by Hirukuma,
A giant hourglass is placed on the stage directly opposite me. They must be using it in place of a stopwatch. I guess even other worlds have hourglasses.
Large plates stacked with fried meat are placed in front of the contestants. With that much, it’s easily over two kilograms.
“Of course, those who finish their food before time runs out will automatically advance to the finals. Now, are you all ready? Then let the eating contest begin!”
All at once, the participants begin throwing steaming-hot fried meat into their mouths.
“Hot, hot!”
“Fuuu-fuuu…”
They’re right out of the fryers, so the juices probably came out inside their mouths. The big men have their hands over their mouths, writhing. Quite a few of them drink the cola poured into their jugs to neutralize the heat, too.
More importantly, the Band of Gluttons… They’re bringing the food to their mouths, then blowing on it. Animals’ tongues tend to be particularly heat sensitive. Their pace probably won’t improve until it cools down. Rude though it may be, their desperate attempts to eat through the pain warm my heart.
They’re getting the food down by cooling it with the cola, but if they do that, the carbonation will probably fill their stomachs in a heartbeat. I wonder if they’ll be okay. Ah, right, for the project planners, maybe it would be better if the Band of Gluttons dropped out now. I’m fairly conflicted on the issue.
The Band of Gluttons are profitable customers of mine, and we’re linked by fate in one way or another, so personally, I want them to do well.
This is the first of the various strategies the store owners came up with: the piping-hot-food plan. With everyone guzzling the cola, it seems to have worked. As a bonus, the owners are buying chilled colas from me, one after another.
I look at the hourglass and see that half the sand is already on the bottom. Some will probably finish eating soon.
“I’m done eating!”
“I’m finished, too.”
“Me too!”
“All done over here.”
The Band of Gluttons all pump their hands in the air nearly at the same time. I expected this, but still, all four made it through? The shop owners are giving them polite applause, but on closer inspection, I can see their uncomfortable grimaces behind their smiles.
They’re probably cursing their luck that four of the most problematic contestants made it to the next round. I hope they have enough food for the finals…
“I have finished eating as well.”
Oh, Gocguy finished, too? That’s all five of the people advancing. That was faster than I thought. Wait, only one human actually made it out of Group One. The Band of Gluttons sure are incredible.
“We have our five winners in advance of the time limit. The rest of you may feel free to bring your food back with you. We’ll provide containers as well.”
That’s very nice of them, considering it’s an eating contest. Some of the participants were in the middle of eating, but they begin to pack their food into containers and leave the stage.
When everyone from Group One is gone, people come in to clean up the leftovers and plates. In a matter of minutes, they’re done preparing for the next group.
“Now it’s time for the Group-Two contestants to take the stage for the eating contest!”
The line of people appearing on the stage has a high ratio of women, unlike Group One. Shui, one of the favorites, is there, of course, but Lammis is, too. My partner waves energetically as she comes onstage.
Lammis, in contrast to her physique, is a big eater, too, but I don’t think she can win if pitted against Shui. Moreover, a few female hunters are participating as well. I’m usually in front of the Hunters Association, so I’ve memorized the faces of many hunters who come and go.
Wait, Shirley is competing, too? She certainly doesn’t give the impression that she’s a big eater. She seems to have realized her dress wouldn’t fit the situation, and while her outfit is somewhat rougher than usual, it’s as revealing as ever. The men in the audience are getting lively.
Maybe Two had so many women to add color to the finals. The Band of Gluttons, ever the adorable bunch, were in Group One, giving the contest a good balance.
“Okay, Group Two, dig in!”
At the announcement, the participants begin wolfing down their fried meat. Just like before, the fresh heat takes many of them off guard, making them wash it down with cola.
Shui has always liked drinking cola; she drinks it calmly while happily cramming her mouth with fried meat. One thing that adds to her appeal is how happy she looks when she eats something tasty. She puts a hand to her cheek in an expression of bliss as she chews heartily.
The pile of meat in front of her depletes with each passing moment. At first, it seems like Shui is taking big bites but not chewing very much, but if you watch closely, her jaw and cheeks are blurring up and down at high speed. She’s properly chewing her food… Her speed just greatly outpaces the other contestants’.
As though she’s eating at several times the speed of those around her, her amount of fried meat decreases rapidly. Despite her swift eating, though, that contented smile remains on her face. How wonderful.
When Shui eats, she consistently wears a smile, always looking like she’s never been happier. That’s why I like her.
“Whoa… Those pouch-panda fiends are famous for being big eaters, but how crazy is that girl over there?”
“Is she even human…?”
The astonished voices from the crowd are referring to the way Shui eats.
“Thanks for the food!”
Before the hourglass even reaches the halfway point, Shui finishes eating, then downs the rest of her cola in one gulp. The Band of Gluttons were fast, too, but if we’re being honest, I knew she’d win.
“I’ve finished eating, too.”
The next one to calmly raise her hand is a woman in black-rimmed spectacles wearing what looks like a suit—it’s the money changer, Acowi, of all people. Whether it’s her or Shui, I bet a lot of women envy them for being such big eaters despite how skinny they are.
The next to advance came a good while after that.
“I… I’m done eating. It was so yummy.”
Lammis rubs her belly; seems like she managed to finish. The remaining two people finish up as well, but I’ve never seen them before. They might be newcomers who came to the stratum recently and don’t go near the Hunters Association building very much.
Incidentally, Shirley continued to eat elegantly until the end. Well, the crowd loved her, so that alone made it worth participating.
“We now have all our finalists! The finals will take place in two hours, so please wait until then. Once we’re done cleaning the stage, a theater group will be performing a play. Please get your food and drinks from the stalls and enjoy.”
They’re having a play? They’re more serious about this event than I thought. I’ve never once heard of a theater troupe in this settlement… Does that mean they hired them for the eating contest?
“Boxxo, I’ll take you off the stage. You’ll get in the way of the play.”
“Welcome.”
If there was a vending machine onstage while actors were doing their best to perform, it wouldn’t matter what the play was about—it would just seem strange. I’ll let her carry me off without complaint.
“Do you want to watch the play, Boxxo?”
Hmm, should I? I’m interested in plays, but I’ve never been suited to watching theater. It’s not like TV, so I always worry that the actors will mess up. I know it’s none of my business, but it keeps me in such suspense that I can’t think about the actual play.
Back when I was little, I once went to a superhero show for kids. An unexpected event happened there that resulted in one of the costumed people getting exposed, and it all turned into chaos. I think that’s the root cause of this tendency I have.
Ahh, but I still want to know what it’s like.
Theater troupes must be proficient, since there’s so little entertainment in this other world, so they probably rarely mess up. It’ll be fine.
“Welcome.”
“You’re interested? Okay, let’s watch it together.”
“Oh, you two gonna watch the play? Lemme join ya.”
Hulemy came, too. I look over in the direction of her voice and see her wearing her usual black coat, hands full of food from the stalls. How nice that she seems to be fully enjoying the festival.
“Lammis, want something?”
“No way. My stomach feels like it’s going to explode!”
Can’t expect much from her in the finals in two hours, huh? It makes sense, given how much fried meat she ate. I guess this is where I should actually praise her for doing so well.
The audience seating is 70 percent full, but the corner of the back row is free, so we decide to sit there. I have to be on the end or else people behind us won’t be able to see, so we need to be careful choosing seats, too. After all, it’s awful sitting with a tall person in front of you at the movie theater.
So a play in another world, huh? I wonder what the quality will be like. This world has no TV or movies, so maybe this is a polished art. On the other hand, since people aren’t used to watching theater, they might like it even if the actors are bad.
Whatever the case, for now, I’m going to sit back and enjoy this play in another world.
The Victor and the Reward
Preparations for the play look finished, so I’ll sit up straight—although, with my spine, er, body, always positioned completely upright, I should be fine.
I’ll just stand here quietly so I don’t interfere with the performance.
“Why, if it ain’t Boxxo. What are you doing over here?”
“I’ll have some cold tea today.”
But I didn’t think the pair of gatekeepers would arrive at that exact moment.
With the play about to start, I don’t want to make noise, so I’ll show off a silencing effect using the item-dropping technique I’ve mastered.
With the gentleness of a mother laying her baby down in a crib, I quietly place the items in my compartment.
Great, it made almost no noise. People—well, vending machines—can do it if they try.
“What was on the program again?”
“Um, I think it was…”
Wait, are Karios and Gorth here to see the play, too?
Keeping our voices down so we don’t disturb others and trading impressions could be fun. Personally, I’m all for it.
“According to the schedule they passed out before…it’s apparently called The Farm That Calls Happiness. Never heard of it.”
What’s a farm that calls happiness? I can’t even begin to guess. If even the well-informed Hulemy doesn’t know what it is, does that make it some obscure story or a complete original?
The tale will probably be about a farm. A beautiful girl working her hardest to cultivate the fields, passing out the vegetables she raises, and making everyone happy—something like that.
I would have preferred a more otherworld-like sensational action movie. If there’s a romance involved, I’m not confident I’ll keep watching. Maybe I shouldn’t get my hopes up too much.
“Well, we’ll know when we see it. Oh—looks like it’s starting.”
You’re right. There’s no point thinking about what it will be before seeing it. Time to enjoy it as just another member of the audience.
“That was, well, unexpected in a lot of ways…”
“So they did that, and then that happened…”
“Yup, it was definitely a farm that called happiness. Oh, but it didn’t really call it, it just kind of came to it…”
Everyone trades various impressions, amazement plain on their faces.
My honest opinion is that it was impressively otherworld-like. That sums it up. I can’t believe the main character wasn’t a person but the farm. My general view is that it was interesting, but it wasn’t for everyone.
The performance was high quality, too, so if the same troupe does a different play sometime, I’d like to see it.
“Wait, this is no time for being flabbergasted. Lammis, you’re in the finals, right?”
“Oh, that’s right! Boxxo, let’s go!”
“Welcome.”
Lammis bounces me onto her back and carries me away.
“Do your best, Lammis! We’re rooting for you!”
“Don’t overdo it.”
“Show them a woman’s pride!”
As the three send words of support after her, Lammis raises a fist in the air. Unfortunately, she’s carrying a vending machine, so she can’t see Hulemy and the others.
With a breakaway sprint, she places me on the stage’s corner, then runs off to where the contestants are waiting. I get that she’s in a hurry, but she needs to be careful she doesn’t trip in her haste.
“Ahh, I-I’m sorry!”
A crash and a cry reach me, but I’ll pretend I didn’t hear.
The stage preparations finish, and the emcee, Munami, steps out once again.
It looks like the finals are about to begin. The audience seats are only about 60 percent full, which is a little on the empty side. Maybe the first half of the contest was satisfying enough for a lot of people.
I’d like things to be more exciting to attract more people. Do I have any way to gather people here? Isn’t there anything I can do? It would be nice if there was a useful feature for it.
I scan the list of additional features I got after becoming Rank 2, then spot an interesting one. If I use it, it should draw people in and get the place excited.
From my features list, I choose Jukebox and activate it.
“Now, will the contestants enter the stage?”
Most of the audience is paying attention to emcee Munami, so nobody seems to notice my quiet change.
I grow smaller than my usual vending machine form, and my edges take on a familiar roundness. Two thick, plastic, fluorescent light–like things are installed on my body’s framework, which shine with a yellow light. Inside me, I can feel several hundred records in place of my usual food and beverages.
You used to be able to find this machine in cafés and bars, and you could put a coin in to listen to your favorite song. For anyone in their twenties to their forties, though, the jukeboxes in bowling alleys where you can play brand-new songs are probably more familiar.
By the way, jukeboxes are perfectly fine vending machines, but most people probably don’t think of them that way. Of course, as a vending machine maniac, every time I’d see one I’d have it play something for me.
The reason I purposely chose an old type rather than a brand-new model is because it’s full of classic music.
“Huh? Where’s this song coming from?”
The audience fortunately seems to think it’s part of the show, but Munami and the other organizers are at a loss. Still, Munami pushes forward without panicking or making a fuss, impressing me with her composure.
I cast my worries to the wind and decide to provide some acoustics. Munami’s coping skills must have been honed by real-life events.
“Is everyone excited?! This is the end, whether it makes you cry or smile. All the participants, please eat your hearts out!”
Pumped up by the background music, Munami is bursting with energy. In that case, in order to not fall behind, I’ll chose an exciting song with a faster tempo.
“The finals will be decided by how much you can eat within the time limit! Surpass your limits and open the door to a new world… Let the finals begin!”
As she makes her announcement, I change the song. I play one often heard for the relay race or footraces at sports days. Whenever I hear it, it really lifts my emotions. It looks like the contestants are eating quite a bit faster, too.
I do feel like I overexcited them a little, but there are people standing by with healing-type magic and Blessings, so the absolute worst won’t happ
en.
It’s still only just begun, but as expected, the vacuum girl, Shui, and the Band of Gluttons have jumped out ahead right from the start. Lammis doesn’t have the same momentum as before—she seems to be enjoying her food at a slower pace.
The fried meat lined up in front of the five potential champions continues to be gulped down like air. The culinary spectacle of multiple pieces disappearing every second is in its own dimension at this point. That contest area is turning into a small black hole.
“Yeaaahhh! Keep it up, short-haired girl!”
“You can do it, Gluttons!”
Impassioned shouts of support fly at Shui and the Band of Gluttons. I get it—watching how they eat makes you want to cheer them on.
The other members seem to understand they can’t beat those five, but they keep eating, not wanting to be outdone. Once the five put down the fried meat, the next course consists of crepes so gigantic you could easily wrap a baby in one.
For the finals, the plan was to serve a mountain of fried meat first and then have giant crepes waiting for anyone who managed to finish. A sweet follow-up attack when your stomach is already bulging. I think this contest is made to break both your stomach and your mind.
Incidentally, the crepes are stuffed to a ridiculous degree with apples and bananas I provided. To give them apples, I turned into an apple vending machine, and for bananas, a banana-specific vending machine. They’re both items I enjoyed purchasing in my former life.
There is a fruit version of the vegetable vending machine, too, but I want you to understand that there’s no way I wasn’t going to go for the more specific ones.
By the way, I found the apple vending machines on the second floor of New Osaka Station. Not only did they have sliced apples; there were versions for chocolate-, honey-, and caramel-covered ones, too. I remember being delighted at the wide variety.
The men competing take one look at the giant crepes and make a face, but the women’s eyes light up.
“Ngh—sweets! And they look mighty tasty, too!”
Lammis, you’re slipping into your accent.
“May we have them as well?” Next to her, I swear I see Acowi’s eyes glimmer, deep behind her glasses.
