“I’m not omniscient or omnipotent, you know. So you’ll have to forgive me if there are a few things I’m not entirely sure about.”
With that preface, Matsuki-san began to explain.
Apparently—
* Originally, Phyllis had been conducting research into summoning supernatural beings from other worlds.
* Herbert, bitter after being rejected, stole that research and fled to Japan.
* The summoning required a sacrifice, and the closer the sacrifice’s “wavelength” was to that of a supernatural being (i.e. an evil god), the better.
“They said my compatibility rate with the evil god was one hundred percent. Makes sense, right? I mean, I’m the evil god herself.”
If I had to put it another way… it was like entering a “Look-Alike Contest,” only due to some administrative blunder, the judges accidentally handed the prize to the actual person.
I had no idea what they were planning to do once the real deal showed up. It was just too ridiculous.
Herbert, however, had apparently failed to realize any of this. He kidnapped Matsuki-san and proceeded with the summoning ritual.
“I didn’t really want to draw attention to myself, so I was just watching things play out. But I never expected Yoshito-kun to come rushing in to save me. I was really happy you see.”
Matsuki-san flashed me an angelic smile. (Except she’s an evil god.)
“So, when things started looking a little dangerous, I figured I’d lend a hand. Good grief.”
Hmm. There was something familiar about the way Matsuki-san operated.
I’d seen it somewhere before.
What was it…?
Oh.
Right.
An old-school fanfiction trope.
The protagonist gets accidentally hit by a truck because of some mistake on the part of a god, and as an apology, he gets reincarnated into the world of an anime or light novel—with a bunch of cheat abilities thrown in for good measure.
He insists he doesn’t want anything to do with the original story, yet somehow keeps sticking his nose into everything while muttering, “Good grief.”
Are you that Star Platinum guy or something?
And then, as he goes around helping one person after another, he somehow ends up stealing all the heroines away from the original protagonist and building himself a harem.
So… Am I one of his potential love interests now?
If she patted me on the head, was I supposed to blush, turn bright red, and automatically join the Matsuki Harem?
Yeah. As if.
As for how Herbert himself ended up becoming the sacrifice—
“I think it was after Yoshito-kun knocked Herbert unconscious. A little girl came along and tampered with the spell formation. That’s probably what caused it.”
A little girl…
That must have been Aria El Samaria.
“She was muttering something like, ‘The plan has deviated from the expected course, so we’ll proceed to Plan B.’”
I see. If there was a Plan B, then there must have been a Plan A, too.
Time to do a little deduction. Most likely, under the original Plan A, Matsuki-san was supposed to be the sacrifice. But then Herbert got hit with my Mind Hack, rendering him incapable of carrying out the ritual.
In the event of an unforeseen complication like that, they must have been prepared to switch over to Plan B. There was just one problem. Herbert himself didn’t seem to know that Plan B even existed.
Even after looking through his memories, I couldn’t find any indication that he’d ever had contact with either Reona or Aria. Most likely, Herbert had been manipulated by the mastermind without even realizing it.
And according to Reona, that mastermind was Makina Kaminagi. One of Old Man’s mistresses. Makina had apparently been pulling Herbert’s strings from the shadows while, at the same time, gathering freelancers together with the intention of slaughtering the entire lot of them.
What a farce. Though, in the end, I was the one who brought everyone back to life.
So what, exactly, had Makina been trying to accomplish?
I couldn’t believe her goal was simply to reduce the number of capable freelancers. But there just wasn’t enough information to say for sure.
…Guess I’ll have to put my hopes on the “bug” and “hidden camera” I planted in Aria’s mind.
＊ ＊ ＊
After finishing her explanation of how the whole incident had unfolded, Matsuki-san suddenly said that she wanted to talk to me alone.
Naturally, I expected Mia to object. But instead—
“All right. See you later, Oniisan.”
She simply got up and left the room.
Although, just before she disappeared, she sent me a telepathic message in a strangely seductive voice:
『When we get home, let’s play like we did the other day, okay?』
She was probably talking about what happened in bed yesterday.
I feel like our relationship is developing in a decidedly unhealthy direction.
Once Mia was gone, only Matsuki-san and I remained in the room. Outside the window, a flock of sparrows circled through the sky, chirping away. I sometimes saw them doing the same thing in front of the station.
What the hell were they even trying to accomplish?
“Yoshito-kun.”
Matsuki-san called my name softly, almost as though she were whispering it to herself.
“Is. Your. Ma-gic. Po-wer. O-kay?”
It was the sort of question asked by someone who already knew the answer.
She must have figured it out a long time ago.
“It’s pretty bad.”
So there was no point in trying to hide it from her.
“Ever since I transformed into the Black Knight, the “Mud” has been continuously eating away at my magic. …What’s happening to me?”
My current magical capacity had fallen to one-fiftieth of what it had been before the kidnapping incident. It was like I had a hole in my magic tank, preventing it from ever filling beyond a certain point.
If my maximum MP was 100, then I was permanently stuck at around 2/100. Of course, magic naturally regenerated over time. But every bit of that regeneration was simply being siphoned away by the Mud. At this level of magical power, something like resurrecting the dead with a Time Spell would probably be impossible.
“How should I explain this?”
Matsuki-san rested a finger against her chin and fell into thought, humming softly.
“It’s a little application of the Time Spell.”
“I see. I don’t understand at all.”
“Think back to yesterday, when you transformed into the Black Knight. Your magic had recovered all the way to its maximum, right?”
She paused.
“Where do you think all that magic came from?”
The way she phrased it, combined with that line about it being an “application of the Time Spell”…
The answer that came to mind was a little hard to believe.
“Did you take the magic from versions of yourself in the past or future?”
“Yep. That’s exactly right. That’s how I—and the other gods—keep our magic reserves topped up, too. …Though it’s as natural to us as breathing, so even if you asked me to explain the details, I’m not sure I could.”
In other words, gods could casually transcend space and time as part of their daily routine.
Amazing. As expected of a god.
In other words…
“So when my magic was drained several times before I fought Herbert…”
“Most likely, the future Yoshito-kun was taking it through the Mud.”
What the hell?
All this time, I’d been dumping various troublesome problems on my future self, but I never expected the backlash to come at me in quite this form.
Wait. Hold on a second.
Something about this doesn’t make sense.
“I lost to Herbert because I ran out of magic, and then, with your help, I transformed into the Black Knight. …But if my future self hadn’t taken my magic away, what would have happened in my fight with Herbert?”
“Knowing you, Yoshito-kun, I think you probably would’ve beaten him easily.”
Matsuki-san stated it with absolute confidence.
And that was where things started getting really confusing.
Let’s see…
Future me loses to Herbert.
→ Matsuki-san helps me transform into the Black Knight.
→ In the process, I take magic from my past self.
→ My past self runs out of magic and loses to Herbert.
→ *Loop.*
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
And if I’d had enough magic in the first place, I would’ve been able to defeat Herbert right then and there…
Hmm… My brain is starting to hurt.
“You really shouldn’t overthink it. Things will work out somehow. Or, as I like to call it, whatever happens, happens.”
Matsuki-san gave me a soft smile. She was so ridiculously cute that my heart skipped a beat.
Whatever happens, happens. Man, I am such a pushover.
“Then let me ask you something else. What exactly is this Mud, anyway?”
“You want to know? It might surprise you quite a bit.”
I wish she’d stop teasing and just tell me already.
“It’s the ‘raw material of a god.’ When it matures, it turns into something like me or the other evil gods. But for some reason, it’s fused with you, Yoshito-kun, with absolutely perfect compatibility. It’s practically on the level of ‘sacrifice me to summon myself.’”
“…Evil gods? Seriously?”
That sounded pretty damn dangerous.
“Don’t worry. If you weren’t compatible with it, the Mud would eat you up. But your compatibility is a perfect match. Practically a miracle.”
Ah, right. That sounded like the title of that travel show they still aired in the evening—
Wait. She meant Pittanko Kan★Kan. Incidentally, I’m from the generation where hearing “Pittan” immediately makes me think of *Mojipittan*. Now I want some bean sprouts.
“Besides, the Mud seems to have settled in as a part of you. So if anything happens, I’ll be there to help.”
“…Sorry for causing you trouble.”
“It’s okay. Besides…”
She paused.
“I’m happy.”
“Happy?”
The unexpected choice of words made me ask again.
Matsuki-san answered with a radiant smile, her expression blooming like a flower.
“Because now you’ll never be able to leave me again, okay?”
＊ ＊ ＊
After that, I left Matsuki-san’s room. But I didn’t get to go straight home.
Apparently, her grandfather—the elder of the Matsuki family, Matsuki Sougen—wanted to see me. He wanted to thank me personally for saving his granddaughter.
I was escorted by a twenty-eight-year-old unmarried maid, and this time we headed outside the main residence. She led me to a traditional Japanese-style annex.
“Oh, I’m glad you came, young man.”
Matsuki Sougen was, as his name suggested, an imposing old man with a stern face.
But then—
“I’ve been waiting for you, Yoshito.”
For some reason, Phyllis was in the room too. And she was sitting comfortably on top of Sougen-san, who was down on all fours. For some reason, she was also holding a riding crop.
What is this, some kind of BDSM dungeon?
No, isn’t this elder abuse?
“I’m older than he is, so there’s no problem.”
Ah, right. Phyllis was over two thousand—No, I mean, several hundred years old.
“Well, well. As always, Phyllis-sama is remarkably light. Almost soothing on these old bones.”
What the hell kind of relationship do these two have?
The sight was so absurd that I nearly broke into a fake Kansai accent just to yell at them. “What the hell is this?!”
I wanted to go home. I had plans to watch that Sha○n DVD and writhe in agony over the painful memories of my long-lost chūnibyō phase.
…
Come to think of it, that was basically hell, too.
Whether he knew what I was thinking or not, Sougen-san began delivering an extraordinarily long speech of gratitude.
Naturally, he remained on all fours the entire time.
There’s a place called Jötunheim in Norse mythology, isn’t there? The world of ice and frost, if I remember correctly.
Right. That was exactly the atmosphere in this room.
Why, exactly, was I being forced to sit here and watch someone else’s BDSM session?
More importantly, were all of Phyllis’s connections like this?
…
Best not to think about it.
There are some things in this world that are better left untouched.
That was something I learned on a certain four-year-old’s evening in this strange little life of mine.
◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆
—I’m sorry, Naoki. The experiment was a failure this time…
—It’s all right, Makina. Tell me about the damage.
—It’s the worst of the worst. The summoning failed, every freelancer survived, and Aria has had her magic sealed, rendering her useless. Under the circumstances, I have no choice but to disembowel myself in apology—
—It’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes.
—Th-Thank you. You really are kind, Naoki.
—I care about you, Makina. What happened to Reona?
—That one was the only person who came out of this looking completely refreshed… I really don’t understand what goes on inside a madwoman’s head.
—Teenage girls are complicated. Anyway, what caused the failure?
—This is rather difficult to say, but…
—Yoshito, I presume.
—How did you know?
—A hunch, I suppose. Yoshito and I are simply incompatible. I’ve felt that way ever since he stole Suika from me, but I suppose that confirms it. Stop all of Plan Two. Erase every trace we’ve left behind. Let’s spend about three years vacationing on a tropical island. Sound good?
—Why, Naoki?
—To make sure Yoshito can’t get involved.
—But he’s still only four years old.
—That boy is far more intelligent than he looks. We can’t underestimate him. If I were to put it in old-fashioned terms, I’d call him “a precocious prodigy blessed by the protection of demons and divine spirits.”
—Then what shall we do about Plan One?—Oh, that’s simple. We just need to make another child. Isn’t that right, Makina?
This is translated by Yume Neiji. Kindly read at yumeneijiworks.com
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