by Fujino Omori
“I absolutely adore them! They were the only way I could learn of the outside world when I still lived in the manor…!”
A common interest. She’s so happy she’s found another person with this kind of childish hobby that—FLICK! Haruhime’s ears perk right up.
The stories come flowing out of her, and I’m right there, sharing ideas along the way.
“Durandal the Lost.” “Our Song of Enou.” “The Legend of Saint Giorgio.”……More and more. She knows quite a few unusual stories. Wait a second, I have no room to judge.
I doubt that any of the other prostitutes here know about any of these. This might be the first time she’s been able to talk about it in years.
Not to mention that most people “outgrow” fairy tales at a certain age.
I still don’t know how to talk about the Pleasure Quarter with her. I’m so lucky that Haruhime brought this up. Now we can both honestly smile and laugh with each other.
Some part of me realizes I’m only hiding from the truth, but it’s not every day I can completely escape into a beautiful world with a companion like her.
“I truly admire the knight who sang of love to his queen, despite both of them knowing their dreams could never come true!”
“I think that the jousting scenes from ‘Sir Laslow’ are much more impressive…”
“Master Cranell, are you familiar with the story of Snow White?”
“I don’t know much other than the heroes’ stories…”
She leans closer to me and I readjust on my pillow.
I can hold my ground when it comes to heroic tales, but Haruhime knows so much more than I do, it’s almost intimidating.
For the first time in a while, she falls silent. Her thick tail is swishing back and forth a bit slower now.
“So then, Haruhime, what’s your favorite kind of story?”
“It’s hard to choose…but the one that has left a lasting impression on me was about a princess who was saved from a demon by a young, nameless warrior…It is one of the oldest stories in the Far East.”
That would mean that she likes stories where the hero saves a damsel in distress…The moment where a strong hand reaches out to rescue a princess from danger.
It could be because she’s been cooped up in a box most of her life. Hang on, my cheeks are blushing.
That look on her face, it’s like she’s just revealed the location of an irreplaceable treasure…She closes her eyes.
“There was a time when I, too, wanted my own hero to take me somewhere far away, just like in the pages of the book…”
I was about to say something, but the soft smile in her eyes makes me stop.
Was she talking about back in the Far East, where she never set foot outside her family’s manor?
Or sometime much more recent?
“…But that was the foolish dream of the girl lost in fairy tales. No hero would ever come for someone as lowly as myself.”
“Of—of course he would!”
Startled by the resignation in her voice, I rise to my knees and try to deny her claim.
“No hero would leave behind someone like you! Don’t give up hope!
“Some pitiful, naive guy like me might not be able to do anything meaningful.
“But the heroes I look up to, the ones Gramps told me about, would never do such a thing.
“If any one of those brave souls were here, he would rescue you from this place on sight.”
I deliver an impassioned speech. She just watches me with those beautiful green eyes…and smiles.
“I am quite sure that the heroes you speak of had the same kindhearted soul as you do, Master Cranell…However, I am neither a beautiful queen nor a fair maiden in imminent danger.”
She slowly blinks and says:
“I am a prostitute.”
“!!”
My eyes fly open. Her words were soft and gentle, but they sliced through my heart with the sting of a thousand knives.
“While still inexperienced, I have given my body to many men.”
“”
That’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks.
My brain had been purposely avoiding the word prostitute this entire time. It felt like a slap in the face to hear it directly from Haruhime.
“It was not my destiny to wait as a pure flower for true love. In my story, money took priority.”
Pure flower…I’ve heard those words before, but now I know their true meaning.
And now it’s her job to provide customers with a night of their dreams, locked in an embrace of physical passion.
Prostitutes are not pure flowers. Quite the opposite.
This beautiful girl, with such an untainted aura, has been with many men…
The truth I had been trying to escape overtakes me. I can feel its grip, strangling my lungs from within.
Emotions, images, heat—a whirlwind rages in my head. I feel like I could puke at any second. I grab my chest and support myself with my free arm, struggling for breath.
“Why would heroes want to save…someone as soiled as myself?”
That innocent smile has never left her lips. It’s haunting in the blue moonlight.
It’s the same one she wore when I first saw her in the lineup, stunning yet distant.
Despite how close we’re sitting right now, there is a great distance between us.
“Prostitutes are the ruin of heroes. Surely you know this already.” Those words sting.
She starts summarizing, like the conclusion of a debate that she’s already won.
“I have had no right to indulge in the world of fairy tales and heroes since the day I learned what had become of me. Dreams and desires have no meaning. I’m not allowed to have them.”
“…”
“I am just a prostitute.”
What was that look of longing I saw on her face as she stared out from the back of that chamber earlier tonight?
She’s trapped in the cage of prostitution, but she’s just accepted it? Accepted everything?
The black collar around her neck flashes in the moonlight, looking more and more like a shackle every moment.
“…It appears the time has come.”
Feeling pathetic and absolutely useless, I watch Haruhime turn to the window and gaze outside once more.
I take a look as well. The red-light district has almost come to a standstill. More than half the magic-stone lamps are off and all the lanterns are snuffed out. The ruckus from before feels like a distant memory.
Haruhime gracefully rises to her feet.
“I very much enjoyed our time together this evening…Thank you.”
She’s thanking me? Why is she thanking me? What do I say?
She takes something out of a closet in the back corner—a thick, hooded cloak—and hands it to me. I absentmindedly take it from her outstretched hands and obediently follow her out of the room after putting it over my head. She leads me out of the brothel so quickly I don’t realize we’re outside until the cool air hits my face.
There isn’t a soul in this back alley. We leave the red-light district with the same obscurity as childhood memories disappearing from an adult mind.
Haruhime is guiding me with a smaller paper lantern hanging on the end of a stick.
“This passage is connected to Daedalus Street. If you avoid the main passageway, it is highly unlikely your presence will be discovered by Aisha or the other Amazons.”
She stops and turns to face me. Many soft lights illuminate the complex twists and turns that make up Daedalus Street.
Over two months ago now, during Monsterphilia, the goddess and I got lost in there trying to escape from a monster. To think the Pleasure Quarter’s red-light district is directly linked to that place…
“Can you read the Ariadne signposts?”
“Y-yes…”
“Follow them closely, and you will cut through the maze in very little time.”
Then she hands me the lantern.
I tilt my
head, a little confused. “Quickly now, hurry.” She sends me through the archway.
I walk in a little ways before realizing she didn’t come with me. I stop and look over my shoulder.
There she is, still standing in that same spot. She smiles before giving me a deep bow.
That archway feels like a gate between two different worlds, and she can’t take a step into this one.
“…”
I feel her gaze on my back as I make my way out of the Pleasure Quarter, alone.
The moon was visible from the highest floor of the palace.
Beautiful tapestries decorated the walls and a rug resembling a large wheel added color and texture to the floor. A table stood in the middle of the room, with two covered sofas on either side. Even though this area functioned as a meeting room, a wide bed equipped with a canopy took up most of one corner. A profound musk hung in the air.
The magic-stone lamps mounted on the ceiling lit up the figure of a goddess sitting on the sofa facing the doorway. A thin pyre of purple smoke rose from the long pipe in her right hand.
“Hey, Ishtar. I’m here.”
CLACK! The door opened to reveal a handsome god with a dandy smile: Hermes.
Led to the room by the goddess’s assistant, Hermes gave a quick wave. The goddess—Ishtar—curled her lips upward the moment she saw his face.
“You’ve kept me waiting.”
“There was quite the show going on outside. Got a bit caught up in watching, completely forgot the time. Sorry ’bout that.”
Hermes’s shoulders drooped down as he apologized and cautiously took a few steps into the room.
With that, Ishtar let the transgression slide without losing her grin.
The evening guest took a seat on the closest sofa and set down a small pouch on the table. Ishtar’s assistant kept a close eye on it from his post just inside the doorway.
A secret meeting between deities had begun in one of Ishtar’s many private quarters.
“Any chance you’re in the mood to enjoy more small talk?”
“I told you, you’ve kept me waiting. Get to it.”
“Scaaary…Anyway—as requested, your parcel has arrived.”
Hermes reached into the pouch and took out a small wooden box covered in black lacquer.
Ishtar’s grin grew even wider, satisfaction written all over her face.
“Just to be clear, news of our meeting doesn’t leave this room.”
“But of course. That’s my duty to my client. I won’t damage my own name.”
Hermes had been contracted by Ishtar to do a “delivery” for her.
This particular item had traveled a great distance, passing through many cities before finally arriving in Orario. Hermes Familia was known for their “light footwork” and efficiency as couriers. They were often contracted to do jobs like this.
The fact that Hermes delivered this particular package himself spoke volumes as to the level of secrecy Ishtar required for the job.
Since the presence of guards would stick out like a sore thumb, Hermes mingled with the customers of the Pleasure Quarter to elude prying eyes by hiding in plain sight.
“But I can’t say I feel too good about it.”
Hermes leaned back onto the sofa and jerked his thumb in the direction of the box.
Ishtar’s assistant shuffled his way around the room until he stood directly behind his goddess, eyes locked on the dandy deity as he moved.
“That’s a Killing Stone, isn’t it?”
The content of the box was revealed by the god himself.
The human man’s eyes narrowed. Ishtar’s lip twitched before she took in a deep breath of smoke from her pipe.
“So you saw it. So much for keeping your good name as a delivery boy, Hermes.”
“Wasn’t on purpose.”
The deity avoided her sharp gaze and responded as if discussing the day’s news over dinner.
Suddenly, his long, thin eyes opened into a more serious expression.
“You got something in the works?”
Ishtar laughed defiantly from her seat on the other sofa.
“I’ll show you something very interesting before too long.”
A fire burned brightly from inside her amethyst eyes.
“A stuck-up bitch calling herself queen being knocked off her pedestal.”
Hermes’s shoulders quivered as Ishtar had visions of a certain Goddess of Beauty falling into the flames.
A woman’s jealousy was truly frightening.
“Hermes, do you have any information that would brighten my day? A weakness that…woman has, perhaps?”
Ishtar’s feelings of hostility toward the goddess Freya had become a raging inferno. So she asked Hermes to provide her with a direction for the flames to spread.
Her desire to see the one everyone called the “most beautiful” fall into the deepest pits of despair was now an obsession.
She could see it now, Freya’s pitiful face, Ishtar laughing at her from the top of her new throne.
Hermes was always in the know and might have the information that would allow her to make these visions a reality.
“Well, I’m a terrible liar when talking to a Goddess of Beauty; can’t seem to focus. Couldn’t help it if a few things slip once in a while.”
Hermes’s eyes caressed the goddess’s fully exposed body line, spending a great deal of time outlining the curves of her breasts. His cheeks turned red before he hid his eyes beneath the brim of his feathered hat.
Seeing the god like this returned the smile to her lips, her eyes flaring.
Hermes looked up, his eyes thin again with a hint of sparkle—like he was trying to make a joke while being as vague as possible. However, what he saw was the goddess rising from her sofa and removing her coverings.
“…What are you…?”
The crown, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and finally the piece of cloth holding her breasts in place all hit the floor at her feet.
Hermes’s eyes shrank to the size of pinpoints as a dark shadow fell over him. The full power of the Goddess of Beauty’s tanned body had been brought to bear.
“Rejoice. I’ll squeeze every bit of useful information out of you—for free.”
Hermes sat there, absolutely petrified. His joking demeanor from just a moment ago was nowhere to be found.
She leaned down over him, puckering her luscious lips right in front of his face.
“H-hold it, Ishtar, I-I didn’t mean…!”
The dark shadow completely enveloped Hermes as the human assistant quietly went about his business, picking up Ishtar’s discarded accessories.
“AaaaAAAHHahHHAaaaaaa!” echoed throughout the room.
“Unn…Ahhh…”
A shirtless, powerless Hermes lay sprawled out on top of the canopied bed. Tiny tears fell from the corners of his eyes.
Ishtar was back on the sofa, still naked and smoking her pipe. She exhaled a long stream of smoke, enjoying the flavor.
“The most recent child to catch Freya’s attention, yes…”
The sweat covering her body glistened in the soft light as she dramatically crossed her legs. Her seductive aura at its peak, she smiled and whispered under her breath.
“Bell Cranell…”
In the end, Hermes had indeed given her a way to inflict pain on her sworn enemy. He tried to hold out, but her allure had overwhelmed him into submission.
She had more than just Bell’s name. Hermes had revealed enough details for her to realize she had seen the boy that night. She took another hit from the pipe, images of their brief encounter filling her mind.
“Head over heels for a pip-squeak like that…What poor taste.”
More purple smoke drifted from her mouth as a smirk overtook her face.
Then, a sudden shift—to the ravenous grin of a beast.
“Fine, then. I’ll make that kid mine.”
CHAPTER 3
AGONY OF THE FOX AND THE RABBIT
“So?
Let’s hear it.”
I had been told to take a seat.
The goddess towers over me, arms crossed in front of her chest.
I finally made it back to Hestia Familia’s home, Hearthstone Manor. Everyone has gathered in the living room.
Quite a bit happened after I left the Pleasure Quarter. As a result, I didn’t get back here until early morning.
I tried to sneak in as quietly as I could, but it was no use. The goddess captured me right away and thus started the interrogation.
“Spent the night in the Pleasure Quarter, did you~~? So now, Bell, what do you have to say for yourself, huh~~?”
She figured out that I’d spent the night at a brothel before I could deny it.
With that sweet musky smell all over my body, I’m sure it was obvious. She’s looking at me like I’m the scum of the earth. Tears won’t stop leaking out of my eyes.
She worked late into the night last night; no one was here when she came home. Then once Welf and the others got back, someone was missing. She feared the worst for hours and hours, and then I showed up smelling like this. Of course she’s angry with me. I can’t blame her twin black ponytails for flexing toward the ceiling.
What’s worse is that Lilly’s standing right next to the goddess, with an equally scary look on her face.
Welf sighs a little ways away. Mikoto is so anxious I can feel it from here.
“L-L-Lady Hestia, I am at fault for everything that transpired. Please be merciful with Sir Bell…!”
“Mikoto, be quiet.”
The goddess shut down Mikoto’s attempt to protect me without even looking at her.
Lilly knows the full story of what happened in the Pleasure Quarter, and she’s fuming—which means all of them think I was doing that late into the night just because I smell like the working ladies.
“So thennn…you slept with one of the prostitutes, did you~~?”
“N-no!”
I vigorously shake my head left and right, desperately trying to convince my goddess that I’m innocent, and try to ignore her terrifying tone. I’ve never heard anything like it.
“I-I didn’t sleep with anyone, nor do I want to! This is all a big misunderstanding!”
“So, if that’s the case, whyyyyy was Mr. Bell out all night?”
Now Lilly’s using it, too?! They both have the wrong idea! How am I supposed to convince them?!