Chapter 9

(0/2) Player name: Azuma. She was a truant student who found herself unable to feel comfortable with any group that existed in this world. Instead, she chose to walk the path of a player, an occupation that necessitated only minimal interaction with others. Throughout her entire life, she had fought against the fundamental principle that humans cannot survive alone. Player name: Karin. She belonged to a noble family that had fallen from grace. She had been raised like a true princess, but one day, her family suddenly ended up penniless. Lacking a means to thrive in society due to her lavish upbringing, she had no choice but to participate as a player. She never was able to acquire the strength to survive on her own. Player name: Mizunoto. She was a fool. Somewhere deep down inside, she believed that she alone was invincible. She had repeatedly played in games while treating the experience like watching an immersive drama. Even when the enemy team held her head underwater, she continued to believe she would be fine, and that fantasy did not waver until the moment she drowned. Player name: Amon. She was a player planning to commit suicide. The desire to die was a permanent fixture in her mind and kept her distracted from the game. When the group was discussing the suicide attack, Yuki’s voice had scared her, so she raised her hand to volunteer because she did not want to get yelled at. Her mind was in a constant state of panic. Nothing was different for her when she was being drowned. Player name: Warabi. She desired stimulation. Although she had gone to school, found a normal job, and got along well with coworkers and bosses, she always felt that something was off. The only time she felt alive was in the games. Once she got a taste, she could no longer return to her insincere self. Those five players had charged toward the entryway and lost their lives. Five players who could have survived if Yuki had handled things well. Additionally, of the five players who remained in the open-air bath, three passed away. One died in the struggle over the two pairs of shoes left behind by the entryway team. Another died after losing her mind scouring a bath for unrecovered keys and hitting her head against the edge. The third realized she had no way of escaping and attempted to prolong her life by subsisting on weeds from the grove around the open-air bath. Although she stuck it out for about a month, she ultimately died of frailty. Out of one hundred starting players, thirty had died. Considering the number of available shoes, that was the lowest possible number of deaths—the optimal result of the game. The lack of unnecessary deaths was wholly due to the players’ skillful performances. Still, there was no changing the fact that an entire classroom’s worth of people had perished. Even after taking numerous girls, these death games would continue. There would be no end. Until someone came to break the barrier of ninety-nine. (1/2) Yuki awoke to being strongly shaken. She was inside a car—the black car that escorted her to and from games. The scenery outside indicated that she was near her apartment. Yuki finally sensed that the ordeal was all over, that she had overcome the Wall of Thirty. Sitting in the driver’s seat was her agent, who saw through the rearview mirror that Yuki had awakened. “Good morning,” said her agent. “Congratulations on completing your thirtieth game, Yuki.” That was all. Although she probably had plenty more things to say, that was all that came from her mouth. The agents of these games fell into one of two categories: laissez-faire types, who would only do the bare minimum, and parental types, who would go to great lengths to take care of their players. Yuki’s agent was the former variety and would rarely strike up a conversation. Since Yuki wasn’t much of a conversationalist herself, she usually found that perfectly acceptable, but in this moment, it was not what she wanted. She had to broach the topic herself. “I have a question,” Yuki asked in a clear voice to ensure she would not go unheard. “What is it?” her agent responded. “I was the last to wake in the game.” “I believe that is normal for you.” “Except this time, it was important to wake up early. I suspect that players were intentionally woken up at different times.” “Right… Now that you mention it, I suppose that may have been the case.” “Was me waking up last…a penalty?” Yuki asked, touching her stomach. In all likelihood, the transmitter was no longer inside her. Mr. Tsutomu Kaneko—the father of Kinko, a player in Ghost House—had handed Yuki the device as part of a plot to dismantle the games. It had probably already been removed from her body by the time she woke up inside the shower stall. Yuki had grown confident in her hunch when she learned from Azuma that she’d woken up last. Of course, this could have been mere coincidence. This was Yuki’s thirtieth game after all, the one that was supposed to be cursed. It wouldn’t be far-fetched if she’d had the misfortune of being assigned the latest wake time out of all one hundred players. However, the alternative made far more sense. “I leave it to your imagination,” her agent replied. “If there is one thing I can say, that was not something we could overlook. It concerns our very existence, you see. Although it is inappropriate for us to interfere in the games, we certainly could not turn a blind eye.” “That tells me everything…” “Well, what does it matter? You’re still alive.” Her agent’s gaze flitted to the rearview mirror once again. “Although…it appears you are not without injury.” Yuki looked down at her arms. That girl had pummeled them mercilessly at the very end of the game. As if all of that had been a hallucination, her arms were now unbent, but not all of their constituent parts were intact. Her left hand was missing three fingers, from her middle finger to her pinkie. “I hear your fingers fell onto the tiles in the entryway,” her agent continued. “We were unable to reattach them with our technology. My sincerest apologies, Yuki.” Yuki’s fingers had fallen off without her noticing. She was so desperate to flee from the girl that she had no attention to spare. It’s finally my time, she thought. The irreversible damage to her body inspired a special feeling inside her, like that of a middle school student getting her ears pierced for the first time. Yuki couldn’t join another game in her current state. First, she had to start by restoring what she was missing. She would need to pay a visit to that craftsman, the one who had likely assisted Mishiro in the past. “My sincerest apologies, Yuki,” her agent repeated. “During this game, you were put through needless stress. Rest assured that nothing like this will ever happen again.” “…? What’s that supposed to mean?” Yuki found those words curious. In the exact same tone of voice as before, her agent replied, “I leave it to your imagination.” She continued, “If there is one thing I can say, it is that all of us are rooting for you players from the bottom of our hearts. Your willingness to sacrifice everything for victory, your lack of fear of death that shines through in your actions—there are many people in the world who desire those traits, myself included. Should anything threaten to stand in your way, we will spare no effort to eliminate all such hindrances.” Yuki fell silent. Her agent had never spoken for so long before. The possibility she was spouting lies to sidestep Yuki’s question seemed unlikely. Her agent had spoken because these feelings were genuine. Her words reflected the convictions she held deep in her heart. The car came to a stop in front of Yuki’s run-down apartment. Normally, she would have slept the whole ride home, and so her agent would have carried her into her apartment, but since she had awoken early this time, she had to enter her abode on her own two feet. “I await our next meeting, Yuki.” Yuki’s agent handed her something wrapped in plastic. It was the outfit she had worn in the game—a thin towel. Yuki let out a chuckle. Indeed, being handed a towel as an outfit was odd, but there was more to it than that. It was because the words of her agent, someone who was supposedly rooting for Yuki, sounded far more repulsive than what Mr. Kaneko had said some time ago. Yuki accepted the towel and gave her response. “Bring it on.” (2/2)