How To Screw Yourself Over

Chapter 2.2: The Winning Bet

Ash carefully descends through the tree's winding branches, taking care so as to not aggravate her injuries any further.

Eventually, she finds herself at the base of the tree—just in time to see the carriage passing by. Ash chooses the easiest option presented to her: she walks in front of the vehicles path.

The carriage slows to a stop, halting mere feet away from Ash's nose.

A head pops out of the carriage, with the body connected to the head soon following. "How dare you block the young miss's path!"

It's the guard. What was his name again?

[The female protagonist is called Harriet Miller. The male protagonist is called Bernard.] The distortion clarifies itself after seeing Ash's vaguely questioning look. [I know you wouldn't have bothered remembering their names.]

Its prudence is surprising; the distortion isn't usually this sharp. However, Ash is more curious about a separate matter.

'What about the guard's surname?'

[Commoners in human kingdoms have no need for last names. Humans, despite their lack of variation, almost exceed the population of all demihuman races combined. To sum it up in a single sentence, you could say that something is worth far less when there is an excess of it.]

Ash frowns. The biology of people in this world is quite strange. Human's fertility seems to have soared while various types of demihumans seem to have taken on wholly unnecessary features.

Ash is snapped back to reality by the tense bark of the now hostile guard. "State your purpose!"

Oops. She made him nervous. Ash may have spent a bit too long staring at his missing ears. "If at all possible, I would like to travel with your group for a while. I am currently injured and helpless. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated."

He eyes her wings with a strange gaze before popping his head back into the carriage. Is he the cutesy type? Even with his face paralysis?

The guard pops back out a second later, this time with a pale, delicate hand firmly gripping his arm.

The young miss, with her sanity black hair and porcelain-like skin, steps out of the wagon. The intimidating and impassive stance of the guard provides a stark contrast to the fragile beauty of the doll-like girl hanging off his arm. Ash can't help but feel that these two are truly incompatible.

Upon reaching this conclusion, Ash shrugs inwardly and ultimately decides this isn't any of her business. She bows and formally greets the young miss who, despite eyeing the visible ends of her wings with a trace of disgust, still gestures for Ash to approach.

Ash genuinely hopes this particular event would come to a peaceful and swift conclusion. Her limp left arm and the bright, scattered splotches of blood seeping through her clothing clearly show that she is in dire need of medical attention. Even the young miss quickly averted her eyes upon catching sight of her bloodied attire.

When she regains her composure, the young miss tilts her head up and faces Ash with a fluffy arrogance that instills a desire to indulge within those who see her. Therefore, it only stands to reason that Ash just barely manages to keep her bile from escaping through her mouth.

This young missy must be her mortal enemy. Ash has never met someone quite as disturbing.

Then a dainty, melodious voice hits Ash's ears. "What can you offer me?"

Ash valiantly powers through her discomfort. "I don't have much; I can only offer you my loyalty."

The interest in the young missy's face fades. She haphazardly tosses out her next words, casually setting an ultimatum. "I have no need for useless people."

Concentrating, Ash controls the largest quantity of air she can manage, precisely lifting both the young miss and her guard into the air. Ash, quietly pretending she's not enjoying the alarm in their expressions, pleasantly asks "Is this sufficient?"

The young miss, realizing Ash will likely refuse to lower her until she agrees to provide assistance, spits out two reluctant words. "I suppose."

Ash lowers the two and, with the same pleasant smile plastered onto her face, crumples to the ground.

...

[Ash, what were you thinking!] The distortion's words are far louder than necessary.

"Shut up," she groans as she rises. Ash just made a bet—a bet she won. She was betting on the young miss's character. If the young missy hadn't accepted Ash because of an unreasonable grudge, she would be throwing away an incredibly useful piece.

Liesl, being part of the winged variety of demihumans, has a very strong connection to the wind. Although her undeveloped wings make her incapable of flight, her control over the air is unrelated to this issue.

In fact, because most creatures specialize in an attribute other than wind, the winged people are considered one of the strongest demihumans races despite their small population.

As a general rule, demihumans are typically live around fifty years—half of the average human lifespan. In exchange, demihumans are usually born with an almost innate control over a singular aspect of magic.

Meanwhile, humans, despite their comparatively long lives, have lacking magical prowess. They can control every element to a certain extent but, like the expression, can master none.

To be honest, Ash gave up on trying to properly understand the irrational biology of this world's inhabitants. It seems she can't judge this world by Earth's standards. She was much more interested in elven studies briefly mentioned in the information she was given.

According to the elves, demihumans are often animalistic and impulsive, humans are conniving and resourceful, dwarfs are robust and dexterous, demons are corrupt and malicious, and elves are deeply religious and wise.

Of course, according to everyone else the elves are mad fanatics obsessed with everything their god created. The humans also seem to believe in this elven god, but their faith is not as blind as the elves's is.

Ash loves this world, honestly. None of these creatures make any sense, but the chaos they leave in their wake is absolutely beautiful. If she follows the trail she's provided, she might even unmask the cause of this world's peculiarities.

Anyway, her point is that even though it was a little dangerous, Ash couldn't be bothered to think up a more complex scheme when this solution was so simple.

Her wounds are healed, so the young missy must've accepted her offer. However, Ash has no clue how she ended up in this particular room. She's currently lying on a ridiculously comfortable bed with equally ridiculous decorative items. Ash isn't entirely sure, but she's fairly certain the pillow beside her is inlaid with gems as valuable as diamonds were on Earth.

To sum it up, she's lying on the bed of a nouveau riche with too much money and too little brains. Really, where the fuck is she?

Ash stands, fixes the bed, and leaves the room. As she walks, she sends the air around her to map out her surroundings and to search for the guard.

She's already spoken to one protagonist, so she might as well speak to the other as well.

Originally, Ash simply planned on asking the guard about her duties and what the young missy expected of her. However, when she spots the little guard, Ash catches a whiff of a far more entertaining conversation starter.

Ash grins in anticipation.

A/N: This chapter is boring. Pathetic and boring and I'm late and so freaking tired and why do I even bother helping out with New Year parties? Oh right, because eight year old me was an idiot who liked to raise stupid expectations. Sorry, sleep-deprivation, you know how it is.

To be honest, I'm so tired I don't even know if what I wrote makes sense.