Chapter 138: Signing the Contract
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 138: Signing the Contract
‘I’m so happy!’
The moment I woke up, Theodora’s communicative pheromones flooded my mind. It wasn't just wafting from one spot; it felt as though the scent had saturated every corner of the room while we slept.
I shuffled out of bed and pulled back the curtains, letting the bright sunlight stream in to reveal the cityscape of Roanmarie.
“Whew…”
I had no idea what to do next. Fortunately, I’d managed to hold back from... well, making a second generation, but the fact remained that I’d spent the night with Theodora.
Was I being too narrow-minded? Probably not. I’d heard that polygamy existed in this world, but as someone with memories of a world where monogamy was the norm, it felt complicated.
The night I’d spent with Sera flashed through my mind.
“Man, what a mess...”
Theodora was still fast asleep on the bed, wearing a bathrobe and sporting a tiny, peaceful smile. Looking at her face only made the guilt weigh heavier.
I grabbed the key, slipped into the room next door to retrieve my scattered clothes, and returned. The bed was a total disaster, and the moment I stepped back inside, an incredible scent—one that words couldn't quite capture—hit my nose.
It wasn't a terrible smell, but why did it feel like I could still hear Theodora’s moans echoing through the scent? Most of the sheets had dried, but the center was still damp, making me pity the housekeeper who would eventually have to deal with this.
“Hmm...”
As I gathered my things, I found Theodora’s panties, their strings untied. Should I tell her to put them back on? Well, better to take them for now.
Like a thief in the night, I stepped out into the hallway clutching a bundle of women’s clothing, only to lock eyes with someone.
“...!”
As luck would have it, it was a woman. She looked at me as if she’d just walked into a criminal. Explaining myself would only make the situation more ridiculous, so I ducked back into Theodora’s room. My heart was racing. I could only pray that nothing would come of it.
“Dora? Dora? Is it okay for you to sleep this late?”
“Mmm... it’s fine...”
Her voice was strangely sweet and clingy. There were definitely things we needed to discuss, but...
“Alright, sleep a bit more.”
For now, her sleeping face was just too cute.
* * *
“Uuughhh-nnngh!”
With a loud, comical groan, Theodora stretched and sat up in bed. Yoo Eon had already showered and was fully prepared to head out. He had even gone out to buy a light breakfast and was waiting for her. Theodora had finally woken up at 11:00 AM—two full hours after Yoo Eon had risen at 9:00.
“You’re awake?”
“Hiek?!”
“Why are you so surprised?”
“A-Aven?!”
Theodora reflexively clutched her half-open bathrobe to her shoulders, covering herself. Having effectively quelled the estrus that had scrambled her brain through her "business" with Yoo Eon, her mind was now busy updating a real-time timeline of the reckless, unbridled actions she’d taken since the previous evening.
“T-That...! I mean...!!”
“Anyway, eat something first. Is a burrito okay?”
“Ah... yeah...”
Theodora’s ears, usually perked up, were now visibly drooping. From Yoo Eon’s perspective, he had simply gone along with her demands, but since Theodora had been the one to initiate everything, she felt she had to take full responsibility.
Theodora took the half-unwrapped burrito from Yoo Eon and chewed on it, closing her eyes as she calmly reflected on yesterday’s events.
When the hormone suppressants began to wear off, she had impulsively told the coachman to head toward an inn. When a rational Yoo Eon had asked for her true intentions, she’d claimed it was too much trouble to think and dragged him into the motel.
There was no one else to blame. It was a 100% self-inflicted case of coerced intimacy.
“Aven... I’m sorry...”
“Hmm.”
Her tail, which had been acting up lately, began thumping against the pillow she was leaning on. Despite her apology, Yoo Eon remained silent, watching her. She began to worry—what if he hated it?
What if he only did it because she forced him? Even though they were close, Yoo Eon was currently in Roanmarie with the help of the Lymain family.
She wondered if he had only accepted her demands because of his current position.
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Huh...?”
“People will think you actually did something wrong. Eat slowly, then go wash up.”
Yoo Eon stood up from the chair beside her, walked to the bed, and reached out with his large hand to ruffle her hair.
‘He’s not mad.’
Yoo Eon’s pheromones drifted warmly to the tip of her nose. As he left the room, saying he was going to get some fresh air—
Thump, thump, thump.
Theodora gave a bright smile and took a massive bite of her burrito.
* * *
“How about this?”
“Well, uh... it’s pretty, but...”
“But?”
“No, nothing. It’s pretty. It suits you.”
“Right?”
Theodora, now in a fantastic mood, had brought me to... well, here.
“Aven, do you like this kind of thing?”
“Uh...”
What Theodora was holding was none other than underwear. Black lingerie that was split down the middle, failing to serve any practical function as undergarments. In short, we were at a women’s clothing store.
Theodora had dragged me here, claiming it felt gross to wear panties that had been invaded by a certain liquid of clear origin but mysterious nature. Her morning gloom had vanished completely; she seemed to be in high spirits.
“Then I’ll buy this too... Wow, what about this? How’s this one?”
“Dora, why is something like that even being sold here...?”
“Hmm... well, because there’s a demand for it?”
A very merchant-like answer. But even if there was a demand, was it really okay to display something like this in a normal clothing store?
A black leotard that barely covered the chest. A headband shaped like rabbit ears. Sleeveless cuffs that served no purpose, and high heels so tall I wondered if anyone could actually walk in them.
‘Why does this exist in this world too?’
It was shocking to see a bunny girl outfit displayed as "women’s apparel."
“I bet the rabbit beastkin hate this.”
“They’re probably the ones who buy it the most. It’s cheaper since they don’t have to buy the ears or the tail.”
“Ah.”
She bought a mountain of items, but since Roanmarie had an advanced system, they offered to discreetly package everything and deliver it to a designated address.
“Only a week left. Is there anything else you want to do in Roanmarie?”
“Hmm.”
I’d already achieved my primary goal for coming here. I’d purchased the gargoyle statue, ripped off the wings, and made significant progress regarding flight. If she asked if there was anything left, I hadn't really thought of anything...
“Actually, there is one thing I’ve been thinking about.”
“What is it?”
To the Great Merchant Lymain family, the cost of the Teleportation Gateway round trip and the gargoyle wings might be pocket change. But as the recipient, I felt a desire to give something back within my capabilities.
“I was thinking of going to the Arena with your mother.”
“With Mom? Why?”
Theodora’s tail shot up, as if she were jumping to a strange conclusion.
“No, it’s nothing weird. You mentioned she likes watching gladiator matches. So...”
“Ah! Are you going to compete in a match?!”
“That’s... wait, what?”
“Aren't you entering the match?”
“Why would I do that...? I was just suggesting we go watch together.”
Theodora crossed her arms and squinted at me.
“Mom only goes when she has spare time. It’s not like she loves gladiator matches enough to clear her schedule for them.”
“I see.”
She was right; Madam Lymain was a busy woman. She probably only went as a hobby when she was free. I had been too naive.
“Of course, if there was a special event or something more interesting than usual, she’d make time to go.”
“And that 'something' would be me entering a match.”
Theodora nodded in agreement. Come to think of it, that would be an event her mother would find interesting. But how on earth was I supposed to get a spot in the Arena?
First of all, I wasn't a gladiator. From what I’d seen before, most Bestiari gladiators were either civilians without skills or people with mediocre ones.
Even the Infantress matches, where humans fought humans, were between those without skills. I didn't recall seeing many people with powerful skills standing in the Arena.
“That’s true. But there are also matches where people with powerful skills fight monsters.”
“Weren't the Bestiari matches mostly against weak monsters?”
“Mostly, but not all of them, right?”
“Dora, even so... I can’t just become a gladiator overnight, and there’s no way they’d have a monster suited to my level ready for a match on such short notice...”
Theodora crossed her arms and tilted her chin up triumphantly.
“What is it?”
“Hehe, don't you know I can handle all of that!”
“How?”
“Do you know which syndicate supplies the monsters to the Roanmarie Arena?”
“Don't tell me...”
“The Golden Glove accounts for about ten percent of it.”
“Hmm.”
That didn't sound like a huge share.
* * *
Actually, ten percent was a massive stake. For an Arena that had to supply hundreds of different monsters every month—split into three sessions a day, excluding a few holidays—the Golden Glove Syndicate’s supply was a significant factor.
While there were many other powerful syndicates within Roanmarie, the Golden Glove held immense power among those with a wide reach across numerous other Labyrinth cities. This was evident from the fact that Auction Lymain was one of the largest material outlets in Calax.
If the gladiator matches only featured monsters from the Roanmarie Labyrinth or the surrounding areas, the outcomes would become predictable and boring. Thus, the Arena used the Golden Glove’s vast distribution network to bring in exotic monsters from the outside.
“Oh my, what brings the young lady here? Is the Chairwoman doing well?”
“Yes, she’s as energetic as ever. It’s nothing big, but I was hoping you could do me a favor.”
“Uh... and what might that be...?”
That evening, in the reception room of the Arena’s operations headquarters. Being a merchant, Theodora never used the word "beg."
“Can you add one more event to the end of the schedule here?”
“What kind of event are we talking about...?”
“I think adding one more Bestiari match would be good.”
“Haha... well, the thing is...”
The monster supply team leader—a man with a portly build and a desolate, balding scalp—scratched the few remaining hairs on the back of his head as he answered.
“Finding people is also a task... I can throw in a few more monsters, but... finding a fighter isn't my department...”
“So you’re saying it’s fine as long as I provide both the person and the monster?”
“Pardon...?”
“Then just pass the word to the person in charge of scheduling. Tell them to put an empty slot at the end of the afternoon session six days from now.”
“So... you’re saying you’ll provide both the gladiator and the monster...?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
Requests of this nature weren't uncommon, so it wasn't particularly difficult. Often, clans would use the Arena’s publicity to showcase their strongest members as gladiators for promotional purposes.
Theodora was well aware of this. While matches created for promotion weren't always popular with the public, who ever said advertisements had to be fun for the viewer?
It was essentially a "human billboard" system where mid-to-small clans, or occasionally large ones, would pay under the table to secure a slot.
‘Why would the Lymain family need to promote someone...? Did they hire a new bodyguard or something...?’
Usually, people paid a hefty bribe and were told to bring a powerful monster. This served as a significant source of side income for the Arena. Of course, they were selective about who they accepted. A request from a nobody clan would be rejected without hesitation.
However, from the Arena management's perspective, Theodora was an important figure on par with the leaders of major clans. He wondered why the Chairwoman or her close aides hadn't come personally, but the Chairwoman’s daughter was an aide in her own right. They maintained a good business relationship, and above all, she was providing both the fighter and the monster.
“I’ll do my best. Please stop by in about two days to check the progress.”
“Got it. I like that you’re so easy to talk to.”
A gladiator debut contract, signed without the participant’s consent! Clang, clang, clang.