Grave (3)

The carriages of this other world are small and cramped. Why? Because the bigger the carriage, the stronger and larger the horses needed to pull it. And those kinds of horses are expensive as hell and eat an ungodly amount of food. I heard that on Earth, the cost of owning a car is about as painful as the purchase price when you factor in maintenance and taxes. Turns out, carriages in this world aren't much different. Even with the fancy technology of magic at their disposal. If you ask why, the only answer is "cost-effectiveness issues." I guess that's just how it is in a fantasy world stripped of all romance.

Magic-enchanted carriages were rare even among the regular military carriages of powerful nations. And yet today, I found myself thinking that the narrow little carriage heading toward Franc's hometown felt surprisingly spacious. It wasn't because we had fewer people. It was the usual full party. The reason the carriage felt bigger was simply because I had become ridiculously small.

"Larilura. What's with you groping my stomach like that since earlier?"

"Huh? Senior, this was your stomach? Where does the stomach start?"

"Molarehu."

—Hiss.

I flicked out my forked tongue as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I spoke. The once-proud super primate of Earth had now become an anaconda from another world, coiled around Larilura's neck. I had transformed using the Berkanan rune.

The story behind it went like this.

—Senior♡? The guards said you escaped using transformation magic, right?

—Y-yeah. That's right.

—Wow! Then about that promise you made last time… you'll keep it for me, right♡?

—……What?

It was the bullshit I'd spouted back on the Bicorn clan's Garden Island to comfort Larilura. Somehow it had come full circle and was now strangling me by the neck.

'Fuck. I'd completely forgotten about that.'

The promise had been that I'd transform into an animal and let her touch me as much as she wanted. At the time, I'd planned to dodge ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it with some careful consideration about consent, haha. But now I could actually transform? If I tried to weasel out of a promise I could actually keep, I'd be the worst kind of scum. So that's why I was currently transformed into a snake, letting Larilura fondle me to her heart's content.

'Thank god I'm a snake, I guess.'

Any guy would understand. Even setting aside sexual desire, if someone touched your relaxed body, getting hard was inevitable. If I'd turned into a cat or dog instead, I'd have been stuck enduring Erection Endurance Lv99 difficulty the entire carriage ride. In that sense, Larilura asking me to turn into a snake was actually a blessing for me. I couldn't exactly turn into a female and rip my dick off just to avoid an awkward situation. TS? No way. Absolutely not.

"My dear. Focus. Wasn't it you who said, 'Fuck yeah! I'm gonna master Shadow Clone Technique while we're traveling!'?"

"Hey, you don't have to imitate me in such suspiciously high quality. I'll still do it."

It was Veronica, perfectly replicating my words with an eerily accurate tone. Well, I had said that. Since learning clone magic would take time anyway, I'd calculated that studying it during the round trip would be an efficient multitasking win.

'But damn, I never imagined I'd be trying to read tiny-ass letters while wearing a snake skin inside a rattling carriage.'

So now I felt like I was about to die from motion sickness. My aptitude for transformation magic was pretty low, so maintaining this form was rough. It felt like being trapped inside a vacuum-sealed mascot costume. I could move, but it felt like my mind was being ground down.

—Tap tap.

Suddenly, a hand patted my snake body. I turned my serpent head to see Larilura's face had gone pale as she coughed and wheezed.

"S-Senior… P-Please don't strangle my neck…"

"Ah, sorry."

It seemed my coiled body had unconsciously tightened around her throat. This damn body really doesn't listen to its owner. The only part of me that's truly free is my dick. I somehow loosened my grip, and Larilura took a deep breath.

"Haaah… You scared me. Is maintaining the transformation that hard?"

"Not easy."

It really was difficult. I was only keeping it up because it had meaning. I refocused on Veronica's magic lecture.

"Where were we? Something about aptitude classification for transformation magic?"

"Correct. Given your aptitude, it would be wiser to invest in changing objects rather than transforming yourself."

Veronica showed me the clone technique book that had dropped from that bitch Yerna. I'd tried to read it, but my head was spinning so I'd given up. I didn't want to accidentally strangle our junior again.

"The Berkanan rune also belonged to the God of Play, who was a master of transformation. It is a rune of both mana and physical change. Combining this rune with clone magic should allow for much more lifelike clones."

Having explained that, Veronica chanted with a rhythmic cadence, as if reciting poetry.

—Flash!

A flame bloomed in Veronica's hand and took on her appearance. It looked like a clone spell, but she said it was only the shape. To make it move or speak, apparently Franc's spirit magic technique or something similar was needed.

"I have no talent for causing change in objects. Even when I recite the runic poem, this is the best I can do."

"It looks plenty impressive to me. Our maid is quite capable."

"Thank you, even if it's just words. However, I can only change my own mana. With enough practice, you should be able to change the appearance of weapons and armor."

"Hehe. That's exactly why I'm practicing."

Thanks to the mana succession cheat, I had gained enlightenment in one go, but my proficiency was still low compared to rune users at this level. That's why I was maintaining the transformation while letting Larilura touch me—to quickly raise my skill level.

Though saying "letting her touch me" sounds a bit weird.

'Anyway, if I don't change the appearance of the gear I looted from the merchant guild master, we'll get tracked.'

The equipment I'd looted from the guild master included a hammer that shot out chains, boots that increased movement speed, and a shield with magic reflection. The shield would be for general use, and I planned to give the hammer to Franc. Since my original weapons weren't magic items, this worked out nicely. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Still, it felt a bit embarrassing as her husband that Franc's entire equipment lineup consisted of items stolen from criminals. But since Franc had laughed and said it was very thief-like growth, I accepted it as equipment dropped by bosses. After all, looting Frostmourne doesn't make you the Lich King.

—Whoosh.

Anyway, I was experimenting with combining the Summon Cloud spell with runes. If I could add clone magic on top of that for a triple combination, I'd be able to create mist clones that were identical to the original except for weight. I'd become Nord, the high-level ninja of the Mist Village.

"Kiyoooooooot…!"

I let out a human roar using a snake's vocal cords. It was a compromise between wanting to concentrate and not wanting to wake up the sleeping Dana. But that brilliant idea failed miserably as my tail, seemingly intent on screwing over its owner, smacked the shoulder of Dana, who had been sound asleep.

—Slap!

"Kyaa?!"

Dana woke up with an adorable scream. She'd fallen asleep alone yesterday after exhausting her mana. Looking around with a startled face, she seemed to understand the situation from the laughter of Franc and Veronica, then immediately grabbed my snake head.

—Grab!

I was helplessly dragged forward as if caught in a giant's hand.

"You fucking snake-headed bastard!! I thought I was having a miscarriage!!"

"Uh, um. I'm really sorry. I've never had a tail before, so I don't know where it'll fly when I put strength into it."

"Senior…!! You're strangling my neck again…!!"

Oh for fuck's sake, this is a complete mess. After getting three flicks to the forehead from Dana, I was deposited onto Larilura's lap. If I kept staying wrapped around her neck, we'd have to visit a temple the moment we arrived in Franc's hometown.

"Junior's hands are healing hands~♬"

—Stroke stroke.

Larilura gently stroked the head that had been flicked by Dana. I appreciated the consideration, but even in transformed state, my defense and damage values were the same as my original body. A half-hearted forehead flick from Dana didn't really hurt.

"More importantly, Larilura. This might be sudden, but why a snake? Isn't it usually a dog or cat?"

"Because normal kids can be touched normally?"

"I see. Well, it's a stereotype, but I had the impression women generally hate reptiles."

It was just a vibe I had. Before talking about men and women, disliking snakes was pretty normal, though.

Dana swung my tail around like a jump rope before speaking.

"Why? Snakes are cute. Better than an octopus. My surname, Berbeia, apparently comes from what the Ulstermen called two rivers that stretched out like snakes."

"Hey, auntie. If you suddenly drop the etymology of your name, what am I supposed to say?"

"If you always respond to your wife's words with compliments, you won't get slapped. Our tribe is matriarchal too, so husbands should know their place."

"Go home and make some pancakes, you purple-haired woman."

"Talking about home really brings back memories. The time we butchered and grilled snake meat was surprisingly delicious."

"Why would you eat snake when there are pigs, cows, and chickens? That's so spiritually bankrupt. Where did that hipster Ulsterman instinct go?"

"If you ever get trapped somewhere with nothing to eat, transform. I'll eat you, heal you, and patch you back up. Emergency rations boy."

"Aaaagh! It's a cannibalistic graduate student!!"

If I did that, I'd look like a pure-blooded third-generation barbarian.

—Boing!

I sprang like a spring and fled to Veronica's lap.

"Hm. Names are important. In my case, I was born on an eclipse day considered ominous by my clan, which is why I was named Eclipse. Attaching calamity to one's name. It's a form of warding off evil."

"Ah, fuck. This place really knows how to leave a guy speechless with every topic."

It seemed the Bicorn surname had nothing to do with family lineage. Oh, and this is a side note since I'm currently a snake—Veronica means "true image." I could guess what her parents had been thinking when they named her. I also learned later that both Dana and Berbeia were names of gods worshipped by the Ulstermen. Very fitting for our purple-haired woman, who came from a family of Ulster priests.

'Same with Larilura's real name, Priscilla. People in this world sure take naming seriously.'

As for Kang Buk-ho, which means "Be friendly with the North," I'd be too embarrassed to explain the meaning of my name anywhere.

While we chatted about such things, the carriage driven by the coachman sped toward Franc's hometown.

Franc's hometown, Steoia, was an ordinary small city. Honestly, it was a bit unexpected. I'd heard that in the port city of Hremar, dwarf cities were often located underground. I'd even prepared myself to crawl underground for several hours. Yet the hometown we reached after a few days seemed completely uninterested in my prejudices, feeling similar to a human city.

If we'd just stopped by briefly on the way to another destination, it was the kind of utterly ordinary city that wouldn't remain in memory after a month. But speaking from the heart, that ordinary appearance felt strangely moving to me.

It meant that our Franc could have lived in this ordinary city, inherited her father and mother's house like any normal person, and lived as an ordinary half-dwarf girl. Yet because of some prank of fate—or perhaps the chaos theory of quantum mechanics—she ended up meeting me, a stranger to this world, and even marrying me.

The chaos of disorder that the gods desired. The weight of those words suddenly settled in my chest.

In a world with magic and gods, is it a good thing or a bad thing that we still cannot speak of fate?

With those thoughts, Franc and I climbed a small hill.

"We could have rested a bit before looking around. It's been so long since you've been home."

"Hehe. It's not like I came to soak in old memories or anything."

Franc, who was alone with me for the first time in a while, linked arms with me and gave an affectionate smile. Thanks to the consideration of the other party members, the two of us were climbing the hill where the cemetery was located.

"Today, I want to clearly declare my independence from my hometown and from my parents. So it feels only proper to tell them that I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠can now live well with my new family."

Franc said as she climbed the wooden stairs that bore the craftsmanship of dwarves.

"It felt like that was absolutely necessary for me to become happy with Nord."

"If you want to make me happy, you have to be happy first, Franc."

Franc simply nodded.

—Gurgle.

The alcohol tucked at my side sloshed. It was apparently a drink that my father-in-law and mother-in-law had enjoyed in life. At the top of the hill were numerous burial mounds. I'd heard that Viking funerals involved sending the body out to sea on a burning boat, but the dwarves' funerals were familiar to Koreans—a regular cemetery.

Franc spoke in the language of Germania. Perhaps it was an unconscious action, because she quickly covered her cute lips with her fingers and laughed awkwardly as if embarrassed.

We approached a pair of graves.

—Splash.

I carefully poured water on the black tombstone and wiped it clean.

Father. Ferdinand Aitrynen.

Mother. Eleanoa Aitrynen.

Following dwarf custom, Franc poured the alcohol from the cup onto the tombstone, then placed a bouquet of flowers before each grave one by one.