The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 1

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The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 1 Page 7

by Satoshi Wagahara


  “Magic…?”

  Emi’s eyes opened wide.

  “That shot aimed at your head near the building? It came from the angle we ran in from. It had to change direction to aim for us, that much I’m sure of.”

  “You mean…”

  “Whoever’s behind it, he’s got a lot of power behind him. That, and he knows who both of us really are.”

  “Both of us? There’s someone like that here? Besides Alciel?”

  “Guess so. Don’t know who, though. I didn’t even feel anyone else nearby.”

  Maou stretched his body. The tension had finally started to drain away.

  “Man. Look at all this trouble you’ve gotten me into.”

  Emi fired back at Maou’s accusatory tone.

  “Me?! You think this is my fault?!”

  “This wouldn’t have happened if you chose a more normal time and place, would it?”

  “I chose that because that’s when you got off work!”

  “Morning would’ve been just fine. Better, even.”

  “I work in the morning! And the afternoon!”

  “Not my problem.”

  “Hey! Where’re you going?!”

  Emi stopped Maou as he attempted to walk off, a hangdog look on his face.

  “Home.”

  “You’re leaving by yourself?!”

  “Well, yeah. You should go home, too. I’m sure it’s nearby if this is where you’re hanging out all the time. Later.”

  “Hey…!”

  Maou set off, leaving Emi’s frantic shouting to dissolve into the background murmur of the Sasazuka night. He hated to abandon his bike so soon after purchasing it, but there might be more attackers stationed nearby. His faithful Dullahan would have to wait for morning to be reunited with its master.

  He hadn’t mentioned it to Emi just now, but this attack had kindled a small sense of hope within Maou’s mind.

  The fact that their enemy had the freedom to wield magical power to a certain extent was an immense discovery. Regardless of who he was fighting, he was still Devil King—lord of the underworld, the demon who was within moments of conquering all of Ente Isla. If it appeared to be worth the exertion, he would gladly call upon his own magical reserve to fight and claim his enemy’s force.

  That, after all, was how he gained such vast magical strength in the demon realm.

  Tomorrow was his regular day off. He was ready to scour the neighborhood for clues. There was a spring in his step as he dwelled on it, walking briskly through the dark residential neighborhood toward his apartment.

  Suddenly, he realized someone was following him.

  An attacker? Perhaps, but there was no sense of magical force, no murderous intent with this pursuer. Probably some drunk staggering home in the same direction as he was. Still, whoever it was seemed to be paying an unusual amount of attention to Maou, making sure to keep a prudent distance away.

  The apartment building was in sight, but with Ashiya’s magical force long depleted, Maou wanted to avoid involving him in a fight.

  Ashiya was too valuable a resource to squander—for the subjugation of Ente Isla, and for life in Sasazuka as well.

  Quickly, Maou ducked into a side alley that ran across the neighborhood, into an area unlit by streetlamps. If the person behind him lived nearby, he’d probably walk right past—and if he didn’t, he’d be too spooked to continue the pursuit.

  The footsteps continued unabated. The figure proceeded onward, not noticing Maou in the darkness. Maou raised his head a little, wondering if he had made a mistake.

  What he saw instead was the figure heading straight for Villa Rosa Sasazuka, the apartment Maou called home. He seemed to hesitate for a moment in front of the stairway, but quickly made his way upstairs.

  The figure stopped in front of room 201, by the door with the “Maou” sign on it.

  “Ugh…I know I said ‘come for me anytime you want,’ but now?”

  Maou called toward the late-night visitor. She turned around, startled, not expecting a voice from behind.

  “Look, I’ve already gone through one ambush tonight. You’re going to wake up all the neighbors. The landlord lives right next to us, too, and I really don’t want to deal with her if I can.”

  “…I’m not here to attack you.”

  Emi stood there, the bravado from before notably absent. Her face was white as a sheet, her breathing quick and shallow. She looked intensely nervous. Perhaps she had fallen ill; perhaps she had been hit with a magical bolt when he wasn’t looking.

  “H-hey…what’s wrong?”

  Maou drew closer, concerned. Her response was stronger than he expected.

  “It utterly disgusts me to ask you this… In fact, it feels like I’m betraying my world and everyone in it…”

  “If you came here to rile me up, it’s working.”

  This doorstop encounter was the last thing he wanted before bedtime.

  “I…if you don’t mind…could I…I…”

  “You?”

  Her pale complexion had now turned a bright shade of red as she turned her head downward.

  “Could I…stay here tonight? I…I kind of dropped my purse.”

  Maou opened his mouth wide, almost dislocating his jaw in the process. It took a while for him to close it again.

  “What?! The Hero Emilia?!”

  Ashiya, patiently awaiting Maou’s arrival, tensed as he noticed Emi cowering behind him. Maou lifted his hands, placating.

  “No, no, it’s okay. She hasn’t got enough energy to fight right now, anyway.”

  “Your Demonic Highness, how could you be so reckless?! You, the Devil King, staying out partying all night with the Hero?!”

  “You don’t have to put it like that! It’s still two a.m.!”

  “The wee hours of the night, my liege!”

  Emi stood solemnly in front of the door.

  “We both got attacked just now. By someone we couldn’t see. He was flinging magic at us.”

  Maou’s explanation was almost too straightforward, but Emi lacked the mental fortitude to add anything else.

  “And while we were fleeing, apparently she dropped her purse.”

  Emi seemed to go even smaller as he continued, almost disappearing entirely.

  “So, you know, she can’t catch a taxi, she can’t spend the night at an Internet café… She doesn’t have any friends nearby, either, she claims. Turns out she lives over by Eifukucho, so that’s kinda far to walk.”

  “But, Your Demonic Highness… If you remember where it was dropped, I’m sure nobody’s touched it at this time of night…”

  “Yeah, I know, but we just got written up by the cops yesterday, you know? I don’t know who was targeting us, but if she winds up getting killed out there, we’re both gonna be the prime suspects. It wouldn’t hurt to let her sleep in the corner, would it? As long as she takes the first train outta here.”

  Ashiya brought a frustrated hand to his temple.

  “Here, c’mon in. Have a seat wherever you like. Hope you’re not expecting a futon or any other luxury goods.”

  “…I get it, all right?” Emi grumbled softly.

  “Emilia! After the gracious pity the Devil King has bestowed upon you, is that how you repay him?!”

  “Pipe down, Ashiya. The landlord’s gonna hear us. Hey, Emi.”

  “What do you wa—oomph!”

  Maou had thrown a bath towel over Emi’s face. “You can use that if you want. If you need a pillow, go ahead and use those towels over there. I’ll spot you a thousand yen, so get out of here before the trains start up, all right?”

  Gritting her teeth, Emi reluctantly accepted the wadded-up bill, which Maou plucked from a plastic change purse he had clearly purchased from the hundred-yen store.

  “Emilia! That is a royal donation from the Devil King’s personal meager resources! I order you to treat it with the respect it deserves!”

  “Shut up, I know that! I didn’t ask for any of this, okay
? Thank you for the money!”

  “You little…!” Ashiya seemed angry enough that steam would be blowing out his ears at any moment, but Maou paid it no mind as he took his own bath sheet out of the closet.

  Watching him, Emi wrapped her own towel around herself and took a seat on the floor. They may all be normal Japanese people now, but even so, she wasn’t so careless as to lie down defenselessly in the den of the Devil King. Pulling the towel close for protection, she found it to be freshly washed, with a surprisingly pleasant scent to it.

  “…This is the same detergent I use.”

  “Don’t start whining about how stiff it is. Ashiya refuses to buy any fabric softener.” Maou turned over on the floor as he spoke, his ears having picked up on Emi’s quiet mutterings.

  “I-I was just saying… It didn’t need a response.” And thinking she wasn’t going to get another, Emi turned her back to Maou, balling herself up even more tightly.

  “Yeah, yeah. You go to bed, too, Ashiya. Hey, Emi, don’t worry about locking the door behind you, okay? Night, people.”

  Within moments, Maou was sound asleep. For a moment, Emi was astounded at how fast he went under.

  Ashiya, however, sized up the unlikely couple in front of him.

  “Do note that I have not dropped my guard yet. Try anything underhanded, and it will be you who pays the price. A good night to you!”

  With that rather bizarre farewell, he laid himself down and quickly fell asleep himself, one of the few ways the servant resembled the master. They had acted so cautious around her, and now they had left themselves wide open in their slumber.

  She watched them sleep for a moment, but soon found the idea of remaining vigilant in front of these senseless, comatose corpses too silly to consider. Soon, she had lain down as well.

  “I’m gonna have to cancel my Kakui credit card… My bank card, too. Oh, and how many rides did I have left on my pass?”

  Recalling all the life necessities she held in that purse made her feel even gloomier.

  “Why am I even doing this…?”

  Only she could hear herself whispering this final statement before her fatigue and emotions drove her to the land of dreams.

  Around the time that Emi’s breathing grew slower and more rhythmic, Maou spoke up, his eyes still closed.

  “We’re a team of two, but it seems she’s alone, huh?”

  “Indeed.”

  “We were pretty miserable at first, too, weren’t we? And she had to deal with all of that by herself. You think about it that way…I’m not gonna be her friend, no, but I do feel bad for her.”

  “You’ve grown complacent, Your Demonic Highness.”

  “Just for the moment, Ashiya. I made her promise not to hang around me any further.”

  “Well, so be it, then.”

  “Exactly. So…huh?”

  From the corner of his eye, Maou noticed something glinting in the air.

  “What is it?”

  “We got a text.” Maou scooped the phone up from where it was last tossed on the floor. The screen showed two new messages. “Huh. One’s from Chi… Hey, stop looking.”

  Maou wriggled away from Ashiya, who was also trying to peer into the screen. “The other one’s from an unknown number. Weird.”

  It was from an unregistered source, a mail address that seemed to be a random mishmash of letters and numbers. Either spam or the wrong number, Maou figured…at first.

  “Your Demonic Highness?”

  Ashiya was moved to speak as he watched Maou’s eyes suddenly grow pointed, serious.

  “Hey, Ashiya? This is kind of nuts, isn’t it? I got pretty much the same text at the same time…from someone I know and someone I don’t.”

  The texts from Chiho and the unknown sender seemed almost to dovetail with each other.

  The earthquakes will continue. Be careful.

  Maou, there’s gonna be another earthquake. What should I do? Chiho

  THE DEVIL GOES ON A DATE IN SHINJUKU WITH THIS GIRL FROM WORK

  By the time Maou and Ashiya woke up the next morning, Emi was already gone.

  Her bath towel was neatly folded up and placed on top of the washer. The key to the front door was on the floor beneath a window, and next to the kitchen sink…

  “What’s that?”

  “Some kind of pickled dish?”

  It was a small bowl of chopped-up konnyaku gel and cucumber, tossed with vinegar and miso paste. Ashiya had no memory of preparing it.

  “Her way of repaying us for the lodging, perhaps? Here, allow me to test it for poison.”

  Removing the plastic wrap over the bowl, Ashiya flicked a slice of cucumber into his mouth.

  “Hmm… She is our foe, yes, but she’s also a gifted cook.”

  “It’s good?”

  “I do not find it wanting, my liege.”

  “Huh. I don’t usually eat anything vinegary like that.” As he spoke, Maou tried a pinch for himself.

  “I do wonder what the key is doing on the floor, however…”

  “If I had to guess, she opened the window, locked the door, then tossed it back in through the window. The bars over the windows facing the corridor would’ve kept anyone from getting inside anyway.”

  “Impressive. The Hero is a woman of high morals.” Ashiya sniffed derisively as he picked the key up off the floor.

  “And what would you have done if you were her?”

  “Simple. I would have locked the door and taken the key with me.”

  “Devilish.”

  “Your point being?”

  Emi was safe in Room 501, the Urban Heights Eifukucho condominiums, seven minutes from Eifukucho station on the Keio Inokashira rail line. And Emi was still kicking herself over falling asleep before the trains began running again.

  It may have been just a crummy apartment, “Villa Rosa” in name only, but it was still the Devil’s Castle, a dark domain of ultimate evil. She had been blatantly reckless in her behavior. What’s more, it was the Devil King’s own filthy lucre that paid for train fare. She gritted her teeth in frustration.

  “I feel so unclean…”

  But she needed the remaining cash for the fare to Shinjuku. Today was another workday.

  She could withdraw money easily enough with her passbook and seal, but Emi’s bank didn’t have any manned branches near Eifukucho.

  Hurriedly, she made a bum rush for the shower, eager to wash away the stink of the ancient tatami mats that lined Devil’s Castle.

  She had ample time to take it easy this morning, but the thought of demonic corruption writhing its way through her pores made her blood freeze.

  Savoring the hot, cleansing water, Emi suddenly put a hand to her head, right where Maou touched her as they were dodging magical blasts. She recalled, a shiver of disgust crossing her spine, how Maou had virtually palmed her head like a basketball.

  Lucky thing she’d thought to purchase a new bottle of shampoo. Spending twice the usual time lathering up her hair, she ran the conditioner deep into her scalp, following it up with a thorough hair pack treatment.

  Methodically, she rubbed a freshly purchased bar of medical moisturizing beauty soap repeatedly against each area where Maou’s fingers touched her, as if they were contaminated by some hideous disease. Soon, nearly half the bar was gone.

  Walking from the shower to the living room as she wrung the excess water out of her hair with a towel, she picked up a remote control from a low table covered with a flower-print cloth and turned on the TV.

  Japan, as a nation, was always overly sensitive to gun-related crimes, no matter how far out in the sticks they took place. Their “gunshots” were magical in nature, of course, but they had still made holes in the asphalt, broken a traffic signal, and ripped apart a protective shutter. If something like that took place in the middle of Tokyo, it was only natural that it was the top story once the morning news programs went live.

  MHK was airing a traffic report for the train and highway systems. T
he JR and private train lines were all running on schedule, so Emi shouldn’t have much difficulty riding the Keio Inokashira line to work.

  After a moment, the program shifted to the morning’s news. As expected, the shooting dominated. They began with a shot of the intersection at which Emi had spoken with Maou the night before, now lined with cameras and TV reporters.

  The police had shut the intersection down, lining it with yellow DO NOT CROSS tape. Images of the innocent building shutter, now twisted into an unrecognizable shape, were inserted into the coverage here and there. The reporter used the term “shots fired,” but said that no further details were uncovered as of yet.

  Switching through the channels, Emi found largely the same story elsewhere. Then:

  “Whoa! It’s them!”

  Maou and Ashiya were clearly visible among the crowd of onlookers in one of the camera shots.

  Emi resisted the instinctive urge to shut off the TV. They were on-screen for only a moment, but it seemed like they were discussing something with each other, somber looks on their faces. Perhaps Maou was explaining the scene to Ashiya.

  “…and a bicycle with two flat tires was abandoned in the middle of the intersection. Police detectives are in the midst of determining the bicycle’s owner, since they believe it may have something to do with the case.”

  Emi’s eyes opened wide at the on-scene reporter’s script.

  “You…idiot…”

  That was why they looked so somber! Presumably they didn’t think anyone would care much about any of this. He must have thought it’d be fine and dandy to stroll on over early in the morning and pick up the bike then. And now look at him.

  It wouldn’t be long before the police seized the bike and figured out who owned it. And from there, it wouldn’t be long before they rooted out Sadao Maou, lurking within Villa Rosa Sasazuka.

  “…Well, not my problem.”

  With that conclusion, she returned to the bathroom to dry her hair, leaving the TV on.

  Maou was the victim here, after all. It didn’t bother Emi much if the police thought he was related to the shooting. In fact, him getting arrested would be nothing but good news for her.

 

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