"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new participant this year."
The competition announcer yelled into the microphone and it caused feedback.
Everyone covered their ears.
"Sorry, 1, 2, 3. Testing."
"What is your name, girl?"
He wants me to say my name in front of everyone.
I got redder than a ripe tomato and went anyway, head down.
"My name is Seraphine."
I said it so low that nobody could hear.
Some men in the back asked me to speak louder, because they didn't hear anything.
I started trembling.
"My name is Sera… phine." I stuttered, but it came out.
"Seraphine is her name, folks."
The announcer repeated my name and everyone started clapping.
More and more, I want to crawl into a hole. Why did I invent this? I thought.
"Where did you come from?"
Another question.
This is a job interview. It can only be.
"I came from Japan."
A silence took over the place. . .
"Japan is for eating?"
Cement asked.
"We have never heard of that place."
They asked me many meaningless questions until it ended.
". . ."
"Ladies and gentlemen, everyone here already knows the rules, but Seraphine doesn't. I will explain so we can start the competition."
The announcer is so drunk he can't even stand on the table.
"The rules are simple: we will put the participants' names on paper and draw two to start. That way, whoever of those two loses, the next one enters, and whoever stays until the end will win the competition and earn our wonderful prize."
"Please, whoever will participate, put your names in."
". . ."
"And, as usual, Cement and his son each drew one name."
The announcer started spinning the box for a few seconds.
Cement picked the first one.
The announcer opened the paper and announced:
"Brick will be the first."
What? I'm going to face Brick—my friend?
It's not another man, but what the hell is this? Why does everyone here have the same name? I pulled my hair from stress and mental confusion.
A man came out from behind the counter. He was almost two meters tall and must weigh around 100 kg of muscles.
He passed near me, making a sign that I was done for, and commented that the mannequin was his.
Is there still time to run away? I imagined that, looking at the door.
But thank goodness I won't be the first, since it still needs to draw who will go with him to start.
Brick passed near me with a face like he wanted to run away with me.
He grabbed the other paper and handed it to the announcer.
"Seraphine is the second participant to start the competition."
He celebrated that I was second as if he had won the World Cup.
I'm going to run away from here if they keep doing this.
While Brick and I went close to the table, he asked me why I was doing this.
"I don't like seeing anyone suffer."
I answered him smiling, but trembling inside.
"Thank you!"
He thanked me.
The arm-wrestling table is really professional. Well, I didn't understand anything, but I've seen some videos in stories.
"Seraphine, you're done for."
My opponent tried to intimidate me even before we started.
Cement positioned our hands so no one would cheat. Even if I cheated, how would I…?
"Everyone in position?"
"Yes."
"Round one, fight."
What—how does he know English?
And the first match started.
I used so much force, but my rival's arm didn't move.
"I'm giving you a chance to win, girl. I'm not even using strength."
He really wants to humiliate me.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the dispute is intense. This year, our current champion can't move Seraphine's arm."
Big-mouth announcer… it's me who can't.
I was so focused that I only looked at my rival's arm that I didn't notice he fell asleep out of nowhere.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!"
The announcer yells too much. He announced that I won.
"How did I win if he was sleeping?" I asked, but they ignored me.
Everyone celebrated my victory. Brick praised me, saying I'm awesome.
I don't know what to say to him.
"Now we go to the second match this morning."
Of the four that were left, two gave up, because they got scared of my strength—because the first challenger I defeated was the strongest.
"Ladies and gentlemen, two participants gave up. I just received this information. They are afraid of Seraphine, so there are two left. They will draw who goes with her first."
The announcer is about to fall off the table.
They drew who is next. All the men of this tribe are taller than me. I jumped to see who my next opponent was, but I couldn't see him.
"The next participant to face Seraphine is Mini Brick."
The announcer announced, almost having a heart attack from being drunk.
Mini Brick. . . why mini?
"Hey, my leg, you idiot!"
Someone was kicking my leg and, when I looked down, I saw a dwarf. I started laughing nonstop.
"Why are you laughing, girl?"
He gave another kick, stronger.
"And you're the one who's going to face me, you big baby."
I just won by luck and now I'm here acting big—what got into me?
"Everyone in position?"
It wasn't the announcer narrating anymore. It was Cement. It seems the announcer fainted from being drunk.
At least Cement is more rational… or so I thought.
But…
"Place your bets! Who will win this second match: Seraphine, who likes cutting hair, or Mini Brick?"
"What is cutting hair?"
Everyone got confused and wanted to know what that is.
These men don't know what it is?
"Start the second match!"
Wait!
I couldn't stop it. I felt my opponent pull my arm and when I looked forward with a shocked face, I had to get sad, because the dwarf grew.
But how?
In no story do dwarves grow. What script is this?