Blood 20 — My master is a fiend.

Three years and a little more have passed.

Yes, three years.

Three years in this world—approximately three and a half years by Earth’s reckoning.

I am still bound to Ariel and my master.

My master?

My master is my master.

I can only call him that.

Due to the curse.

That was about a year ago, yes.

My master suddenly brought out a deck of cards.

Cards.

The fundamental game of cards, familiar from my previous life.

Well, I was lonely, so I have no memory of playing cards with friends.

There are no cards in this world.

Entertainment is scarce.

Perhaps because we are constantly at war with demons, many people struggle to afford food for the day, and have no time to play.

Yet my master brought a deck of cards from somewhere.

When I asked where it came from, the reply was simply “from D.”

Whether D was a place name or something else, I could not determine.

My master never speaks of anything beyond necessity, so uncertainty is common.

I pressed for details, but received no further explanation. The origin remains unknown.

If it had merely been a standard deck of cards, I would not have been surprised.

Indeed, such cards do not exist in this world, and the anomaly is notable—but my master may have crafted them himself, or commissioned their creation from some unknown source.

A standard deck is not impossible to produce.

But these cards were not standard.

I failed to recognize that fact, and thus accepted my master’s proposal to play snapdragon.

Snapdragon.

There was a reason for selecting this particular game from among all possible card games.

I can recall only one rule from playing cards: snapdragon.

What else could I do?

I never played cards in my previous life!

There was no one to play with!

Sorry!?

So, we decided on snapdragon. That’s the only rule I remember from playing cards.

Melazofis naturally doesn’t know the rules of cards, so used that as an excuse to refuse other games.

Melazofis kept apologizing, “I’m sorry I don’t know the rules,” but I’m sorry too—I don’t know them either.

“It’s fine. Snapdragons are simple. You’ll learn quickly.”

The look Ariel gave me then—so pitiful, so helpless—burned into my mind and won’t fade.

She probably knows.

Please… don’t look at me like that.

And so, the snapdragon tournament began.

The problem: just playing wouldn’t be interesting. An additional rule was proposed.

The player who finishes first can issue a command to the last-place player.

Kind of like King’s Game.

I’ve never played King’s Game either.

I accepted it.

Why I accepted it.

If I had known what came after, I would have struck myself—hard—just to stop it.

Incidentally, my master is said to possess a pseudo-dramatic ability like the Evil Eye, though its activation is prohibited for security reasons.

As a result, his eyes remained open, which made me feel uneasy.

Normally, he keeps them closed to conceal the ability, relying instead on透视 to maintain vision.

I learned this not from him, but from Ariel.

First round.

First place: Ariel.

Last place: Melazophis.

This outcome was due in part to Melazophis not fully understanding the rules, but largely because of bad luck.

The Joker remained in Melazophis’s hand from start to finish.

That was all it took. The match ended abruptly.

Ariel’s command was to endure the next match on air chair posture.

The moment those words ended, a malevolent wave erupted from the deck of cards and struck Melazophis.

Melazophis was forcibly locked into air chair stance.

“Shiro, what’s this?”

“Cursed cards.”

“Why would such a curse exist?”

“Who knows?”

“Wait, how do you break this curse?”

“It can’t be broken.”

“Huh?”

“It can’t be broken.”

“Wait, what?”

“It can’t be broken.”

“Oi! What do we do now!? Melazophis stuck like this forever!?”

“It will return to normal after the next match ends.”

“Huh!? Right!”

Thus, the second match—dedicated to rescuing Melazophis.

First place: Master.

Last place: Melazophis.

Unlike the first match, this was a defeat earned through self-inflicted consequence.

Whether due to discomfort impairing judgment or unfamiliarity with the cards, Melazofis had forgotten to play the hand she should have already assembled.

That is why defeat occurred.

But the moment the outcome was decided, Melazofis was released from the air chair.

"Mel, don't remove it until the next battle ends."

—Just as she thought it was over, a shocking statement was made.

At the same time, a malevolent wave emanates from the deck of cards.

Sophia's garments came undone.

All.

“Oh!”

"Help!"

Melazofis, completely naked and in a state of slackened awareness, mouth moving in idle motion. Ariel, emitting an oddly pleased tone. Me, screaming normally. And the master, somehow smug.

Something feels off—then they’re drinking alcohol!

This person is drunk!

Without intervention, the curse will keep me bare-skinned indefinitely. This is the third match, to preserve Melazofis’s honor.

Result: First place — Master.

Last place — Me.

Me.

You understand now, don’t you?

Why I’m calling you Master.

“From now on, refer to me as Master.”

Yes.

That’s what it is.

Because of this, I can no longer call you anything but Master.

Not just aloud. In my mind.

How powerful a curse is this.

Ariel diagnosed it. The only confirmed result: unbreakable.

Incidentally, the next morning, when the Master regained sobriety, he wore a face of confusion.

You told me to call you that!