Chapter 12

“Who are you?” I asked Truck-kun. I should have been trembling as he sat on the ground in front of me. I needed to be strong. I could put a building in my pocket. I had cast bean magic. I could do this.

Inside Nyarin was something with feline eyes. The pink-haired body she wore was a shell. A really awesome looking shell, but something inside Nyarin was real. Inside Truck-kun was something, like a child’s drawing of a mixed-up animal.

“Not who,” I corrected myself, “what are you?”

Truck-kun smiled. “That’s a much less stupid question.”

“Oh, subtle burn!” The damage announcer’s voice came from the sky.

Truck-kun raised an eyebrow at Nyarin.

She laughed nervously. “I adjusted the world settings a few weeks ago. The damage announcer can do color commentary to spice things up.”

“It gets boring up here,” said the announcer. “I’m lonely.”

Truck-kun shook his head in irritation. “I’ll ignore it.” He pointed to the ground next to him. Nyarin obediently sat, careful not to make a sound.

Neither of us blinked. Years as a corporate negotiator came back as instinct. I had little to negotiate with. Even worse, I didn’t understand the things across from me. What did they want?

Truck-kun and I leaned in close, taking the measure of the other.

“They gonna kiss?” asked the announcer.

Nyarin stifled a laugh.

“I can answer your question about what I am, but I have questions too, Sir Hero Seo Igita. How about we trade questions? Fully, honest answers only. I answer one, then you answer one, and so on. All civilized. No torture.”

I swallowed hard at that last bit. I had questions. How had he just stabilized this reality? What were they? Why did my memories flash before me like that? What did Truck-kun want? “I’ll forget everything when the next Isekai starts.”

Truck-kun was surprised. He glanced sharply at Nyarin who put her hands up defensively. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Me neither,” said the announcer, “I don’t know anything.”

“How much do you remember?” Truck-kun asked, sighing with evident effort to ignore the announcer.

“No, you answer my question first. All civilized, right?”

“Oh boy, he’s got you there!” The damage announcer chuckled.

Truck-kun’s eyebrows went up. He genuinely laughed, pleased I wouldn’t prove too stupid. “Very well. Ask.”

What question should I ask?

Truck-kun didn’t rush me. He was confident. He held all the cards.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

Truck-kun didn’t hesitate. “Escape. Being stuck here will cause immense personal discomfort if my boss finds out I screwed up. She sometimes kills servants that have failed her so flagrantly.”

I felt my eyebrows raise.

“Boy, that’s a hostile workplace,” the announcer said.

Truck-kun chuckled at my reaction. “Modern times haven’t changed the gods. They like the old ways. War. Slavery. Murder. Tyranny. I’m an old master with magic, but this spell malfunctioned and I ended up locked inside.”

He frowned and pointed a finger at my nose. “Now I’m trapped in here with you. I’ll manipulate you to obtain my freedom to avoid my employer’s wrath.” He gestured with one hand turned palm up. “I trust your question is answered.”

“The contender with the white shiny hair makes his first move. This promises to be a fun match,” the announcer said.

Truck-kun looked at Nyarin who winced. “I’ll admit, master, it needs adjustment.”

Whatever Truck-kun was, he had the same old world thinking as his boss. He had been completely honest. He didn’t sugarcoat his goals. If I was anything less than entirely honest, the consequences might be horrible.

Truck-kun asked his first question. “You knew details about our Isekai operation before you were first captured. How did you know that Isekai are real?”

I took a calming breath. “We’ve learned Isekai are not just a popular story genre. The escapees shared what they knew and most want to find a way back. They told their stories, drew comic books, or spent their life savings searching.”

Truck-kun nodded. “After a month, our retention is less than fifty percent. The compulsion to enjoy the hallucination may continue for a while.”

The announcer laughed. “The white-haired player made a mistake and gave away free information. That’ll cost him with the judges.”

Truck-kun looked up at the sky. “There aren’t any judges. Shut up.”

“Well think about how I feel. I just found out I’m not real, just part of this dude’s hallucination. Years of announcer training, wasted. My father will be so ashamed.”

In a flash of insight I got it. Truck-kun was a tech nerd in his business, eager to babble about tech details. I had been that guy, more than once.

“Compulsion to enjoy the hallucination, like my memory flashbacks.”

Truck-kun took the bait. “No, that’s different. The spell searches your memories for the optimal dream. I got a promotion for designing that part.” Truck-kun smiled proudly, then winced again.

“Ohoho, another free answer from the moody pretty boy.”

“I’m going to kill you,” said Truck-kun.

“I’m not real anyway. Wait, this means I don’t have any crushing gambling debt or student loans to pay off. Gotta look on the bright side of non-existence.”

Truck-kun looked at me with a new appreciation. “Okay, I underestimated how quickly the internet spread out secret. Your turn.”

“The competition is heating up!”

“Shut up,” both Truck-kun and I said simultaneously.

“Why?” I asked, “why bother doing all of this?”

Truck-kun sighed, glancing at Nyarin who looked guilty, ears low. “We have to make a living. Spirits like us don’t eat food, but need need other things to survive.”

“You’re spirits?” I had heard of such things, but had my doubts. Then again, I was standing in a video game hallucination after seeing a mid-air dragon cut in two. “You mentioned a tanuki earlier.”

Nyarin pointed to herself. “Bakeneko.” She said it like it was a confession, as if being a Bakeneko was a crime or dirty.

Truck-kun shook his head. He wasn’t going to give another free answer. “I’m answering your question about why. I’d rather not say what I am.” His face darkened.

“I’ve got some names I could call you,” the announcer offered.

“I’m going to find you and break you into pieces,” Truck-kun threatened.

“Good luck. I don’t even exist while I’m working as the announcer.”

Suddenly another voice boomed through the sky. “Where am I?”

My eyes widened. It was the inexplicably grateful top-heavy maiden. Apparently wherever she had disappeared to was the same place as the announcer’s box.

“Oh, a guest. How did you get in here,” the announcer sounded delighted, “let me get you a drink. Please, have a seat.”

“Really? I’d be ever so inexplicably grateful. How can I make it up to you?”.

Truck-kun gave Nyarin another sardonic look.

“Well,” Nyarin said with a shrug, “you have to admit the damage announcer kept this boring info dump conversation lively.”

Truck-kun looked back at me. “Why do we do this? The Isekai spell harvests energy we can use to survive. The boss gives us a cut. It’s a living. Our boss is an ancient goddess, recently reawakened. She’s powerful, but she needs worship. She’s been nearly forgotten. Isekai make customers into dedicated worshippers in her style.”

“Customers?” I said, “More like victims. You act like this is a respectable business.”

“Do you really like your job?” Truck-kun said defensively.

I frowned.

“I don’t do this for fun. I need to eat. The way I fed centuries ago isn’t enough now.”

“Besides,” Nyarin added quietly, “our spell can’t hold someone who doesn’t want to stay. You came looking for us. Are you really a victim?”

I wanted to disagree with her. I opened my mouth, but then met her eyes. I closed my mouth, unable to say anything more.