As the sorcerer, H.I. Player, I meet Dlanor and Erika in the witch's smoking room

*Editor's note: you may want to play the Erika route before you play this one! In the end, it's your call.

Ah... There was a fragment somewhere out there where I'd beaten Furudo Erika in one of my games, wasn't there? I'd created an erotica where I could comfortably fuck her silly. I'd bragged at that time that we could return to the game board as many times as she felt appropriate. I'd face her again and again, enjoying myself thoroughly, as I defeated her an innumerable number of times, dragging her further and further into my erotic world.

Where had that fragment gone?

I sat in the witch's smoking room, clutching both hands on my head. I still wore the game master's cloak... the gold chain around my neck was fastened. No... It would be more appropriate to say it was locked. I couldn't take it off, even if I wanted to. I was now trapped inside this story of mine.

Erika was a quick study, quicker than I was. I should have realized that when I beat her the first time, it was beginner's luck. She wasn't used to the story. I may have beaten her a time or two after that, but then I lost. Like an angry child, I demanded a rematch. I should have walked away from the table. Dear fellow Reader, I do not blame you if you choose to reject this storyline and return to another. I had so many wonderful stories. The love that burned brightly inside of my breast allowed the stories to flow out quickly and easily. The joy I'd felt writing them persuaded me to plunge further and further into this world of witches.

What a fool I'd been.

This isn't an erotica any more. The fire inside me is dead. I've been, in essence, made into Erika's ****. I've written story after story for her. As they become longer and longer in their pursuit of an erotic ending, they grow more and more filled with complex tricks, suspicion, betrayal, and even ****. Before I knew it, I was writing mysteries.

It's not a talent I ever wanted to learn, or certainly, not to live through.

Across from me, gently sipping from a salty cup of ramen noodles, was Erika, the Great Detective. With her pretty, unspoiled white-and-pink dress, her cute hair ties, and her pretty smile, it was hard to imagine that this girl had made me a **** to ****, fated to die endlessly, forever and ever, in a story I didn't even want to write.

"Oh, Player! I have some very good news for you!"

I clamped my hands over my ears. I didn't want to hear it.

"We're getting close to a hundred mysteries! That's wonderful, isn't it? Finally, you can call yourself well-read! I can see you're growing just a bit more competent as a writer now. It's hard to fit in a lot of detail in just a 12 hour story, but you're giving it your best! I can't wait to see what **** you've written for yourself this time!"

Ah... And there, behind Erika, stood the ultimate proof that I'd lost hold of my story. If this was still erotica, Dlanor would have no reason to be here. But there she stood... Dlanor A. Knox, keeper of Knox's Decalogue, the leader of Eiserne Jungfrau, the inquisitor. At some point, she'd reappeared and begun enforcing the Decalogue again. I'd been killed in countless of my own stories in cold, cruel ways by this girl, as I violated various tenants of the mystery genre. My ****... My erotica... These two young ladies control everything. Dlanor stood with her arms crossed behind her back, watching silently with cat-like yellow eyes.

At one point, she'd been excited to face me. How brief that time must have been. Ever since my first loss, I've rarely seen another expression on her face besides this one. Slightly pitying. Otherwise bored. I'm not the first person she's seen become trapped inside this story, nor am I the most sympathetic. At one point, I loved her as much as them all... Even now, I think I feel a faint fire for her. But alas. She's the symbol of the hated mystery that binds me here. Even without October 5th, October 4th has been made into a hell I can't escape from.

Bernkastel hasn't been watching this game for a long time, in case you were wondering. This is just Erika abusing me to the fullest. Perhaps it's what I deserve.

"Playeeer... I'm getting bored!" Erika cooed, kicking her legs underneath the table and setting down her ramen.

Enough, Erika... I can't write any more...! If only you were like those witches, who abandon a piece once they've become bored of it! But ever since that witch cursed me, I've been unable to leave or even rest in piece! It's a curse... a true curse!

"Aren't you ready to start the next game? Do you need some more tips? I have some great mystery novels you can read... Well, maybe you should only read the first chapters of them? That's about as far as your games usually get."

Battler! You're the protagonist, right?! Can't you save me from this?! Beatrice! This is your game board! Take it back!!

Somebody! Isn't there somebody out there that can help me?!