Chapter 100: His Blood Is Almost Certainly Blue, Black, or Green
“I, Kikkōryū Junna, swear to cooperate in the battle against the sea-serpent monster as a companion of Kirishiro Gouto-sama. I also swear that, if requested afterward, I will return the Sea God’s sacred orb’s power to the Sea God’s shrine maiden.”
“Your oath has been heard. Our ‘deal is concluded.’ We are now ‘companions.’ I look forward to working with you.”
“Likewise.”
I nodded solemnly while ensuring Kikkōryū Junna’s oath was recorded.
Her present cooperation was difficult to believe after she’d resisted so valiantly while hanging from the clothesline pole.
My efforts to draw out her “true feelings” had been worthwhile.
After all, she agreed to my persuasion in only about ten minutes.
Once I’d heard her oath, I immediately distributed and backed up the recording, then made her sign the contract I’d prepared.
If she could move even her fingertips, a ninja should be capable of signing her name.
While she signed with a despairing expression, Kikkōryū Hōtoku, who had watched the persuasion from beside us, spoke with an extremely uncomfortable face.
“Um, well… Junna.”
“…What, Dad?”
“I had no idea you liked Terumi-kun enough to think, ‘We’ll absolutely, absolutely have a loving marriage, produce enough children for a soccer team, and remain so madly in love even as grandparents that we’ll take another honeymoon.'”
“Just kill me already! In front of my father!”
Kikkōryū Junna screamed while struggling.
I didn’t know which of her remarks had been decisive in persuading her, but her monologue about a “happy future with Teru-chan” had been quite lengthy.
I couldn’t imagine how her father felt hearing it without warning, but if he cared for his daughter, he should stop reading it aloud before her.
For now, there was only one thing I could tell Kikkōryū Junna.
“Don’t die without permission. We still have the battle with the sea serpent.”
“You demon wearing human skin!”
Who was a demon? I kept telling you I was an ordinary university student you could find anywhere.
“Heh-heh. A fitting description. Demons are bound by contracts. For that very reason, a pact with a demon is sometimes more binding than one with a god. Rejoice, girl. That familiar is a man who never breaks a covenant.”
Kuwajima spoke smugly while Kikkōryū Junna remained equipped on her.
She’d realized she couldn’t change the situation through her own power and begun relaxing openly. A strong woman.
After verifying the signature on the contract—Kikkōryū Hōtoku was jointly liable as guarantor—I handed it to Meiko and spoke.
“Junna, produce your smartphone.”
“What?”
“Not knowing your contact information would be inconvenient.”
“I’m more frightened by you knowing it.”
“No arguments.”
She resisted a little, but once we removed the black bandages restraining her, she reluctantly produced her phone, and I quickly exchanged contact information.
At worst, even if she refused, I could’ve learned it using the hallucination, but this saved time.
After confirming the contact details were correct, I sent Junna every original audio file I’d recorded in the garden.
“…What?”
“Now I’ll delete my recordings. You probably don’t trust me, so watch. Naturally, I’ll also delete every backup.”
“What? What? What?”
Before the confused Kikkōryū Junna, I deleted every one of the “Junna and Teru-chan Fantasy Memories” I’d used to persuade her.
Only the copies inside Kikkōryū Junna’s phone remained.
“I will never use the data to persuade you again. I can’t erase it from my memory, but forgive that much.”
When I made that declaration, everyone except Meiko—even Kuwajima—looked surprised for some reason.
I found it strange.
“Why are you surprised?”
“Because a man like you, whose blood is almost certainly blue, black, or green, let go of someone else’s blackmail material so easily.”
What did she think I was?
If she’d preferred, I could’ve behaved precisely as she expected.
I sighed and addressed Junna.
“I called this a ‘deal.’ Since you agreed to help us, I must also give you appropriate compensation… Actually, I’ve taken too much. In addition to deleting the recordings, if you want, I’ll help mediate between you and Kikkōryū Terumi.”
“W-What? Really?”
Why did she find me so difficult to trust?
When I glanced at Meiko, she stepped forward as though to explain on my behalf.
She gathered the focus she’d relaxed earlier and spoke with her public-facing tone and expression.
“Gouto-kun may seem at first like a cold machine with neither blood nor tears, but he generally prepares compensation proportional to the unreasonable things he demands. If a one-sided deal earned resentment or jealousy and interfered with him later, it would be inefficient. It’s more rational to provide enough benefit that, even if the other party has reservations, they’re forced to swallow them. He does it to me often.”
“That makes perfect sense.”
Ignoring Kikkōryū Junna, Kuwajima nodded furiously.
Kuwajima, if anything, most of your deals involved extracting concessions from me. Perhaps I should stop helping you study.
Kuwajima seemed convinced by Meiko’s explanation, but Kikkōryū Junna—and her father, Hōtoku—still appeared doubtful of my principles.
Meiko’s expression went slightly blank as she quietly added:
“He also thinks that, if he ever needs blackmail material again, he can simply acquire some at the time. That’s why he doesn’t cling to material he’s already used. He understands that freshness matters even in blackmail.”
“I see. Now I understand.”
“Avoid making me sound terrible, Meiko. It isn’t blackmail. It’s persuasion.”
Consciously calling it blackmail was dangerous. It might be interpreted as intentional wrongdoing. It was strictly persuasion.
And while persuasion was quick, it had the disadvantage of easily leaving resentment.
For a one-time relationship, that might be fine. But to build smooth future relations, it was better to minimize such methods and actively offer bait.
The boundary between persuasion and conciliation was paper-thin.
“And this is only advice, but obeying Gouto-kun will probably benefit you in the long run. It may cause stress, but you receive compensation too.”
“…”
Junna furrowed her brow at Meiko’s words.
It was understandable that she couldn’t believe a strange man who suddenly claimed he’d help with her romance.
Especially since Kikkōryū Terumi was due to duel Meiko over some clan ambition, while the Sea God’s shrine maiden was his actual romantic interest.
Was that latter information off the record?
“Can I ask one thing?”
“What?”
“The Kikkōryū clan is plotting to make Terumi marry that kunoichi. What do you think about that? And what is your position?”
“Hmm?”
If she asked what I thought, my answer was, “There is no reason whatsoever for us to obey something you declared unilaterally.”
More strongly, I thought, “You knew about Kirishiro and still dared to say something so selfish? I’ll crush you.”
As for my position, I could describe myself as “the employer of the Nekoyanagi clan, including Meiko—though their debt has currently placed them in the Kirishiro family’s custody.”
As I considered the matter normally, lightning struck me again.
The sensation resembled what I’d felt inside Kuwajima’s mental world.
On calm consideration, wasn’t this situation another question I’d seen frequently in the textbooks—light novels?
Yes.
A woman close to the ordinary protagonist—a potential heroine—was suddenly about to be married to a stranger because of family circumstances.
The potential heroine opposed the marriage but lacked sufficient reason to defy her family.
If the protagonist still tried to stop it, the other party naturally asked, “What are you to her?”
At times like that, there was a role the protagonist almost invariably changed jobs into to prevent the marriage.
It was—
“I will not permit such a marriage! Because I’m either Meiko’s ‘boyfriend’ or her ‘fiancé’—judging ordinarily!”
Since Meiko and I hadn’t arranged anything in advance, I didn’t know which title I should claim.
Ordinary stories included both the boyfriend pattern and the fiancé pattern. Neither could be called more common.
So I left the choice pending for now.
“Wh-What?”
Apparently, even Meiko’s overwhelming insight hadn’t predicted this declaration at this moment. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly.