Chapter 5

Commentary Takemachi My honest impression upon reading this novel? “Wow, that was vulgar.” There have been plenty of works in the past involving so-called death games. Those include films like Cube, as well as novels like Battle Royale, The Crimson Labyrinth, and The Incite Mill. As a more recent example, the drama series Squid Game has also generated considerable buzz. The plethora of works in this genre has led to the birth of a certain formula that anyone can easily enjoy, one that many modern death-game-themed stories follow. Namely, “Someone casually joins or is abruptly thrust into a game of death, and after one flustered participant dies, panic ensues”—or something along those lines. At first, I began reading this novel expecting something like that. And I was surprised. Astonished, even. This is a mysterious work that completely shuns the common tropes of death games. First of all, the protagonist has no earnest reason to participate. She isn’t driven by a motive that people can easily empathize with, like a desire to get rich or to return to her ordinary life. Nor are there elements of panic in the early passages. Among the uneasy participants, the protagonist remains calm and collected, and even begins to politely explain what she knows about the games to the other players. I can fully understand how this work received mixed reviews during the final stage of the MF Bunko J Newcomer Award judging process. But hang on a second. Things get completely absurd, even in the first half. Wouldn’t changing the story to the following be a better fit for a work of this genre? “Girl X woke up and found herself lying in the dining room of an unfamiliar mansion. Upon looking around, she saw five other girls like her. They all start panicking, claiming to know nothing about the situation, but amid the confusion, they work together in an attempt to escape the building. But nefarious traps stand in their way and claim the lives of half the group. Still, they make it within arm’s reach of the exit. Suddenly, Girl X betrays her companions and escapes all by herself. In reality, she was an experienced death-game player and simply pretended to be a beginner in order to survive.” After writing that much, it suddenly hit me: My revised version was far more boring. Although this novel is undoubtedly absurd, changing any of that absurdity would cause it to lose its appeal. (Or perhaps, I simply lack the writing sense to do it well.) At the very least, I was unable to understand the protagonist’s frame of mind. However, that inability to understand—the fact that it didn’t fit within my framework of thought—was extremely appealing. That means the way to enjoy this novel is simple: Savor everything about the absurdity on offer. It was a mistake for me to try to understand. The absurdity accelerates in the second half. A psychopath appears and starts killing anyone and everyone while completely ignoring the game. And in the end, Yuki’s mentor comes back to life via some mysterious mechanism. “What in the world is going on?!” Although these impressions of mine may seem more like words of rage than praise, it would be boring otherwise. What is expected of Newcomer Award recipients is not the skill to faithfully follow a template. It’s the power to break accepted formulas and eschew common sense. Unique qualities that cause some readers to frown at reckless developments and others to turn the pages in eager anticipation. The power to inspire an entirely distinctive impression in readers is unmistakably present in this novel.