The Poljushko Polje has been running nonstop through my head.
Not the version from my kindergarten athletic meet, but the one the tough old Russian guys sing with vodka in one hand: the Gorky Park Chorus edition.
Though there probably isn’t a chorus by that name.
My body floats in pleasant warmth at the boundary between dream and consciousness. The stream of sunlight pouring down on my face turns the darkness beneath my eyelids pure white.
I finally wake up when my face is shaded by night descending again. I pull my cheek away from Conrad’s chest.
“...Russian folk song...”
“What, are you pondering the problem of the Cold War?”
“No no, that’s already over.”
The second son, who left the United States of America fifteen years ago, murmurs admiringly, “Oh, really?” The third son is standing in the doorway, still in his bathrobe.
His beautiful eyebrows are knit in an exaggerated frown.
“This is a nightmare.”
“Who’s having a nightmare? Me?”
“No, I am.”
“Wolfram, what are you so mad about?...oh, have I done something again? Something amazing or awful?”
“Done something? You mean you don’t remember?! Any of that?!”
Wolfram slides from his reclining position against the door to the floor, head tilted back in defeat.
“What a lucky fellow you are.”
“Wha...?! I-I’ve done something so terrible that I’m lucky for not remembering it?! Wait, where is this again?! Who am I?—I mean...”
There’s a rather significant difference between this tiny, dim little 6ft by 9ft room and the deluxe suite. The rhythmic swaying hasn’t stopped, so we must still be on the ocean. I’m pretty sure even the third-class cabins have bunk beds, but this room has no furniture at all. The window is barred, and the wooden floor and walls are discolored and peeling.
“Why’re we in a prison?...What did I do? How long have I been asleep? I was preaching to the sailor uniforms, and someone was about to fall into the ocean...Beatrice, it was Beatrice! What happened?!”
Gripping Conrad’s jacket, I suddenly realize that he’s still in his evening wear. It’s stained with spots of rusty brown, testimony to the ferocity of that battle.
“Let me answer your questions one at a time. First, Beatrice is fine and with her parents. You rescued her, then punished the pirates with magic of unearthly power. Actually, if you think about it, this ship is of Hildyard origin, which means most of its meat would have come from animals fed on fodder exported from our kingdom, which would probably have been absorbed into the calcium. That’s why it worked so well.”
...What the heck is he talking about?
“Anyway, it was thanks to Your Majesty that they were crushed. After that a Cimarron patrol ship arrived in a hurry and bound up all the pirates. You’ve been sound asleep for almost two days now. When that violet outside the window changes to blue, we will welcome another new night, and people will begin to turn their dreadful experiences into conversation pieces to go with their drinks at one of those parties. I do have one request, however.”
He cups my cheek and pulls down gently.
“Take your contact out before you go back to sleep.”
Nurse smile: zero dollars.
“But why are we locked up in here? Ah...I’m not, you know, trying to brag or anything, but um, I did save everybody, right? Even if I scared a few people, the pirates would’ve escaped before the patrol ship got there if I hadn’t done anything. Right?”
With a ‘cargo’ of human slaves on board. Including me and Wolfram.
“That’s not all. The escort ship took significant damage as well, and all of the lifeboats on this ship were destroyed. They were probably planning to set fire to the ship as they leave and sink it. Killing everyone.”
Including Conrad.
His explanation is completely devoid of emotion, as if nothing about it is personally relevant. How can he be so calm about it all when he could’ve been killed?
Wait, so why are we shut up in here when I saved everyone from that huge disaster?
“Because we were exposed as Mazoku.” Conrad shrugs matter-of-factly. “The Cimarron territory is not a place where we Mazoku can take a pleasure trip.”
“That’s stupid!”
Do people as unreasonable as that really exist?!
It may have been just my petty bourgeois sense of justice, but I did save them. It had nothing to do with whether I’m Mazoku or Human, I did it to save everyone.
I guess I shouldn’t have stuck my nose into it after all.
“...I’m sorry...”
“Whatever for?”
“For being so rash.”
I slip down into a crouch with my arms around my knees and lean my forehead against Conrad’s shoulder.
“If I managed to hold back the eruption, we would be digging into the main dish at dinner now.”
Sitting with his legs thrust out, throat still exposed and defenseless, Wolfram says: “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Wolf...”
“It’s the Humans who’re stupid.”
Out of the corners of my eyes I can see Conrad’s perturbation in his slight tremor. His father was a Human, and Human blood runs through him as well. And however much people call me His Majesty the Maou, I’m still human.
Let’s end this sort of talk right now and figure out what we’re going to do rather than dwell on how this happened.
I gaze out at the tiny square-cut piece of violet sky with its pale lavender clouds.
“We have a vertically striped sunset today. It’s such a bother that we can look at it from the window but not go out to it!”
“If you’re the Maou, then change into something that can fly out of here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not Batman, you know.”
Well, even he doesn’t change shape.
“Batman! I know that one. He’s the one who dresses in black from head to toe and has a yellow butterfly drawn on his chest.”
“...Wouldn’t that make him Butterflyman?”
“Stop talking about things I don’t know about!”
My stomach, now that I’ve woken from my long nap, moans like a turtledove. It’s complaining about not having had anything to eat or drink for a day and a half.
“I guess an extravagant dinner is out of the question, but I won’t be able to come up with any plans if I don’t get any fuel for my brain.”
“Ta-da!”
The door bursts open at the hearty Master Konbei-like shout. Wolfram, who was leaning against it, springs away. Standing there is a smiling man with loosely-tied orange hair, carefully holding a large silver tray with both hands.
“Thanks for waiting, here’s your gourmet repast!”
The steam and mouth-watering scent from the tray fills the entire room.
At first I mistake him for one of the guards, and wonder at the personnel selection that produced such a jokester.
But he comes up right next to me and kneels to set the tray down beside me.
“You’re awake, Your Majesty. I’m glad it was nothing serious. Here, this is a bit different from what the other guests are having, but I hope it will suit your taste...”
“Wh-wh-wh-why did you call me ‘Your Majesty’ just now?! I mean, I know everybody knows that I’m Mazoku now, but I’m just an ordinary Mazoku on a trip...well, actually, I’m physically human...”
Smiling like a prancing Roger Rabbit, he unbends his supple upper body and places both hands on my shoulders.
“Well, well! So the rumors are true! You really are a cutie!”
The corners of Conrad’s mouth, though twisted rather interestingly, are relaxed. I don’t sense any antagonism there.
“Hey, you’re being rude towards His Majesty.”
“I guess I am. But it only counts as rudeness inside the country—can’t I at least have a little fun with a cold man who’s forgotten all about me here on this distant ocean?”
“Forgotten? Does that mean I’ve met you somewhere before?”
His slightly slanted, almond-shaped eyes are smiling mischievously. But they are of a blue that somehow gives the impression of a capacity for complete ruthlessness with the simple flick of a switch.
“...I’m sorry, I’m not very good with faces...”
“It’s not really a memorable face, is it?”
His husky voice, like something out of an old jazz record, sounds familiar. He has a thick, firm neck, and the superb muscles covering his shoulders and down his back are obvious even under his shirt—he has the perfect figure for an outfielder.
“Wait, you’re Mi-Miss Biceps?!”
“Correct!”
“Huh? Wha? But you changed into a guy?!”
“Don’t be silly, I was always a guy. The female dress is for my job, as my work dictates.”
Now that I know he’s a guy, the husky voice is rather charming. And that ideal outfielder’s physique is understandable for a Mister Biceps.
“Then why was Conrad flirting with you?”
“The Commander? You mean why we’re so close? Well, we did grow up together, after all.”
Grow up together?! Wait, so does that mean another addition to the family? Gwen and Conrad and Wolf are brothers, so if he and Conrad share the same father...
“Oh no, we’re not brothers.”
The second son himself quickly refutes that conjecture.
“We were childhood friends, to put it simply. We’re both half-Human, and we lived in the same place when we were children. When we grew up, we went into the same company, and we’ve survived life-or-death situations together as comrades-in-arms. His name is Grillet Josak. He’s been guarding us since Schildkraut so he could come to our aid in case of an emergency.”
“Nice to meet’cha.”
The cheerful jokester bodyguard waves.
“He’s a rude fellow, but I’ll vouch for his skill—just ignore him during the trip.”
“Actually, we’ve been naked together back in Shinma Kingdom even before boarding this ship.”
“Naked...ah! Were you in the transsexual bath, then?! So you saw my...my...”
“Old son? Oh yeah, I had quite a nice view.”
“Gyaaaaaaah!”
“What?! Yuuri, you had a kid behind my back?!”
“Don’t be stupid!”
Josak’s weapon is an axe.
I try singing the tune from a car commercial, but it doesn’t erase the shock of seeing it.
“...Anyway, tuck into this before it gets cold. Your Majesty, will you be all right with ordinary fare? Or should we start with infirmary food?”
“No no, this is fine, I’ll eat it, absolutely!” I assure him with fatuous greed. I’m great at overestimating my own stomach.
“Fantastic, that’s how it should be. The galley head sneaked it out to me. He’s a great admirer of your craftsmanship—he told me it was the first time he had seen such art created from stuff they usually toss out without a second thought.”
“Huh, art? Conrad, did you make some stuff out of recycled goods or something?”
The gazes of both brothers are fixed on me.
“...I did?”
“Well, don’t worry ’bout it.”
Josak takes a cross-legged seat with a muffled laugh. There’s no table, so we sit and eat from the tray on the floor in a circle, Asian-style.
Nobody reaches for the lamb ribs garnished with herb sauce.
I wonder why? It looks pretty good.
Josak returns before dawn and awakens us to make our escape.
We were sleeping huddled together, and I had a dream of my legs being entwined with those of a career woman and a high school girl. I don’t want to think about what actually happened.
“We should be able to get to shore before this ship does even in a lifeboat rowing by hand. Since we’re making our escape in the middle of the ocean, we’ll try to drift as much as possible. Now, Your Majesty, Commander, get up. His Excellency looks like he’s still deep in dreamland.”
Pretty boys, like pretty girls, have low blood pressure. Wolfram rubs his eyes adorably and pulls the rough blanket close.
“Wolfram, you’ll be late for school if you go back to sleep. You can nap in first period math class.”
I get the feeling I’m not all here either.
“I could only recover about half of your luggage. Though I think I got all the important things.”
“What about the ship? Didn’t the pirates destroy all of the lifeboats?”
“Ah, let me set you straight on that point. That was their plan for deceiving the guards and slipping away.”
Josak produces clothes for the three of us and pale yellow rubber balloons from his bag. He puts his mouth to one of them and blows.
“Stop staring and hurry up and change, then inflate this.”
“What is it?”
“Water rescue practice doll. Mr. Livesaver.”
So it’s an expert on drowning?
“Put your clothes, huff, on these, huff, and we’ll leave them behind, huff, when we go, huff, and they’ll be disguised as you, huff. They don’t know what to expect from Mazoku, so they’ll keep these Mr. Livesavers imprisoned, hahah, makes me laugh just thinking about it.”
“...Isn’t it because of stuff like this that there’re so many weird rumors about the Mazoku floating around?”
“Well, I guess so—but we need to buy ourselves time, Your Majesty.”
That feels rather like self-justification to me.
We sneak quickly up to the ship’s deck and climb into the lifeboat waiting for us. Sending us off with a thumbs-up, smirking and smoking a cigar, is the freckled Rick...or not. It’s the sailor who hit him. Yes, so we know that he can be bought.
“He won’t immediately turn around and sound the alarm, will he?”
Gripping his slanted oar, Conrad looks back at the luxury liner fading away in the distance.
“There are two kinds of people who allow themselves to be bought. One will betray you for small change, while the other will not betray you except for a large amount of money. Money is his weakness, but once bought he will stay bought.”
“I see. Then what about the ones who accept a lot of money and then turn on you?”
“At that point it’s no longer about money, but about advantage. Don’t you think?”
“Both of you, stop chatting and keep rowing! If they catch up with us it’ll all be for nothing!”
The boat starts listing slightly. Wolfram is starting to doze off next to me.
“Wah, Wolf, don’t fall asleep! We’re turning, we’re going to start going around in circles—!”
“Hrmm.”
“Not hrmm! Row! Row, come on! Pull-and-push, pull-and-push, heeheefuu, heeheefuu.”
“...Your Majesty, isn’t that the Lamaze Technique...?”
How the heck does he know that? Mr. Conrad coming up with the name before me.
Four fugitives desperately row for the wavering lights of the island as dawn silvers the ocean.
Good-bye, my first and last voyage on an extravagant luxury liner. I don’t really have any regrets.
Drops of spray from the oars drip from my cheeks, and the salt lingers on my tongue when I lick it away.
Van der Veer is still silent and motionless. It’ll probably be crowded and bustling once the festival starts.
Shinma Kingdom’s treasure is sleeping on this island. The wickedest, evilest...no, I shouldn’t judge without any first-hand information. The mightiest ultimate weapon, which cannot be wielded by any except the Maou. I’m going to fetch it.
I didn’t come here to get attacked by pirates.
“All right! Just you wait, Demon Sword Melgib!”
“Morgif,” I’m immediately corrected.
A glance at the tiny ship in the distance tells me that we’re close to shore.
For some reason, I start singing Mr. Michael’s song to myself in Japanese. Conrad joins in with a smattering of English, and we sing together:
“Hallelujah.”
It must be a rare Maou who sings praises to God, even if unintentionally.