Chapter 4 The Second Game Begins
1
“So, you’re saying the organizers closely observed how I completely messed up the last game, and now they’ve got their eyes on me?”
《That’s the gist of it…》
“Well, I guess the organizers aren’t total idiots after all.”
《They’re certainly stepping up their game. So, what’s our next move?》
Aima rested his hand on his chin, lost in thought for a moment.
“Do we have a list of the planned participants?”
《Yes.》
A list was sent to his smartphone.
The list contained the names of the participants-to-be, along with brief profiles and their places of residence. Among them, Aima spotted Nanaka’s name, and a wave of sadness washed over him. Given her current situation, Nanaka desperately needed money and had willingly signed up for this death game. Aima wanted to stop her, but he knew he couldn’t force her to back out.
“…Alright, let’s go with this guy.”
《What do you mean?》
“We’re going to pay him a visit to snag his invitation.”
One hour later—
Aima and Yuri stood in front of an apartment building in a residential neighborhood.
It was a small, two-story structure with just six units—all single-room rentals. The kind of affordable place suited for a student living alone.
“Room 201 in this apartment, right?” Yuri said.
The participant’s name was Shun Honda, a twenty-year-old male university student living in the same city as Aima’s family.
It was Saturday afternoon. He seemed to be home.
“He seems to be asleep. Looks like the type who sleeps in until noon on days off,” Yuri said.
In Yuri’s hand, a crystal ball reflected the interior of the room. A rat familiar she had summoned was scouting the place, sharing its vision through the crystal ball. The occupant was fast asleep in bed. The room was moderately messy, with the remnants of a convenience store bento—likely eaten the night before—sitting on a round table on the floor.
“Let’s go,” Aima said.
Aima and Yuri climbed the outdoor stairs to Room 201. The door was locked, but a simple lock like this was no match for their magic. With a quick 《Unlock》 spell, they opened it effortlessly.
Once inside, the rat familiar had already located the invitation and was holding it in its mouth. Aima took the invitation and gave the little creature a pat, prompting it to nuzzle against him happily.
Aima then placed his hand on the forehead of the sleeping university student. A magic circle flared to life, and the 《Oblivion》 spell activated. With this, all memories of the death game were erased from the young man’s mind.
Preparations were now complete.
The next death game was scheduled for the following night—Sunday evening.
The meeting time was 6:00 p.m., and the rendezvous point was a quiet, sparsely trafficked road in a residential area. Being May, the sun hadn’t fully set yet, leaving the sky in that twilight haze between sunset and nightfall—a time that might feel deeply unsettling to most humans.
But…
“It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” Aima remarked.
To someone like Aima, a former demon, the scene felt almost comforting.
“Indeed,” Yuri replied, a faint smile playing on her lips as she saw him off. “A night truly befitting the ‘Undying King.’”
The title “Undying King” was one of Aima’s aliases from his days in another world. Humans had feared even uttering his true name, Jento, and often resorted to calling him by other titles instead.
“Take care, then.”
“Don’t worry. The ‘Undying King’ doesn’t die.”
“My apologies for suggesting otherwise,” Yuri said with a knowing chuckle, as if she’d anticipated his response. She giggled contentedly before vanishing.
At the appointed time, a black van pulled up alongside the road as expected.
Aima climbed into the back seat without arousing any suspicion.
From the staff’s perspective, Aima wasn’t Shiranami Aima—he appeared as the university student, Shun Honda, thanks to the power of his 《Illusion》 spell.
The van’s interior filled with sleeping gas, and Aima drifted into unconsciousness.
---
In a dimly lit room stood a figure cloaked in pitch-black robes. Their face was hidden behind a white mask, and the loose-fitting garments made it impossible to discern their gender.
The figure sat in a chair, gazing at a monitor.
This was the Game Master of the death game.
Though they carried themselves with an air of arrogance, there was a palpable tension this time. The previous game had ended in failure, souring the mood of the VIPs.
That said, the VIPs had managed to evade capture by the police or other authorities, avoiding the worst-case scenario. The fact that they could still hold another event meant both the Game Master and the VIPs were fortunate in a way. But the audience wasn’t the type to care about such minor strokes of luck.
This time, they needed to make up for the last failure. The Game Master was determined to thoroughly entertain the VIPs, encourage heavy betting, and ensure the event was a resounding success.
(Now, which game should I have the participants play…?)
They pulled up a list of games on the display, mulling over the options.
Soon, they decided it’d be best to see the participants in person before making a choice. Switching the feed, they brought up the waiting room on the screen.
Ten participants were gathered in a whimsically decorated Western-style room.
Most appeared to be in their twenties, with a few in their thirties or older, and a couple of teenagers.
Almost instinctively, the Game Master scanned the group to ensure Shiranami Aima wasn’t among them. They had explicitly ordered the gothic lolita dolls to blacklist him and bar him from the venue, so it should’ve been fine. Still, the trauma of him ruining the last game had left them paranoid and overly cautious.
Fortunately, Aima was nowhere to be seen.
Relieved, the Game Master returned to selecting a game.
The idea of running “Daruma-san ga Koronda” (a Japanese version of “Red Light, Green Light”) as a twisted form of revenge briefly crossed their mind, but they quickly dismissed it. While it could be entertaining, it was too basic. After the last failure, it wouldn’t satisfy the bloodthirsty VIPs.
The VIPs craved chaos—participants consumed by paranoia, descending into panic, dying gruesomely, or betraying one another. They wanted to place massive bets on unpredictable games and revel in the thrill.
A game that would satisfy their darkest desires…
The Game Master found the perfect one.
---
“Good morning.”
When Aima awoke on the floor of the waiting room, a familiar gyaru face popped into his field of vision.
“You were sleeping like a log! Are you the type who gets knocked out hard by drugs?”
“I’ve just been a bit sleep-deprived,” Aima replied to Nanaka’s question.
Thanks to his 《Illusion》 spell, Nanaka should see him as Shun Honda. She was chatting with him casually, but there was a slight distance in her tone compared to how she spoke with Aima. That made sense—she was talking to someone she’d just met, after all.
“I’m Nanaka Okishima. And you are?”
“Shun Honda.”
“Nice to meet ya, Honda-kun!”
Though Shun was a university student and appeared older than Nanaka, she spoke to him informally without a hint of hesitation.
A faint bzzzt came from the speaker, prompting Aima and Nanaka to pause their conversation. It was the sound of the speaker switching on.
《Looks like all the participants are here! Hi there, nice to meet you all—I’m your Game Master for this round~!》
The figure in black robes and a white mask appeared on the display, their voice flowing through the speaker, digitally altered to obscure whether they were male or female.
The Game Master went through the same routine explanation as in the previous game, and after the participants buzzed with excitement over the potential prize money, the orientation wrapped up. Aima and the others were then led out of the room by the staff.
They were brought to a dome-shaped chamber about the size of a school gymnasium. The floor mimicked cracked, dry earth, while the ceiling was painted with a cloudy sky. The overall impression was that of a bleak, stormy wasteland. The walls bore similar artwork, giving the illusion of a vast, open wilderness.
《If you can survive in this space for one hour, you clear the game! How you do it is up to you—just stay alive, and you’re good!》
Murmurs of “That sounds easy” rippled through the group.
“No way it’s that simple,” Nanaka said. Her tone was laid-back, but her expression was dead serious. As a veteran of death games, she knew better than to trust such an apparently straightforward setup.
Suddenly, a magic circle flared to life on the floor, and a gothic lolita staff doll materialized.
At the same moment, a low rumble echoed from the sky.
Then, in the next instant—
ZAP!
A bolt of blue lightning struck down from above, aimed straight at the gothic lolita doll.
The doll’s body was flung back by the impact, tumbling across the floor. It lay there, charred black, with faint crackles of electricity still coursing over its surface.
The room fell deathly silent.
《As you just saw, this room occasionally gets hit by lightning. The frequency? Totally random. The targets? Also random. If it hits you dead-on, well, most people would probably die—but if it just grazes you, you might be fine, I guess~!》
The Game Master’s voice carried a hint of amusement.
《The game’s called ‘Zeus’s Wrath.’ Try not to piss off the gods, okay~?》
Zeus—the god of this world, wielding mighty thunder as his weapon. Despite being from another world, the organizers had clearly done their homework on this one. It was likely a calculated move to hype up the spectacle.
That aside…
The participants were spiraling into panic. Most of them had only just realized this was a death game, so their reaction was understandable.
《Oh, by the way~ Every ten minutes, the field shrinks and gets smaller, so watch out! Your space to run will gradually disappear~!》
The Game Master’s words piled despair atop despair, and the participants trembled. Some looked on the verge of tears. About half of them already seemed to regret signing up.
《Oh, and I almost forgot to mention: if you’re the last one standing, that counts as a clear too!》
The atmosphere among the participants shifted slightly. A few faces turned thoughtful, likely calculating their odds of survival.
Aima nodded to himself, piecing it together.
The game’s basic rule was to survive for an hour, meaning, in theory, everyone could clear it. But enduring this relentless onslaught for a full hour would be brutal. The moment they heard the rules, most participants had panicked because survival felt impossible.
However, if being the last one alive also counted as a win, that changed everything. The victory condition shifted from enduring an hour to outlasting everyone else. If all the others died, you’d win.
《The prize money will be split among the survivors. If only one person makes it, they take the whole pot! Talk about a dream come true, right~?!》
If everyone cooperated, they could all survive and split the reward—maximizing the collective gain. But for any one individual, the biggest payout came if everyone else died. It was a classic dilemma.
Was the person next to you an ally or someone plotting to take you down? It was the kind of game that bred paranoia in an instant.
The participants were no longer just panicking. A dark, greedy hunger began to fill the field.
“The name of the whole spectacle is ‘The Nurturer of Hatred’… Pretty fitting, huh?” Aima muttered to himself.
Though his words sounded like admiration, anger flickered across his face.
People who would’ve otherwise lived peaceful lives—forced into a game designed to make them hate each other. Aima quietly seethed at the death game’s organizers.
2
《Alright, everyone—it’s betting time!》
As the Game Master announced this on the display, the VIPs erupted into a noisy frenzy, sizing up the ten participants.
Each participant had been assigned a number, and the VIPs were placing bets on who would live or die.
“Who should I bet on surviving…?”
“I’m definitely going with Number One. She looked terrified at first, but the moment she heard the ‘last one standing wins’ rule, her eyes changed. That type will claw their way to survival by stepping on others.”
The VIPs debated their bets based on how the participants acted before the game, getting more excited by the minute.
“I’m betting on Number Seven to survive. This game’s all about athletic ability, so a college-aged guy’s probably got an edge.”
Number Seven was Shun Honda, the university student.
“—Wait, hold on, is everyone betting on him to live? If he survives, I won’t make any profit at this rate!”
“Then I’ll take a gamble and bet on Number Seven dying.”
“Ooh, bold move!”
“Isn’t the thrill of a risky bet what makes this fun?”
The Game Master smirked inwardly. The betting time was heating up—a promising sign. If things kept going this way, the event would be a success. A wave of relief washed over them.
---
“Scary stuff, huh? What’s the right move here?” Nanaka said, her tone somewhere between a mumble to herself and a question aimed at Aima.
“If we can survive an hour, we’re good… but can we really dodge lightning…?”
She sounded anxious, but Aima figured the early stage of the game wouldn’t be too dangerous. If the lightning targeted players with pinpoint accuracy right from the start, they’d all be wiped out in minutes, ending the game instantly.
On the other hand, if the strikes were completely random and no one died, the audience would lose interest fast.
Most likely, the lightning would fall randomly at first, with the organizers tweaking it as the game progressed—maybe aiming at players occasionally or ramping up the frequency. That’s what Aima deduced.
He mulled it over.
Surviving on his own would be easy for him. Even if he took a direct hit, he could just regenerate. The real issue was keeping Nanaka and the others alive. That wasn’t too hard either—he could cast an 《Anti-Magic》 barrier across the ceiling to neutralize all the lightning, ensuring everyone survived the hour and cleared the game.
But just clearing the game felt… unsatisfying. Plus, if he nullified the lightning too obviously, the organizers might get suspicious and halt the game prematurely.
He’d come here to gather intel, so he wanted to clear the game while buying time to investigate the death game further.
That meant…
“I’ve got a plan,” he said.
“Oh! What’s your strategy, Honda-kun?” Nanaka asked, her curiosity piqued.
“For now, once the lightning starts, pay close attention to where it strikes and memorize the spots. As the game goes on, subtly pass that info to the other players too.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“You’ll figure it out as the game progresses. I can’t say more—the Game Master and VIPs are monitoring everything we say and do. Just trust me and follow my lead, and you shouldn’t die.”
“…”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Well, duh~ You could be trying to set me up for all I know.”
Since he hadn’t revealed he was Aima, her skepticism was only natural.
“Fair enough. Just keep it in mind,”
—No problem. That’s within expectations. Even if she doesn’t trust me now, as long as she remembers the plan, that’s enough.
Aima gave a small nod to himself.
Once he made his move, the situation would naturally force everyone to follow his strategy, whether they wanted to or not.
The Game Master sat in front of the screens, monitoring both the game arena and the VIP room.
Right after the game began, the participants spread out across the field, keeping their distance from one another. It was a natural move—staying apart minimized the risk of getting caught in someone else’s lightning strike while giving them space to dodge if targeted.
“Oh, smart, smart,” one VIP remarked.
“No one’s trying to sabotage anyone else yet,” another observed.
The VIPs chatted excitedly as they watched.
To actively kill another participant without ranged weapons, you’d need to get close. So far, none of the players showed any sign of doing that.
“Well, it’s usually like this at the start,” a VIP explained knowingly. “Being near someone limits your escape routes, so a lot of them are scared of that.”
Soon, a low rumble reverberated from the ceiling, signaling that lightning was imminent. Tension rippled through the participants.
And then, lightning began crashing down across the field one after another.
“Kyaaah!!”
“Uwaaah!!”
The participants scattered in a frenzy.
“Alright! Showtime!!”
The VIPs cheered and erupted into excited chaos.
The lightning struck completely random spots, making it impossible to predict. The participants fled in every direction, but dodging it seemed utterly hopeless.
And now, a bolt of lightning struck one of them—Shun Honda.
With a deafening crash, his body exploded.
His head, torso, arms, and legs flew apart in a spray of blood.
The other participants screamed. Seeing their own potential fate in Honda’s demise, they descended into panic.
In the VIP room, a roar of cheers erupted.
“What insane power!! Fantastic!!”
“Keep dying like that, one after another!!”
The VIPs were glued to the monitors.
“The real game starts once someone dies,” one VIP said, swirling expensive liquor in their mouth.
“At the beginning, participants try to dodge the lightning properly and aim to clear the game like it’s a normal challenge. They’re regular people, after all—taking the rules at face value and focusing on survival. But once they see someone die right in front of them, it clicks. ‘That’ll be me next.’ And when they start panicking… that’s when they get proactive!”
Back in the arena, one participant—a man in his late twenties—crept up behind a high school girl, Nanaka Okishima.
At the same moment, the sky rumbled ominously above Nanaka’s head.
A flash lit up the air, and in that instant—
“Take this!”
The man shoved Nanaka from behind.
“Eek!”
She stumbled, losing her balance and unable to dodge the incoming lightning.
“N-No!!”
Nanaka squeezed her eyes shut.
The VIPs shouted, expecting another death.
With a boom, the lightning streaked toward the ground.
But where it struck, there was no blood-soaked corpse.
“H-Huh…?”
Nanaka sat on the ground, dazed, letting out a stunned murmur.
“I’m… okay…?”
Someone’s left hand was gripping her right hand.
That hand had pulled her out of harm’s way, saving her life.
“Th-Thank y—Eek!”
Mid-thanks, Nanaka gasped and yanked her hand back.
With a thud, the hand dropped to the ground.
The hand that had grabbed her was just a forearm, severed at the elbow. It was the left arm of Honda, the one who’d exploded moments ago.
Somehow, that lone arm had moved on its own to save Nanaka.
“What the hell is that arm?!”
“Didn’t Number Seven just die?!”
“Is someone controlling it with magic?!”
“Damn it, I was looking forward to watching that gyaru blow up!!”
A storm of boos erupted from the VIPs.
The Game Master was speechless, too stunned to react.
And it wasn’t just the left arm moving.
The left leg, right leg, and right arm were all twitching and shifting too. The torso and head remained still on the ground, but the head’s eyes snapped open, glaring up at the sky with a fierce, determined look.
The pool of blood began to writhe.
With a slithering sound, the blood was sucked back toward the torso, dragging the head, legs, and arms along with it. Then, they reattached.
“He regenerated?!”
“What is that guy…!?”
The VIPs, who normally reveled in gruesome sights, grimaced in disgust at the sheer grotesqueness of it all.
The Game Master didn’t have the luxury of feeling queasy.
(Th-That guy… Could it be… Shiranami Aima?!)
The appearance was clearly different. But that could easily be altered with magic. The Game Master couldn’t imagine anyone else possessing such freakish regenerative abilities.
No, that wasn’t the point right now. The real issue was how to keep the game going. If this continued, the game would fall apart again.
(B-But what do I do? If someone who can’t die even when killed is in a death game, it’s not a death game anymore!!)
Panic surged, and no solutions came to mind.
“Hey, Game Master! What are you spacing out for?! Ignore Number Seven! Target the other participants!!”
The VIPs barked orders through the display, their frustration palpable.
(That’s right. This game doesn’t hinge on just one person surviving—it’s not a big deal. Alright, we’ll just ignore that immortal freak.)
The Game Master tapped away at the terminal, adjusting the lightning’s targeting. They switched it from random mode to precision mode, setting it to strike participants at random—except for Shun Honda, who was excluded.
Settings complete.
The sky rumbled with a deep growl, flickering with electric sparks.
Below, a teenage girl had a man in his mid-thirties locked in a chokehold.
“Nice! She’s going for a suicide play to take one out with her!!”
“That’s the spirit—actively cutting down the competition! She knows how to put on a show!!”
The VIPs showered her with praise.
The man struggled, but the girl’s strength was uncanny for a woman—almost inhuman. He couldn’t break free. Maybe desperation had pushed her to 120% of her usual power.
But the man wasn’t going down without a fight. He curled his body and crouched low.
“Oh, smart move!”
“What’s he doing?”
The VIPs were split—half thrilled, half confused.
“Don’t you get it? He’s realized he can’t escape before the lightning hits, so he’s using her as a shield.”
As the VIP explained, the girl noticed his intent and started thrashing wildly. But her feet were already off the ground—she couldn’t escape.
“Heh heh, look at her panic!”
“She’s done for!”
“But with that lightning’s power, will a little girl like her even work as a shield?”
“Better to take someone down with you than die alone—satisfying, right?”
Perfect, the Game Master thought. The excitement was picking up again.
As the VIPs eagerly awaited a gruesome end, the sky above the pair flashed brighter than ever.
Lightning plummeted straight down.
The bolt exploded.
“““Oooohhh!!”””
A wave of cheers erupted.
“Kyaaaaa!!”
“Uwaaaaah!!”
The man and girl’s screams overlapped with the uproar.
The Game Master frowned, sensing something off. Those screams were too clear, too coherent.
Could someone struck dead by lightning really scream like that…?
The answer came as the smoke cleared.
Both the man and the girl were alive. The lightning had missed.
“What the hell?!”
A chorus of boos erupted from the VIPs.
“Lucky bastards! Hey, Game Master! Hurry up and fire the next bolt!”
“They got lucky once—they don’t need to survive again! Take them both out!!”
《Y-Yes!!》
The Game Master scrambled to operate the terminal, triggering another strike.
This time, they manually locked onto the pair.
With a thunderous BOOM!!, the lightning crashed down.
But it veered off, striking the same spot as before—right beside them.
《…!?》
The Game Master saw it—the lightning had bent midair, as if redirected.
“Why?! Why won’t it hit—Arghhh!!!”
One of the VIPs let out a shriek.
“W-What’s wrong?!”
“M-My body… it’s… numb…”
“Numb? What do you—Gaaahhh!!”
One by one, the VIPs started screaming.
It seemed part of the lightning that struck the field was somehow linking back to the VIPs, zapping them with damage. Panicking, the Game Master frantically worked the terminal, ordering the gothic lolita dolls to flood the VIP room with magic-disrupting energy. That should at least mitigate the harm.
(Wh-What’s this? They’re saying it’s not a safe spectator spot anymore…? It’s not fatal, so this should block it, I think…)
The VIPs’ screams subsided, suggesting the lightning’s effects were being contained.
The Game Master’s heart shrank with dread—they couldn’t afford to piss off the VIPs any further.
They had to assess the situation and come up with a countermeasure… With that in mind, the Game Master operated the terminal while scanning the entire field.
Not a single participant had died. They were running around in a frantic mess, clearly in danger, but somehow narrowly avoiding every strike.
Something was wrong. The targeting was supposed to be random only until a participant was locked on—then it should’ve been a guaranteed kill. So why…?
“Hey, aren’t the lightning strikes hitting the same spots every time?”
One of the participants spoke up.
The scorched ground showed about twenty distinct marks. Every bolt had landed in these fixed locations, and it had been several minutes already.
The participants stepped away from the scorched patches and stopped moving.
(Wh-What’s going on!?)
The Game Master assumed someone had used magic, but they couldn’t figure out what kind. The word “lightning rod” flashed through their mind—a device to redirect lightning. But no such spell was listed among the magic provided by the organizers.
Even so, regardless of what magic it was, the fact remained that the lightning had been rendered completely ineffective.
Their eyes met Honda’s on the screen.
Honda—or whoever he really was—seemed to know exactly where the surveillance cameras were. He stood still, staring directly at them.
The Game Master was certain.
He’s coming here…!
This was bad—they had to escape, fast…!
The event was a failure. Another flop was terrifying, but getting caught by that immortal freak was even worse.
“Who the hell is that guy!? How could he—!”
The Game Master muttered under their breath, the microphone switched off.
“Who am I…? Just a high school boy. Though in my previous world, they called me the Demon King.”
“!?”
A voice came from behind, and the Game Master leapt from their chair, spinning around.
Shun Honda stood there.
But wait—Shun Honda was supposed to be a university student, not a high schooler.
That confusion was quickly resolved.
Honda’s form flickered and faded, gradually reshaping into Shiranami Aima.
Aima had dispelled the 《Illusion》 spell he’d been maintaining.
“S-So it really was you,” the Game Master stammered.
The worst-case scenario had come true. They’d blacklisted him, and yet he’d still slipped in…
“But wait—you were just in the arena a second ago! How did you get here!?”
Aima took a step closer.
“I had your equipment hacked. What you were watching was footage from ten minutes ago. This game doesn’t change visually much, so I looped a ten-minute recording and remotely set it to keep playing old footage.”
“H-Hacked!? How!? We confiscated every terminal connected to the network…”
“I just used magic.”
“What!? You controlled machines with magic!? Th-That’s possible…!?”
“You can’t do it? Hmm. You must not have been in this world long, then…”
“It’s not about how long we’ve been here…!”
“Since reincarnating, I’ve done a lot of research on magic. Figuring out how to apply it to this world’s scientific inventions was pretty entertaining. You haven’t tried that?”
The Game Master didn’t understand. Some might’ve had the idea, but thinking it and pulling it off were worlds apart. Magic was traditionally about manipulating natural phenomena with mana—applying it to machines, let alone interfering with systems at this level, was supposed to be nearly impossible, according to the organizers.
The people the Game Master worked with daily weren’t even on the same plane as this guy…!
The Demon King Jento—now known as Shiranami Aima.
They’d made an enemy of something truly monstrous.
Their mind went blank.
It was over. What could they do? Would blowing themselves up here earn forgiveness? No—even that wouldn’t beat him. There was no winning against this guy—
“You don’t have to fight anymore. Leave it all to me. We’re friends, aren’t we, Nanaka?”
Aima took another step closer, his voice gentle.
---
3
“—!? W-Why…?”
The Game Master—Nanaka Okishima—stared in shock.
Aima had known. He’d figured out the Game Master was Nanaka. When? At what point? She hadn’t done anything to give herself away… had she!?
“The first hint I got was… during the last game. When I met you, I sensed a flow of mana.”
That “nostalgia” he’d felt back then—it came from touching mana, and the source had been the Nanaka standing before him now.
“It’s not unusual to sense mana from a normal human. But your movements were just slightly off for a human—stiff, unnatural. I realized right away you were a magical puppet made to look exactly like my classmate.”
“What!? You figured it out that early!?”
“You’d copied Nanaka’s mannerisms almost perfectly—any normal person would’ve been convinced you were her without a second thought. But I’ve spent years steeped in magic and artifacts. I’m not so easily fooled.”
Aima explained calmly.
“Before we met in that game, the Nanaka I saw in class was undeniably human. And the you I met the next day was human too. Plus, you said you needed money and were joining the death game. That got me thinking—maybe you were the Game Master for the cash. All the staff were gothic lolita dolls—magical puppets, after all. I considered the possibility you might’ve joined as a VIP to win bets, but when I caught the VIPs from the last game, you weren’t among them. There was no sign you’d escaped alone either.”
Nanaka listened intently, forgetting even to nod.
“Even if a magical puppet looks identical, mimicking someone’s tone and habits perfectly is tough. But if the real person was controlling it, that’d make it much easier. So I guessed you, the real Nanaka, were the Game Master. It was all circumstantial, though—no hard proof. In the end, I just bluffed to see your reaction.”
A clear, methodical deduction backed by a sharp mind.
Nanaka had no chance of outsmartting him.
Resigned, she pulled off her hood and mask.
“Ugh, just my luck. You’re way too strong—it’s unfair. How am I supposed to win against you?”
“You haven’t lost yet. I’m not your enemy.”
“But…”
The event was already a failure. Even if Aima didn’t do anything to her, the organizers wouldn’t let it slide. And even if they did, she had no way to pay off her debts—she’d hit rock bottom no matter what. Every path was a dead end.
“Nanaka, let me confirm one thing. Has anyone died in a death game you’ve run?”
She shook her head.
In truth, the last game had been her first time as Game Master. Thanks to Aima, no one had died in either that one or this one.
“Good. Then there’s still time. You don’t have to give up. I told you, didn’t I? I’ll make sure you win.”
“But how…?”
“Let’s define your win condition, Nanaka. You’d ‘win’ if your debts were paid off and you were free from the death game ‘Hate Breeder’ organizers, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Then it’s fine. Leave it to me. For now, end this game with everyone winning. I’ll head back to the arena.”
“—Got it.”
If Aima was returning to the arena, maybe she could play it off as everyone simply clearing the game and get through this mess.
Aima, how are you going to make me win?
---
4
“Hey, hey, hey, what the hell was that game!?”
“We didn’t come here to watch a kiddie playtime!!”
The moment the Game Master stepped into the VIP room, several VIPs stormed toward her.
As expected, their dissatisfaction with an “everyone wins” outcome was immense.
The betting had been about picking survivors, so some had made a profit. But money wasn’t their priority. They craved the experience—the chaos and screams of desperate people fighting for their lives over cash.
They had no interest in watching participants just stand around until the game ended.
“We could dig into your identity and make you suffer worse than death,” one of them threatened.
A chill ran down Nanaka’s spine. The sheer menace of these powerful figures was terrifying—people accustomed to intimidating others.
“Please, everyone, calm down.”
A gentle voice sounded from the back of the room.
All eyes turned toward it.
At some point, a figure in black robes had appeared in the corner. Wearing a mask and cloaked in a gender-neutral outfit nearly identical to Nanaka’s, the only difference was the mask’s color—hers was white, while this newcomer’s was red.
While Nanaka was merely a Game Master, this person was the owner of the event… a member of the organizing group.
“We deeply apologize for this unfortunate mishap.”
The red-masked figure bowed low.
“As a token of our apology, we’ve prepared a modest banquet.”
With a raise of their right hand, Nanaka’s body floated lightly into the air.
A moment later, excruciating pain shot through both her legs.
“Nooo!”
Writhing in pain, Nanaka was flung into the center of the room. She tumbled helplessly onto the floor, unable to muster strength in her legs. Her tendons had been severed by magic—she couldn’t stand.
When she tried to scream, her throat tightened, silencing her. That must’ve been magic too.
“Here we have, as you all know, this round’s Game Master,” the red-masked figure announced. “An incompetent Game Master must be purged, but we’ll let you, our esteemed guests, decide the method through a vote.”
With a snap of their fingers, a monitor displayed a list of execution methods.
Burning at the stake, iron maiden, hanging, guillotine…
“Nice!”
“Which one should we pick…?”
The VIPs licked their lips, eagerly deliberating over the options.
“And by the way, about this Game Master…” The red-masked figure stepped up to Nanaka and removed her mask and hood.
Her beautiful hair and delicately pretty face were revealed.
“““Ooooohhh!!”””
Cheers erupted.
“She’s young and cute!”
“I’m a sucker for a pretty girl’s screams!”
“Almost a shame to kill her, huh?”
The VIPs ogled Nanaka with feverish excitement.
The organizers turned everything into entertainment—an effortless cruelty that came as naturally as breathing. All Nanaka could do was tremble, crawling helplessly on the floor.
Soon, the voting results came in.
“After a fair and thorough vote, the chosen method of purging is ‘burning at the stake.’ We’ll roast her slowly to maximize her suffering.”
A cross descended from the ceiling.
Magic tendrils bound Nanaka’s arms and legs, hoisting her up to the cross and pinning her in place.
—I don’t want this. I don’t want to die. Pain is even worse.
Even as those thoughts swirled, a part of her wondered if this was her own fault.
Sure, her parents had saddled her with an unpayable debt, but trying to make money by sacrificing others… thinking only of saving herself… that was wrong.
She had to atone for her sins.
When Aima told her to end the game with everyone winning, he must’ve meant it as a way to resolve things without getting her hands dirty. There was still time to turn back. She could end it without killing anyone—just let herself die.
“Flames of the underworld… gather before me…”
The red-masked figure began chanting a spell. It was a long incantation—one whose meaning Nanaka, a modern human unfamiliar with magic, couldn’t grasp.
In typical spellcasting, the length of the chant correlated with the magic’s power. The red-masked figure was conjuring a high-temperature flame to inflict intense agony on Nanaka—but she had no way of knowing that.
As the chant continued, flames materialized in the air, wriggling like living snakes. They slithered slowly across Nanaka’s body.
Her face twisted in terror.
The pain hadn’t started yet, but she could feel the heat radiating from the fiery serpents. Imagining the torment they’d bring once they touched her sent shivers through her body.
No, no…
Eventually, the snakes enveloped her entirely, even her face. Her vision filled with red flames.
“And now, the show begins.”
The snakes tightened around her all at once.
“Noooooooo!!”
---
“Nanaka!”
“Noooo!”
“Calm down, Nanaka!”
“No… huh?”
When she came to, there were no fiery snakes around her, no red-masked figure, no VIPs.
Just Aima.
She was on a bench in some park.
Aima was holding her close. Her face flushed hot with embarrassment.
“W-What? Huh? What’s going on…? I…”
“You were about to be crucified and burned alive, right?”
“Y-Yeah…”
“I swapped you with a magical puppet at the last second. When we met in the Game Master room earlier, I inscribed a 《Substitution》 spell on you.”
“Substi… what?”
“To put it simply, I cast a spell that swaps you with a magical puppet if your life’s in danger. I rigged the puppet so anyone who sees it will mistake it for a real human. That’s why the organizers and VIPs should think you’re dead.”
As he spoke, Aima gently set Nanaka down beside him on the bench.
“So, Nanaka, you’ll need to live as a ‘dead person’ for a while. It’d be a hassle if the organizers found out you’re still alive. I’ll hide you, so stay out of sight. Sorry, but that means no school for now. It won’t be forever, though—once this mess is sorted, I’ll make sure you can go back to your normal life.”
“Uh, okay, got it.”
Nanaka nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure she grasped everything (especially the magic part). Still, she understood that since she was supposed to be dead, she had to stay hidden.
She decided to trust Aima. After all, just as he’d said, ending the game with everyone winning had freed her from the death game.
Realizing she was off the hook from running death games, a major concern hit her.
“Oh! But what about my debt…? If I’m ‘dead,’ Mom and Dad can’t pay it off either…”
The whole reason she’d become a Game Master was to clear that debt. Surviving was great, but if she couldn’t settle the debt, she’d be back to square one.
“No need to worry. I’m planning to visit your parents soon and give them some instructions. I’ve been wanting to meet them in person anyway.”
Aima seemed to have that covered too. Nanaka quietly marveled at how dependable he was.
“But it’s late today, so let’s head to the hideout.”
---
5
Near the school, in a rental apartment—Obuchi Yuri lived alone. It was just a five-minute walk to school, and since she wasn’t in any clubs, she had plenty of free time. She used it efficiently, finishing her prep, review, and homework right away to ensure she always had spare moments.
(All my time should be devoted to Jento-sama!)
That evening, she’d already bathed, slipped into pajamas, and was ready to sleep at a moment’s notice—while also staying prepared for any sudden summons.
Then, Obuchi Yuri sensed a ripple of mana.
(Jento-sama’s here!)
With a snap of her fingers, her tousled hair was instantly combed, her pajamas morphed into casual clothes (perfectly balanced—not too fancy, not too sloppy, ideal for a date), and natural makeup appeared on her face. Yuri had prepared fifty different magical patterns for her appearance, ensuring she’d never look improper whenever Aima showed up, no matter the time.
She checked herself in the full-length mirror, then stood by the intercom.
Right on cue, the ding-dong of the intercom announced a visitor.
The display showed Aima’s face, as expected.
《Yuri, it’s me. Sorry for the late hour.》
“No, no, please don’t worry about it! Jento-sama is welcome anytime! I’ll open the door now, so just a moment.”
She hurried to the entrance with light steps, unlocked it, and swung the door open. There stood Aima.
“Sorry about this. I need you to let someone stay over.”
“—!! Jento-sama, y-you’re f-f-finally staying at my place!!”
Yuri had been waiting for this day with bated breath.
When they’d enrolled in the same school, she’d rented a place super close to campus. Sure, Aima’s family home was within walking distance too, but hers was closer. She’d told him he could crash here if it got late—or even commute from her place every day, where she’d serve him wholeheartedly with cooking, cleaning, and everything else. But Aima had always brushed it off.
“I’m living as a human in this world, so I can’t trouble you like that,” he’d insisted.
That considerate side of him was so charming~~! she’d thought, though deep down she’d been disappointed.
But now.
Finally.
A sleepover!!
“For Jento-sama, a death game must be easier than lifting a pinky, but maybe the unfamiliar task wore you out. Don’t worry—this Lily will do everything to help you unwind…!”
She leaned forward, rattling off her enthusiasm, when—
“Huh? No, it’s not me who needs to stay. It’s her.”
Aima stepped aside.
“Hi, Yuri-chan~♪”
Peeking out from behind him was a flashy-looking gyaru—Okishima Nanaka.
Yuri’s disappointment was so obvious, anyone could’ve seen it.
“Jento-sama. When you say ‘stay over,’ do you mean this… this bitchy gyaru?”
A slip-up. Hidden in the shadow of Aima’s overwhelming mana, Yuri hadn’t even noticed her presence. No—more likely, Aima had cast a barrier around Nanaka to keep her undetectable. When Aima got serious about hiding something, even Yuri couldn’t pierce through it easily.
“Hey, don’t call her a bitch—that’s rude,” Aima chided.
“Yeah, exactly! I might look a little flashy, but I’m totally pure, okay?” Nanaka chimed in.
Both Aima and Nanaka scolded her.
“Whether she’s actually a bitch or not isn’t the point! This is a house meant for Jento-sama to stay in—not a place for some shady person tagging along with him!”
“S-Sorry…” Aima said, genuinely apologetic.
“But she’s supposed to be dead. You know that, right?”
“Well… yeah, that was the plan,” Yuri admitted.
She’d been briefed on how they’d handle Nanaka’s situation.
“But weren’t we supposed to stash the bitchy gyaru somewhere else!? I don’t know where, but still!”
“Yeah, I was going to hide her in my room.”
“!?!?!?!? No way, absolutely not!! O-Okay, fine, she can use my place.”
The idea of Aima and this bitch sharing a room was unthinkable—unacceptable. If it meant avoiding that risk, Yuri reluctantly nodded.
“Just come in for now.”
At Yuri’s prompting, Aima and Nanaka stepped inside.
They passed through the entryway and corridor, arriving at the living room.
“This is the living room. There’s a sofa, so Okishima-san, you can sleep there.”
“Gotcha!”
Nanaka plopped onto the sofa without complaint.
But Aima looked skeptical.
“Yuri, don’t you have another room with a proper bed? I think you mentioned preparing one for me when you tried to get me to stay over before…”
He said this while staring at a particular door.
“No way! That room’s reserved for Jento-sama!”
Yuri rushed to block the door, arms outstretched.
“A room just for me…?” Aima asked.
“Yes! I’ve made sure everything’s ready so Jento-sama can stay over anytime.”
“Thanks for that… but isn’t it a bit harsh to make her sleep on the sofa? Couldn’t you let her use it?”
“Then Okishima-san can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“Oh, no, that’s too much~” Nanaka protested.
“It’s fine. Savor Jento-sama’s kindness in not wanting a guest to sleep on a hard surface,” Yuri snapped, her face dead serious.
“When she gets like this, Yuri won’t budge an inch… Just go along with it,” Aima said to Nanaka with a wry smile.
“Umm, okay. Thanks,” Nanaka replied.
“Listen up. I’m only letting you stay because it’s Jento-sama’s orders. Personally, I couldn’t care less what happens to a bitch like you, but I’m helping because Jento-sama would be upset otherwise…”
“I get it, I get it. Uh…” Nanaka trailed off.
“The bathroom’s over there. I’ll fill the tub with hot water, so wait a sec.”
“Huh? No, you don’t have to.”
“I’m lending you my bed, so I’m going all out with the hospitality. I don’t do things halfway.”
Without waiting for Nanaka’s response, Yuri dashed off toward the bathroom.
“Oh… she’s gone. I always thought Yuri-chan was kinda hard to approach, but she’s actually really nice, huh?” Nanaka said.
“She’s definitely the type who gets misunderstood. But she’s observant and caring,” Aima replied.
“Yeah, totally~ I feel kinda bad for making her go out of her way like this.”
“Just let her take care of you for now. If Yuri ever needs help, I’d appreciate it if you’d step in.”
“You sound like a big brother or something,” Nanaka said, giggling.
She couldn’t help it—Aima’s warm gaze toward Yuri went beyond friendship, almost like family.
“Well, we’ve known each other a long time. She’s practically family to me by now. Not sure who’s the older sibling, though.”
“Huh? You’re not the big brother? Yuri-chan’s all polite and formal with you.”
“In the other world, I was the Demon King, and she was my subordinate.”
“Domus Patria… Oh, right, you’ve known each other since back there.”
On the way to Yuri’s place, Aima had explained to Nanaka that both he and Yuri were reincarnators from another world. Having already encountered the death game organizers and their magic, Nanaka didn’t find the idea of reincarnation all that strange and accepted it pretty easily.
“Yeah. But in this world, I see us as equals. I’ve told her she doesn’t need to use honorifics, but she just can’t shake the habit…”
“She’s such a serious girl, huh~”
And so, Nanaka ended up staying at Yuri’s place.
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