ETVC C43

Chapter 43

[Oh my, such dreadful tension I perceive! Now then, the two guild members shall be divided—one to take the role of King, the other of Knight. The Knight may suffer countless blows without concern, but the King, should he endure more than five valid strikes, shall be vanquished! Therefore, it is the Knight’s noble duty to guard his sovereign.]

As the rules came in a torrent, young Jun’s eyes darted furiously while he scribbled every word into his notebook. I nearly asked if a recording would not serve him better, yet the sight of those earnest little hands, so busy and endearing, stayed my tongue.

[Valid strikes shall be measured by the sensors now placed within your inventories. Do note—killing is forbidden in this event! Slay another, and you are out at once. Is that news disappointing, perhaps?]

Shiri tittered to herself, though none shared her mirth. We, meanwhile, examined the small sensors that had been conjured. Once affixed to our garments, they spun out translucent mesh-lines that enveloped the whole body, and then vanished from sight—an invisible net, save to the System’s reckoning.

[Well then, waiting is tedious, is it not? Let us spin the wheel!]

Without so much as a pause, Shiri set the roulette spinning above our heads. It whirred and clattered noisily until at last it slowed.

“Wait! Is there no way to withdraw from the wheel?” cried a guild member, hand raised in desperation.

But Shiri only wagged a pink-furred finger in a cross and shook her head with impish glee.

At last the wheel stilled, and with a blare of fanfare, the result was declared.

[From Chronos Guild, the Knight shall be Baek Woojin, and the King—Kang Gwonhoo!]

The very worst outcome was avoided, yet to have Gwonhoo as King was hardly a blessing. To guard one given to capricious whims was peril beyond measure. The fanfare rang in my ears like a curse; I longed to seize it and crush it silent.

[We have prepared the perfect field for survival! Those chosen shall now be transported.]

My vision warped, the air rippled—the very effect of teleportation I had seen in the game.

“Well then, Sir Knight, pray guard me well.”

Beside me, Kang Gwonhoo smiled as fresh and dewy as a leaf washed by summer rain.

There is no God, I thought. From this day forth, I renounce belief.

The field where we arrived was a dense jungle. The grass grew wild and untamed, the trees high and lush as though torn from a tropic clime.

[You shall have twenty minutes to hide, and five hours to battle! During the hiding phase, attacks are forbidden!]

Shiri’s voice rang aloud across the field.

Hands thrust in his pockets, Gwonhoo surveyed our surroundings with unhurried ease, and that nonchalance only deepened my unease. His interest in me was a fragile, fleeting thing. Should he deem me dangerous, he would sever me without a moment’s pause.

Let this not be the day his interest fades.

The place teemed with insects, and here and there were traces of monsters. I raised a hand, calling my question. Though the fragments of the System hovered afar, surely they would hear.

“If a monster’s attack strikes the sensor, does it count as a valid hit?”

[A question has been raised about monsters’ attacks! An astute point. Of course the King must not be struck even by monsters. The sensor records every force sufficient to be a valid blow.]

So, if we but hid well enough, the creatures might eliminate our foes for us. Whether chance would grant such fortune, I could not say.

“Seems we were not dropped near another guild,” I murmured.

“Indeed,” said Gwonhoo lightly.

I parted the thicket and pressed forward.

“Shall we enter that house? From within we may watch and wait.”

Amidst the brush, I had spied a ruined house—perfect for concealment.

Perhaps fortune had not abandoned us entirely.

“Not unwise,” Gwonhoo nodded. “I spied many sniper-types among the hunters. A roof and walls shall serve us well.”

His assent was too easy, too void of thought. I sought to probe.

“Or… we might simply wander about outside?”

“If you are confident, by all means.”

So that was it—he left the choice to me, careless, almost mocking.

He seeks only to torment me… or amuse himself.

“Should the enemy appear, you will fight, will you not?” I pressed.

“Why should I? The King is to be protected, is he not? Your gallant self, trained by your noble brother, will surely shield me.”

The insolence of it set my blood aflame.

Who protects whom! He, a titan, stronger by countless measures, and yet he speaks thus!

“Then what do you propose?”

He knew well my heart’s turmoil and forced the decision upon me.

“…We shall go into the house.”

With languid steps, he followed, deliberately slowing, as if to mock me.

I know I have grown stronger… but I have only Soohyuk against whom to measure it. Against the guildmasters of renown, or their deputies, could I truly prevail?

“Best to ensure the house is empty first,” I said.

“As you please.”

So indifferent, so detached—was this deliberate? I muttered curses within that I dared not voice, and pushed open the warped door.

“It is decrepit indeed. The parlour stands empty.”

I moved from room to room, peering in each. Once, people had lived here; their traces remained, though long abandoned. Likely when the gates had first torn open, the dwellers fled and never returned.

This is no mere illusion—the place once breathed with life.

At the final room of the first floor, I called for Gwonhoo, expecting him at my back. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Surely he has not left, to force us into disqualification? He opposed this war’s entry—perhaps he seeks to be rid of it thus?

One by one I retraced my steps, reopening doors, mind racing.

He cannot directly harm our guild, true… but neglect is harder to name a crime. And if he claims non-participation was for our good… yes, the contract might not bind him.

Regret bit me sharply. The contract should have been written in finer detail.

At last I whispered, “Kang Gwonhoo.”

My voice was quiet enough not to carry to foes, yet sharp enough for his keen ears. Still, no answer came.

Has he truly gone? Does he think I joined only for myself, that he must thus thwart me?

Frustration surged, but I quelled it. He could not know what I concealed; nor was he one to accept thanks.

Bang.

I flung open the parlour door once more—and there he stood, framed by the window, bathed in sunlight like a painting come alive.

“What are you doing here? Do you see something?”

He traced the sill with his hand, gazing out. For one instant, I nearly admitted he was beautiful—and in shame, I raised my voice.

“And who was it that left me first?” he retorted smoothly.

“I assumed you followed. Already, this bodes ill. I cannot tether you, yet—”

The last words slipped unbidden, and I regretted them. He was no man to be bound; any rope would bind me instead.

“I, however, have no objection to being bound,” he said calmly.

“…Pardon?”

From his inventory he drew a pair of handcuffs, proving his jest was no jest at all.

“Why in heaven’s name do you possess those? Surely you do not intend to parade me like a criminal?”

Half the time, I suspected he was indeed half a criminal, yet I bit my tongue.

So blatant, so careless of appearances…

Time was fleeing fast—fifteen minutes gone already, five scant minutes left to hide.

“You think I would wear them alone?”

“Then… do you mean for us both to be cuffed?”