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Humans are inherently selfish creatures.
Psychological egoism; a well-known theory, suggests that all human actions are driven by the pursuit of maximising one’s self-interest, regardless of external consequences.
Let us use a few examples to illustrate this phenomenon.
Landlords evict people that are holding onto a thread, in order to make space for the next tenant. Doctors prescribe unnecessary medicine and procedures to the unaware patients, in order to reap higher profits, in the case of supplier-induced demand. And in the extreme cases; con artists; those who lie and cheat and scheme, without remorse, no regrets for those harmed.
(A blurry image of a middle-aged woman flashes; her head cracks upon the concrete as blood trickles out.)
Even benign exchanges between two people cannot be overlooked. Picture this, an elderly, blind woman is helped across the road by a stranger. On the surface, this seems like a selfless act in which the stranger does not benefit from. However, psychology offers another perspective; endorphins are released in the stranger’s mind as he does so, triggering a “feel-good” reaction.
As such, an interesting question can now be posited: do altruistic people actually exist? Amidst this society of self-serving liars, can there actually exist anyone who is untainted?
A tremor passes through Akiyama’s body as he shivers, his gaunt face shines in the moonlight. Eyes snapping open, he pushes himself up and sits up on the cold, rigid bed. Peering around the lonely cell groggily with furrowed eyebrows, Akiyama’s relieved to realise it was only just a nightmare.
With naught but one thought echoing through his mind, he sinks back onto the mattress, willing himself to go back to sleep.
Mother? Mother, how would Mother feel if she were to see him now?
(He doesn’t find sleep for the rest of the night, and for many other nights to come.)
Kanzaki Nao is an enigma to Akiyama. A mystery that he’s determined to get to the bottom of. And he does not like it one bit. He’d expected a recluse life once exiting jail, and certainly not this.
Peering downwards from the balcony, he watches the hapless girl scramble around; slouching against the nearby vending machine, resting under the shade, wiping off the sweat on her forehead, tapping her foot anxiously as she looks around.
Glancing at his watch, the time’s flown and hours have passed. The sun’s nearly set, and Kanzaki Nao is still waiting futilely.
She’s an actual fool , Akiyama muses. He almost wants to go back down and scream at the naive girl; he doesn’t owe her anything and neither does she, nobody’s going to help her out of pure goodness of their heart, why couldn’t she understand that-
And somehow she still has so much faith in a known criminal like him.
Fine. Let her wait.
After all, he still isn’t sure if this was some ploy or trick. Even though he’d successfully forced the MLM into bankruptcy, one can never be too careful around strangers. Surely everyone knew that, right? Even Kanzaki Nao.
Trust is a currency, after all. A rare commodity that’s hard to chance upon.
Lighting a cig, he savours the faint and familiar stench, enjoying the induced headiness that comes along with smoking his lungs away.
(Win-win situation. A horrible person like him could not have hoped for a better ending.)
After a few more minutes of looking down at Kanzaki Nao in bewilderment (and amazement), he decides to head back into his room, body thumping against the bed almost immediately.
However, sleep evades him as he rolls and turns in bed. It’s half past midnight, who knows what kinds of people Kanzaki Nao would run into at this time… but these feelings have long since been familiar to him, and so he squashes them down, finally drifting off.
The next day, Akiyama’s entirely convinced that Kanzaki Nao has left, and much to his chagrin and horror, she’s still down there, waiting for a miracle that will never come. He rubs his forehead, dismayed. It seems like his attempts to discourage her have failed.
A whole day has passed, and she’s still standing strong, though his observant eyes don’t miss neither the trembling of her body; likely due to the night cold or just sheer exhaustion, nor how pale her face looks.
He watches her from behind the vending machine. Despite the whole day of waiting, there’s still strength in those innocent orbs of hers, not a single speck of dismay… He’s conflicted, this is the first time he’s met such a stubborn and foolish girl.
Well, she’s certainly shown her resilience, and it would be terribly rude of him to repay her devotion with indifference.
Pondering over a simple explanation as to what took him so long, he finally emerges and taps the poor girl on the shoulder, eliciting a yelp and a half-hearted stare from her.
“Ah… sorry it took me so long. I accidentally fell asleep after getting home.” Plastering on an awkward smile while scratching his head absentmindedly, he looks away from her.
“Oh, it’s all right Mr. Akiyama. It wasn’t a long wait anyways!”
As she beams at him with appreciation spilling out of her, he’s even more puzzled right now. It certainly was a long wait, and the pavement’s a bit slippery; it must have been drizzling earlier. He looks her over once more, noting the small dark blotches on her dress, the stickiness of her hair, and there’s a slight throb in his stone-cold, unwavering heart before it passes.
Composing himself, he steels his heart before asking her to elaborate more on the Liar Game, as they start walking. He learns about her current plight, how her trusted teacher has swindled her, put her in lifelong debt and has now forfeited her very life.
(It strikes an uncanny resemblance to someone he used to know, a lifetime ago.)
He frowns, lost in his thoughts. Kanzaki Nao slows down, noticing the change.
“Is something the matter, Mr. Akiyama?”
“...No. It’s nothing. Let’s keep walking.”
Does Kanzaki Nao know how conflicted he was? A broken puppet that had to pick up its own strings. A clock without its hands, stuck in a moment that would never pass.
They’d taken his mother away, the last ray of light in his life, extinguished just like that. He knows he’ll never forget the image of her broken form lying on the concrete, yellow-taped all over and chalked up. He knows he’ll never forgive her for leaving him alone in this world, and he knows he’ll never forgive himself for being too late.
If only he hadn’t stayed back in class that day to consult his professor. Maybe he could’ve talked her out of it, figured out a solution that wasn’t death.
What was it again? Instant ramen with pork, wasn’t it? Her favourite food… Didn’t we agree we would visit the cherry blossoms in Hokkaido that year?
No.
Now isn’t the time to be dwelling on past sentimentalities. Right now, his objective is to save Kanzaki Nao. Logic over emotions. He needs to stay practical. He needs to stay focused, not get trapped in the past and definitely not get distracted by trivial things.
Trivial things?
He will not allow Kanzaki Nao to meet the same fate. They’ll have to pry her from his cold, dead hands before he allows it, and if he couldn’t save his mother, maybe he could save her from this hell.
(He really hopes this is the case.)
Fuck it. He takes out another cigarette. Old habits die hard. The girl next to him coughs; it’s a stark reminder that everything he touches gets ruined.
Throughout the games, his façade starts to crack, showing signs of weaknesses. The games chip at his conscience, and every ploy, every lie that slips from his lips, they’re wearing away at his soul. He has had to deceive Kanzaki Nao countless times, reassure her that everything was going as planned, he had everything under control, when it was far from being the case.
Logic over emotions. But how long will this pretense hold up? How long before the house of cards inevitably falls? How long before the charade finally comes to an end?
He sees her cry freely, and secretly admires how she’s not afraid to be vulnerable, to show emotions when others could use it against her in this game, even when it goes against logic. Again and again, he tries to convince himself, he has to prioritize logic over emotions.
He recalls the advice he’d given to Kanzaki Nao a few days ago.
“Doubt humans. Question them, suspect them, and take a good, long look into their hearts. Humans are the kind of beings who can’t put their pain into words after all.”
(It’s ironic how those words especially apply to him.)
He’s exhausted after participating in the games. There were many times he was on the brink of defeat, only to remember she was here, allowing him to compose himself and come up with yet another strategy. Without Kanzaki Nao, he would’ve probably crumbled long ago. She was undeniably his sole lifeline.
He doesn’t miss the way her lips would curl into a genuine smile when clearing other players’ debts, without any deceit behind them. He admires how she repays malice with kindness, how despite the countless betrayals, she still has forgiveness in her heart; has mercy to let her foes off the hook.
(He knows he wouldn’t have done the same if he was her. In that sense, she’s stronger than him.)
He also sees a bit of himself in Yokoya, how the both of them operate. How the both of them make use of people, as if they were pawns. Casually maneuvering these pawns into the line of fire, while the kings reside behind them. Sacrificed to make progress for victory. Cold-blooded measures tend to suit him.
It’s the only way to beat Yokoya, he reassures himself. To fight fire with fire, and stoop to his opponent’s level. There’s no other option. Logic over emotions.
Right?
Akiyama’s made a grave mistake. A fatal miscalculation, which can very well end in his utter ruin.
He’s getting too attached to the girl.
“You could’ve died! Why didn’t you tell me about the plan before the match started- actually, scratch that, partnering with Fukunaga? Are you insane?”
He’s absolutely livid, rubbing and clenching his clammy hands on his damped shorts: hiding his worry behind a mask of anger. Feeling his muscles contort, he hasn’t had the slightest idea of how to express the thoughts racing through his mind coherently. It’s all spilling out like water from a cracked jar, for a second he was convinced she was lost to him forever .
Priding himself on his (usually) calm composure, he’s on autopilot mode. Even after hearing the strategy in the time-out period, he’s unable to control his emotions. Angrily staring at Kanzaki, the poor girl’s twiddling her thumbs, glancing at the floor, doing everything she can to survive his harsh verbal onslaught.
“Eh, Mr. Akiyama… at least it worked out, right? Besides, I thought the plan was carried out flawlessly… I really don’t want to keep relying on you through the games.”
“You think that makes everything fine? You’d entrust Fukunaga with your life, while not even alerting me?”
“Well, I was confident Ms. Fukunaga wouldn’t betray me in this game.”
He sideeyes her, waiting for an explanation. How is she so confident about that? She’s been tricked twice by Fukunaga already in the earlier games.
Kanzaki fidgets, sitting down onto the nearby chair.
“Remember the advice you’d given me, about doubting people and peering into their hearts? Throughout this game, I’ve been observing Mr. Fukunaga closely, and I’ve also learned a lot about his personality.”
He nods, still slightly skeptical.
“Mr. Fukunaga still wants a rematch with Mr. Yokoya, in order to get revenge on him for the previous game. If he had betrayed us to the other team, he would be out of the game and unable to do so.”
Logical deduction. But this still isn’t enough evidence to place so much trust into Fukunaga…
“Also, do you know why Mr. Fukunaga decided to dress up as a woman for this round?”
Eh? How does that have anything to do with trust?
“He wanted to use his charm to mess with the other players, right?”
Kanzaki covers her mouth, eyes watering in playful mirth. She shakes her head slowly at him.
“That’s just his pretense. The real reason is, Mr. Fukunaga has a crush on you!”
Huh?
“...WHAT?”
“Mr. Fukunaga wants to look beautiful in front of the man he likes. When I was talking to him about the plan, I lured Mr. Fukunaga with the notion of you being grateful to him. At that moment, he blushed very slightly and my suspicions were confirmed.”
“...I think you’ve got this whole thing backwards, there’s no way.”
“If you don’t believe me, you can ask Mr. Fukunaga later. Anyways, he still helped with the plan, right?”
“I guess…”
He had no clue about Fukunaga’s supposed feelings, that thought didn’t even enter his mind.
“You’re extremely sharp and discerning, Mr. Akiyama, but it’s almost as if you’re clueless about women’s feelings…”
And with that, Kanzaki left the room to collect their earned money, giving him the time for some self-reflection. Today’s games had surprised him with many unforeseen revelations.
Clueless about women’s feelings?
He sighs, raking a hand through his messy hair; feeling bad for lashing out at the girl. Perhaps he should have placed more trust in her, instead of treating her like a child. But if trust is a currency, he’s undoubtedly bankrupt.
Get a grip.
All’s well that ends well, so why is he so distraught? He must be sick or something; stuck with this insufferable cold.
Yes, it must be the bad weather these days.
Feeling his forehead, he’s not surprised to find that they’re warm to the touch. Peering in the mirror, his cheeks are slightly tinged with red, and he looks disheveled.
He’s definitely unwell; under the weather. Either this, or he’s exhausted. That’s the only logical conclusion; he doesn’t want to think about the other one. The simplest conclusion is usually the correct one. Closing his eyes, he smiles slightly and allows himself a short mental break, a temporary refuge from the stress of strategizing.
Kanzaki Nao has really grown. Seems like she’s been taking his words to heart; he didn’t peg her as the type to read Fukunaga so well… She’s certainly come a long way from the scared, timid girl who once begged for his help.
Or is that just his influence on the poor girl? Before she met him, she wouldn’t have thought of such a thing. Is she trying to imitate him?
He frowns now, brushing those negative thoughts away as he sinks back into the chair. Pulling out another cigarette, he lights it and takes a few deep puffs, still contemplating. His head’s a bit dizzy now, and be it from sickness, exhaustion, something else, he doesn’t have the slightest clue in the world.
He’s under a cold. That’s all it is, he’s ill. Nothing to do with Kanzaki Nao. He needs to stay strong and not let this game take her away from him.
Sighing, he mentally notes down a reminder to take some medicine once he gets back home.
(Safe to say, the medicine has no effect whatsoever.)
It’s painfully obvious that the Liar Game is a zero-sum game. Whenever there are winners, there will also be losers. He can feel it in his gut, the conclusion of the games is coming soon. Everyday, he sends an encouraging text to Kanzaki.
It’s to keep morale high, and ensure that the girl doesn’t fall into a pit of despair. Furthermore, relaxing the mind helps conserve energy, which is also vital for whatever games are to come.
(At least, that’s what he tells himself.)
Peering at the cracked screen displaying Kanzaki’s contact, his finger’s above the “Send” button. Re-reading his message once more to confirm that it’s perfect, he presses the button. A simple greeting, a short header and some reassurance can’t go wrong.
Swoosh.
Akiyama [09:51]: How are you? Don’t worry about the 800 million dollar debt. I’ll figure something out.
Speech bubbles appear a while after, as he waits for the reply. However, they disappear a while later. He’s peeved, did she actually ghost him-
Ding.
Kanzaki [09:53]: I’m fine, thanks for checking up. Rest well for tomorrow’s game; we’ll both need it.
Swoosh.
Akiyama [09:53]: Alright.
He smiles wistfully, pocketing the phone after sending the message. Truth be told, it’s much easier to lie over text than it is to lie in person. Looking down at the quaint vending machine, he’s back on the same balcony.
Prison feels like a lifetime away; he scarcely remembers how it was like to be confined. Freedom didn’t really feel special after he left jail, but what is this feeling? He can’t exactly put his finger on it nor can he pinpoint the root cause of it.
Is he still ill?
No. He’s not ill. He’s not unwell, and the weather hasn’t affected him at all.
He knows that. But if he admits the painful truth to himself, he’s afraid he won't be able to understand it. It goes against everything he believes, and trusts in. This is something he doesn’t wish to acknowledge, ever.
Logic over emotions.
Logic over emotions..
Logic over emotions…
…So why does his heart ache so badly, when he imagines Kanzaki’s reaction to tomorrow?
The Liar Game is a zero-sum game, which means that there is no way to liberate everyone playing in the game. Someone has to take the fall; pull the trigger, and sacrifice themselves for the sake of everyone else.
He’s sure Kanzaki would gladly forsake her life to be that someone… But he can’t let that happen. He’d sooner die than let that happen. She’s not going to turn herself into a martyr if he can do anything about it.
He feels his hand instinctively reach into his pocket to retrieve the worn-out box of cigarettes, take out the familiar stick, and smoke his problems away- but he resists the urge; he throws the accursed box away. He’s neither smoking today, nor will he ever smoke again.
Going back into the room, he sinks into the bed. Time flies, and before he knows it, it’s already night time. No well thought-out plans, no intricate strategies, nothing . Just him trying to get some shuteye, to honour his agreement to Kanzaki just now.
(He tries not to think about her inevitable pain when she realises what he’s going to do.)
He greets her the next day, she’s surprisingly lively and enthusiastic. He, on the other hand, could not be farther away from the opposite.
“Good morning, Akiyama-san!”
“Morning.”
He rubs his eyes, hoping that the dark circles under them aren’t as accentuated as he thinks. Nao peers curiously at him.
“Couldn’t sleep last night?”
“Something like that.”
Bad dreams. Really, really bad dreams. Dreams that he’d much rather not elaborate on.
“Cheer up, Mr. Akiyama! Aren’t you the one always telling me to stay calm? Well, this time I guess I’ll have to be your emotional support.”
As Kanzaki winks at him, he feels his facial muscles inadvertently pull his lips up into a slight smile. Even then, with Nao’s lightheartedness, he can’t help but shake the feeling of impending doom. Tightening the screws of his well-fashioned mask, he gives her a brief nod, eyes flashing with faux resolve and strength.
He prays he only has the strength to carry out what’s necessary later.
“It’s our last game, from what I’ve heard… Mr. Akiyama, do you think we'll get to see each other after the games?”
She looks at him with sparkling, hopeful eyes, and he would never extinguish those glints.
Ah. There it is. There’s the crack in his mask. She’s the crack in his mask.
“...Yes, why wouldn’t we? I’m sure me, you, and Fukunaga could keep in contact after the games.”
(This time, he doesn’t miss how her eyes dart downwards when he brings up Fukunaga, and he hates himself more for it.)
He offers some words of advice to Kanzaki, moments before the final game starts.
“Don’t succumb to panic. Only those who see the bigger picture win.”
The game’s finished. It’s finally over; his hands tremble in exhaustion. Everyone’s celebrating; he and Kanzaki have agreed to share their winnings to cover everyone’s debts.
So who’s going to cover their own debts?
Kanzaki walks towards him, looking seemingly relieved that the whole ordeal is over. However, he knows her far too well to know that she’s anything but happy. As they watch the rest of the players leave, they lock eyes with each other and Akiyama can feel the underlying tension between the two of them. After all, it’s determined that only one will leave this game tonight.
Surprisingly, none of the Liar Game dealers show up, akin to bated breath. It seems they were the last two players.
“It’s been a pleasure, Kanzaki.”
He offers her a thin-lipped smile, but she doesn’t take it. Her glare is resolute, but today, he’s going to be the one that breaks it. He has to. This is the point of no return.
“You too, Mr. Akiyama. I… I really have to thank you for a lot, your guidance throughout the games, helping me improve. It is only right that I repay you for all that you’ve done for me.”
Is she on the verge of tears? He unconsciously takes a small step forward, towards her, to do what exactly? Console her? Tell her that everything’s going to be alright? Lie to her face once more, just like he has done so many times? No. He needs to take off the mask now.
“No.”
“No?”
“I know what you’re planning to do, and it’s not going to work. Please, reconsider your decision.”
Kanzaki laughs mirthlessly.
“Of course you do. Why would I have expected anything else? But it’s not going to work this time. It’s your loss, Mr. Akiyama. Right after this final game started, I’ve already asked the dealers to accept me as the sacrifice, and they’ve agreed.”
She’s trying to act cold to him, push him away, and make him detest her. He can appreciate the valiant attempt, but it’s not going to work on him. Fine by him, he didn’t expect things to go his way smoothly anyway.
“Oh?”
She’s weeping now, and his body betrays him; he takes her into his arms and consoles her by doing the best he can (which arguably isn’t much). He implores her not to waste any tears on him, but she’s distraught and the tears are leaking fully now.
On the surface, he’s calm and composed because he knows just how this game will end, but on the inside, his heart aches to see her like this because he can empathize with her; she’s still got so much living to do, she needs to visit her terminally ill father, she can’t die before him - imagine the pain she’d bring to her father. She’s just a kid, who hasn’t even experienced the world fully yet.
It’s only after a while later, when he’s given her enough time to cry everything out, that he lets go of her and stands away.
“I-I’ve made my choice, so please don’t stop me, Mr. Akiyama.”
He takes a deep breath, ready to end this masquerade of deceit.
“Your agreement with the dealers is nullified.”
He watches her expression of melancholy slowly shift into one of shock and anger before it slowly settles on dull acceptance. She’s lost, and she knows it.
“So you had the same idea as me. I see… you really were looking out for me since the very beginning, weren’t you?”
He nodded slowly at her. Even in the first game, he had already done the same thing Kanzaki did; broker an agreement with the dealers where he would be the last person standing, while also telling them not to accept any deals saying otherwise. It pains him further to lie to Kanzaki, but it's a must. If this is Liar Game, he's already the Liar King.
“It’s not fair. It’s not fair! You’ve done everything to help me through, while I’ve been nothing but dead weight, Mr. Akiyama!”
“It’s not about what’s fair and what’s not fair, Kanzaki. You’ve still got so much living to do. Didn’t you promise your father you’d visit him before he passed? You can’t break that promise to him! Besides, if you were to be the sacrifice, everything we’ve done would be for naught.”
He's worked himself up; he feels his arms shaking her in a state of panic, trying to knock some sense into her, and make her understand his motives. He stops to take a breath, before continuing.
“Throughout the entire game, you’ve been the only one who’s still stuck to their ground, their morals, their values. The good guy won't lose, Kanzaki- no, Nao. You won’t lose here!”
She looks at him with hurt and betrayal in her eyes; it’s clear most of what he’s said didn’t get through to her. That stubborn girl.
“Promise me something, Nao. Keep being the person you are, don’t let anything change you. And also, please forget about me, spare yourself the pain and agony. Please.”
The Liar Game dealers silently enter the room, and Akiyama takes this as his cue to follow them. He looks back at Nao, memorizing all the details of her figure, committing every experience they’ve shared to memory. He still remembers their first encounter, even though the both of them were so fundamentally different at that time.
He remembers her ingenuity in Stationary Roulette, where she’d even fooled him for a minute. He remembers the moments of camaraderie they’d shared through every triumph and tribulation, all of them committed to memory. He chuckles to himself softly, she had made him feel things he’d never felt before. That’s why he knows it’s all worth it. She’s worth it.
He remembers her reassurance to him after the contraband game, where he had almost cracked from all the stress; all the signs pointing to him being cruel and heartless. Because if she can see a heart in him, that means he’s not just cold logic without any emotions, and that someone believes in him.
He remembers the minuscule details too, of course. That time when they’d both went to get breakfast together, he distinctly remembers her go-to order, two slices of kaya spread on toast, one hard-boiled egg, and a cup of coffee. The other time they’d gone to the library to research possible Liar Game patterns, he still remembers how she looked while in deep thought, one delicate hand rubbing her forehead and eyes slanted upwards, lost in concentration, resembling a fool. He’d teased her for it at the time, with light-hearted banter.
(He wouldn’t mind experiencing the same banter with her again.)
Uttering the last words he would probably speak, he smiles at Nao. This time, she's trying her best to smile back.
“Live for me, Nao.”
And with that, he leaves the room with the dealers, walking in a separate corridor. There’s no conversation made between anyone, and he feels his thoughts stray yet again.
Could he have used some scapegoat instead of himself? Spare Nao the pain, and allow him to stick with her. He envisions the three of them; him, Nao, and Fukunaga, all drinking Japanese saké while seated around a table, recounting tales from the Liar Game cheerfully, sharing exploits in a state of bliss.
He envisions himself checking up on Nao every day after the games, sending her daily texts until she couldn’t get him out of her head. He imagines bringing her to his mother’s resting place; he knows his mother would have loved Nao and the type of person Nao was. He yearns to see Nao’s smile again because Nao is good, Nao is wonderful, and Nao has made him feel things he doubts he’d ever feel again.
But alas, he knows he’s being too idealistic. But he can’t help but shake the thought, perhaps in another world, they could’ve been more, more than this. What if he’d set up someone else to take the fall, instead of him? So many what-ifs…
(He knows Nao would never agree to that, which is why he doesn't carry this contingency plan out. His mind tells him this is the most logical outcome; sacrifice some stranger, but his heart tells him that this is not what Nao would've wanted.)
In this life, even till the end, he’s content to be her guardian angel.
The group of them walk a while longer before he uncomfortably speaks up.
“So, where are we going?”
The dealers look at him before one of them ominously replies.
“You’ll see.”
They carry on walking until he sees a door awaiting. The dealers gesture at him to open it; he does so and enters.
It’s an empty room, with a table in the middle. He walks towards it, with dread pooling in his stomach.
On it lies an identical mask to the ones the dealers wear, and the Liar King smiles.
Wait for me, Nao. I'll be out of here in no time.