A Game To Make Him Fall

 A Game To Make Him Fall

"Have a child soon."

That was my father's catchphrase.

Born into a family that saw women only as tools to bear children, I stood at the crossroads of my life after more than twenty years.

What I held in my hands were nearly fifty photographs of men. These were potential marriage candidates, carefully chosen by my father.

Some had volunteered to become candidates in order to gain something from my father’s company, while others were recommended to strengthen connections between companies. There were various reasons, but I had to marry one of them and bear a child.

That was my purpose in this household.

I don’t think I could ever love someone.

How is it that others can believe in something without form, something like love? I can’t help but wonder.

The reason I can't do what the general public seems able to do, is it because I’ve never truly been loved?

I set aside the endless, unanswered questions that I had been asking myself since I was born and looked down at the photo in my hands.

Choosing him was truly an accident.

The main reason I chose him was because his photo was placed at the very bottom. The order of the nearly fifty photos reflected the order of potential profit for my father's company based on whom I married. The fact that he was at the very bottom meant he was almost meaningless to my father’s company. I decided to pick up that photo as a form of retaliation against my father.

The man in the photo was an ordinary man, someone you could find anywhere. The only feature that stood out was his glasses, which gave him a serious impression. Despite being a photo meant to be presented to a potential spouse, he wasn’t smiling at all. In fact, he almost seemed to be glaring.

His lack of flattery, however, made him surprisingly likable.

I looked at the profile on the back of the photo and decided even more firmly that I would choose him.

His background showed that after graduating from a second-tier university, he had joined a mid-sized company, and it seemed that he had been working there for five years.

The reason he was included in the list of candidates was to help his grandfather's company, and when I read that, I found it absurd.

"Stupid person."

I muttered those words without realizing it.

For someone to marry a woman they didn’t love just to help someone else—he must be incredibly naïve and absurdly kind, to the point of being hopelessly gentle.

"I don’t think I can love you, but if that’s alright..."

Those were the words he said to me during our first meeting. I could never forget the look on my father’s face when he heard that. With a scowl, his shoulders tense, he yelled at me over and over to avoid that man.

I found it so amusing that, just for that reason, I felt like I had made the right choice in selecting him.

And then we got married.

Not long after our marriage, he said this to me:

"I might kill you and take all the vast fortune you’ve inherited for myself. Would that be alright?"

I thought he was an interesting man to ask such a thing. If he were truly planning something like that, he would have just gone ahead and done it in silence, but for some reason, he sought my approval.

At that moment, I thought that he probably wouldn’t actually kill me, but the intensity in his gaze made me feel that he was serious. I couldn’t help but laugh.

And then, I thought I would turn it into a game.

"Fine. All I have to do is make you fall for me before that happens, right?"

I thought it would be interesting if he really did fall for me.

I knew I couldn’t love him, but I could certainly pretend to love him as much as I wanted. On the other hand, it was clear that he truly disliked me, which made me think he was probably bad at lying.

In order to play the role of a good couple, I thought I would have to make him fall.

“The game of making him fall”

When I thought about it that way, this married life, which was only for the purpose of having a child, strangely felt like something enjoyable.

"Should I pretend you went on a trip and kill you instead? Apparently, there's about a 40% chance of success."

The day before the overseas trip I had planned before getting married, he said such a thing. I didn’t know what the 40% referred to, but apparently, he was thinking of killing me again. And he was confessing this to me again. What a strange man, I thought.

I casually responded, and that day ended. The next morning, I went downstairs from my room on the second floor, carrying a large bag. I was surprised to see the person who was there.

"Good morning."

"…Good morning."

My husband, who had become my husband a few weeks ago, was there, preparing himself. I was so surprised that I was speechless, and he frowned and said, "Aren’t you going to be late?"

Being urged, I went to the entrance, and then I turned to him.

"…Shall I go?"

"Hm"

The reason it became a question was that I still couldn’t judge whether he had really woken up early to send me off.

He just nodded and didn’t say "Take care," but the words I heard before he closed the door made me smile.

"Take care."

It was just that simple thing. But it was important to me.

I never had a mother since before I could remember. My mother, after marrying into this house, quickly died after giving birth to me, and my family consisted only of my father. My workaholic father didn’t come home much, and there were only a few occasions when we ate breakfast or dinner together.

Even so, it was okay until I entered high school. Living with the kind housekeeper wasn’t such a bad thing, and she, who was about the age of my grandmother, spoiled me.

Although the relationship was built on an employment contract and money, at that time, I didn’t really have that kind of awareness, and I just relied on the "family" other than my father that I was given.

The spring of my first year of high school. She passed away.

My father said he would hire a new housekeeper, but I refused. To me, she was family, someone irreplaceable.

Still, my father insisted on hiring someone. I rejected it, but as I continued to reject it, I began to recognize her, who had been "family," as just the "housekeeper," and in my heart, there was no longer anyone who was "family."

And so, my life alone began.

In the large house, which was so big it almost felt suffocating, I ate my meals alone, prepared things, and went to school. There was no one to say "I’m leaving" or "I’m home" to, and when my father occasionally returned, we couldn’t hold a proper conversation.

For example, if I were to die like this, would anyone notice that I was gone?

Such doubts would briefly surface, and then disappear.

Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to die.

And so, I gradually became accustomed to being "alone."

"Take care."

It was the first time in a long while that I heard words of concern for me.

And what’s more, the one who said that was my husband, whom I had married a few weeks ago without love, and just yesterday, he had threatened me by saying things like "I’ll kill you."

I couldn’t help but feel deeply amused and entertained.

As I tried to hold back my laughter in the taxi I called, I remembered his scowling face as he saw me off, and when I returned, my mind was filled with how to make him fall for me.

To be honest, the thing I enjoyed the most during the few days of the trip was choosing a souvenir for him.

And when I returned from the trip, the first words he spoke to me were these:

"The probability of me loving you in six months is 0.001%."

"I see."

That means it will take more than six months. That was all I thought about. Since I knew that six months wouldn’t be enough to make him fall for me, I wasn’t particularly surprised by it, and I just accepted the fact.

It seemed that he was dissatisfied with my attitude, as he said, somewhat irritated, "I thought you didn’t dislike me."

Apparently, he wanted me to say "I give up."

He probably wanted to see me regret or dislike it. I thought he wanted to relieve his own dissatisfaction with being "bought" through that.

But I had no intention of moving according to his desires, and I didn’t think he was the type of man who would make a woman fall for him just by following his own expectations.

"…Can I ask how you plan to kill me next?"

When I said this challengingly, he made a dumbfounded sound. It seemed he hadn’t expected that.

"Do you want to be killed?"

"I would rather be loved by you."

It was an undeniable truth.

Right in front of me, he switched on his glasses-type PC and performed a future prediction. The displayed text read "The probability of not being caught if I kill my wife."

I understood, "So, this is what he was researching."

The "40%" from before the trip, this was what it meant.

After finishing our back-and-forth exchange, I handed him the souvenir I had spent hours selecting. I knew from observing him that he cared about his glasses, so I decided on a safe choice—a glasses case.

It was a black leather case. I had engraved his initials on the back myself. While I could say it was one-of-a-kind, it was, at first glance, an ordinary glasses case that could be found anywhere.

And then he tossed it into the trashcan with force.

It was a shock. The shock was bigger than I had imagined. It was something done by someone who didn’t care about me, so I shouldn’t have minded, but I bit my lip slightly and remained silent. He hurried back to his room, but I couldn’t move from that spot for an hour afterward.

That was how our newlywed life began, but before I knew it, six months had passed.

I was still continuing the "game of making him fall," and it seemed he was still researching that probability every day without fail.

"Today was pretty good. It's 17%."

At first, I doubted his nerves when he reported this every morning, but honestly, I had gotten used to it.

The point was that this was just a conversation starter. So now, I also use it as a conversation starter.

"You're up 2% from yesterday. That’s good. I had something good happen today too. Look, I made a nice tamagoyaki. You like that, don’t you?"

"…I do, but sometimes you scare me."

"Oh, why?"

"I wonder why."

He smiled lightly, sat down, and I prepared breakfast for him, and we ate together. That was the usual flow.

Every morning, every meal, I diligently made his favorite foods. It wasn’t that I was trying to capture his heart through his stomach, but I thought that a woman who makes what she likes would be much more favored than one who doesn’t.

His likes and dislikes were easy to understand. His face, unable to lie, would show a smile when he liked something, and his brow would furrow when he disliked it.

"Is it delicious? It's well-made, right?"

"Well..."

It seemed that today’s breakfast suited his taste.

And so, a year passed just like that.

By this time, my father had started pressuring me about having children. Even though he asked, we slept in separate rooms, and he showed no signs of wanting to do such things, so it was impossible for anything to happen. If it did, it would be a miracle.

When I told my father this, he shouted again. He passionately spoke about how a woman’s happiness lies in having children, but it was easy to imagine that what he really wanted was a successor.

"Stop calling me already."

After saying that, I hung up the phone, but then he showed up at the house. Since it was a day off and he was home, I panicked more than usual.

My father questioned him about what was going on. The fact that we were sleeping in separate rooms was something he had suggested, and I had accidentally mentioned it over the phone.

"I have no intention of sleeping with her. I can't love her, and she probably doesn't want to be loved by someone like me. Women are not tools for having children. If you married us for that purpose, the mistake was yours. Please divorce us immediately and let her marry someone who will truly love her."

Both my father and I fell silent at those words.

My father quickly left the room, and I served him coffee.

"Thank you."

"I don’t understand what you’re thanking me for."

"You were thinking about me, right?"

"I… just wanted a divorce."

He said that with a pout and took a sip of his coffee.

I truly thought he was a kind person. It seemed like he didn’t realize it, but those words were definitely a way of protecting me.

I wanted to thank him more, so I opened my mouth. But the words that came out were very twisted.

"Oh, is that alright? If we divorce, you won’t be able to kill me, and a large sum of money will also be far from you, you know?"

"…That’s true. That wouldn’t be good."

"Can I ask what the next plan is?"

"If I tell you that, won’t you start moving to avoid being killed?"

"Oh? As your wife, I’m fully prepared to accept all of you, dear husband. Don’t look down on me."

"What if this were a knife?"

He grinned with only his mouth as he moved the coffee cup toward my chest. I snatched the coffee cup from his hand and drank its contents.

"For example, what if it’s poisoned?"

When he said that and laughed, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. I thought it was probably the first time I had seen him smile in this life. Then, slowly, he made a smile with just his lips and raised one finger.

"Can I order another one? Without the poison, please."

"I've never wanted to make you drink poison."

When I nodded after saying that, he returned to his usual expressionless face. Somehow, that made me feel sad, and I decided I would make him laugh again someday.

Looking back, it’s clear that at that moment, I was the one who had been "conquered."

I had been trying to conquer him, but instead, I was the one who was conquered. Honestly, it felt a bit pathetic, but the life that followed was like a treasure to me.

I still didn’t fully understand love. But I realized that I cared about him.

Another year and a half passed, and we had been married for three years.

I was still continuing my "game to Game to make him fall" and had mastered the makeup and outfits he liked.

By now, I was just a woman in love, but my little pride wouldn’t let me admit it.

There was a slight but noticeable change in him as well. He had started helping with the housework. In the beginning, everything was left to me. Until recently, I had kept quiet about it, but I finally protested, saying that although he worked from home, it wasn’t fair that everything was on me. He easily agreed to split the chores, and now, he is in charge of the daily laundry and taking out the trash.

"If it was that hard, you should have said something earlier. I don’t want to overwork you to the point of death. I just want to kill you without anyone noticing."

It was also recently that a smile started to appear on his face when he said that.

We had become a family. Slowly, but surely.

I was overjoyed by that fact and, for the first time in my life, felt like I might have a warm family, and my heart danced with excitement.

Then, his birthday arrived.

I had been preparing for the plan for a while, so I spent the whole day getting ready—preparing dinner, doing my makeup, and dressing up.

I decided to go on a date with him. It was, embarrassingly, my first ever date in life. As a literal "kept daughter," I had actually never had a boyfriend before.

I had been looking forward to this day so much.

I persuaded him, who was reluctant, and we headed to his favorite aquarium.

I only recently found out that he liked aquariums. While watching TV together, there was a commercial about an aquarium. When I saw him looking at the penguins with eyes sparkling like a young boy’s, I realized he must really love aquariums.

In the end, it was a great experience. He seemed to enjoy it, and I was happy and had fun too.

The thing that made me the happiest was that, even though I got too excited and ended up buying more souvenirs than I could carry with both hands, he silently carried all of them for me. That would be a secret between me and him forever.

"Thank you for being born."

"You're welcome."

His blushing cheeks were so endearing.

Since then, we started going out together about once a month. We started with a nearby park, and eventually went on a small trip outside the prefecture.

Whenever I made a bento, he would eat it silently with a sour expression, but I never missed the slight upward curve of his lips when there was fried chicken and tamagoyaki.

The next time I made a bento, I made sure to prepare extra fried chicken and tamagoyaki. He looked a bit surprised and said to me:

"Can you read my mind?"

That made me laugh and feel happy... He still doesn't laugh much, but I thought that our married life had become very enjoyable.

And then, a year later, I started to develop desires.

It was around the time we had been married for four years.

By then, I had finally admitted to myself that I loved him, and because I had admitted it, desires began to emerge. I wanted him to like me. I wanted him to become a normal husband and create a family with me.

To be honest, I had the thought that after all I've done, he might like me a little. But, with him always maintaining a neutral expression, there were times when I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Wanting to know his feelings, I decided to try a certain method.

It was the method he used every morning.

I powered on the old type of laptop that was stored deep in the storage room and activated the future prediction program.

After a while, the blank space appeared, and for a moment, I hesitated on what to write. Then, with a nervous expression, I typed:

"Probability that the husband will love the wife"

I typed in our names, birthdates, and other personal identifying information, then pressed ENTER.

"0.000%"

That was the answer.

As the answer dropped like a stone, I finally understood.

I realized that everything had been a one-person struggle.

All the cooking, makeup, and flowers I carefully selected to always be smiling, and the words I exchanged in an attempt to understand him, looking back, it was all just a one-sided effort. I had been floating by myself, doing everything alone. To him, it must have all been a nuisance.

From the beginning, I was someone he probably hated, and that never changed over the five years.

(Now that I think about it, I’ve never heard him say “I’m leaving” or “I’m home”…)

I thought this while tears fell onto the keyboard.

I continued the "game of making him fall for me" even after that. The truth is, I just wanted him to like me, but when I thought about it that way, I felt embarrassed, so I couldn’t help it.

Even if he found it annoying, honestly, it didn’t matter. This was just something I wanted to do.

Believing that someday he would turn around, I smiled and spoke to him again.

And then, the day came without any warning.

It was just another morning, another usual workday. As always, I was seeing him off.

"I’m leaving."

For a moment, I thought I had misheard. But since no one else was around except for him, I realized that it wasn’t a mistake, especially when I saw his red face looking down.

"Have a good day," I responded, and my voice seemed to waver for some reason.

"I’m leaving."

He said it again, this time more clearly, and then quickly dashed out of the house.

My cheek was wet. It wasn’t until several seconds later that I realized the drops on my face were tears that had spilled from my eyes.

After that, I went back to the living room and started cleaning up the dishes he had finished. My steps were light, almost like I was about to skip. Then, I noticed something of his left on the table.

The leather-covered glasses case.

I had never seen him use the glasses case, but since he's the only one in the house who wears glasses, it must be his possession without a doubt.

I picked it up. I thought I had seen it somewhere before. Since we live together, maybe I had just seen it around, but something inside me stirred, telling me it wasn’t just that.

I turned it over and looked at the back, and I froze.

There, his initials were engraved, and I recognized them.

It was the souvenir. A souvenir I had bought when I went on a trip by myself shortly after we got married. The glasses case that was thrown into the trash just seconds after I handed it to him.

It was worn, but well-maintained, and I gripped it tightly in my hand.

I held it close to my chest, and once again, I cried.

To be honest, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I had planned to make him fall for me, but somehow, I had ended up falling for him instead, and I was disgusted with myself for that. If I were to fall for someone, why did it have to be him? There were countless men out there who were better looking and had better personalities, and I’m sure I must have met someone like that somewhere.

No matter how many times I asked why, I could never reach an answer, but there was one thing I knew for sure.

Among all the men I met, he was the only one who taught me what "family" truly means.

That day, I felt good all day long. Even the grocery shopping for dinner didn’t feel like a chore at all, and in fact, it was hard not to think of his favorite dishes when planning the menu.

While preparing dinner, I suddenly glanced at the calendar and couldn’t help but smile.

Today is my birthday.

Could it be that today’s events were a birthday present from God? If so, then maybe, just this once, I can celebrate my birthday too.

No one has celebrated it in years, so I had almost forgotten about it, but today seems special. After all, it’s such a wonderful day.

I might just have a "family" of my own.

I was lonely. I was really lonely.

When something fun happens, I want to say, "It was fun."

When something makes me happy, I want to say, "I was happy."

When something sad happens, I want to say, "I was sad."

I’ve always wanted a “family” with whom I could share such trivial things.

That’s right, I’ll go buy a cake.

It can be small enough for just the two of us to eat, round with candles on top.

I’ve always wanted to try this. When I was invited to my friends’ birthday parties, I could only watch enviously from the sidelines, but today I’ll recreate that scene right here.

He probably won’t say "Happy Birthday" or anything, but that’s fine. Just sharing a cake together will be enough.

“The candle should be blown out in one go, right?”

My lighthearted lips murmured this.

With a light step, I grabbed my wallet and left through the front door. My mind was full of thoughts about tonight, so perhaps I wasn’t paying enough attention.

I had an accident.

When I realized it, I was standing alone in a dark space.

Ah, I'm alone again, I suddenly understood, and my chest tightened. In the end, perhaps God was just trying to tell me not to get carried away. Life isn’t that sweet, and such a reversal of fate won’t happen.

After all, the probability was "0.000%." The chance of him loving me was zero percent. Just because a year passed, that probability wouldn’t suddenly jump dramatically.

There was no possibility that he would ever love me. Therefore, he could never become my family. It felt like I was being told that.

My consciousness sank again there.

The next time my consciousness surfaced, the space was closer to gray than black.

I couldn't tell the passage of time. Maybe a lot of time had passed, or maybe only a few hours. For me, the fact that I was alone again seemed more important than the concept of time, so perhaps that’s why I thought that way.

It felt like a light was being shone on me from somewhere. Even though it was closed, the sensation, sharp like it was piercing my retina, made my surroundings gradually change from gray to white.

"Yuri-san, today’s probability was also 0%. You’re still doing well today."

I heard a voice. It was his voice.

It was a little muffled, but it was definitely his voice.

But something was strange. Had he ever called my name before?

As I thought about it, I realized that this voice must be a hallucination. My brain was probably creating the voice and lines I wanted to hear, making me listen to it on its own.

"Today’s a nice day. If you were awake, I’d like to take a walk with you."

"Ah, I can’t see it from here. But, it’s fine. I’d like to walk together too."

I realized I had answered like that. How silly, having an internal conversation with an imagined version of him—what nonsense. But even so, it was fun, and I happily responded to the words that came flooding in.

Next, and the next time, whenever my consciousness surfaced, I continued to converse with his illusion.

"I brought some tamagoyaki that I made today. I couldn’t make it right, and I ended up burning it, but would you eat it with me someday?"

"Of course. If you made it, even if it had poison in it, I’d still eat it, you know?"

"Actually, today, I ended up hitting the Doctor. I don’t regret hitting him, but I’d like to go apologize. But I just don’t have the courage. If you wake up, could you go with me? It’ll give me the courage to do it."

"You're an adult, so you should go by yourself. But fine, I’ll go with you part of the way."

"Today's flower is a gerbera. It's a flower that would suit you. I’ve heard gardening is in fashion lately. How about we try it together next time?"

"Sounds good. Actually, I like cosmos flowers. But I don’t think they’re suitable for gardening, are they? I also like pansies, so maybe we can start with pansies."

The words of the phantom him contained the word "together" a lot, and when I thought that it was referring to my own wish, I felt incredibly embarrassed. But, is this really a hallucination?

I’m talking to a hallucination now. I think so, but part of me wonders, and it makes my chest tighten.

If these are really his words, I would be happy. In a way that’s indescribably happy.

And, I don’t know how many times it’s been. I felt the rise of consciousness.

Today, his voice, which usually sounded muffled, was even clearer than usual.

"Happy birthday. I bought the bouquet of roses I couldn’t give you back then. This time it’s properly 100 roses. Amazing, right? When you wake up, we’ll go buy your present. Seven times worth, you can wish for anything. I have no idea what you want, so next time, tell me in detail."

I tried to respond as usual. But something was strange. For some reason, I couldn’t speak today.

"Hey, today’s probability was 0%, too. Why are you sleeping there?"

For some reason, those words seemed to be tinged with a nasal sound. Is he crying? When I thought that, I couldn’t stay still.

"What’s your favorite color? What kind of hobbies do you have?"

Why is he crying? Is he in pain? Is he sad?

"What have you been doing while I wasn’t here? What kind of flowers do you like?"

The flower I like is cosmos. I’ve answered this before, haven’t I? Why? Didn’t you hear me?

"Next time, show me pictures from your childhood. Which high school did you graduate from?"

I’ll show you as many as you want, and I’ll tell you everything. So please stop crying, I don’t want to see you cry.

No matter how much I try to make a sound, my voice doesn’t come out. Only strange sounds like "hii hii" come from my throat, and I can’t say any comforting words to him.

If he’s crying, it’s my role to comfort him.

Because I am his "family."

The light, as intense as pain, burns my eyelids. From my painfully dry throat, only strange sounds emerge. The shadow I can barely see is surely you. There’s no way I could be mistaken.

"Good morning. You slept in quite a bit today."

"Good morning. Masahiro-san."

Again, I couldn’t make a sound. And once again, he started crying.

"Did you think about your birthday present? Should I get you a new computer? Your computer must have broken by now, right? Or would you prefer a bag or a necklace? I have this image that women like jewelry, but I wonder if that applies to you?"

On a day when my discharge from the hospital was approaching, Masahiro-san said this to me.

"Is it really okay with anything?"

"Yeah, I’ve kept you waiting a long time. But I’ll do what I can. I can’t be an oil tycoon, after all."

"Oh, I’m not asking for anything that expensive."

The hand that gently patted my head as I pouted felt nice.

"Well then, say it. Come on. Hurry up."

"Masahiro-san, please listen."

He leaned his head close to my mouth, as I sat in the wheelchair.

And then, I made up my mind and made this request to him.

"I want a family with you, Masahiro-san."

Translator Note

Here is the alternate version of "The Probability I Can Kill My Wife Without Being Found Out".

Thanks for reading