Wisebel stepped out from the shadows, gripping the skeletal hand with dramatic flair. He thrust it toward Clone No. 1 and activated it.
"Fuhaha! You're already dead!" he declared triumphantly.
Suppressing laughter, my real body's stomach ached from the effort. "Pfft… I'd love to humor you, but honestly, I'm not a kid playing pretend."
"You mock me? Fine! Just wait for your death, then!" Wisebel snapped.
I couldn't hold it in anymore. "Haha! Oh, Wisebel, do you even know what that thing is? That's not some cursed relic. It's a backscratcher. A backscratcher. Karina's grandfather swears by it. He uses it all the time. So, tell me, were you really planning to kill me with a glorified itching tool?"
"Damn it!" Wisebel growled, his face flushed with humiliation.
I doubled over with laughter. "Hah! You're killing me—just not in the way you think! A backscratcher! You honestly thought this thing was a weapon of doom? Oh, this is gold!"
