WE ENTERED A COMEDY CONTEST
Thanks to a recent excursion with Pecora, I had (to my chagrin) started watching magic streams on a regular basis. Dinnertime in particular had turned into magic streaming time, with Falfa and Shalsha spending most of our mealtimes glued to the screen.
“Aaall right! We’ve tried a lot of different foods today. It looks like the human standard for ultra-hot barely has any kick at all by demon standards! We’re still second to none when it comes to spicy food!” said Pecora. An image of her sitting before a plate of some bright-red cuisine was being beamed onto our dining room wall.
Falfa and Shalsha, meanwhile, were watching with keen interest, occasionally throwing in an “Oh?” or a “Huh,” but otherwise staying totally silent. I was almost impressed by how focused the two of them were. Even Sandra, who didn’t eat, had come inside to join us and watch along.
Hmm… Is this the part where I should tell them it’s rude to watch TV while you eat?
It was tempting, but on the other hand, I used to watch anime while I was eating all the time when I was a kid, and that was barely any different. Plus, I knew the magic streamers my daughters watched were putting a ton of work into making content that would captivate their viewers. Maybe instead of treating them like a nuisance, it would be better for me to praise them for the remarkable effort they put into their work?
There was just one thing that made my daughters’ new habit different from my own childhood proclivities, though: They’d stopped eating. Eating with a TV on nearby wasn’t strange by any means—plenty of restaurants back in my old world kept TVs or radios on at lunchtime, after all—but I’d certainly never focused so intently on a show that I couldn’t keep eating.
There was an easy explanation for that difference. People of my generation had spent their whole lives developing the skill to remain somewhat focused on our food despite the distraction, so doing that was like second nature to us. My daughters, on the other hand, had spent a minimum of fifty years never having had the chance to eat with a show on in the background at all. In short: They hadn’t developed the skills to keep eating while a magic stream was on!
Maybe even a Japanese person would have a hard time watching and eating at the same time if they suddenly got a TV in their dining room for the first time in their fifties?
…Or so I wondered for a moment, but the counterexample of Laika and Flatorte was staring me in the face. They seemed to have no trouble keeping their focus on their meal with the stream on, still scooping with their spoons and munching on their bread without pausing for a moment.
Maybe it’s just a personal thing? One way or another, it’s definitely not good to completely stop eating mid-meal.
The one problem was that I had no idea how to go about telling that to my daughters.
Hmm. This is a tough one… Telling them it’s rude probably isn’t a good idea. Magic streaming’s a super-recent innovation in this world, so “no TV at dinner” definitely hasn’t made its way into established manners yet. Maybe I should say watching streams is fine, but if they do it during our mealtimes, they have to make sure not to let their food get cold?
While I was mulling over my options, however…
“Watch out, Falfa and Shalsha! If you don’t eat up, your food’s going to get cold, you know? Don’t forget to keep eating so you can enjoy it!”
…Halkara swooped in to point out the issue in a very tactful sort of way.
“Okaaay, Big Sis Halkara,” said Falfa.
“Excuse me. I was too absorbed in the stream,” said Shalsha.
Ooh, look at that! Those two are so cooperative. Maybe I should’ve let myself be more casual about pointing it out? I might be a little too fixated on educating them when it comes to these things.
“Thanks, Halkara,” I said.
“Oh, it was nothing! And I know how hard it is to eat and watch when you’re not used to it,” Halkara replied.
“Huh? Does that mean you’ve done this before?” That’s weird—last time I checked, this world doesn’t have TVs or radios!
“Well, I’m the president of a company, so I have to listen to reports from my subordinates during my lunch all the time! I don’t even know how many meals I ate like that before I moved here.”
“I get it now!”
I guess that’d be more like the president of a huge company eating a sandwich while working on their computer?
Sure, company presidents probably ate out with clients at fancy restaurants sometimes, but not for every meal. Grabbing a simple sandwich to eat while they worked was probably closer to a typical meal for those people.
Halkara’s behavior struck me as similar. She seemed like the type who’d casually eat while listening to her subordinates’ reports, professionalism be damned. In fact, I had a hard time imagining her putting in any real effort to keep up appearances.
Anyway, although Falfa and Shalsha hadn’t quite mastered the technique, they were at least trying to eat now. It seemed watching magic streams during dinnertime wouldn’t be a problem in the long run.
Huh? Come to think of it, Pecora just had the last of the spicy dishes she was going to eat, right? Shouldn’t her stream be wrapping up by now?
As it turned out, the answer was no. Pecora was still chatting away even though her main event had wrapped up.
“You know, getting all this food ready was a lot harder than you might think! We had it brought in by wyvern, and most of the stews spilled en route!”
I guess being able to take your time and talk about whatever you feel like is a strength of magic streaming. You can tack an extra fifteen minutes onto an hour-long broadcast, no problem.
“By the way, the day after tomorrow, I’ll be pulling a great prank on my minister of finance, who never watches my streams! And the day after that, I’ll be streaming again just to chat with all of you! Oh, and last but not least—I have an event to announce that’ll be taking place in the demon territories!”
Another event? They sure do have a lot of those.
“We’ll be hosting a comedy competition, and the winner—or winners—will be declared the comedy champions of the demon lands!”
C-comedy, huh…?
“You don’t have to be a pro to show off your comedy chops on this stage, though. Anyone is free to enter! We’ll be having preliminary rounds in many different locations, and the winners will be invited to perform at the theater in Vanzeld, where they’ll all battle it out to see who’s the ultimate comedian!”
A secondary image of two demon comedians appeared in the corner of the screen, and the two of them struck up a dialogue.
“You know, I went over to your house the other day, and this horrible monster scared me half to death! What was that, a guard dog?”
“A guard dog? Nah—that was my wife!”
“C’mon, do I look stupid? I know what your wife looks like! You’re not gonna get me with that!”
“Sorry, sorry! Guess I shouldn’t go talking about my wife that way, either.”
“Tell me about it! That monster couldn’t hold a candle to her ugly mug!”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha!”
Why do I get the feeling I’ve heard that joke a million times before…?
“Even non-demons are free to participate!” Pecora continued. “In fact, I’d love to unearth some talented comedians living in the human lands, so if you’re interested, come on over and give it a try! That’s all from me tonight—demon king Pecora, signing off! See you next time! ”
With that, the stream came to an end.
I guess pretty much every culture has the concept of comedy in some form, huh? I’m pretty sure the ancient Greeks back in my world had it, too, after all. Demon civilization’s been around for at least a couple thousand years, so of course they’d have developed something along those lines eventually.
Most of us seemed content not to be involved in the contest ourselves…but two members of my family latched on in an instant.
“Oh wow, that sounds like so much fun!” said Falfa.
“Shalsha is unfamiliar with the concept of comedians. How intriguing,” Shalsha agreed.
Oh no. Do my daughters want in on this?!
“Let’s do it, Shalsha! We’ll aim for first place!”
“Lend me your power, Sister.”
Huh? Why do they sound so confident about winning?
“We’re twins, which means we can tell all sorts of jokes the other teams won’t be able to!”
“A sound point. Our relationship gives us an unmistakable advantage.”
Wow, I guess they’re taking a pretty analytical approach to this!
“Not to mention…”
“Of course. Shalsha understands.”
For some reason, the two of them turned to look at me.
“Mommy’s incredible at playing the straight man!”
“Her advice would be invaluable. She could even write us a script,” Shalsha added.
Now they’re pulling me into the equation!
“Me, writing a script? No, there’s no way! I’m a total amateur when it comes to comedy! You wouldn’t be satisfied with anything I came up with,” I protested.
I spent my last life as a white-collar office worker until I worked myself to death, and I hadn’t even been all that into comedy. I hadn’t gone to many shows, and I didn’t know the first thing about how young comedians performed. My old world had radio shows and online programs anyone could submit jokes to, and I’d never bothered with those, either. In short, I wasn’t any more interested in or enthusiastic about comedy than the average person. I didn’t hate it, but it had never occurred to me to get involved with it.
“You don’t have to be so modest, Mommy! Your straight-man comebacks are always really, really funny!” said Falfa.
“You have a quick wit that’s difficult to imitate. Your quips are as sharp as a knife’s edge,” added Shalsha.
Well, this sure isn’t a compliment I would have expected to get! I wish they’d pick something a little more motherly to praise me about…
“They’re right, Azusa. Falfa and Shalsha will be able to put up a much better fight if they have you on their side,” said Sandra. Apparently, she thought I had a knack for comedy as well.
“But no, honestly, I’m a total amateur—”
“Everyone starts out as an amateur!” Sandra snapped. “And besides, she said amateurs are allowed to enter, so it’s not a problem!”
She’s right, but why’s she getting so heated about this?!
“Plus, I’m positive Falfa and Shalsha would love to have their mother supporting their ambitions. They want to make this into a multigenerational effort.”
I looked at Falfa and Shalsha. They returned my gaze, their eyes full of hope and expectations.
O-oh no. Seriously? Am I really getting roped into this?
I mean, at least they’re not asking me to be part of the performance itself. That makes this a little less daunting, but still…
“Let’s give it a try, Mommy! Why not?”
“Shalsha wants to see how far your material can carry us through the world of comedy. The question is intriguing.”
Argh, it’s no use! I can’t turn them down after a request like that!
“All right, fine… You just want me to write a script, right? I can do that—but for the record, I’ve never tried this before, so I can’t promise it’ll be funny! Keep that in mind, okay…?”
That’s normal, right? I think most people go through their whole lives without ever writing a comedy script.
Falfa and Shalsha nodded vigorously, and with that, my fate was sealed. Even if I screwed up and wrote something awful, this wasn’t the sort of project with major consequences, so I decided I’d give it a shot and see what happened.
“Do I really play the straight man that often, though…? That doesn’t ring a bell. They’re imagining it, right, Laika?” I asked.
Laika gave me a faint smile…then silently broke eye contact.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?! At least say something!” You’re making it really obvious that you have an opinion you’re not sharing!
“Lady Azusa…you are not a comedian by trade, needless to say. That being the case, I can’t predict how well the material you write will perform, especially considering the demonic sense of humor is probably a little different from humanity’s. All that being said…”
Laika paused for a moment after that excessively long preamble to take a breath.
“I can’t deny you come across as if you’re playing the straight man in a comedic dialogue far more frequently than the average individual…”
“So it’s true, after all…?” I sighed.
Laika had been very careful to phrase her response tactfully, as always, but the gist of what she was trying to communicate seemed to be “It seems worth giving it a try, at least.”
“Okay, okay! I’m in! I’ll do it! I’ll start thinking up some jokes, and in the meantime, you two can look into the details of the contest—like where the preliminaries are going to be held and all that. Okay, Falfa and Shalsha?”
My daughters agreed without a second thought. We could’ve just asked Beelzebub for all that info, honestly—she would’ve almost definitely told us everything we needed to know—but I was afraid if she learned my daughters were entering, she’d start plotting to fix the contest in their favor, or something along those lines. Maybe I should drill it into her we want to play fair before it comes to that…
That wasn’t quite the whole story, though. Falfa and Shalsha weren’t the only members of my family who wanted to participate.
“A comedy contest? I, the great Flatorte, will rise to any challenge!”
Flatorte stood up and shouted at the top of her lungs.
Oh, right. If there’s a competition on the table, then she’ll participate regardless of what it’s actually about…
“There would be no point in you entering, Flatorte,” said Laika. “This competition’s subject is far too specialized. Please take some time to consider the nature of the contests you learn about before you decide to participate in them.”
Now, that’s a reasonable reaction!
Flatorte’s drive to compete, however, wouldn’t be swayed by something as petty as reason. She stepped over to Laika and clapped a hand onto her shoulder.
“Laika! The two of us will enter as a team! We’ll dominate the competition!”
“E-excuse me? I could never participate in an event like this! We’d practically be begging to get eliminated in the preliminary round!” Laika stammered in a fluster.
I know, right? I think that’s how anyone would react to getting invited to join a comedy contest out of nowhere.
“Oh? You’re already convinced you’d lose in the first round, Laika? I guess all that boasting you do every day really is all just talk, then!” Flatorte taunted.
“Wh-what?! How dare you!”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? You haven’t even tried, and you’re acting like you’ve already lost! You’ll never get stronger with an attitude like that. Could you ever respect someone who gives up without even putting in an effort?”
“Ugh… N-no, but that’s not…,” Laika began, but she fell silent without finishing her sentence.
Um… Laika? For the record, I don’t think aspiring to be a powerful dragon and aspiring to win a comedy contest have anything to do with each other. Wouldn’t this same logic mean you’d have to participate in goldfish catching contests, complaining contests, and any other stupid contest you could think up, too…?
“Fine, then! I’ll participate in the competition as well!”
Never mind! She took the bait!
“Now that’s the sort of motivation I expect from a dragon! Just this once, I, the great Flatorte, will do you the favor of fighting by your side!”
“Very well. I will do my utmost. Oh, and Lady Azusa?” Laika said as she turned to face me, an almost worryingly spirited look in her eyes. “I apologize, but being as this is a contest, I’ll be opposing you to the best of my ability. I do not intend to hold back, even against Falfa and Shalsha. I hope you, and they, will do the same for me.”
“Uh, right. If that’s what you want, then go for it…”
For the first time in recent memory, it struck me just how free spirited the residents of my home were.
Just then, Rosalie floated into the room through a nearby wall. “This sure turned into a big deal in a hurry, didn’t it?” she said. “I guess you never know what life will throw at you next!”
“I think you’re all the proof we need that life isn’t a requirement for that,” I noted.
“Here’s some ghost trivia for you: A lot of us are pretty good at telling scary stories or gross, gory ones, but there aren’t many of us who can tell a decent joke. This contest sounds like a nice change of pace. Another of life’s little pleasures, I guess.”
Yeah, it’d be pretty weird if lingering souls had a knack for making people laugh! Maybe a comedian who died before they could put on a good show would end up regretting it and come back as a comic ghost? That’s the most believable scenario I can think of, though…
Or rather, that was all I could think of until a certain ancient kingdom of the dead crossed my mind.
……
………
Nope. If I say even a word about them out loud, this could really spiral out of control, so I’m keeping my lips sealed.
And so two groups within my family—well, two for now, anyway—decided to form teams and compete in the demons’ comedy contest.
A few days later, Beelzebub arrived at my house. I assumed Falfa and Shalsha had probably called her over, since she’d brought all sorts of documents related to the comedy contest with her.
“There will be preliminary qualifying rounds held in six locations throughout the human lands, and those who emerge victorious will go on to compete in a second round of qualifiers held across three venues. A third and final qualifier will be held after that, and the winning teams will be invited to compete in the finals, which will be held in demon territory,” Beelzebub explained.
“So you have to win your way through a bunch of rounds, huh? Do you really think there’ll be enough participants from the human lands to make that all work?” I asked.
Beelzebub cocked her head. I had a feeling that wasn’t a question she’d put much thought into.
“In the olden days, hardly any humans participated at all on account of the contest being unknown in their lands. Now, however, magic streaming has entered the picture,” Beelzebub replied.
“Now that you mention it, I remember hearing a bunch of adventurers have gotten pretty into watching those streams.”
“Their reach has spread even farther since then, I assure you. ’Tis not at all rare for those who work in the field of entertainment to keep a watchful eye on the streams, even in the human lands. I’d think at least some of them would take an interest and choose to participate, no?”
I had no clue what sort of lifestyles human entertainers lived, but given how these things usually turned out, I had an image in my mind of a very small proportion of them being outrageously wealthy and in demand while the majority were just barely scraping by. If this contest had the potential to take someone from obscurity to stardom, it was easy to imagine a fair number of people deciding to give it a try.
“Okay, yeah, I could see it. It’s not like there’s any real reason for anyone not to at least take a shot at it,” I said.
Falfa and Shalsha were with us, by the way, and hanging onto Beelzebub’s every word. I was glad to see that—in fact, I would’ve scolded them if they’d tuned her out instead. They were the ones who’d decided to tackle this contest, and I expected them to follow through, especially now that they’d pulled Beelzebub into the affair.
“You may participate as individuals, as a pair, or even as a larger group,” Beelzebub continued. “That said, a majority of demon comedians work in pairs, and you can expect to see most entrants abiding by that format.”
Falfa noted down every word Beelzebub said.
“Moreover, although acts are limited in length, a fair variety of comedic styles are typically represented. Some groups tell big, bombastic jokes that reduce the whole audience to howling laughter, while others tell more subtle, surreal jokes that elicit knowing chuckles. That said, the finals attract a large crowd. Acts that inspire loud, spirited laughter are at an advantage, as it proves that you are successfully entertaining your audience.”
Falfa quickly wrote that down as well.
“I would caution against dabbling in material that’s too niche, as well. That can work in a solo performance attended by a comedian’s dedicated fans, but it will serve you far less well in this competition.”
That’s gotta be something Beelzebub went out of her way to research after the girls asked her for information, right? There was no way that the event’s official documentation talked about which acts were more or less advantageous, after all. I was starting to think asking her for help had been a great decision.
“Some performers choose surprising and unconventional acts—we call them shock artists—and manage to win a few rounds that way, but most of those performers end up losing in the finals. That’s not to downplay the skill it takes to make it to the finals at all, of course. ’Tis most impressive, win or lose.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. Just making it that far sounds like it can take a miracle,” I said. Falfa and Shalsha were too busy writing notes to be active listeners, so I stepped into that role to help keep the conversation flowing… Or at least, that was the idea, until Beelzebub’s next casual comment threw me for a loop.
“Knowing your capabilities? If you apply yourself, ’twould hardly be a surprise to see you reach the finals.”
…Huh? I mean… What? Was that her own version of a joke?
I checked Beelzebub’s expression, then rubbed my eyes and gave her another look just to be sure, but still couldn’t pick out any sign she was kidding around.
“I have no idea why you have so much faith in my abilities, here! Seriously, where is this confidence coming from?!” I shouted. You know I’ve spent my whole life taking it easy in the highlands, right? I’ve never been any sort of performer!
“I may not know the petty details of the life you’ve lived, but I know that when you look upon the world around you, you have the ability to do so from an outsider’s perspective. ’Tis simply a facet of your natural personality, I would think, but nevertheless, it could prove to be a powerful weapon if you learn to wield it properly,” said Beelzebub.
I had to wonder, did the “outsider’s perspective” Beelzebub saw in me have something to do with the fact that I came from a different world? Maybe it was easier for me to look at this world through an objective lens than it would be for someone who didn’t have memories of another world to compare it to? Of course, that was assuming that everyone who had an objective and critical perspective on the world had a gift for comedy—which I, for one, was taking with a huge grain of salt.
“In any case,” Beelzebub continued, “the fact that Falfa and Shalsha live together means they’ll be very in tune with each other, which gives them an inherent advantage. So long as their script is high quality, I have ample reason to believe they shall survive the preliminaries.”
Is it really that simple? Considering how she is with those two, I don’t think she’d tell them anything discouraging no matter how hopeless the situation was, so I’ll go ahead and take that with a grain of salt, as well.
One way or another, we’d learned the basics of how the contest was going to operate.
“Thanks, Beelzebub,” I said. “Now we just have to make sure the dragons get all that info, too.”
“Oh, yes—those two were participating as well, weren’t they? Where are they now?”
“…Practicing in the woods, apparently.”
Flatorte was utterly uncompromising when it came to aiming for first place, and Laika was just as steadfast when it came to self-improvement. As a result, the two of them had decided to take their preparations for the comedy contest incredibly seriously. I had a feeling that Laika had just maybe lost track of what sort of self-improvement she was actually aspiring for, but considering how long dragons’ lifespans were, I didn’t think there was any harm in her getting a bit off track for the time being. This wasn’t the sort of mistake that would get anyone hurt, after all—physically or emotionally.
I guess it’s time for me to buckle down too, huh…? I’ve got a script to write, and the longer I spend working on it, the less time Falfa and Shalsha will have to practice. This is actually a pretty hefty responsibility.
Just as that thought crossed my mind, I noticed a wyvern off in the distance flying toward us.
“What’s this? Was someone else scheduled to pay you a visit today?” asked Beelzebub.
“No, not that I know of,” I replied. “Who could that be?”
Looks like I’ll have to step outside and find out for myself.
When the wyvern touched down and its passengers climbed off, I realized they were a pair of familiar faces: Muu and Nahna Nahna. I wasn’t surprised to see them—in fact, my first thought was, So they really did show up.
“Been a while, ev’ryone! We’ve got a bit o’ business ’ere, so we swung on by for a visit. You’re up, Nahna Nahna,” said Muu.
Nahna Nahna quickly stepped past me, strolling into the house in the highlands and emerging again a moment later with Rosalie in tow.
“Hey!” Rosalie shouted. “What’s this all about?! Where’re you taking me?! Whatever you’re bringing me in for, I’m innocent, I swear!”
“’Ey there, Rosalie! Sorry ’bout this, but we’ll be ’avin you stay in the Thursa Thursa Kingdom for a bit, fanks,” said Muu.
“You want Rosalie to stay with you?” I asked. “What for?”
“An intensive comedy brainstormin’ session, innit? We’re aimin’ to take first place at the contest!”
So they really are planning to enter!
“Wait, that makes no sense! I don’t know squat about comedy!” Rosalie protested.
“Yer better off’n everyone in Thursa Thursa! I’m s’pposed to be their queen, so none of ’em’ll talk back to me at all. They end up bowin’ and scrapin’ on instinct, see. No way any o’ that lot would smack me upside the head for a joke!”
Well, yeah! I think anyone would be scared of smacking a queen in the head…
“That ain’t gonna cut it for comedy, an’ that’s why I need your ’elp instead! Come wiv me, Rosalie! We’ll take the contest by storm!”
“I don’t want to take the contest by storm or any other way!”
“But I wanna put on the show o’ a lifetime wiv ya! Please!”
That line, it seemed, finally managed to pull on Rosalie’s heartstrings. A somewhat put-upon look came across her face, and she scratched her head awkwardly.
“…Tch! Why’d you have to get so excited about this? Fine, I’ll do it. If you want me to perform with you, I’ll make it happen!”
It’s like a teen drama’s playing out before my eyes, only both the teens have been dead for centuries!
“All right! We’ll make the whole audience laugh ’emselves to death, just ya wait!”
Unless you want people to start thinking of you as a terrifying pair of evil spirits, I’d really recommend against it!
Throughout that whole exchange, Nahna Nahna—who, by the way, was still holding Rosalie in place—seemed incredibly irritated. “There are few things more infuriating than having to make your superiors’ whims into a reality. I really wish you’d spare me all this,” she muttered. I got the sense that she was genuinely pretty fed up this time, and honestly, I could understand where she was coming from.
“All right, Rosalie! You’ll be stayin’ wiv us in Thursa Thursa for the time bein’!” said Muu.
“Okay! I don’t know how helpful I’ll be, but I’ll do what I can!” Rosalie agreed.
With that, Rosalie and Muu set off to the kingdom of the dead to practice their comedy sketch. Nahna Nahna, on the other hand, inexplicably stayed behind at the house in the highlands.
“I’ve taken a period of paid leave, and I am planning on spending some time in this area to relax and refresh myself. I’m sure that Rosalie will do a perfectly adequate job serving as Her Majesty’s plaything in my absence,” she explained.
“When you put it that way, I can only imagine how rough it must be to get messed with by the same superior for a literal eternity…”
I took a moment to reflect on how grateful I was that I hadn’t had a difficult boss of my own get reincarnated along with me.
All our basic preparations were complete, and that meant it was time for me to get to work in earnest. I wouldn’t be working on my usual witchy medicine-making, though. This time, I’d be learning about comedy!
To start, I traveled to one of the larger cities in the human lands. I knew I’d be able to find a theater in a place like that, and when I did, I took some time watching all the comedy performances and sketches I could. I also took some time to wander the main streets afterward and stopped to watch all the street performers I came across—making sure to leave a tip after they finished, of course! A good performance deserved compensation, after all.
Beelzebub and my family’s reactions had made it clear that to them, it seemed like I made a habit of looking at this world from an outsider’s perspective. That wasn’t exactly hard to believe. I’d started my life in a totally different world, so it made sense that I’d unconsciously compare the two from time to time.
If I could learn to control that impulse and shift my observations in a comedic direction, I could cheat my way along the path of the comedian at a record-breaking pace!
That was just one possibility, but now that I’d had one of my strengths pointed out to me, it was natural to try and make use of it.
I wasn’t under the impression that it would be a total walk in the park, of course. I hadn’t so much as touched on the world of comedy throughout all the three hundred years I’d spent killing slimes, and I knew virtually nothing about this world’s sense of humor. The only people who’d praised me for my comedic sensibilities were my family and maybe a random acquaintance or two (though I could practically hear Beelzebub grumbling, Who are you calling a random acquaintance?! the moment that thought crossed my mind). It wasn’t like I’d ever been praised by a professional comedian, so I had no idea how reliable their opinions were.
That said, my daughters had faith in me, and the rest of my family believed in me, as well. I had to live up to their expectations! If there’s one thing I had in spades, it was motivation, and I let that propel me onward as I watched one performance after another.
“You were certainly paying careful attention to the act, weren’t you, Lady Azusa…?” Laika observed after a performance as the two comedians I’d been watching departed from the stage. I could only travel so far on my own, practically speaking, so I’d had her carry me to my destination.
“Oh, yeah, I was,” I replied. “I’m trying to take this kinda seriously, I guess…”
“You sure didn’t look like you were here for a quick laugh. You were watching the act like a professional scouting out reference material. I could tell just from sitting next to you,” observed Flatorte, who was sitting on the opposite side of me from Laika. She and Laika would be participating in the competition, and I felt bad about taking up their practice time by having Laika fly me around, so I’d invited Flatorte to come along as well.
“Nah, I’m a far cry from the professional level…but I guess I can’t go using the fact that I’m an amateur as an excuse to do shoddy work, can I?” I mused.
In this competition, it wouldn’t make any difference who was an amateur and who was a pro. The only rule that mattered was that whoever had the funniest sketch would come out on top.
“You really have seemed more motivated to me recently, Lady Azusa,” said Laika.
“I can tell, too! You’re fired up for a real battle, Mistress!” Flatorte agreed.
I’m not so sure how I feel about them thinking that I’m super fired up for comedy, of all things, but I guess I’ll try and see it in a positive light…
It always seemed to be easier for people to put their all into their hobbies than their day jobs. In that sense, I figured it wasn’t too weird for me to get worked up over the script.
There was still some time left before the next act was scheduled to begin, in any case, and in the meantime, I had a question that I’d been meaning to ask the two dragons.
“So have you two decided what sort of act you’re putting on?” I asked.
“Naturally! The choice was so obvious, it wasn’t a choice at all!” Flatorte declared with an odd degree of confidence.
“Oh? Are you okay with talking about it?”
“I should keep it secret, but since you’re the one asking, Mistress, I’ll spill the beans. I’ll be playing the lute!”
Oh, right. Flatorte really was great at playing lutes (which were so close to being guitars in this world, they might as well have been the same thing).
“The plan’s for me to play the lute partway through the performance. I’m thinking of going with the title ‘Lute Stand-up #1.’”
A stand-up routine with a number in its name where the performer plays a stringed instrument while they talk? Isn’t that almost identical to an old form of Japanese comedy?!
“You should know, Lady Azusa, that the act Flatorte is describing is specifically our plan for the first round,” Laika said, closing her eyes as she explained herself. “A performance involving an instrument will likely make a strong impression but is unlikely to get much in the way of laughs. The goal is to display her skill with the lute, meaning we’ll be deviating from the contest’s intended subject. If we want our audience to laugh, then in the long term, we’ll have to divert our focus in that direction.”
“Now that’s the sort of analysis I’d expect from someone as levelheaded as you are!”
It did kind of feel like Flatorte’s act would be taking elements of a musical performance and mixing them with elements of a comedy show, rather than going pure comedy. I didn’t think that Laika would know the first thing about comedy, but she was still doing a pretty good job of thinking all this through. She’d always been a clever person, and breaking things down was one of her specialties.
“Laika’s talking a big game, but just so you know, it was I, the great Flatorte, who thought up all our material! She’s a real critic, but when it comes to actually making something herself, she’s hopeless,” Flatorte grumbled.
“And yet you won’t deny that you found my criticism worthwhile, will you? You certainly took it into consideration. I don’t appreciate the implication I haven’t pulled my weight,” Laika jabbed back.
Interesting… I guess Laika’s analysis isn’t enough on its own—you need the sort of drive and initiative that Flatorte has, too.
“Let me explain our material for the second round, Mistress! We have a really good trick planned for that one,” said Flatorte.
“A trick…?” I repeated apprehensively. She’d sounded so proud, it was actually making me a little nervous.
“In the second round, we’re gonna pull the audience into the act. Though really, since we’ll probably only have the judges watching us in those early stages, we’ll be getting them in on the action.”
“Yep, that’s another tricky stunt, all right!”
The concepts for the two acts she’d told me about could hardly have been more different from each other, but they were each remarkably off-the-wall in their own right. In a sense, it was just like Flatorte to come up with plans like those. If I wanted to put it nicely, I’d say it showed how flexible she was.
“That plan, of course, is another that won’t carry us any farther than the first round we use it in. Breaking down the established roles of viewer and performer is amusing, but only by virtue of novelty. Once you’ve done it once, it ceases to have the same effect,” Laika noted, jumping in to explain things in detail once again. “Moreover, when it comes to the simple task of earning prolonged laughter from the audience, it’s not particularly effective. As such, we will be using it exclusively as our tactic to clear the second round.”
“R-right… I’ll have to keep that in mind. Like, seriously, this stuff’s all good to know.”
It turns out that Laika and Flatorte have thought all this through way more deeply than I have!
“Laika’s always bringing up all this conceptual mumbo-jumbo,” Flatorte grumbled. “As if going on and on about all that theory junk could ever make anyone laugh! She’s such a bore.”
“You simply can’t expect to come out on top of this sort of competition by making up acts at random and performing them with no sense of purpose,” Laika countered. “The world of comedy is full of performers who’ve learned and improved through mutual competition. When stepping into such a world, it’s of grave importance to pay the respect that is due to those who came before you.”
I could see both of their points, but there was one thing that Flatorte was definitely wrong about: The little speeches that Laika went off on every once in a while weren’t boring at all. If anything, they were interesting enough to be a show in their own right…
A few people sitting behind us, by the way, had started muttering about how “a group of pros came to watch” and how “those dragons must be performers!”
No, really, we’re just amateurs! Honest!
After watching a variety of shows in the human lands, Laika, Flatorte, and I flew out to the demon territories to do the same there. Once we were finished, we stopped at an inn, and I got right to work putting together a script.
We’d stopped in Vanzeld to visit a few different venues, and I’d considered asking Pecora to let us stay with her, but something about telling her we’d stopped by to study comedy and needed a room just felt really awkward to me, so I’d decided to go with an inn instead. That environment felt more appropriate for the job I had on my plate, too—it was a lot easier to think clearly in a simple environment like an inn than it was when you were a house guest.
• I had to make use of Falfa’s and Shalsha’s distinctive traits, taking care to ensure that what I wrote would actually make their audience laugh as well.
• That said, I had to be careful not to lean too heavily on jokes about them being twins, since that was the sort of gimmick that could get old quickly.
• They’d be performing under a strict time limit, so I had to make sure that bits that would make the audience laugh—the punchlines, if you will—would come fast and frequently.
• I also had to give the girls plenty of time to rehearse, so I needed to hash the script out as soon as possible.
• I didn’t know what sort of jokes Falfa and Shalsha would be best at selling, so for the time being, I wanted to work with as wide a variety of material as I could.
There was an awful lot that I had to keep in mind as I got to work writing the script. I was starting to think that Laika and Flatorte had a point: I really was taking this pretty seriously. It was all for the sake of my daughters, of course, so that wasn’t much of a surprise.
Part of me even wanted to pull an all-nighter, but I resisted the urge and went to bed at my usual time instead. That was one personal rule I wasn’t going to compromise on, especially since I knew that sometimes, resting up and coming back to your work the next day was a great way to prompt new ideas. Something about taking a bit of time off had a way of helping half-formed concepts mature, and I knew that if I tried to write the whole thing in one sitting, it wouldn’t turn out as well as it would’ve if I’d taken my time.
Scripts were like living creatures. Sometimes a line you wrote would give you a flash of inspiration that’d last the rest of the day, and sometimes a part that had been a roadblock the day before would come back to trip you up all over again. Even if you kept the broad concept of a script consistent all throughout the process, there were a countless number of little ways in which it could grow and change as you wrote.
Finally, I brought my study of comedy in the human and demon lands to a close and returned to the house in the highlands.
The moment Laika, Flatorte, and I arrived back at the house in the highlands, Falfa and Shalsha rushed out to welcome us home.
“Falfa, Shalsha! Here’s your script!” I said, presenting the girls with a notebook. That notebook contained the fruit of my labors: a comedy script full of sketches and material that I’d done my absolute best on.
“Thank you, Mommy!” said Falfa.
“We’ll strive to do your manuscript justice,” added Shalsha.
That’s kind of a stiff way to say thank you, isn’t it? Though I guess that’s just like Shalsha, really.
“You should give it a read before you thank me. There’s always a chance that you won’t like it enough to want to use it, after all. No point in thanking me then,” I cautioned.
I didn’t think that the effort I put into the script would be rendered pointless, no matter what they thought of it, and if it turned out my best efforts had produced something low-quality, I certainly didn’t expect them to force themselves to use it. The whole point of the script, after all, was to make people laugh. Whether or not my efforts bore fruit had nothing whatsoever to do with the audience’s experience—all that mattered was whether they enjoyed it.
To make matters even more complicated, I knew there were all sorts of different ways to go about performing comedy. Whether or not my material was good and whether it would suit Falfa and Shalsha’s style were two totally different questions. If my script couldn’t make it past all those potential stumbling points, it would be totally useless to my daughters when the time came for them to perform.
Falfa and Shalsha opened up the script and started reading on the spot.
Oh wow, this is a little embarrassing… And it’s embarrassing in a sort of way I’ve never felt before. I’ve hugged and kissed my daughters in the open plenty of times, and the embarrassment of that was nothing compared to having them read my work!
“Um, could you maybe read that in your room, or something…?” I muttered hopefully.
“You know your script’s funny, right, Mommy? In that case, it’ll be just fine!” said Falfa.
“But we can’t ease our standards just because you’re our mom,” Shalsha countered. “Rest assured that we will be earnest and thorough in our assessment of your script.”
I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you cut me a little slack, but that’s definitely not something that I can come out and request.
Meanwhile, Laika and Flatorte walked right past the three of us and headed straight into the house in the highlands. I could’ve followed along after them and gone inside as well, but that would’ve made it look like I was running away from my daughters while they read my script, so I resisted the urge and just kept waiting.
Falfa and Shalsha were focused intently on the script, poring over page after page. They barely said a word as they read. It made for a pretty odd atmosphere all around, and I noticed that Sandra was giving us a weird look from over in the garden. No wonder she was curious, really—I would’ve stared, too, if I was in her position.
My script was, well, a script, so even though I’d written down a few different routines for Falfa and Shalsha, it didn’t take them that long to read through it all. Reading a script and reading a novel were two very different things. Still, to me, it felt like they’d been reading for an eternity.
I wish they’d hurry and tell me what they think. I wouldn’t even mind if they say it’s bad, as long as it means we can move on…
Finally, the two of them closed the notebook. They must have finished reading the last page. Falfa and Shalsha paused for a moment to give each other a look, then exchanged nods. They’d seemingly come to an immediate understanding.
“Mommy.”
“Mom.”
“Y-yes?!” I yelped. I felt like I was about to get feedback from my faculty advisor on my graduation thesis.
My daughters stepped forward and threw their arms around me.
“It’s great! All the jokes are really funny! You’re amazing, Mommy!”
“We’ll be making some slight adjustments, but Shalsha thinks this will serve as an excellent starting point to direct the course of our performance.”
Oh, thank goodness! I passed!
I felt weirdly accomplished. I wasn’t moved to tears or anything, but I did feel just a little choked up, so it probably would’ve only taken one more push to get me there. Was this the sort of satisfaction that overcoming a moderately difficult task brought? It wasn’t something I’d ever felt from just killing slimes, that was for sure.
On the other hand, it’d be super tiring to do this sort of work every day. Better to save it for special occasions…
Of course, this wasn’t the end of this project. If anything, it was just the beginning. Falfa and Shalsha had only just reached their starting line, and now that they had their script, they could get practicing and preparing for their appearance in the comedy competition.
I wouldn’t be directly involved in the process from this point onward, so all I could do was sit back and pray that they’d manage to win. All that waiting felt like it was going to give me a heart attack in a whole different way than writing the script had. I found myself wishing that I could just skip all the way from the present moment to the moment when the competition’s results would be announced, sparing me from all the fretting and worrying that was sure to come in between.
I briefly considered making a spell that would let me do just that, actually—but I realized how terrible an idea that would be before I even started. Even if I did manage to design a spell that could jump me ahead in time, I knew it would be way too advanced for someone like me to actually use…
In any case, Falfa, Shalsha, Laika, Flatorte, and—I assumed—Rosalie were all hard at work practicing their sketches.
Do your best, everyone!
After I handed off my script, everyone who’d be entering the contest seemed to buckle down and practice as hard as they could. Well, everyone in the house in the highlands, anyway—I couldn’t be sure how things were going on Rosalie’s end.
I, meanwhile, figured that watching them practice would be too much of a distraction, and I did my best not to directly involve myself in the process. From what little I did see, however, I got the distinct impression that both pairs of soon-to-be comedians were quite confident in the acts they were putting together.
Before long, the preliminaries arrived.
To be completely honest, I didn’t think that either group from our household had much of a chance to make it to the finals. It just didn’t seem reasonable to expect them to win their way through the sort of fierce competition I was sure they’d be facing, so I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if they’d dropped out somewhere along the way. That’s what I figured, anyway…so imagine my surprise when both of the groups from our household made it into the finals.
The news arrived while I was busy making dinner. Falfa and Laika had arrived at home around the same time as each other, and both came to tell me that they’d be going to Vanzeld for the finals. I was so dumbstruck by the news that I didn’t even think to congratulate them at first. In fact, the first words out of my mouth were, “S-seriously?”
Is it just me, or is this household moving up in the world in the weirdest trajectory possible…?
It’s definitely too late to change course now, though, isn’t it…?
“We were given tickets to let our family attend the finals, Mom. Please come and watch us achieve great things,” Shalsha said as she handed a ticket over.
“Sure. I’ll come watch,” I replied. “I feel a little responsible for all this, anyway, since I’m the one who wrote your script and all.”
I sure didn’t believe it would turn into this big of a deal while I was writing, though…
Our whole family headed out to Vanzeld Castle together, just like usual. We weren’t riding our pair of dragons this time, though—instead, Fatla was giving us a lift.
When we were all aboard (which is to say, once Fatla had transformed into her full leviathan form and we’d climbed onto her back), Vania gave us an explanation for why we’d been sent an escort.
“It goes without saying that the finalists would be invited to the capital, and seeing as two groups of finalists came from your family in particular, it’s hardly surprising that a leviathan would be dispatched to provide you transport.”
“Right, yeah. That does make sense, when you put it that way,” I said with a nod. “Don’t you two work for the government, though? I didn’t think that this comedy competition was a state-sponsored event.”
Vania winced. “Ugh… You have an eye for details. In short, the government has offered the event its aid…and Her Majesty has joined in as a judge, as well…”
Now there’s something we didn’t know earlier! “Oh, so Pecora’s one of the judges?” I said. “I guess she really does like sticking her nose into all sorts of places…”
Just then, Fatla’s voice rang out, almost like it was being broadcast through a PA system.
“Wait a minute—the judges haven’t been announced yet! You’re not supposed to tell anyone until they’re formally revealed!”
“Ahhh! I didn’t mean to say that… It was a slip of the tongue! Not my fault! I mean, well, I guess it was, really… Okay, so it was totally my fault, but please let me off the hook!” Vania babbled. I had to wonder if that ever worked out for her.
“I mean, it’s not like any of us know what sort of comedy Pecora’s into, so what’s the harm?” I said. “But then again, if anyone did happen to know one of the judges’ tastes, they probably could use that to their advantage. I can see why they keep their identities secret.”
“Right, exactly! It wouldn’t be fair anymore!” said Vania.
Not sure if the person who let the info slip should be so quick to jump in and explain that.
“Oh! Come to think of it,” Vania said before pausing to give each of us a long, appraising look. “Your ghost isn’t with you today, is she?”
“Oh, Rosalie’s coming in from the Thursa Thursa Kingdom this time,” I explained.
“Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing that a ghostly performer had entered the competition.”
Something about the phrase “ghostly performer” sounds weirdly powerful, huh…?
Rosalie and Muu had apparently also won their way into the finals, by the way. I hadn’t seen any of their material, but I had a funny feeling it was going to lean heavily into the fact that they were ghosts.
My daughters and the dragon duo both went off right away to find unoccupied rooms to rehearse in. It seemed that none of them felt like they had any time to relax, what with the competition looming on the horizon. It sort of felt like we were members of a high school sports club, doing what we could to cope with our nerves en route to a tournament venue.
Later that night, while we were having dinner—specifically, right after Vania brought out the main dish for the evening—I stood up to address everyone.
“Excuse me! Would everyone who’s going to be in the competition mind listening for a minute?” I said. All the members of my family, non-participants included, turned to look at me. “I think all four of you have done really incredibly this time! I could never pull off what you’ve accomplished, that’s for sure, so I don’t think that I have any real advice I can give you, but, um… The point is, you’re amazing! Seriously, you did great!”
Maybe I should’ve planned this speech out a bit better in advance? Well, too late now!
I resorted to clapping my hands, giving each of them a round of applause, then spoke up once more.
“This is a competition, and that means you’re going to get compared and scored, for better or worse. Only one team can win the finals, after all. Still, the fact that you made it this far is incredible in its own right, and I want all of you to be proud of that, and to be proud of how funny you are!”
“Okay, Mommy!” said Falfa.
“I shall strive to do my utmost!” Laika declared.
“I’m taking first place no matter what!” Flatorte shouted.
“The fates will smile upon the victor!” Shalsha concluded.
I’d been planning on getting this point across to everyone when we were all gathered together, but I’d really messed up the timing and ended up having to do it mid-meal. It wasn’t the cleanest delivery, and I’d have to think about how I could improve on that in the future, but for the time being, I could call this one task accomplished.
When we arrived in Vanzeld, we split into two groups: the competition participants, and everyone else. I wasn’t putting on an act myself, so needless to say, I was part of the latter category.
“It’s weird—I’m not even part of the contest, but I’m nervous anyway,” said Sandra. And she did seem a little fidgety.
“I’m feeling restless, too, so why don’t we go try to find a place where we can have a celebratory drink after it’s all over?” Halkara suggested.
Are you sure you don’t just want to have a drink yourself, right now…? Though, then again, we have plenty of time until the finals start, so I guess that would be fine in its own right.
Before we could make it to a pub, however, Halkara spoke up again. “I just had an incredible idea!” she shouted.
“What is it?” I asked. “I’m worried your idea’s going to get us in trouble, like usual, so how about you explain yourself first this time…?”
“I think it’s a given that the team that wins the comedy competition will experience a sudden rise in fame, right? So I was thinking I could use that chance to get them to advertise for Halkara Pharmaceuticals!”
Oh, huh. That’s a more sensible idea than I expected.
“This competition’s taking place in the demon lands, so it seems like the perfect chance to spread the Halkara Pharmaceuticals name throughout this region! I’d better make an offer the moment the winning team’s announced!” said Halkara.
As I watched her get worked up over her new plan, I thought, Looks like winning a contest like this really is a way for an unpopular comedian to go from rags to riches.
After that, Halkara started peppering me with questions about what sort of material I thought would work well as an in-act advertisement for her products.
I’m not exactly a comedy consultant, for your information! If you’re going to ask me for input on anything, at least let it be medicine making!
“Um, Halkara…?” I said. “I don’t think this is the right time to come up with advertising material like that. After all, you won’t know who’s going to win the competition until it’s already over, and at that point you won’t be able to use any of the jokes you think up, anyway.”
“Ah!” Halkara gasped. “See, this is exactly why I go to you for advice, Madame Teacher! You’re absolutely right. This goes to show that you always have to consult with a specialist about this sort of thing! Amateurs always make some sort of fundamental mistake in the planning stage!”
I thrust out a hand before me, striking a “wait just a second” sort of pose to cut Halkara off.
“I’m an amateur, too! Do not group me with the specialists on this one!”
Apparently, I need to make a really clear point of emphasizing the fact that I’m a witch. I don’t know what I’ll do if even my family starts forgetting that!
The comedy contest finals were scheduled for the very same day as our arrival in Vanzeld. That evening, we headed for a theater in the castle town where the event would take place. We’d already had seats assigned to us, so I settled in and waited for the performances to begin.
First, a demon who seemed to be the announcer stepped onto the stage.
“Comedy fans from all across the world, thank you for coming to our show tonight! Before we begin, let’s take a moment to meet the judges of our contest!”
The first judge to step onto stage was none other than Pecora. We’d already been told she’d be judging, so no surprises there.
“Hello, everyone! As I’m sure many of you are aware, I am the demon king! I hope you all have a barrel of laughs today, and as your reigning sovereign, I swear to judge the performances with honesty and impartiality!”
I had a feeling, in Pecora’s eyes, the competition would be a success as long as the crowd enjoyed it. Personally, though, I was just as invested in seeing one of the many members of my family who were participating claim victory and all the glory associated with it.
The other judges—who the audience’s reactions suggested were pretty big names in the demon lands’ comedy world—were introduced next. It wasn’t just demons on the panel, though; two of them seemed to be popular entertainers from the human territories, as well. I could hear the demons around us whispering stuff like “Who’s that?” and “Probably some celebrity from the human capital.”
Once all the judges has been introduced, Pecora stepped up to give one final explanation.
“Last but not least, I’d like to go over the rules by which we’ll be judging the contest! After every act finishes, each judge will assign it a personal score. Those scores won’t be revealed until the end of the contest, and the judges won’t know each other’s scores up until the end, either. That means until every act has reached its conclusion, no one will know who is winning! Do your best to figure out who’ll take the number one spot before the show is over!”
Oh, I get it. They must be trying to keep things exciting up until the very end. That seems like a good system… Or so I thought, but a moment later, I heard a shout ring out from somewhere in the hall.
“Anyone who can guess the top three acts in order will win a fabulous prize! Get’cher tickets here, folks!”
A way to keep things exciting, and also a way to let people gamble on the outcome, apparently…
“Anyone who wants that prize for themselves, be sure to think your guess through carefully! And that’s all for me—I’ll hand things back to the announcer for now, if that’s all right,” said Pecora.
“I, um…was actually supposed to explain the rules myself, actually,” the announcer awkwardly muttered. The demon king’s unconventional attitude had struck yet again, and there was nothing the contest’s staff could do about it.
With that, it was finally time for the performances to begin.
“Now then, let’s welcome our first act onto the stage!” said the announcer. “First up, we have a pair that’ll make you laugh yourselves to death! Give it up for A Couple of Corpses!”
Ah-ha! I have a feeling I know who that might be, I thought. A moment later, I was proven correct as Rosalie and Muu stepped onto the stage.
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