A Mob Character Who Just Wants to Get Banished and Escape This Death Game vs. The Party Members Driven Mad by the Radiance of His Brilliance - Chapter 15

“Hurry now. Stroke my head with Mikkanen’s hand.”

Professor Ogd Alhansen, monitoring his own pulse, lowered his head. I placed my hand on it and tousled his hair. As I did, he exhaled quietly.

“As expected… Mikkanen’s hand is one I can trust. My pulse is steady, and I find myself smiling without even trying. I take this as proof that I truly trust Mikkanen.”

He leaned back gently against my chest, closed his eyes, and nodded in satisfaction. As he rubbed his head against me, I could only sit there, awkward and unsure.

“Now then, Mikkanen—next, use the artificial arm to stroke my head. That will allow us to measure how my pulse responds in comparison.”

I did as I had before, patting his head with the artificial limb. But this time, Professor Alhansen sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“No good. My pulse is unsettled. My body doesn’t respond at all. It seems the reason I trust Mikkanen isn’t found in the shape of his arm.”

He jotted the data into his notebook for a few moments. Just as he began preparing a new experiment, I quietly spoke up.

“Professor Alhansen… I lied about one thing. The arms were reversed.”

“What do you mean—the arms were reversed?”

Professor Alhansen tilted his head, turning toward me. His lips trembled slightly, as if he feared what I was about to say.

“I mean exactly that. The first time, I used the artificial arm—the one you gave me. The second time, I used my real hand.”

“…Why would you do such a thing?”

It was an experiment of my own making. Compared to the research Professor Alhansen had done in the past, it was probably simple—maybe even childish. But I had to do it.

“Professor, you’re always trying to rationalize why you trust me. You keep searching for some logical explanation—some measurable quality in me that makes it okay to believe.”

The old Professor Alhansen would’ve doubted that assumption right away.

Let’s review the facts. When he thought it was my hand, he felt calm. When he thought it wasn’t, he felt nothing.

But the truth is—both times were lies.

“So, Professor… based on that, what can we conclude?”

“S-stop. Don’t say it. That… that’s the one thing we mustn’t say. That’s the one truth I cannot allow to be proven!”

He shook his head desperately, like a criminal confronted with undeniable evidence. His terrified eyes met mine, and I didn’t look away.

“Maybe the truth lies in something poetic—something as unscientific as the heart. Isn’t that right, Professor?”

People don’t trust others because of logic. They trust because their heart tells them they can.

If you think about it, it’s obvious.

Even people bound by bl00d, even those who’ve spent decades together—anyone can be doubted. But trust doesn’t come from reason.

“That’s why you trust me, Professor. It’s not my hand. It’s your heart. No matter how thoroughly you study me, you’ll never find a reason.”

“…Why would you say something like that…”

His eyes trembled. As if trying to protect himself from me, Professor Alhansen hugged his own body and took a step back.

“I kept pretending not to know. I was afraid that once I admitted it, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I thought I’d lose control, that I’d become reckless when it came to you—Mikkanen!”

He shouted, voice raw and shaking.

“If my heart is the source of that trust… then there’s no substitute for Mikkanen. There’s no one else in the world I could ever trust like this!”

It was the first time I’d ever heard Professor Alhansen—always so calm and logical—cry out from the depths of his soul. Tears welled up and spilled from his eyes.

“If I accept that… I won’t be able to let Mikkanen go. I can’t live in a world where there’s no one I can trust…”

And then, I remembered—

The Geis that bound Professor Alhansen.

Professor Ogd Alhansen’s magical Geis was this:
That there must be someone—just one person—he could trust without doubt.
For a scholar who questions everything, there had to be someone who let him forget that creed, if only for a moment.

“I can’t do it anymore… I don’t want to live in a world where I’m not allowed to trust anyone!”

As Professor Alhansen broke down in tears, I took a step toward him.

“Don’t come any closer. Right now, I don’t know what I might do. I could… I might even try to twist your emotions with drugs—just to bind your heart to me…”

I’ve seen his suffering—how he’s spent his days buried in that lab, battling alone. I know the frantic look in his eyes as he threw himself into experiment after experiment, desperate and driven.

And if I’m the only person he can believe in—then how could I forgive myself for turning away from his outstretched hand?

“Then cling to me all you want. As much as you like.”

“Don’t say something so foolish! If you allow that, you don’t know what I might demand!”

Still trembling and crying, Professor Alhansen’s small frame collapsed into my arms. I embraced him quietly.

“That’s my line. I live how I want—so if you’re coming with me, be prepared. It’s not going to be easy.”

◆◆◆◆◆

“So… just like with me, you’ve gone and done something utterly foolish again, haven’t you?”

That night, Isfana climbed into my bed as usual, glaring at me with tired, narrow eyes. All I wanted was to get some sleep, so I sighed.

“I didn’t have a choice. Professor Alhansen is a comrade. If he asks for help, there’s no way I could refuse.”

“Ugh, and that’s why that second-rate scholar keeps getting the better of you! That man’s the kind of lunatic who’d implant bacteria in someone’s brain without telling them. His ethics are totally broken!”

Since regaining her memories thanks to Professor Alhansen, Isfana had been sharper than ever. Even now, she clung to me, grumbling under her breath.

Honestly, Isfana was a problem too. She clung so tightly I kept having nightmares. See? I could barely breathe—my neck was practically being squeezed.

…Wait a second. Isfana’s arms are supposed to be around my waist.

I jolted upright and threw off the blanket.

On the other side of the bed, rubbing sleep from their eyes, was Professor Alhansen, his black hair a mess.

“Waking up in such a rush at night can be harmful to brain function,” he said calmly. “The brain benefits most from restful, scheduled sleep cycles…”

“Uh… Professor Alhansen. Why… are you in my bed?”

I held back a hissing, furious Isfana—who now looked ready to lunge—and asked the question as gently as I could.

“You were the one who said I could cling to you as much as I wanted. I am merely following those instructions,” he said, dead serious.

Ah. Right. I did say that…
I gave up and closed my eyes.

“Mikkanen! Get that bargain-bin scholar out of bed now! This genius refuses to share the night with anyone but you!”

“…If that’s the case, Isfana, you should leave,” Alhansen replied. “You mock Mikkanen as a fool, yet you remain in his bed. I am here because Mikkanen is the only one I can trust.”

I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to sleep.
But from either side of me, the argument began to heat up.

As it escalated, both Isfana’s and Alhansen’s arms tightened around me, squeezing me like a rope caught in a tug-of-war. My stomach twisted, and I silently began to cry.

Not only was I born into a death game, now I couldn’t even escape party conflict in bed.
Oh, merciful gods… What did I do to deserve this?

“…Hmm. It’s rather warm… I could get used to this.”