyle. While cowardice may normally be considered a personality flaw, it was a virtue in death games. Koyomi’s abilities as a player were perfectly average, but she shined when it came to detecting the slightest hint of death. Hakushi was also skilled in sensing hostility and sniffing out traps, but Koyomi was a cut above. It was as if she was blessed by fate or had the ability to see the future—she had avoided Candle Woods, the game that had ended Hakushi’s career, because she had gotten bad vibes from the invitation. That made Koyomi a gifted player whom Hakushi respected. If Koyomi saw no future for herself in the industry, then it would certainly be true. Hakushi was in no position to say otherwise. “Maybe you can throw your winnings into the stock market.” “No, the risk is too scary… So how was your meeting with Yuki? Has she graduated from being a foolish protégé?” “She’s no longer a protégé, which makes her just a fool,” Hakushi replied. “She asked me who I would’ve wanted to win between her and Essay. There’s no end to her foolishness.” “You’re being awfully harsh.” “That’s my style.” When she’d still been a player, Hakushi had adopted a playstyle of “negation.” If she had any sort of talent, it was the skill to find flaws in anything and everything. She didn’t need to search to find her own faults. Her strategy for survival was to conquer each and every one of her weaknesses until she no longer had any. In a nutshell, she was a very negative person. “That won’t fly nowadays,” Koyomi teased. “That’s why I retired without a fuss.” “And so you passed the torch to Yuki… Do you still expect her to reach ninety-nine games in your stead?” “Yeah. She’s the only protégé of mine who declared it loud and clear, so my hopes rest with her. But I wouldn’t mind if she decides to quit.” “I’ve always wanted to ask, why ninety-nine and not a hundred? Is there a special meaning to that number?” “Who knows.” Hakushi played dumb. She tipped back her glass with fingers that could no longer sense any temperature, sending alcohol flowing into the artificial organs in her body. “Your body is far more mysterious than the magic of this bar,” Koyomi commented. (3/4) A few minutes after leaving the magic bar, Yuki received a call. She fished out her phone and saw that it was her agent. That’s rare, she thought. Although she had told her agent her number, this was probably the first time the woman had ever called her. With equal parts curiosity and apprehension, Yuki accepted the call and brought the phone to her ear. “Yes, hello?” “Good evening, Yuki,” her agent said in a rushed voice. “Do you have time to speak?” “……? Sure, now is fine.” “I figured I should tell you about this…although the details have yet to be confirmed.” “What is it?” “It concerns a game that took place around the same time as Cloudy Beach…” After pausing for long enough to grab Yuki’s attention, the agent continued. “While not comparable to Candle Woods—the results of the game were quite astonishing, so I hear. Only three of eighty players survived; the rest were completely wiped out.” Cloudy Beach had indeed been a crucial game for Yuki. However, her battle was far from over. There remained many more obstacles Yuki would need to surmount in order to clear ninety-nine games. (4/4)