I Became a Raid Boss

Da-eun spoke in a trembling voice.

“…I didn’t think I could hide it forever.”

Her face was a mixture of remorse and regret. With an expression as complicated as her trembling voice, Da-eun tightly shut her eyes.

“But I wished I could hide it forever.”

Even though she knew it was futile, she had desperately hoped for it.

“No one wishes for tragedy.”

Like ordinary people, she just wanted the same peace they sought.

Da-eun, who had been quietly murmuring, opened her eyes. A moment ago, her gaze had been unstable and trembling.

“…So, just this once.”

“Please give me just one chance.”

That was all Da-eun said. No elaboration on what she intended to do. Just a simple plea for trust.

In her determined black eyes was the familiar face of the girl. A face revealing no hints of what she was thinking, leaving me clueless.

For some reason, the expression on that face felt awkward, and when I raised my hand, the girl in her gaze also raised hers.

‘Hmm.’

It only made things more awkward.

Lowering my hand awkwardly, I rolled Da-eun’s words around on my tongue.

“Chance.”

A good word.

And a cruel one.

A chance can lift a small bird from the muddy ground to the highest skies.

But not everyone is granted a miraculous opportunity.

Sometimes, people are deceived by a demon disguised as opportunity, leading to ruin.

Even if someone seizes a chance, they might still fail for various reasons.

Isn’t it because I seized the opportunity Edel extended that I can even stand face-to-face with Da-eun now?

…

The silence that settled over the room was profound.

The faint sound of Yuki’s breathing quietly echoed in the stillness.

No one had told her to, but Yuki held her breath as if compelled to, silently watching us.

In the oppressive quiet, where even the sound of rolling eyes could be heard, I reached out slowly toward the gaze that sought a chance.

Tap.

“…Ah.”

The words that touched my fingertips crumbled meaninglessly, and Da-eun let out a sigh.

“A chance, huh.”

It was so absurd that I couldn’t hold back.

“You sounded so dramatic, so I decided to listen, and this is what I get? Really, you come up with all sorts of things.”

“Waaaah!”

“At least say something I can understand.”

Da-eun flailed about, letting out a loud cry.

“Why?! I begged you so desperately! Can’t you just let it slide once?! You cold-blooded devil!”

“Why should I let it slide?”

If I did, wouldn’t that make me the loser?

I retorted sharply, dumbfounded, and Yuki chimed in.

“The world of competition is harsh. The winner takes everything, and the loser faces inevitable ruin. That’s the way it should be.”

“Does this even apply here?! Over a mere board game?!”

“Didn’t you say it yourself? You begged for a chance like a dog, and now you’re complaining…”

“I didn’t beg like a dog…!”

A mere board game.

As Da-eun said, all we had done was play a simple board game.

Uncovering the truth behind incidents on a small board, exposing hidden evidence and lairs, and finally bringing the opponent to judgment.

A board game based on psychological warfare and deduction.

I was the ultimate winner of the game, while Da-eun was the loser.

As for Yuki… though she didn’t make any significant contributions, she didn’t make any major mistakes either, so when Da-eun fell, she automatically became the second-place runner-up.

“This is unfair! How could this happen?!”

Da-eun shouted at the top of her lungs.

“How can every card I draw reveal only my evidence? If that were all, I wouldn’t complain. But every time I roll the dice, I get a six, and you grab all the Lucky Cards for yourself….”

Da-eun, who had been lying on the floor throwing a tantrum, suddenly sprang up.

“Just admit it. You cheated, didn’t you?!”

“…How does one cheat in a board game?”

“Then maybe you were doing sleight of hand or colluding with Yuki… If you confess now, I’ll settle for you forfeiting.”

“Da-eun, you’re being pathetic.”

“I don’t care if I look pathetic!”

Gathering every bit of stubbornness she could muster, Da-eun’s display was the most undignified I’d ever seen her.

That aside, I had to admit—I had been pretty lucky.

“‘Pretty lucky’ doesn’t even cover it. That level of fortune is practically divine intervention from the Dice God….”Nôv(el)B\\jnn

“Well, what was I supposed to do? Besides, by the middle of the game, I think your mistakes were more to blame than my luck.”

This wasn’t a lie, but my honest perspective.

At the start of the game, I surged ahead of everyone else, thanks to what Da-eun herself called “the Dice God’s descent.”

Initially, Da-eun didn’t think much of me pulling ahead. But as the gap widened, her anxiety grew, and she started making bold, almost reckless plays in a desperate bid to close the gap.

Her unease was written all over her face, which gave me several hints throughout the game.

If not for that, Yuki wouldn’t have come in second place—Da-eun might have.

Despite many failed gambles, Da-eun’s bold moves succeeded quite a few times.

Even after hearing my reasoning, Da-eun collapsed back onto the floor, resuming her tantrum.

Rolling around as if trying to sweep up every speck of dust in the room.

All over a board game, of all things.

This whole “chance” business was ridiculously overblown.

“Ugh!”

“Why are you acting like this?”

I stopped Da-eun just as she tumbled close and asked.

Her teary, round eyes fixed on me.

“My wish ticket…! My dream of using the wish ticket to see Kana act cute has been shattered…! This can’t be happening!”

“…”

So all this chaos was over something like that?

Her candid confession, strangely sincere in its ridiculousness, left me heaving a sigh.

“That’s why I told you we shouldn’t bet anything.”

“But playing a board game without stakes is boring! You’ve got to at least wager something small, like getting bopped with a toy hammer!”

“That’s a gambling addiction.”

“It’s not like we’re betting money. It’s purely to make the game more exciting!”

This game’s prize—and punishment—had been a wish ticket.

“How about this: the first-place winner gets to give any command to the last-place loser?”

It had been suspicious when Da-eun suddenly suggested playing a board game. Sure enough, she brought up wish tickets.

Even though Yuki and I were lukewarm about the idea, Da-eun pushed her agenda. Well, you can see how that turned out.

“For that plan to work, not only would Da-eun have to come in first place, but I’d also have to come in last.”

“…I was going to talk Yuki into it somehow. Like promising that if she helped me make you the loser, I’d spar with her or something….”

“…”

“Ack! Wait, hold on! That hit a nerve!”

She accused me of cheating, but here she was scheming to manipulate the game herself.

“Justice prevails. You were punished because of that wicked mindset.”

“Wicked mindset? Justice? Where do you even learn those expressions?”

“On the internet.”

“…We really need to cut back on your internet time.”

I didn’t bother asking, “Why?” It was obvious. Da-eun was just spouting whatever came to her head out of frustration from losing the game.

Instead of questioning her, I sharply pressed my toes between her knuckles and gave her a little kick.

“Gyaaah!”

Da-eun tumbled like a soccer ball, rolling until she landed on the couch. Ignoring her faint groans, I turned my attention to Yuki.

“Any progress?”

“Not really.”

Yuki shook her head.

“At first, it was easy, but Silia Online… ah.”

“Speak comfortably.”

“Okay. It’s not as easy as it is in the game.”

“Of course not.”

The mana density is different, and Silia Online has the help of a system. That’s the power of the system—it even allows novice swordsmen to wield mana.

“Still, you’re picking it up quickly.”

I came across a term online: reverse adjustment. It’s when you feel the disparity after going from using something high-performance to something subpar.

I interpreted it as feeling like you’ve gone from using a masterful blade to wielding a rusty iron sword.

Yuki must be experiencing reverse adjustment too. But I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing.

“Is it because you’ve experienced it once before?”

Once someone has reached their destination, they know what it looks like and how to get there. Even if the path is long and arduous, it’s better than drifting aimlessly in a vast sea.

From what I’ve observed, most players of Silia Online rely on the system when handling mana.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing—manipulating mana isn’t easy, after all. But it feels like a waste to see so much mana being used in such a limited way.

That’s why I admired Yuki for learning how to control mana on her own. Even if the system helped a little, her achievements were remarkable.

“Really?”

Yuki looked frustrated, probably because things weren’t going as she wanted. There was a hint of impatience on her face.

It was meant as a compliment, so why do Da-eun and Yuki both fail to understand my intentions?

With a sigh, I showed Yuki a practical example.

“Look at Da-eun. She hasn’t even gotten the basics down yet.”

“…Ah!”

“Comparing people is wrong! Yuki, don’t find comfort by comparing yourself to others!”

From afar, Da-eun rolled back toward us while yelling.

But seriously, why couldn’t she just get up and walk? Why did she insist on rolling everywhere?

I shook my head at her white clothes now covered in random patches of dust.

—

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