Chapter 35: The Player of the Game Must Be You Yourself (Patreon)

Beatrice didn't seem to mind Natsuki Subaru's pet name for her at all — if anything, she'd grown used to it by now. She simply nodded and watched as the chessboard was set on the tea table in front of her.

Natsuki Subaru channeled his void psionic power, shaping a crystalline piece of chalk and a single die.

"That's the power you used before."

Curiosity flared in Beatrice at once. She reached out a small hand to sense the flow of mana in the air, and what she felt left her a little surprised.

"It's a little like Yin magic, but different somehow... So this really is magic from another world?"

"It's supposed to be called psionics. Well, I guess it does have something to do with magic, in a way. Either way, it's not exactly something science would claim."

Subaru shrugged, neither confirming nor denying it, and used the crystal chalk to draw a faintly glowing green path across the board, setting the black queen piece at its starting point.

"Here's the rule: whatever number the die shows, Betty moves that many squares. But if she happens to land on a white square, well — bad luck. Back to the start."

"Just as vicious as before."

Beatrice shot back without mercy.

"Are you deliberately trying to torment Betty?"

Sharp as her words were, she still took the die and, with a flick of her small hand, tossed it onto the board.

It tumbled a few times before settling on six.

"Nice roll. Six steps."

Beatrice moved the piece six squares according to the roll, landing it on the black square at a7 — already nearly halfway along the path.

Only then did she grasp just how rigged the rule truly was.

A chessboard's squares alternate black and white, which meant any odd number rolled would send her straight back to the start. Every step forward carried a fifty percent chance of undoing all her progress.

To make it through all thirteen squares of the path, there was no telling how many failures and disappointments it would take.

"Betty knew it — another one of these ridiculous games!"

Beatrice shot Subaru an irritated glance.

"Ahem..." Subaru rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever the case, I didn't cheat this time, did I?"

"Under normal circumstances, my advice would be to flip the board over."

"That's cheating!"

"But nothing in the rules says you can't flip the board, does it?"

Subaru gave a sly grin and tapped two fingers lightly on the board.

"This time I only told you what you're supposed to do — I never said what you can't do. Even if you just moved the piece straight to the finish, or wiped out the path I drew, that'd still count as a win."

"It's like when your mother told you to wait for that person to come. You can stay here and wait, or you can go out and look for them yourself. What matters is whether you're willing to take that first step."

The shameless logic of it clearly left Beatrice stunned. She stared at the black piece in the middle of the board, lost in thought.

"What if Mother said Betty could only stay here until that person appears?"

This time, she lied.

Echidna's final request of her had only ever been "wait for that person to come" — with the sole added condition being "at the very least, stay alive and well."

"Then ask yourself a question first."

Subaru crouched down to meet her eyes.

"Are you willing to keep waiting?"

Beatrice's lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

"Are you willing to be trapped here for the rest of your life?" Subaru asked again.

Beatrice clenched the hem of her dress.

"Betty..."

She meant to say that of course she was willing.

That was what she had always told herself.

But this time, the answer caught in her throat, and no matter how she tried, it wouldn't come out.

Four hundred years — she had already endured too much loneliness in that span.

She had always told herself it was because she was waiting.

But what if that person never came?

What if the so-called "that person" was nothing but a name that would never appear?

Would she have to stay here forever, then?

Waiting until she forgot even who she was?

"Betty can't leave this place."

she murmured.

"Mother said Betty has to wait for that person."

"Then let's change that sentence."

"Change... it?"

"That's right."

Subaru pointed at the starting square on the board.

"You can set yourself a new rule."

"The old rule was: I will wait for that person forever."

"Now it can become: I can wait for him here, but I can also go out and look for him."

"Would that break the promise?" Beatrice looked up at him.

"I don't know."

Subaru answered earnestly.

"But if a promise requires you to give up yourself, then it's at least worth reconsidering."

"Easy for you to say."

She lowered her head, her voice carrying both irritation and a faint, barely noticeable trace of hurt.

"Betty waited four hundred years. What gives you the right to change Betty's mind with just a few sentences?"

"What gives me the right?"

Subaru scratched his head.

"How about — because I've got some nerve?"

Beatrice glared at him.

"Answer seriously."

"Fine."

Subaru let his smile fade.

"Because I've been told before, too, what kind of person I'm supposed to become."

He pulled back his sleeve and pressed a hand against the golden armband on his left arm.

"Someone told me a certain power would devour me. Someone told me a certain path could only lead to ruin. But I'm still standing here."

"I won't claim I've already won."

"But at least, whoever decided my future for me hasn't succeeded yet."

Subaru looked at Beatrice. His tone wasn't heated, but it was unmistakably firm.

"Because I refuse to accept a fate like that."

"You can say 'no' to your own fate too. Or, of course, you can keep things as they are and do nothing at all."

"But what matters is that the choice should be yours to make."

Beatrice lowered her head, staring at the tips of her own shoes, her hands slowly curling into fists.

After a long while, she finally spoke, her voice almost too quiet to hear.

"If Betty chose to leave the Forbidden Library..."

"Mm."

"If Betty chose to stop waiting for that person..."

"I never said you had to do it right away."

"But... Betty wants to try."

Subaru blinked, caught slightly off guard.

Beatrice raised her face, her eyes rimmed with red, though she forced herself into a look of indifference.

"Betty... is only trying it, that's all! She's been in the Forbidden Library too long. Going out for a bit of sun now and then shouldn't count as breaking the promise, right?"

"Of course it doesn't."

"And it's not like Betty decided this because of anything you said."

"Sure, sure. Lady Beatrice just happened to figure it out on her own, all of a sudden."

"What's with that half-hearted attitude? It's infuriating. You really are annoying."

As she spoke, she reached out and picked up the black queen piece from the board.

It spun once between her fingertips.

Then Beatrice lifted it from its starting square and set it down outside the board entirely.

There was no path there. No squares.

Nothing at all.

Subaru watched her do it, the corner of his mouth slowly lifting.

"There's no rule for that move."

"Then we'll add one, starting now."

Beatrice lifted her chin, and for the first time, a clear light flickered in her blue eyes.

"This is Betty's board."

"Betty can go wherever Betty wants."

She paused, her voice still childlike, but far steadier than before.

"Before that person appears, Betty is going to see the world outside first."

"What if that person never comes?"

"Then..."

Beatrice tightened her grip on the piece.

"Then Betty will decide for herself what to wait for next."

Subaru said nothing more.

He simply raised a hand and gave her head a gentle pat.

Beatrice's cheeks puffed out at once.

"Don't touch Betty's head without asking."

"Sorry. Force of habit."

"Not allowed next time."

"Then I'll try something else."

Subaru pulled his hand back and held out a fist toward her.

"Fist bump. To celebrate your first step off fate's chessboard."

"Childish."

Beatrice scoffed, but her gaze lingered on his fist.

A few seconds later, she still held out her own small fist and let it bump lightly against his.

"Thump."

The sound was faint.

Yet it was as if something that had lain silent for four hundred years cracked open, just a little, in that instant.