“Ah… let’s move on to the next question!”
“Yeah, this is how it should be!”
Hermes, who had anticipated that I wouldn’t crumble to this extent.
He grinned widely as he swung his Caduceus to display the second question on the floor.
I slapped my cheeks twice with both hands to refocus and stared intently at the floor.
[What has four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?]
“Hmm? This is…”
Doubt filled my heart before any joy could.
I rubbed my eyes anxiously and re-read the second question to myself.
Like repeating the numbers of a jackpot lottery ticket over and over…
This riddle about something that changes its number of legs with the time of day.
Anyone who knows Greek and Roman mythology would know…
Actually…
Anyone from the Republic of Korea would surely recognize this famous riddle!
It’s the riddle of the Sphinx.
The answer is as straightforward as 1 + 1 = 2, requiring no complex thinking to instantly come to mind.
If there’s someone who doesn’t know this, I dare them to step up!
The answer is ‘human.’
As I couldn’t take my eyes off the question, I covered my mouth with my hand, prompting Hermes to chuckle in amusement.
“Eh? So even the ever-confident Arc struggles with this riddle?”
“Ahh… hehe! Ye-… I-… this… phew! You, it’s too difficult…”
Hahaahaha!
Cut it out! Just stop laughing already, please!
Right now, it’s crucial not to take my hand away from my mouth.
Because it would reveal that my lips are practically grinning from ear to ear.
Please, laughter, just stop!
“You might guess it right by chance, but I also need an accurate explanation.”
Hermes, seeing my unusual behavior for the first time, grew even more confident and added this as a requirement.
He seemed absolutely certain that no human could solve this.
It describes a human’s life in terms of a single day—morning, noon, and evening.
When a baby, you crawl on all fours,
As an adult, you walk on two legs,
And as an elderly person, you use a cane, making it three legs.
That’s why the answer is a human.
“Uh… I don’t know…”
Ah…
Trying to hide my true feelings, I muttered a line,
but my smirk was unmistakably embedded in my voice.
I should just shut up.
“Hahaha, that’s understandable. This riddle is like the Sphinx’s ultimate move, prepared especially for today.”
“…I… pfft! Excuse me… I need to use the restroom briefly…”
Hermes, proud of himself, patted his own shoulders.
Unable to contain my laughter at his narcissistic figure, I abruptly stood up and fled into the temple.
After confirming no one was in the hallway near the bathroom door, I quickly entered and locked it.
“Hahahaha!!! Ah, oh my stomach! I’m dying of laughter! Kkkkk!!”
I laughed so hard it felt like my face would split.
Leaning against the wall for support, my body shook uncontrollably, like being drunk.
My stomach ached as if a boxer had repeatedly hit me, from laughing so much.
“Hahaha~ Pfft, ultimate move, you say. Ultimate move… human! Human! Human! Human!!!”
Looking up at the ceiling and repeating the answer aloud, I felt refreshed and exhilarated, like my heart was lifting.
After reciting the answer about ten times, the heaving subsided.
“Phew… I laughed too much, my eyes are watering. But the Sphinx… how long has it been since I heard that?”
The enigmatic Sphinx.
The name is so renowned that everyone has probably encountered it at least once.
The content of the riddle itself is memorable enough,
but the appearance of the Sphinx was shockingly bizarre, unforgettable.
A creature with the face of a human, the body of a lion, wings of an eagle, and a serpent’s tail.
It would present a riddle to those who crossed its path,
and if they failed to answer correctly, the Sphinx would devour them.
Due to people being eaten in the past, the riddle’s contents were never shared with later generations,
so Hermes must have believed its challenge still held its power.
Since a failed answer leads to d*ath, there’s no need to confront it twice.
In a way, calling it an “ultimate move” fits Hermes’s dramatic flair perfectly.
Hermes’ confidence in this ultimate move isn’t entirely unfounded.
Yet his one misstep is not knowing my true identity as an earthling.
What can I do?
Let’s just say it’s all fate.
“So you used a riddle.”
Through the first question, I learned something about my tendencies.
Riddles and nonsense require flexible thinking.
It’s like how, to take on someone strong who weighs over 100 kg, it’s effective to dodge around them and wear them out,
attacking stubbornness for a lack of adaptability.
It suits Hermes’s clever tricks perfectly.
“Back to focus. Arc, we’re not done yet.”
Snap!
I washed my hands and lightly slapped my cheeks.
Though it felt like luck just randomly rolled into my lap,
I mustn’t forget Hermes is doing his best for the sake of his mother’s welfare.
I need to treat this seriously and solemnly.
I’ve expelled all traces of laughter.
When I returned to the temple courtyard, Artemis and Hermes were enjoying(?), what seemed to be, a sibling chat.
“Hey, what’s the monster’s name? Tell me just a little.”
“Hahaha~ Sister is still hung up on monsters!”
“Doesn’t someone besides a monster have legs that increase and decrease?”
“Well~ It could be a monster. What isn’t?”
“See! The answer must be a monster!”
They were bickering about the second question’s answer.
It seemed Hermes mostly humorously indulged his sister,
while Artemis had already decided the answer was a monster and was now speculating about its type.
From Hermes’s hint that both humans and gods could be considered monsters,
one can sense a bit of resentment towards Hera.
“I’ve returned.”
“Hey, why did it take you so long? Constipated?”
“That’s not… uh…”
Artemis’s silly question.
Am I still too young?
For some reason, the word “constipation” felt embarrassing in front of an audience.
Still, what couldn’t she say to someone who’d lived several thousand years?
“So, Arc, have you figured out the answer? Keep in mind, you only have one chance.”
He also seemed in no mood to waste time on useless talk,
putting an extra constraint on me since I must solve all three questions.
But my arrows miss their mark for no reason.
Every arrow I sh**t hits its target.
“Yes, I’ll state my answer now, if you please.”
“Hmm… Okay, yeah, that, right.”
Intimidated by my confident presence, Hermes slightly stumbled over his words.
Then, looking me over from head to toe, he asked:
“You didn’t get help, right? That’d be cheating.”
“In less than five minutes, who could offer guidance? Besides, no one in this temple is smarter than I am.”
Pfft!
Then Artemis jumped up and kicked my shin.
Gripping my shin in pain, I bent over,
while Hermes chuckled as if enjoying a comedy skit, watching us curiously.
Ow… this hurts so bad.
Why again?
“To a priest! How dare you consider yourself the smartest and disregard the goddess I revere? Isn’t it already well-established that I am the smartest?!”
“…Among ‘humans’. Lady Goddess, you’re a god.”
“Ah, that’s true? …But still! That’s your fault for causing the misunderstanding!”
Our trouble-making goddess, who will never admit her mistake.
In her bid to cover her embarrassment, she continues to scold me.
Please,
if the Creator has any integrity, let me have just one chance to deliver a well-deserved smack to Artemis’ head.
“…”
Besides me and Artemis, another someone was anxiously eyeing me,
and that was Hermes.
When I responded by emphasizing “humans” and then turned to her,
he flinched as if hit by winter static electricity.
Of course.
Since I wanted to gauge his reaction before answering, I intentionally phrased my response this way.
Through the second question, I observed his psychological state as he similarly observed me.
I, Arc, always believe in repaying what I receive.
Awww,
except for our adorable troublemaker Artemis.
I can’t get revenge on my girlfriend, can I?
“Well, tell me the answer now.”
“Alright.”
“You should be careful. You’ve only got one chance.”
“There’s no need for caution. The answer is ‘human.'”
!
Hermes was astonished at my straightforward response.
He dropped the coffee cup he was holding, which shattered on the floor.
Ignoring the heat of spilled coffee on his clothes, he jumped up with wide eyes.
“What? Why is the answer ‘human’? Come on, tell me.”
Artemis, inferring the answer from Hermes’s reaction,
still didn’t understand the reasoning and urged for clarification.
“Oh~ infant, adult, elderly! Wow, this is so easy?”
Artemis, realizing how simple the riddle was after hearing the answer, seemed deflated.
I first encountered this riddle as a kindergartner, when the teacher presented it as a quiz for candy rewards.
Back then, I wore the same deflated expression as Artemis now.
I already knew the answer was a human,
but I was convinced it wasn’t a perfect fit, so I was brainstorming other answers when the teacher announced it,
only to raise my hand and challenge the answer.
“Teacher!”
“Yes~ what is it?”
“This riddle is wrong, isn’t it? Shouldn’t it say there are no legs in the evening?”
“Because elderly people lean on canes, isn’t it?”
“These days, grandpas and grandmas use electric wheelchairs. So, logically, in the evening, they have no legs!”
“…Ah, t-that’s true, isn’t it?”
That’s right.
I didn’t merely know the answer.
Even as a kindergartner, I had already “solved” this riddle.
To the point of modifying part of the question to make it fit modern context,
incredibly precisely.
Hermes,
you should now understand that your tricks no longer work.
Let’s settle this with the final question.
