Redheads (1)

After convincing the teenager who I had no romantic interest in that touching a corpse would lead to various bloodborne diseases that no form of magic bullshit go could possibly cure, I found myself dragging the body of a woman through a clearing that was quickly becoming a muddied bog via rope. Thunderstorms clearly weren’t meant to occur in this area, and I was no environmental expert, but I had an ominous feeling about the fact there was no natural drainage around. Europeans would have mastered rice cultivation thousands of years ago if downpours like these were even semi-frequent, and a more responsible person would have explained the concept of ecology to the girl and begged her to go to the Saint (SAINT!) and ask him to stop the rain. But that person wasn’t going to be me—I decided I didn’t want anything to do with that girl ever again, so I dutifully dragged the woman back without complaint—partially because I was afraid of getting my ass beat, mainly because I was confused—and I distracted myself from those thoughts by observing the sight of my hostage’s head making a nice line in the mud.

What the fuck was going on?

No, actually?

I briefly wondered if the woman I was dragging was dead or alive. Then her head bounced over a rock with a loud crack.

I never once wondered if the woman was dead or alive, the question never even crossed my mind. I was instead thinking of the girl who claimed to be “Princess Maelle”. My brain’s flow was split into three distinct streams, and each river was driving my thoughts in conflicting directions.

One: Is everything I know just… wrong?

Two: A Saint by “technicality”? “Cult of Asmodeus”? Exiled for “religious reasons”? Casual multicasting? Did Annabelle just feed me bullshit about everything? Or did I just take everything she said and subconsciously jam it into my preconceived notions of how the world worked?

Three: I’m actually so incredibly useless and stupid.

Actually, that wasn’t the third thought, but it might as well have been. As I trudged towards the hostage dumping spot, I passed by the familiar sight of a camp conjured by Annabelle—two sleeping tents, a bath, dining table, et cetera. But based on the fact that there were no extra pieces of furniture around and still only two tents, it was clear that either only she possessed the means to conjure such things or the pair simply didn’t care. In addition to that, the “sky”—or lack thereof—was now a massive wooden dome of bark and vines weaved together to prevent the storm from soaking us.

Four: Hey, maybe if Annabelle is wrong, it’s not so bad. We can be wrong together.

Five: Wishful thinking. She’s obviously some sort of prodigy.

A little further from our camp but still within shelter was a linen tarp laid across the grass where eight bodies lay. Seven of them were stripped down to their tunics, and they were restrained by a navy blue runic prison strapped to their necks. Unsurprisingly, the ropes I had so painstakingly tied to restrain and transport them were missing, a nice reminder of how “helpful” my efforts were. A little bit further away was a man with a cloth laid over his face.

The sight of yet another corpse made me grip on the rope tighter.

That person should have been me.

No—I wanted to be that person.

Frankly, I didn’t deserve any of this. It didn’t make sense that a mercenary strong enough to take on a kidnapping contract would be the one with their life taken instead of a recently suicidal idiot with no powers. The only difference between me and them was the fact I had the luck of the draw to run into better allies and they didn’t.

My life here was simply repeating itself. I was being railroaded by destiny into success, just like I used to before my mother died. Why couldn’t I be dead instead of him? He was probably some sort of criminal, but maybe he did it to feed his family.

Me?

What was I doing any of this for?

I’d never chosen a single thing in my life.

That seat was bought for me by Aunt Sumire.

Medicine was something forced on me by my mother.

Vegetarianism was an automatic adaptation by my tastebuds due to trauma.

I had nothing. Even under the carriage, I’d told myself I’d choose the path of “change”—but that wasn’t really a decision. All that amounted to was nothing but a few minutes of feeling like I was “strategising”, choosing to further fan my flames of delusions about this world instead of owning up to reality. I’d thought I’d picked the path of courage to chase after the pair and gain experience, but realistically, that was about as impactful as a shut-in choosing to leave the house after years of isolation. Relative to dog shit standards, maybe that’s a monumental decision—but all I did was do something billions of people did without a second thought.

If I needed coddling or false heroism just to be normal, then maybe it’d be better if I was gone.

…

Hm.

But if I was worthless, then…

Six: Aren’t the people from this world suspiciously nice to me?

Seven: The eyes.

Eight: Saint Alicia.

I shook my head.

“That isn’t three streams, you fucking idiot.”

Honestly, those last few thoughts didn’t matter. The bottom line was this: if I was going to start believing in conspiracy theories to cope with my inadequacy now, then I might as well end my life. I would rather be dead than useless. This has always been the case. The only reason I had put it off was because of Aunt Sumire. Too bad a fucking truck got me first, so nobody in the real world will ever get to realise I’m self aware of my uselessness.

What was the point of this little excursion, anyway? This hallucination? To delude myself into thinking that I would have an “awakening” and finally contribute with my “video game knowledge”? Believing I had some sort of hidden talent that would trigger once I turned on the switch? Being some “summoned hero”?

This was just a coping mechanism.

A literal coma.

A dream.

And I fucking hate dreams. They’re for delusional people, not me. Once I’m finished with these last few errands, I’ll say goodbye to this world.

I took a look at the shortsword hanging by my waist.

You can’t die.

Please, give me a chance to let me help you.

Get back to Highcrest first, then you can…

“…”

Why… why did I have to think of her now?

***

Before I knew it, I’d reached the spot where I was supposed to leave the woman—a lone tree magically unscathed in a sea of stumps caused by a certain Saint. There I saw a very familiar figure strutting about.

“What the hell…? Why are you here…?”

“Caw.”

There was one very glaring issue with this situation—besides the obvious that it should not even have occurred. While the creature was as ugly as I remembered, and its name rang out in my head with absolute clarity, it was now at shin height. It should have been a towering, clucking monstrosity, but instead it was now capable of surprising me by coming out of the shadow of a small tree—one that was definitely not as wide as a truck nor double my height.

“Did Annabelle not desummon you…? Is this what happens when you don’t pay the quanta upkeep…?”

“Caw.”

Why am I talking to a turkey?

“Sorry to disturb you, my guy. I guess Annabelle put you here. Oh, and please don’t eat this woman. I don’t think she’ll taste good.” It suddenly hit me that Cockie was female. “Uh, sorry. I meant to say lil’ girl.”

“Caw.”

I gingerly reached out to scratch the bird’s head. It chirruped and closed its eyes as it melted into my fingers.

“Caw…”

“I guess you’re cute.”

Inexplicably, the image of two girls entered my mind. One had pink hair and blue eyes, the other auburn and black. They were both around the same height. The auburn-haired girl had run away, tears streaming down her face after reading a letter—and now the other girl was staring at me expectantly.

I could feel her waiting for me to do something.

Perhaps out of guilt, I decided to avert my gaze from the bird. My eyes took me to the corpse I’d just recently dumped next to the tree. Fire and Death pendulums, their thaumaturgical filters removed—inserted directly into flesh and powered by blood. It was a mistake. Her bad arm and shoulder looked like they’d dissolved in acid, and were now completely putrefied. Jet black fluids oozed from the holes in her skin—and worst of all, her eyes. Nausea instantly assaulted all my senses, and I decided to leave the tree and Cockie behind as fast as I could.

…If only it didn’t damage the wearer, that invention would be genius.

Hm.

Something possessed me, and I turned around to inspect the body more seriously.

Ah, screw it.

Annabelle, you win.

I’ll take your game a bit more seriously.

***

Supposedly, there were two sleeping tents, so you could split up the four of us in two distinct ways. One, you let me and Annabelle share one room whilst the princess and her knight took the other. Two, you separated the boys and girls, so the dude and I would share, and my “teenager” companion would end up bunking with the actual teenager. Call me small-minded, but that was how I saw it—so you could imagine how I felt when I saw Annabelle and Soren in the same tent.

“P-Primot?”

The moment I heard her respond in such a surprised manner, my mind instantly went into overdrive. My thoughts gravitated towards conclusions of them being “busy”, but they were having a conversation at a reasonable distance from each other when I entered. Soren was still fully armoured, Annabelle had all of her robes on, and they seemed to be huddling around a desk in the far back and actually discussing something. They were too well put together for people who’d just been “caught”. So then I thought maybe the sleeping arrangement was actually to put all the plebs together while the princess slept in her own tent, but there were only two bedrolls here, and Soren regarded me with body language that suggested he figured this was his cue to leave.

I wanted to say something to him first, but then he suddenly bowed at me.

“Good evening, Sir Primot. I am thankful for the assistance you have provided my lady.”

His politeness shocked me into submission.

…Wait. He doesn’t want to beat my ass?

Could this guy… actually be…

“Uh… No problem…?”

Turning around, he decided to wrap up his conversation with Annabelle. “You too, Anna. Thank you for your help with the healing. It’s a shame we could not save all of them.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal! I’m not sad about it or anything! Ahaha…”

I felt my eyes twitching.

“And of course, thank you for setting up the lodgings. You have a remarkable arsenal of support spells. Do teach me when you have the time.”

“O-of course! Anything to help, Soren!”

“Farewell.”

Paladin Soren Nielsen bowed politely at me just before leaving the tent, and as he did, I stared at Annabelle of Friesland, Templar Apprentice.

She was staring back at me—Sir Primot of the Lower Realm, currently an enigma.

My cheeks reddened slightly.

I wasn’t sure if it was because I was covered in a mix of the filthiest grime known to man—a mix of mud, rainwater, sweat, and the vague scent of decomposing flesh—or if it was because I didn’t want to stink up the tent that smelled vaguely like flowers—but I didn’t want to talk to her at all.

Nah.

This dude’s doing it for show.

Stupid Saint. Dumbass girl. I never liked you anyway, Annabelle. I’m going to gather all my stuff and—

“Hey, let me help—”

“Anna,” I snapped. “Really? Anna?”

“…”

She twirled her hair slightly. “Um… I’m sorry.”

“It’s funny that you’re closer to him than you are to me already.”

“…Sorry.”

“Do you not give a shit that we’re companions? All those lessons, times we talked by the camp, the way we figured out how to make light when I hated fires—did you actually not care? You spend one day with another guy and you’re already best friends?”

“...”

“You know what, forget it. I didn’t say anything. And obviously, you don’t have to care about getting a vegetarian recipe anymore. Just focus on cooking for him.”

It obviously occured to me that I was being childish, but I didn’t care. She deserved to know how I felt.

“Can I just say one thing, though?”

“Go ahead, Anna.”

“In my defense, you were also talking to that woman.”

“You mean the girl from the carriage? Are you fucking high?”

“Yeah, the one that you kept staring at in the carriage until Paladin Soren cut you off.”

“She’s fourteen, idiot. Funny you’re calling him by title now. Weren’t so formal when the two of you were alone, huh?”

“He literally told me to not be formal with him. You seriously think I could actually be friends with someone so important in a day? Oh, and, by the way, so when I joke that I’m fifteen, I’m suddenly off limits, but you’re fine talking to her for hours about some stupid cult? Get real.”

“...Are you seriously jealous that I’m trying to figure out how we nearly died? Are you ill?”

“Am I ill?” she asked. “Am I ill,” she repeated. “No, Primot, I don’t think I’m ill. At least, not really—it’s more like, I just think it’s funny that you’ve been ignoring me all day, talking to someone else, then getting mad because I’m being polite to another guy when I have nothing else to do. You dragged me onto that stupid carriage without saying anything, then you start acting differently once I save you from the verge of death. Again. Three times now if we include the vomitting. Don’t you see how unreasonable you’re being? All you had to do was tell me you were okay, but you ignored me. You ignored me! What was I… you know what, it’s fine. I don’t care. Let’s just drop the subject and move on to serious things. I was wrong to even think you’d see me as anything more than a nuisance.”

As she spoke, only one thought filled my mind.

What the hell am I doing?

What is this argument even about, really? I barely know this girl.

Nothing she was saying was untrue. I was being stupid.

She was entirely right.

I’d gotten transported to another world, whisked away into a forced adventure, attacked, then witnessed something that I didn’t even know was possible given everything that’d been taught to me so far—and somehow I found myself arguing with the girl who saved my life just because she was having a conversation with someone else. Did it matter if she was attracted to another guy? I should have been coming up with theories on why we were attacked or making plans on how to get back to the Highcrest sect again, but all I cared about was that she was talking to Soren: a situation that I had completely manufactured myself by putting up walls between her and myself.

I was being pathetic.

Let me think. If I had a second chance to talk to Yui again, what would I say?

If I saw she’d moved on, would I be happy for her?

Yes?

No?

How could I say that I loved her if it was a “no”?

I’d found my answer. I would take all these walls down.

“To be honest, you’re completely…”

I paused when I realised Annabelle was mumbling something under her breath. “...even my husband anyway.”

“...Huh?”

“What were you going to say?”

I misheard her, I thought to myself. Stay on topic.

“...Uh, as I was saying—you’re completely right, babe.”

“...”

“I mean, fuck— I mean, shit— I mean, fuck. Fuck. Not ‘babe’. Not ‘babe’, I swear to you, that was by accident. I mean, fuck.”

“Um… okay…”

I heard the sounds of her robes awkwardly shuffling.

DON’T LET THE SILENCE SETTLE IN. TALK. SAY THE FIRST THING THAT COMES TO MIND.

“Uh, look. The point is, I’m sorry. This is completely my fault. Honestly, I don’t know what came over me, and I don’t know why I decided to fight with you first thing when we’re both having a hard time. At least I am. Probably? I want to say hormones, but that can’t be right… Wait, sorry. Is that sexist…? Ah, fuck.”

“...”

“I dont care. My point is—I have no idea what I’m doing, and I don’t even know where to start. I’m honestly a little retarded. Medically, I’m mentally ill. So just cut me off if I’m being stupid, and I’ll start again.”

“...”

I admit it. I need to treat her better.

Suddenly, a wave possessed me, and words poured out of me like I wasn’t Watanabe Daisuke, but someone else entirely.

Somebody who I used to be.

I remember now. I didn’t always use to be this way.

“We might be companions, and supposedly we’re just stuck together because of an accidental journey. But even if that never happened, and you found me in that field with nothing else going on, I would still choose to follow you. Because you’re a wonderful person, Annabelle.”

“...”

“On the other hand, I’m a piece of shit.”

“...”

“Yeah, I know it’s been stressful for me, but it’s been stressful for you, too. We’re both people who’ve gotten derailed for no apparent reason, but while you’re earnestly trying your best, meanwhile, I’m ust kicking rocks and eating crayons. The worst part is that I’m capable of doing better but refuse to… or at least, I won’t know, because I won't even try. I’m more afraid of looking weak than actually helping you or asking questions. And that being the case, I don’t blame you if you say you want to hate me or if you never want to see my face again after we… if we ever get back to your sect, because yeah, I’ve been an asshole. And frankly speaking, I don’t deserve any of the things you’ve done for me.”

“I… I don’t hate you,” she said.

“Thanks. But I hate myself. I hate that I let my emotions get the better of me for no reason. I hate that I can’t do anything here. And this might sound like I’m full of shit, but I hope you realise that earlier argument had nothing to do with anything you did wrong… I was just upset, and I took it out on you just because I feel like my life is miserable and yours should be too. Next time, I’ll be a better friend, because you’ve been nothing but—”

“...Okay, okay, stop,” she said. “Stop!” she snapped. “It’s fine. Stop apologising.”

…Did I say something wrong?

“...Are you actually fine?”

“...Wh… wha… What kind of… I m-mean, are you fine?”

“Uh… yeah?”

I realised I’d been looking at the floor this entire time. Perhaps it was out of guilt, or maybe from being so emotionally vulnerable, but midway I realised Annabelle’s voice was getting softer. More distant; more mellow. I picked up the courage to meet her gaze, but once I let my eyes drift upwards, I noticed her figure was facing away, bunching up into the walls of the tent.

Fuck. I did say something wrong.

“Are you okay…?” I asked.

“...What happened to you?”

“Huh?”

“Did… did that woman cast a spell on you or something? Are you really Primot…?”

“Girl,” I corrected. “And please don’t say it like that… people might get weird ideas.”

“Y-you’re tellin’ me about weird ideas?!”

Kansai-ben?

“U-um, sorry.”

Her accent abruptly shifted back into place. I couldn’t tell if I just hallucinated it earlier—I mean, we weren’t speaking Japanese, right?

Wait… is she embarrassed?

“Okay, look… t-two things. First of all—I act like this around every man. Please don’t get the wrong idea.”

“...Wait, what does that have anything to do with—”

“And second of all… you’re not useless. You’re smart. You’re taller than me. You understand things right away... you eat my cooking even though it’s the same thing every single night. You’re a lot of things… useless is not one of them. And I know you’re confused about why you’re here, and that’s probably my fault… so I’ll tell you anything and everything I know, not just about magic.”

“...”

“You just have to ask me the questions, and I’ll answer. Okay? Because I’ve been doing a bad job at that.”

“Uh… okay.”

“...Thank you, Primot.”

“...You too?”

Sorry, what? Did I just get rejected? I wasn’t even confessing, though? Or is she saying don’t get the wrong idea about her and Soren? Or is she saying don’t get the wrong idea between us in general? Or is she—

A thought crossed my mind, and I instantly blurted it out.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“...”

The world seemed to turn one shade darker.

Suddenly, she snapped around with a torque I wasn’t aware human necks could generate. Her cheeks were as pink as her hair, and she glared at me with an expression of trembling lips—I wouldn’t dare guess what it was.

Annoyance?

Embarrassment?

…Fear?

…Wait, no. That was me.

“But you said I could ask any—”

“I’m taking you for a bath, you stinky idiot. Don’t resist!” she yelled.

“W-wait, don’t come any closer, I don’t want you to smell like—”

“I said don’t resist!”

Stomping past me and pulling me by the ear, I was dragged somewhere or other by an angry redhead.