Chapter 27: Mr. Lucky, I Want to Play a Game With You
Returning home with the Ojama Trio, who had remained silent all the way due to his threats, Chumley casually slipped off his shoes in the entryway, put on his slippers, and headed towards the kitchen.
Last night, due to the rush, he had simply cooked some instant noodles to get by. Today, he came home much earlier than usual, so he could finally enjoy a proper dinner.
Ever since his Transmigration, Chumley hadn't really eaten a proper meal. It wasn't that he had starved; it was just that he always viewed breakfast toast and fried eggs, or the yakisoba bread sold at school, as snacks. For a meal, the focus should really be on actual rice dishes.
However, Chumley had barely taken a few steps away from the newly closed front door when the doorbell outside rang from behind him.
Could it be someone looking for his mother? Chumley turned around, slightly unsure, not immediately opening the door. Instead, he pressed his eye to the peephole, wanting to see who was outside.
With his forehead against the door, Chumley peered outside, only to see an empty front yard. This made him slightly displeased—was some mischievous kid playing a prank?
But then, from behind him, came the sound of the glass door leading to the backyard being pushed open.
"Hey, kid, stand still right there."
Turning his head, Chumley saw an unfamiliar man walking into the house from the garden. The mud clinging to his ill-fitting shoes made a mess of the floor. Yet, the man seemed completely oblivious, even rubbing his feet on the living room's tatami mat.
Although the man moved with a lazy, effortless air, Chumley didn't stir an inch. Instead, he obediently remained where he was, simply watching the other person draw the curtains.
The reason was simple—in the man's hand, a pistol was pointed directly at Chumley.
"You must be that escaped convict from the newspaper, aren't you, sir? Ah, I really am unlucky." Sighing, Chumley raised his hands to show he posed no threat, while his eyes scanned his surroundings.
Being held at gunpoint was anything but fun. He had to figure out a way to save himself, but without alerting the escaped convict.
Hearing Chumley's sigh, Lucky's face broke into a smile: "Hahahaha, a brat like you, at this age, must be obsessed with games every day, right? Hmph hmph hmph, truly unproductive. You'd be better off studying astrology than spending that time playing games."
What? Chumley's face immediately turned into a look of utter disbelief. Was he really being called unproductive by an escaped convict? Besides, was studying astrology really a "proper job"? If he kept Dueling, he might even save the world someday.
"May I ask why you've come to my house, Mr. Escaped Convict?" After scanning the room, Chumley found something that might be useful. To increase his chances of success, he decided to engage the escaped convict in "talk therapy" to buy time.
"Kid, I don't like that title at all, it's too unlucky! My name is Lucky, 'Lucky'!" The escaped convict glanced around the house, then with a sweep of his arm, knocked all the ornaments off the kotatsu table onto the floor. He casually plopped down on it, his gun still pointed at Chumley. "Blame your bad luck. I'm robbing you now. Get all the money hidden in your house out here!"
"Don't even think about any tricks. The moment I see you try to move out of my sight, I'll shoot; if anything that's not money appears in your hand, I'll shoot; and if you dare go near the phone or anything, I'll shoot."
With a sinister smile, Lucky, the escaped convict, gestured with the gun in his hand: "Go on, get the money from your house. Oh, and I want food and drinks too, I'm starving to death."
"Alright, Mr. Lucky." Chumley immediately obediently headed towards the kitchen. Lucky also stood up from the living room, his gun constantly moving with Chumley, always maintaining his distance.
Lucky's wariness was extremely high. He consistently kept a "quick-draw" distance of more than seven steps from Chumley. Even Ip Man probably wouldn't be able to disarm him. However, Chumley indeed had no intention of making a move.
Soon, a bowl of instant noodles was placed on the living room table. Chumley finished adding hot water and explained to the wary Lucky: "I'm very sorry, Mr. Lucky, my parents haven't been home for quite a while, so there's no cooked food in the house, only this. I don't suppose you'd let me call for takeout, would you?"
"I said, if you dare go near the phone, I'll shoot. But you really are an unlucky kid, your parents aren't home, and now I've come knocking." Lucky's face twisted into a menacing grin. "Fine, instant noodles will do, I haven't had them in a long time. So, where's the money in your house?"
"Actually, I don't have any savings at home. After all, the adults aren't home, you understand, right, Mr. Lucky? However, my mother did leave me a bank card before she left." Taking a few steps back, watching Lucky pull out a chair and sit at the table, Chumley still made no move, simply explaining unhurriedly,
"You wouldn't agree to me going to the bank to withdraw money now, would you? So, I'll just have to trouble you to withdraw it yourself later."
"What a hassle." Lucky scratched his head, annoyed. "Then where's the card? Get it out, and the bank card's password."
This time, Chumley didn't obediently comply. Instead, under Lucky's wary gaze, he pulled out the chair opposite Lucky and sat down. He took out the bank card, placed it next to the instant noodle bowl, and then calmly spoke: "It'll be a while before the noodles are ready to eat. And this card contains my living expenses for over a month. I'd really be unwilling to just lose it like this."
Though he said this, Lucky didn't detect any "unwillingness" from Chumley at all.
"So, Mr. Lucky. While we wait for the instant noodles, how about playing a game with me?" Chumley took out his Deck and placed it on the table. "Duel Monster Cards. If you win against me, I'll immediately tell you the bank card's password. And even if you lose, I'll still tell you before you leave."
"After all, Mr. Lucky, you have a gun in your hand."
Seeing Chumley's calm smile, Lucky found it quite interesting. He reached into his prison uniform and, surprisingly, pulled out a Deck of his own: "Hahaha, kid, then you've found the right person! No one in the entire prison could beat me at Duel Monsters!"
(The convict and Chumley began their Duel. Spoiler alert: the protagonist wins in the end.)
(So, why don't you try to guess how the protagonist will survive against a killer who has a gun and will be enraged after losing? There was a foreshadowing earlier, you know.)
(This is just an interactive segment, after all.)
(end of chapter)