Opening Fire

That was right: a gun.

Its shape was unlike the guns you usually saw in crime dramas. It looked more like the revolvers cowboys carried in old Westerns. Its iron body was crudely made, but it still carried the distinct, deathly menace of a firearm.

Benjamin had never even seen a real gun, let alone had one pointed at him.

Before this, his only connection to guns had been the toy pistol his parents bought him after he'd begged and pestered them in elementary school. You pulled the trigger and it went "pew-pew-pew"—useless as could be. During military training in college, they'd said they would let them shoot guns, but for some reason, that activity never happened.

After crossing into this world, he'd assumed he'd never have anything to do with guns again. The system's introduction to the setting hadn't mentioned guns at all. He'd thought that, under the influence of divine arts and magic, this world's technology tree had never unlocked them.

Yet here he was, with an emotionally unstable minor pointing a gun at his forehead.

Had the system tricked him again?

Benjamin had never imagined that a so-called war game would end like this. Nor had he expected to find himself facing such an intense threat of death again less than ten days after escaping Michelle.

And all for such a ridiculous reason.

"Don't get worked up. We won't come any closer. Put the gun away. We're not going to hurt you." Benjamin stopped and spread his hands, showing he meant no harm.

What else could he do? If he had Grant's skills, he would have charged forward already, disarmed Dick, and subdued him like some action hero in a crime movie before he could react. Unfortunately, he didn't. And Grant?

Grant looked shocked and helpless. He stopped moving.

Still too green...

So, to keep the situation from getting worse—and because he was more than a little afraid of facing a gun for the first time—Benjamin chose to play weak. He made those gestures toward Dick, trying to calm him down before he did something irreversible on impulse.

"You liar! I-I won't believe you!" Dick had no intention of lowering the gun.

"You don't have to believe me, but you should think about yourself." Benjamin didn't give up. He felt as though he'd transformed into a hostage negotiator, trying to steady the culprit's nerves at the scene. "Are you really going to shoot? Think carefully about what will happen if you do. Do you think the Church will turn a blind eye? What about your future among the nobility? And your family—what will happen to them? You'll ruin the entire Fool Family."

As he tried to talk Dick down, he couldn't help getting distracted for a moment, thinking that watching all those TV dramas had actually come in handy. When trouble struck, he could imitate the people on TV and look rather convincing.

Still, the half-baked negotiating skills he'd picked up from TVB didn't seem to be working.

"No, nothing will happen as long as you let me smash you once! Don't you dare dodge! If you do, I'll—I'll shoot!" As he spoke, the hand holding the chamber pot began to twitch again.

Damn it...

Just how deep did this obsession run?

Benjamin no longer felt any sympathy for Dick. He thought the guy was a lunatic, with nothing in his head but hitting people with a chamber pot.

How were you supposed to deal with a lunatic?

As they remained at a standoff and the tension mounted, Benjamin suddenly felt a powerful surge of magic. It was right beside them, and so strong that even Dick, an ordinary person, noticed it.

So, even in this situation, they couldn't help looking toward the source of the surge.

A mass of Holy Light was slowly gathering in Grant's hand.

"Grant! You dare break the Church's rules?" Dick shouted at once. "If you use divine arts, the Inquisition will lock you up for the rest of your life!"

Grant froze. It was as if he'd thought of something, and hesitation showed on his face.

Dick was overjoyed. He seemed to have figured things out, too, and continued, "Why are you helping him? He's a good-for-nothing! You don't have to ruin your future for his sake. Besides, besides, I wasn't really going to kill him. I just wanted to return the humiliation he gave me, exactly as he'd dealt it out! This has nothing to do with you!"

The power of hatred was stronger than anyone might have imagined. It was enough to make an emotionally unstable teenager deliver an argument this clear-headed.

Grant was clearly persuaded. Blood ties couldn't withstand the harshness of reality. It seemed he was starting to think that letting Benjamin get hit once wasn't such a big deal. At the end of the day, he was only a boy in his teens, and his resolve wasn't strong.

After wavering back and forth, he finally lowered his head. The dazzling Holy Light in his hand began to fade.

He backed down.

Yes. When faced with death, getting hit once by a chamber pot really didn't seem like such a big deal.

However...

Right then!

Benjamin, who had been quietly playing weak, suddenly charged at Dick. Taking him by surprise, he kicked the hand holding the chamber pot. The pot was heavy to begin with, and Dick wasn't holding it very securely. It went flying, smashed into the wall behind them, and spilled its contents all over the floor.

The flying kick threw Benjamin off balance, and he was about to fall. But he used the momentum to throw himself at Dick without hesitation, reaching for the hand holding the gun.

"Hand over the gun!" he snarled.

Benjamin didn't want to turn into a human toilet, or get his head blown off.

So he decided to take a chance!

Dick finally reacted and tried to dodge. In the ensuing panic, they both fell to the ground and began grappling. Benjamin desperately tried to seize Dick's gun, while Dick fought back, partly in anger and partly on instinct. Unfortunately, Benjamin wasn't in great shape. Though he'd gained the upper hand at first, he still couldn't wrest the gun away.

The two of them struggled to a standstill, and the scene descended into chaos.

"Don't— I..." Grant had let the divine art in his hand fade. Watching the two men fight, he wanted to stop them, but didn't know how. He could barely bring himself to go closer, so all he could do was let them keep fighting over the gun.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out.

Bang!

The two stopped struggling at the same time.

A look of pain suddenly crossed Benjamin's face. He pushed Dick away and staggered to his feet, then clutched his stomach and fell back down.

Dick got up too, looking horrified as he watched Benjamin roll around on the ground in pain. He stared for a moment, then tossed the gun away as if it were a red-hot iron. At a loss, he looked toward Grant.

"I-I didn't mean to shoot... No, he lunged at me. I-I..."

Grant was stunned by the sudden turn of events. He stared at Benjamin writhing in pain, not knowing what to do.

Before long, the other "corpses" in the castle were drawn over by the gunshot. They stared at the absurd and horrifying scene, all of them too stunned to think clearly.

Only a few noble youths with their wits about them shouted, "Go get the patrol!" They ran out of the castle to find help. Dick saw them and seemed about to stop them, but after a moment's hesitation, he did nothing.

He looked at Benjamin on the ground, then at the gun he'd thrown away, his face filled with despair and regret.

The Church's patrol arrived at the scene quickly. They took off their helmets, looked at everything, and frowned.

"What happened?" the knight leading them asked.

"I-I really didn't do it on purpose. It was all him... He lunged at me himself. There was nothing I could do..." Dick hurried over to the patrol and began explaining in a panic.

The knight in charge frowned. "Don't say anything yet. Young Master Grant, could you explain what happened?"

Dick froze, then turned to look at Grant behind him. His eyes filled with even greater despair. He stood up, took a few steps back, then sank to the ground as though his soul had been drained from him, his whole life plunged into darkness.

Grant began to explain haltingly. Naturally, he told the story from Benjamin's side and put all the blame on Dick. Dick was so overwhelmed with despair that he'd forgotten to use Grant's attempt to cast a divine art as leverage to silence him.

"Don't worry, Young Master Grant. We'll take care of this," the leading knight said after hearing Grant's account.

"Benjamin... will he die?" Grant hesitated, then asked.

Guilt showed on his face. The knights thought he felt helpless because he hadn't been able to stop what happened. Only the three people who'd been there knew that he felt guilty because, in a moment of cowardice, he'd chosen to stand by and do nothing.

Perhaps that was nothing in the adult world—perhaps it was even rational and right. But for a straightforward, passionate boy, it was a betrayal.

Grant had betrayed his own beliefs.

"Don't worry. We'll make sure he's treated," the leading knight replied with a faint smile.

"May God bless you," Grant said after a moment of silence.

He seemed relieved.

And so the whole matter was settled quickly. After hearing Grant's account, the patrol took Benjamin, Dick, and the gun lying farther away.

No one knew what Dick would have to face.

But at that very moment, Benjamin—the central figure in the whole affair, who was in so much pain he was nearly losing consciousness—had already forgotten everything around him. Dick, the gunshot, the patrol...

Only one name remained in his mind:

Michelle.

To hell with Michelle!

If Dick and Grant had been paying close attention, they would have noticed that Benjamin hadn't actually been shot. Though he was clutching his stomach, there wasn't a trace of blood. Nor did he look like someone who'd been shot; he looked more like he was suffering from a sudden illness, or possessed.

In a sense, Benjamin really had been possessed.

The curse Michelle had planted in him had finally flared up for the first time.