Nero's Gentle Inquiry
It all started with a single remark from Nero.
"Master... have you been working out lately?"
"...Working out? No?"
With that light, cat-like gait she always had—recreated perfectly even in human form—Nero swayed her hips in an alluring rhythm as she approached. She slipped onto the sofa beside me and leaned her body against mine. Before I could even grow accustomed to her pleasant scent, the soft press of her warm flesh, and the comforting heat that steadied my heart...
Swish...
"Nero? W-wait a second..."
Without hesitation, she slid her hand under my shirt and pressed her palm against my bare skin. The cool, ticklish sensation nearly made an embarrassing sound slip out.
"Look, you've gotten a little softer lately. It was nice to lie on, but now you're firm again, just like when you used to juggle all those part-time jobs."
"Softer..."
Back then, I barely had time to eat properly. I was always busy, always pushing my body to its limits. Compared to that, my current job is certainly more comfortable, but... the word "softer" still made me want to deny it outright.
"You're not overworking yourself again, are you...?"
"No, it's not that. At least, I don't think so..."
Nero's hand crept higher, lifting my T-shirt and revealing my abdomen. The muscles there were indeed sharper than before. I had been through a lot recently, but did hardship really carve away fat this cleanly? Unlike before, when home was nothing more than a place to collapse and sleep, I had been eating and resting well enough to notice a little extra weight creeping on. I had even considered hitting the gym... but right now, that wasn't the point.
"Nero, your hand's... gone a bit too high."
"E-eh? Ah, no, I mean... sorry?"
'Firm isn't... so bad either.'
Nero had been openly groping my chest. At my remark, she flinched, yanked her hand back, and pretended nothing had happened. After straightening my shirt, I began to think about the reason behind the change... Could it really be because of Mini Undine?
"...Now that I think about it."
I usually showered before bed or, when I was too lazy, right before heading to work, so I hadn't noticed anything strange. But... I hadn't used the toilet recently. Not that I hadn't entered the bathroom at all—I still brushed my teeth and showered—but...
I knew Undine absorbed impurities and useless things as sustenance to grow. She had even clung to my skin, sucking up dead skin cells with that ticklish sensation. When I once asked Founder what to feed Mini Undine to help her grow faster, she answered without any filter: poop.
My hands began to tremble.
Right now... was I unknowingly feeding Undine everything—whether it was meant to be eaten or not?
"M-Master? What's wrong all of a sudden? You don't look so good..."
"No... it's nothing."
It was still just a guess, but the circumstances lined up far too neatly. The realization shook me to my core.
"...Ah."
If this was true, then one more question followed. Mini Undine grew larger the more she ate. Yet even after all this time, why did I feel no discomfort in my stomach? No sense of being bloated? The image of myself swelling like a balloon and suddenly bursting sent a chill down my spine.
I really needed to have a serious talk with Team Leader about this.
"By the way, Master, you're still dealing with those two, right? It must be exhausting."
"...No. With you taking such good care of me at home, how could it be tiring?"
"Reaaally...?"
She was clearly trying to suppress a smile, her lips twitching upward. It was adorable. While the reason for my earlier troubled expression hadn't been the counseling sessions with those two, progress had indeed been slow.
Nero was an alchemist—or rather, the familiar of the prisoner we had captured during the last nest cleanup. If anyone could offer useful advice, it would be her. But I knew her time in that place hadn't been pleasant, so I didn't want to press her.
"Your face shows everything you're thinking, Master."
"H-huh?"
"You want to know what life was like in the Inquisition... and about the prisoners, don't you?"
"No, no, Nero. You don't have to force yourself to talk about it."
I was startled, wondering if Nero possessed some mind-reading ability, but it seemed my expressions were simply far too transparent. Nero slowly shook her head. It wasn't that she was unwilling to speak even if it was difficult.
"Life with No. 77 wasn't all that bad, so I'm not forcing myself."
"No. 77?"
"Ah, 077. That was my previous master's prisoner number—the one you know as the Alchemist."
"I see..."
Now that I thought about it, "Alchemist" was probably just a codename the facility had given her. But was it really true that life hadn't been bad? Or was she simply lying to keep me from worrying? I listened to the voice in Nero's heart, but I detected no sign of falsehood. She didn't say it had been good, but she could honestly say it hadn't been terrible either because...
"Well, even though she was a prisoner, No. 77 had been assigned a role within this branch."
"A role? What kind of role are we talking about?"
"Among the witches, she was in a league of her own—a true genius. She mostly made useless things, but every now and then she created something extraordinary. Because of that, we were given our own personal workshop. We spent most of our time there, just the two of us."
...So "Alchemist" really did mean alchemist. She was somewhat similar to Founder.
"Prisoners who were given roles received a certain degree of freedom and rewards. That's also why she held a two-digit number."
"Two digits... What does 77 mean in terms of status?"
"That foul-tempered, scary woman was No. 18, right? Anyone in the teens is basically a monster. Even among the two-digit prisoners, there are all sorts, but plenty of dangerous ones."
'Of course... the one who keeps barging into our home uninvited is the real monster...'
"..."
"A-anyway, two digits means they're pretty high up, right? No. 77 was incredibly proud of her number, too."
According to Team Leader, even as a prisoner, Scarlet had been treated as a key figure in the Inquisition. She had been allowed to roam freely across multiple sites, carrying out executions. In other words, anyone in the teens held a position comparable to a high-ranking executive. But No. 13... even though her number was higher than Scarlet's, she had apparently lived in far worse conditions than Nero's former master, No. 77.
"Of course, not every prisoner gets a role just because their number is high. And those without roles... they were all locked in cramped cells where they could barely move, undergoing 're-education.' Their hands and feet were always bound, and they were only given just enough of some strange porridge to keep them alive—enough to lick from a bowl without using their hands."
"..."
"I only heard this from No. 77 when she was at Inquisition headquarters, but in this branch... well, the branch chief, No. 18, had such a terrible personality that there were constant problems during re-education."
'She even came to the workshop and acted unpleasant. She was terrifying back then, too... Hmph. Serves her right now.'
"Haha..."
I laughed awkwardly while thinking to myself. Was the reason they only provided enough food to survive simply to prevent resistance? But with the Stigma already carved into them, resistance should have been impossible. Did that mean the Stigma's binding power wasn't as absolute as we thought? And what exactly did "re-education" entail?
"You're curious about re-education, aren't you?"
"Yeah. Can you tell me?"
"Sorry. Even No. 77 went somewhere during those times, but she never told me what re-education actually was."
Nero wore an apologetic expression, as if she couldn't be of help. I felt a twinge of disappointment, but I was already deeply grateful for everything she had shared.
"...I see."
"Mm. On those days, she would become quiet and gloomy. When she returned to the workshop, she would always curse No. 18's name. So I just assumed it was her doing."
The stories Nero told me didn't seem like they would immediately provide a breakthrough for counseling, but they would certainly help me understand the two of them better. No. 13 had even been given the position of branch chief—higher than Scarlet—yet she had lived in conditions worse than Nero's former master. I would need to hear more directly from them to piece this puzzle together. But for now...
"Thank you, Nero. For telling me all this."
At my words of gratitude, Nero shyly twisted her body, her cheeks flushing red.
"If it can help you... then... I have to be a proper wife, don't I?"
She lowered her shoulders slightly and leaned her head toward me. The gesture was unmistakably a request for head pats.
"Come here. I'll pet you."
"...Uheheh."
With a laugh she couldn't quite swallow, Nero nestled into my arms. I stroked her head thoroughly while thinking about tomorrow's counseling session.