I Run the Protagonist’s Favorite Café in a Hopelessly Depressing Game World - V1 Chapter 12

Evening Falls on the Capital

It was dusk.

The royal capital was heading into night.

In the slanting sunlight, people chatted and laughed as they headed home.

An ordinary, happy scene.

That everyday life was suddenly shattered.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!?”

A man lets out a scream.

When I look, his right arm is gone from the shoulder down.

Exposed white bone and raw chunks of flesh scatter everywhere.

Blood spurts out and stains the street.

“The wheel turns in seven days, and only reverses on the Sabbath. The sands of Nazareth sink into the Ganges, and the pilgrim does not cross the same water twice. The holy oil drips upside down, and the blessing crawls across the floor. The finger that touches the forehead belongs to no one. Lord, Lord, the voice that calls is already the answer. The hinge of salvation. Bone remembers prayer. Flesh practices forgetting. Whichever you choose, you will have been chosen. Repent.”

A string of meaningless words.

Actions meant only to drive humans into madness.

It was a monster.

Humanity’s enemy—the monsters that should have been trapped inside the dungeon—were right here in the royal capital.

“The prophecy has already been fulfilled, yet it is still unwritten. The scriptures are written in the future tense and read in the past tense. The ark of the covenant. The savior does not come, and the bodhisattva does not leave. Not leaving is coming, and not coming is salvation. Pray. The number of prayers is the number of judgments. A camel passes through the eye of a needle.”

It sits on the edge of a collapsed fountain in the middle of the stone-paved square. At first glance, it looks like a statue. It resembles a saint from some religion, placed there for prayer. But the details are all wrong and mismatched.

It doesn’t have just one head.

Like the Yamata no Orochi, multiple heads grow from the part where a human neck should be.

The front has a face with a gentle smile, and a closed third eye on its forehead.

But from the shadow of its neck, a sideways face peeks out halfway buried, and only its mouth moves slightly on its own.

Its lips keep the shape of prayer but never speak any meaningful words.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!?”

“Mom mom mom mom!”

“Why is there a monster in the capital?! What are the witches doing!?”

“They live off our taxes and they’re useless!”

Just existing brings harm.

The people infected by its magic fall into a frenzy.

Everyday life turns into hell in an instant.

The world sealed off by the dungeon. For humans who aren’t witches, monsters were something they only saw in textbooks. Even if they were enemies spreading outside the barrier—outside the world—if you’ve never seen one since the day you were born, they’re nothing more than imaginary creatures.

“Hurry up and kill the monster, witch!?”

In the Astradia United Kingdom, huge amounts of tax money are poured in to deal with these imaginary creatures. It goes toward supporting witches who can no longer live normal lives because of the aftereffects of magic, and toward running the academy that trains witches in the first place.

For residents who don’t see the existence of monsters as an immediate crisis, their image of witches is basically “those people who don’t do much work but live comfortably off our taxes.”

In short, people quietly resent witches.

They don’t realize they’re living on top of the sacrifices the witches make.

They just assume the witches are being praised with fancy titles for no reason.

In the Astradia United Kingdom, children are taught from a young age that “witches are very noble beings,” but for people who think they’re smart, it probably feels like some kind of conspiracy.

In peacetime—well, life and death are always happening inside the dungeon, but outside it’s unknowable—they can’t feel the true value of what the witches do.

They spit out complaints one after another.

Hurry up and kill the monster.

Use magic or whatever.

That’s your job, so become our shield.

The witches who had been about to head to the battlefield themselves to save the people suddenly hesitate.

“Do I really have to risk my life… to save those people?”

She clutches the machine gun to her chest.

Her fingers tighten until they turn white.

Her mind is filled with conflict.

She had been educated at the academy as a witch, taught to offer herself up for the people, for the survival of humanity. She actually felt pride in that self-sacrificing role. She wanted to fight honorably as a witch. She wanted to protect everyone. That resolve wavers now that the people she’s supposed to protect are right in front of her.

“Hey you! Hurry up and fight already!?”

“I-I…”

“Who do you think is paying for your nice life?!”

The residents of the capital spit as they shout.

Anger is the only thing in his eyes. He feels zero guilt about sending the witch to her death.

He’s only thinking about how he can save himself.

“Holy water evaporates after five prayers and turns to ash that is smeared on the forehead. The smeared ash returns to the river, and the river is once again called holy water. A circle is a corner, a corner is forgiveness, and forgiveness has not yet occurred. Do not put what has not occurred into your mouth—you are already chewing it. The door opens inward toward the outside. The inside is left on the outside. Only what is left passes through.”

—Ah.

Before she realizes it, the monster is right in front of her.

The witch’s mouth hangs open in shock.

Her body freezes at the “death” appearing before her eyes.

She stays frozen holding the gun, unable to fight back, and is brutally killed.

That future plays out clearly in her mind—

“You okay?”

Several bullets slam into the monster.

It collapses under the storm-like violence.

The witch, who had gone weak in the knees in the bloody carnage, drops helplessly onto her backside on the ground.

“…? Uh, you okay?”

“—Hah!? Thank you for saving me!”

“You’re suddenly full of energy…”

She doesn’t look hurt, Shikiko Komuta thinks with a bitter smile.

She reaches out a hand to help the witch stand up.

“Can you get up?”

“…This is embarrassing, but my legs gave out.”

“Then let’s move you to the edge of the square—”

Splat.

The witch gets crushed like a water balloon.

A huge palm squashes her like a tomato.

Blood and gore splatter onto Shikiko’s cheek.

“Eh.”

“Clothe the bone and make the cloth remember the bone. Forget what you remembered—forgetting is another name for recording. Eat the east and spit out the west. The south is prayer, the north is absence. Only the absent remain in the attendance book.”

In Shikiko’s dazed vision stands the monster. A human-faced snake creature with an archaic smile reminiscent of a Buddha statue. Countless arms grow from its body.

As the saying goes, humans are most vulnerable the moment they think victory is certain.

You must never let your guard down, no matter what.

That ironclad rule for witches hadn’t yet sunk in for the still-inexperienced Shikiko.

That’s why this tragedy happened. That’s why the witch died.

Shikiko can’t hide her shock at the life lost right in front of her.

“Blood is a circle, and a circle is severance. Do not cut. It is already cut. Do not connect. It is not connected. I did not say it. You heard it. The words heard become the speaker. The speaker is a vessel, and the vessel is filled with emptiness. Light is the shadow of shadow. Shadow is the witness of light. The witness does not exist. Therefore the testimony is complete.”

The monster’s palm comes closer.

“Shit—”

Shikiko finally regains her senses at this point.

She raises her assault rifle, but it’s already too late.

Her brain, certain of death, begins to perceive the world in slow motion. A revolving lantern. Even magic probably won’t save her now.

…Honestly, what a pathetic state.

She looks up with a self-mocking gaze and stares blankly at the approaching palm.

“How pathetic.”

Countless lead bullets slam into it there.

It’s almost a repeat of what just happened.

When Shikiko turns her eyes toward the source of the attack, sure enough, there stands the person she least wanted to see.

“Mom…”

“Shikiko. You were born to kill monsters. That’s the role I built you for. I didn’t create you to be killed by them.”

“I’m… sorry.”

A heavy sigh echoes.

Sophia’s disappointment hurts.

Shikiko unconsciously lowers her eyes and starts counting the cracks in the stone pavement.

“But well… it was admirable that you tried to save that witch.”

“Huh?”

“The follow-through was sloppy, though. If you hadn’t let your guard down, that girl probably would have been saved. If you had taken her place instead… but that might be a bit harsh.”

Sophia shrugs.

“Anyway, you did the bare minimum of your job as a witch. That much is certain.”

“Mom…”

“So pull yourself together already. There are still plenty of monsters left. Even while we’re standing here, more and more are pouring in through the hole in the barrier.”

“—!”

That’s right.

She’s exactly right.

Shikiko squeezes her eyes shut tightly.

“…That’s a good look.”

When she opens her eyelids again, there’s no longer any fear or regret in Shikiko Komuta’s eyes.

Only the resolve to fulfill the duty she’s been given. Only conviction.

After confirming that, Sophia toys with the grip she hasn’t held in a long time.

“Then go fight. Kill as many monsters approaching the capital as you can. You should be able to do that much.”

“Yes!!”

With a shout, Shikiko dashes off like the wind.

“………… cough”

While watching her daughter’s back,

Sophia makes a bitter face and spits out blood.