No Game No Life - Volume 1 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 
GRANDMASTER 
Chlammy wailed: Stupid jerk, I hate you, I’ll never give in, I’ll show everyone about you—etc., to the end, and finally left as if running away. 
“Good grief… What’s the point if even humans themselves start underestimating humans…?” 
At Sora’s words of vexation, the castle once again was enveloped in acclamation. 
—A victory too complete to question. A victory that showed everyone unmistakably the promise of the humans’ new monarch. Cheers thundered throughout the Great Hall and carried forward the steps of the elderly official with crown in hand. 
“Well, then—your name is Sora, correct?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Will you accept the crown of the Kingdom of Elkia?” 
But Sora announced back decisively. 
“No.” 
And, bringing his sister close, he said with a smile: 
“Together, we are Blank—we two are the monarch.” 
This had been mentioned during the chess match as well. The crowd raised their voices higher—celebrating the birth of a new king and a little queen. 
—But. 
“—Unfortunately, that is not possible.” 
“—Huh?” 
The cheers halted at the official’s words. 
“Wha? Uh, why not?” 
“The Ten Covenants stipulate that ‘an agent plenipotentiary’ be established. There cannot be two.” 
The buzzing hall, the siblings looking at each other. Sora pondered fretfully, scratched his head, furrowed his brow…and spoke. 
“…I see. Uh, so, we’ll split roles and have me take this on, yeah?” 
“……Ng.” 
Setting down his sister, who groaned minutely, Sora turned back to face the official. 
“Then we’ll resume—ahem. I hereby crown Sora the 205th monarch of the Kingdom of Elkia—if any among you object, speak now! If not, your silence shall—” 
—But someone who could not hold her peace interrupted, raising her hand. 
“…Mm.” 
Long white hair. A girl through whose bangs peeped ruby-red eyes—but seriously. 
“Uh, Shiro?” 
“…I have an objection.” 
“Umm, pardon, my sister? Whatever do you speak of?” 
“…If you become king…you can build a harem.” 
“?What?” 
Though Sora answered as if he didn’t believe his ears, still Shiro scrunched her face as if about to cry and spoke. 
“…And then you won’t……need…me.” 
Paying no attention to the bewildered audience, flustered to an improbable degree, Sora spoke. 
“Hey! Heyheyhey, wait wait that’s ridiculous! You and I, together we’re one team, right! It’s just for formality’s sake; I’ll be the king technically, but it’s not like—” 
“…But you’ll be—the king… I’ll be just there. It can be only one…so—” 
After she smudged off her tears with her arm, there were no more tears. 
“…It’ll be—me.” 
In the sister’s unemotional eyes dwelled a clear will to fight. As they pierced her brother with a declaration of war— 
“?Huh?” 
Sora, on the other end of that stare, changed his own expression. 
“Hey now… My darling, precious sister. It’s rare to hear you tell jokes; how’s the weather in hell?” 
Grinning with his usual frivolous attitude. But with a clear hostility in his tone of voice. 
“See what happens if a thousand-ships-level beauty like you becomes queen. You’re too innocent. You might get taken in by some sweet-talking bum—your brother can’t let you be queen.” 
Though Sora faced Shiro spewing the ultimate doting-brother lines. Contrary to his words that suggested almost-smothering love, there was no hint of a smile in his eyes. 
“…No, Brother, you can’t be king—that’s final.” 
“—Bring it on, then. ’Cause your brother’s not gonna let you be king. And that’s final.” 
Two gazes, facing each other, clashing. The gazes of the two who had overcome even Elven cheating to attain the human race’s most powerful title. They weren’t the gazes of the intimate siblings, nor those of the two-in-one gamer “  ”. They were the gazes of long rivals, and their wills looked firm enough to draw sparks… 
“Eh, well… In that case, shall I take it that you two wish to settle this with a final match?” 
It must have required considerable courage to come between them. To the official, checking with them apologetically. 
“Sure, I’m ready.” 
“…That’s fine.” 
Without hesitation. And without looking away, they laid down the gauntlet. 
“I’m not gonna go easy on you, my sister. Today’s the day you’re goin’ down.” 
“…Worry about yourself…Brother… Today, I’m serious.” 
…… 
—And so. Three days passed. 
In the center of the hall, among the scattered remains of countless games played back-to-back without sleep or rest. The siblings lay sprawled on the floor. 
“…Hey…why don’t…you give up already?” 
“…Why don’t you…just resign.” 
The countless games that had begun under the condition of two consecutive wins for victory. Totaled—five hundred: 158 wins, 158 losses, 184 draws. 
—The tragedy was that, never mind in this place, even back in their old world. While “  ” had risen to the status of an urban legend—no one knew the match records between the two. Aside from their collective name as “  ”. The two game-loving siblings, as a matter of the most natural course, played each other. And their records were— 
—3,526,744 games, 1,170,080 wins, 1,170,080 losses, 1,186,584 draws? 
…To this day, neither had ever gotten ahead or behind once. The people in the castle had no way of knowing this tragic fact as they waited for the coronation. But by now they’d long since gone home. 
—Then come back, then all gone home again. As they tried to predict when would be a good time, gradually, fewer and fewer people came at all. The castle staff lay sprawled across the Great Hall—even the presiding official, with crown in hand, and Steph, who each were just barely holding on to consciousness, were already well into the land of hallucinations. Every now and then, the old official would grin creepily and then return to a normal expression. Meanwhile, Steph reached out at air with a blank smile, saying, “Oh, a butterfly.” 
—So, what should the next game be… As Sora thought about it in his hazy head. A question popped up and stayed his hand. 
“Hey… Why does the monarch have to be one person?” 
“…What?” 
To these words, the official and Steph responded, brought back from la-la land. To articulate his concern, Sora took out his phone. And read out his notes on the Ten Covenants once more. 
“The Seventh of the Ten Covenants: ‘For conflicts between groups, an agent plenipotentiary shall be established’…” 
This was a rule that directed groups—i.e., countries and races—each to designate a representative for conflicts between them. 
—But. Sora, having pronounced it carefully, meditatively, made sure there was no contradiction between the words he’d reread and pronounced and the conclusion he’d reached. “—Does it actually say anywhere it has to be an individual?” he murmured. 
“““?””” 
—And, thus the legendary struggle, of which the bards would later sing of as the “Nightmare Three Days,” came to a close. But, it being an inordinately long story, let us pass over it in this account… 
 
……?. 
“…Hey, is this really okay?” 
“Sure it is. Since times of yore, monarchs who have clad themselves in ostentatious garb have generally done so to hide their baseness within, to inflate their public image and aggrandize themselves. A monarch should be a model for the people, an ideal to emulate—reverence should be won by deeds.” 
“…So…full of it…” 
“Yeah, okay, to be honest, I just feel the most comfortable like this.” 
“Hh… Fine, as you wish. But at least do something about your hair.” 
The capital city, Elkia—the grand square in front of the castle. Coming out onto the castle veranda, the sweeping plaza reminds one of Piazza San Marco in Venice. Now the square was filled with a throng of countless people. How many thousands—how many tens of thousands of people were there? Yearning to hear the words of their new king, the crowd spilled out of the square into the streets extending from it. It was an expression of their loss of hope in the previous king, scorned as a fool. An expression of their need for a thread of hope for Immanity, left standing in a pit of despair. An expression that they sought from the siblings, who had taken down an Elven spy—taken down magic—head-on. On the castle veranda, where gathered the gazes, pregnant with expectation, of the entire human race—two figures stepped out. A young man and a girl. A young man with dark circles under his eyes, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that read “I ? PPL.” A girl with long hair white enough to make one think of snow and white skin to match, along with eyes red as jewels and a sailor suit. Their crowns told that they were the king and the queen. 
—But. The young man had contorted the queen’s tiara and looped it onto his arm like an armband. Meanwhile, the girl had tied up her hair with the king’s crown, lifting her bangs—. Seeing them, it was easy to imagine why Steph had cried out during their changing. 
In this half-assed getup, standing before his dazed people, the young man—Sora—spoke up. 
“Uhh…mm, mmng. Umm, good day.” 
“…Brother, you’re nervous. Unusual.” 
“—Shut up. You know we’re both afraid of crowds. Normally I’m just repressing it.” 
Shiro gently took her brother’s hand, careful not to let the crowd see her do it. 
“……” 
Silently. As if to say, Then repress it again now. As if to say, Just as you always have—and you always will. 
“—My esteemed people—no, comrades of Immanity!” 
As if he had grasped his sister’s intent, the brother raised his voice with a face from which the tension had dissolved. A bullhorn was attached to the veranda railing, but he bellowed with a fierce power that suggested he didn’t need it. 
“We, Immanity…under the Ten Covenants, in this world without war, have lost continually until we have been reduced to our last country, our last city—why is this?” 
The crowd was taken aback at the sudden question thrown at them.—Because of the old king’s mistakes.—Because we can’t use magic. Sora waited for each to come up with an answer and then continued. 
“Because the old king failed? Because we are the lowest-ranking race? Because we cannot use magic? Because our race is destined to die helplessly?!—Nay!” 
The strong denial made the air and the masses alike tremble. Making a fist and no effort to hide his emotions, Sora shouted on. 
“In the past, in the Great War of the ancient gods, the gods, the devils—the Elves, the Werebeasts, so many races struggled against each other, and we fought, and we survived! In the past, the entirety of this continent was the domain of human countries—then why is this!” 
On the basis of the history he had read through in the past few days in Steph’s library, Sora asked them. 
“Is it because we are a race skilled in violence? Is it because we are a race specializing in combat?!” 
Everyone in the audience looked at each other. 
“We have not the diverse magic of the Elf, nor the physical prowess of the Werebeast, nor the longevity of the Flügel—this being so, did our former dominion over this continent result from specialization in combat?—By no means!!” 
Yes, this was a clear fact that anyone could see. But then came a question. 
—Then why? 
“We survived through combat because we were weak! 
“In all ages, in all worlds, the strong hone their fangs and the weak their wisdom! Why have we been backed into a corner—it is only because the Ten Covenants have torn out the fangs of the strong and forced them to hone their wisdom! 
“What we believed to be our exclusive property as the weak—ingenuity, strategy, tactics, the power to survive!—was obtained by the strong as well! Our wisdom was seized by the strong, and we faced the strong with the same weapons—that is what has brought us to these depths!” 
With the desperate situation laid out, the square fell silent. The gathered audience was enveloped in such emotions as dejection, despair, and discomfort. Sora looked around at them with a sigh and went on. 
“All you here, answer me, why do you hang your heads?” 
Sora, once raging and swinging his fist, now spoke softly. 
“Let me repeat: We are the weak. Indeed, still we are—just as we always have been—” 
Someone took in a sudden breath, realizing something. After waiting for it to spread, Sora shouted out once more. 
“—Indeed…is not the situation exactly the same? 
“The strong may imitate the wisdom of the weak, but they will never attain true mastery! For the truth underlying our weapon—is the cowardice born of abject weakness!” 
The crowd’s question was preemptively answered. 
“Who, through cowardice, has honed their eyes and ears, their wit, to learn to survive? It is we humans!” 
They were shown hope in despair. 
“We cannot use magic. We cannot even perceive it—however, cowardice has given us the wit to escape magic, the wisdom to see through it! We have no supernatural senses. However, cowardice has given us, through learning and experience, wisdom approaching precognition!” 
…One who speaks only of hope is an optimist. 
…And one who speaks only of despair is a pessimist. 
“For the third time! We are the weak who, throughout the ages, have torn out the throats of the complacent strong—we are the proud weak!” 
…The deeper the despair and darkness, the more it was true. 
“I announce that my sister and I have been crowned here as your king and queen, as the 205th monarch of Elkia.” 
…That only one who lights the watch fire of hope can attract the masses. 
“I announce that the two of us shall live as the weak, fight as the weak, and slaughter the strong as the weak do! Just as we always have—and just as we always will!” 
…So people look to their steps as a guide. 
“Accept it! We are the weakest race! 
“We are those who, in endless cycles of history—devour the fattened strong!” 
…Thus. 
“Take pride! For we are the weakest—we are the most empty-handed! We are born with nothing—and so we can become anything—and we therefore are the strongest race!” 
…A monarch is born. 
Cheers—no, roars followed. They shook the square, the sky. The shouts that could sound like howls of rage, or cries of victory. Out of expectation for the two on the platform? Or—out of the souls of the cornered, baring their fangs? 
Before this sight, Sora and his sister looked at each other. 
……The sister nodded. Slightly, with a pleasant smile. With this confirmation, Sora started his final speech. Spreading his arms wide, innocent as a giddy child. Yet like a strategist who’d seen it all, bold as a warrior. Spreading across his face a guileless yet brazen smile, Sora—the new king of the human race—spoke. 
“—Come, let the games begin! 
“Surely you have had your fill of suffering. Surely you have been humiliated too much. Surely you have tasted life’s bitterness to the point of sickness… Surely this is enough! Here I am, my fellow Immanities.” 
His palm rose to the horizon, as if he might even clutch the heavens. And then—closed. 
“Now, as of this moment! We, Elkia—declare war on all other countries in the world! 

 

“Light the signal for a counterstrike! We will have our borders back!” 
 
Amidst cheers so great as to split the earth. The two left the stage, to be attacked by Steph. 
“H-h—hey, you! Wh-what the heck are you talking about?!” 
“Aaagh…what’re you freaking out about, Steph? You’re freaking me out.” 
“…Steph, so creepy…” 
With Steph honking and bleating in mad disorder, the siblings sneered at her unjustifiably. But Steph had bigger things on her mind. 
“You think everything’s okay now?! You just got crowned and haven’t even taken care of domestic affairs yet, and you think Elkia is ready to take on other countries? Are you trying to destroy the nation?!” 

Steph clutched her head and cursed her own foolishness for believing in these swindler siblings, though perhaps she was getting used to it. With a gesture that suggested he was already in his element, Sora spoke with a sigh. 
“Hhh… Look—didn’t I tell you to learn to doubt people?” 
“—Huh?” 
Steph stopped in her tracks and fixated on Sora. 
“After the Elves—Elven Gard, right?—went as far as to get Chlammy working for them to try to take over this country, you think they’re going to think they were beaten face-on by mere humans who can’t use magic?” 
“—Wh-what do you mean?” 
“Did you forget? They think we’re people with the support of another country. At the very least, whoever was supporting Chlammy must be reporting it that way, and it’s probably what the other countries think, too.” 
The sister continued her brother’s words as if to supplement them. 
“…The world thinks…a spy from some other country has taken over Elkia.” 
Her brother nodded and went on. 
“But they don’t know which country. They don’t know whose spy, whose puppet is running the country, and then suddenly we declare war on the whole world, and this is what they think—‘Some country has installed a puppet government in Elkia and is ready to go on the offensive’—right? 
“?Oh—” 
In this world’s contests, the challenged party had the right to determine the game. So it was in spite of the fact that taking the offensive was extremely disadvantageous that they had declared war on the whole world. And also considering that they had defeated the spy of Elven Gard— 
“They’re going to be worried that now there’s some country, some race, that’s got a trump card that can even beat the Elves, right?” 
“…So.” 
“To throw the whole world into paranoia…” 
“…We’re going and declaring war on them…” 
“…And then not doing anything. See?” 
The siblings’ smiling words left Steph speechless. 
“The Fifth of the Ten Covenants: ‘The party challenged shall have the right to determine the game.’ When all those countries we declared war against get worried, they’ll probably, like…try to figure out what country is backing us, even though there is none. While the whole world is stretching itself to try to pry into us, let’s pry back their armor, find their weak spots, and solidify our base.” 
To the brother who smirked, spoke, and turned his back, Steph asked: 
“S-so…when you said you were going to take back our land…you were…lying?” 
Steph surprised herself with her significant feeling of regret. Perhaps it was due to a momentary aggressiveness stirred up by Sora’s speech. Or perhaps— 
“—Hey, Steph. I talked it over with my sister—whether we want to go back to our old world.” 
“?Uh?” 
“There was nothing to talk about. Our answer is No—there would be no point whatsoever in abandoning a world as fun as this one to go back to that one.” 
“…Especially…for us.” 
“So, there you go. Now.” 
Clapping his hands together, Sora. 
“We are humans. The last country of Immanity is this one, Elkia. To prevent it from disappearing, we have set our objective as taking the throne for now—but?” 
The sister and the brother. Exchanging looks, laughing happily. 
“Okay, my sister?” 
“…Mm.” 
“The enemy can use magic. They can use superpowers. We can’t. We’re at an overwhelming disadvantage, playing against an overwhelming handicap; we have only one city left in our territory; the situation is hopeless. However, to protect the name of Blank, we can’t have a single loss—what do you think?” 
On the face of the sister, typically lacking in expression, a childlike smile emerged, and she answered in one word. 
“…Sweet.” 
“I know, right?” 
Steph, watching this exchange with eyes as if watching something unknown—something literally from another world. After lining up each of the conditions of a hopeless situation, the first word that came out was “sweet”—? To Steph, who had no idea what it was supposed to mean, Sora turned back. 
“So, returning to your question, Steph.” 
“—Uh, yes?” 
At being spoken to when she was out of it, her voice slipped into a falsetto. 
“About taking back the borders. To be honest, that was a lie.” 
“?Uh?” 
Sora, taking out his phone as he talked. Opening his task scheduler and putting a check by “being king.” He input a new task. Namely— 
“Final Objective—Conquer the world, for now!” 
“—Wha—?!” 
That Sora’s words had gone past taking back the borders—past taking back the continent—to taking over the world. And at just how many times she could be surprised in one day, Steph made a sound with a double meaning. Sora twirled back and walked away with Shiro following him. Steph, finding herself being left alone, panicked and chased after them, discombobulated. 
“Uh, um, umm, a-a-are you serious?!” 
“Blank can’t be anywhere but first place. Whether it’s a play for dominion or whatever, if we’re gonna play a game, our goal is to be the only one at the top—that’s our rule.” 
Shiro nodded decisively. 
—Now that it had come to this, all the more. Stephanie Dola had to realize that she’d still underestimated these siblings. Could it be? That against all odds it really was true? These two— 
—could be the saviors of the human race? 
She watched Sora’s back as he departed, and her heartbeat quickened with a thump. Her chest tightened—but there was no more hatred in it. He’d restored her grandfather’s honor. Saved her beloved country—saved Elkia. Declared he’d even take back its territory. Turned to go as if he actually could and would do it. His form, seen from behind—Stephanie Dola could no longer find a reason to hate it. 
 
—In the Kingdom of Elkia, the capital, Elkia: Block 1, Central District…meaning the Elkia Royal Castle: the royal bedchamber. The king of Elkia, sprawled on a bed so huge one couldn’t help but wonder just how many people were supposed to sleep there. A man who, days before, had been a mere unemployed video game vegetable—Sora (eighteen, virgin). 
“—From a cramped gaming room to a dump inn room to Steph’s mansion and finally the royal bedchamber—huh.” 
Chuckling at a rise that would make a spaceman sick, Sora held a book. The title of the book, lit in the darkness by the moon and dim lighting: The Ixseed Ecosystem. Sora paused his eyes on the first page and lost himself in thought. 
“—Flügel…eh. These seem like guys I could get on my side…” 
In the book it was explained: Flügel. A war race created as the sky-soaring vanguard of gods in the ancient Great War. Since the Ten Covenants, their combat abilities had been effectively sealed off. Still, they possess enormous life spans and high magical aptitude, which they had utilized in building a literal city of the heavens on the back of Avant Heim (ä’-vänt h?m’), a colossal Phantasma drifting through the sky—which they preserve as their single territory without participating in play for dominion. However, perhaps because of their long life spans, they do have a powerful thirst for knowledge, and engage in games solely to obtain knowledge from the world’s other races—that is, to collect books. 
“It sounds like they know a lot about magic, and I could draw them in with my knowledge of another world.” 
If he could just make contact with this race somehow, it seemed it would help in figuring out how to fight against magic— 
—Knock, knock. 
As he thought about such things, there was a reserved knock. Feeling a déjà-vu-like sense that something like this had happened a few days ago, he responded. 
“Uh-huh, who is it?” 
“It’s—it is Stephanie Dola, Your Majesty… Can I—may I enter, Sir?” 
“—Huh? Sure.” 
To Steph, who opened the heavy door of the royal bedchamber with a deferent demeanor, Sora spoke. 
“Hey, why are you talking and acting like that? Just come in like normal.” 
“Well…you see, when I thought about it calmly—Sir—it is true that you are the king of Elkia, and thus—” 
“Aaaah! That’s so embarrassing!” 
Sora interrupted Steph with a shout. 
“That makes me feel all itchy and it takes too damn long! You can just talk like always; so, what?” 
Electricity had not been discovered in Elkia. The royal bedchamber was illuminated only by the dim candle chandelier and the moon. In this faint light, Steph stood with her expression unreadable in the center of the room, unmoving. 
“Then—Sora…” 
“Right.” 
“You ordered me, ‘Fall in love with me,’ so that I would fall at your feet, correct?” 
“Uh—yeaaahh…” 
“Now that you have become the king of Elkia—I’m—now I’m…” 
Through a gap in the clouds, for a moment, the moonlight strengthened, and Steph’s expression became clear. 
—It was anxious. 
“Uh…so, you’re saying, since I don’t need you anymore anyway, you want me to release you from your covenant?” 
“N-no! That’s not what I mean!” 
—There he was: for all his brilliance in games, an eighteen-year-old virgin. Flustered, Steph hastily corrected Sora’s totally off-the-mark interpretation, then asked: 
“I-I—want…to know. Wh-why you asked me, well, not to—be your possession, as your sister suggested, but to…fall in love with you.” 
“…Umm…” 
It was due to ulterior motives. I.e., due to Sora’s base desires, i.e., a mistake. As Sora contemplated whether he ought to admit this, a further unexpected question came first. 
“So—did you make me fall in love with you…because, well, you had that kind of feeling for me?” 
……Huh? 
“If—if that happens to be the case…I, uh—all I have left…” 
With that, she walked up to the bed, and, with an uncomfortable yet beet-red face. She—pulled up her skirt and said in a pleading tone: 
“…to give you now is…this, you know…” 
—Hold on. 
Hold on, Sora, virgin, eighteen. You just got hit with an issue you can’t overlook. I see…looking at Steph objectively…she is pretty hot. It’s only natural that a healthy young man would want to be liked by a qt3.14 like her. But—what did he want to do after making her fall in love with him? 
—Love at first sight? Eh, I don’t know about that. He searched his heart, asking whether he really had romantic feelings for— 
Wait—to begin with. (Huh—? Romantic feelings—how are those even supposed to feel?) 
—Sora ran upon the inherent limitations of the dateless loser. 
“…Well…that’s, uh…” 
Snap. A flash and a click. From the other side of the bed had emerged—Shiro, phone in hand. 
“Ee—eeyaaaah!” 
Seeing Shiro in the same room, Steph hastily lowered her skirt and retreated. 
—But she should have realized it was a matter of course. Thinking back on the incident in the inn—there was no way Sora could be by himself. 
“On behalf of…Brother…anguished by the limits…of the virgin—Shiro shall explain.” 
“Shiro… If I may be so bold, your brother finds it somewhat scarring to be told this by his eleven-year-old sister.” 
However, ignoring her brother’s protest, Shiro showed the picture she had just taken. Showing Steph with her skirt pulled up, showing her panties completely. 
“…This.” 
“—Hnh?” 
“…is why Brother told you…to fall…in love with him.” 
Both Steph and Sora looked completely confused. Shiro explained bluntly so that even they would understand. 
“…There is one thing…Brother misses…about our old world.” 
Which was that— 
“…This, world—lacks…porn.” 
““?What?”” 
Questioning aloud were both Steph and Sora. But with different meanings. In Sora’s case, it was a protest against an overly blunt demonstration. In Steph’s case— 
“‘Pohrn’…? What do you mean?” 
It was an innocent query. While manipulating her phone, Shiro responded. 
“Materials…for fapping… Photographs, videos…etc.… Fantasies…to aid the fap. Collectively, they are called—porn …” 
“Fap-ping?” 
To Steph, who apparently still didn’t understand, Shiro, still without expression. 
Closed one hand loosely—and pumped it up and down. 
“?Wha?” 
As Steph’s face reddened so violently it seemed it should make a boom, Shiro went further and started a video playing on her phone, then showed it to Steph. 
—A video of Steph washing Shiro’s hair: the bath scene. 
“…Steph…this is…the meaning of your existence.” 
Steph’s reddened face blanched, then dropped and quivered. 
—So, anyone would do. 
All he wanted was an outlet for his sexual urges. 
And, on top of that, he was, you know, doing that stuff while looking at his naked sister?! 
“Y-you’re scum!” 
Steph shouted and fled the room as Sora watched her, dazed. Then, to Shiro, who had returned to reading her book on the edge of the bed without apparent concern, he noted: 
“—Hey, my thoughts aren’t actually that dirty, y’know.” 
“…I summarized…” 
“I think you mean summit -ized… And about that bath video? I thought you said it wasn’t okay and didn’t ever let me see it… Could it be you’re trying to get Steph to hate me on purpose?” 
“…I’m just eleven… I don’t get this confusing stuff.” 
“You sure know how to act like a kid when it’s convenient for you…” 
“…You don’t want the photo from just…now?” 
“Oh, excuse me, Director. I am much obliged.” 
—However. After all—what was the difference between romantic feelings and sexual desire? As Sora pondered such philosophical questions of great weight to an eighteen-year-old virgin, in a voice too soft to hear, Shiro—his sister who wasn’t blood-related—mumbled: 
“…Just…seven more years…” 
—They say girls mature emotionally faster than boys. Indeed…in this case, at least, that was an incontrovertible fact. 
……… 
“Ohhh, Goood, ohhhhh, Goooood!” 
Meanwhile, Steph, walking through the corridors of the castle with rigid shoulders. Furious at having been called a mere jack-off toy—no. At herself for being hurt by that—she screamed indiscriminately. 
“Ohhh, God, I knew it, this feeling is an illusion brought on by the covenant—it’s a manner of curse!” 
But Steph didn’t notice… 
“That beast! That pedophile! There’s no way I should love him. It must be the covenant.” 
…That Sora had suggested releasing her from the covenant. That is to say, the solution of playing another game and saying, “Don’t love me.” And she’d ignored it completely, and even forgotten about it. 
And what that meant—