Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Picked Up an Erotic Novel (3)
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"Yeah, that's right. Lady Kaen? The handwriting inside was so pretty..."
"D-don't come any closer. Stay right there."
As I tried to explain myself and step forward, Kaen retreated another step and waved her hand.
The face that was usually full of mischief now openly showed disappointment.
At this point, it almost felt like I'd committed some grave sin.
"You pervert... I thought you were so great..."
Great?
Hearing that made my words catch in my throat for a moment.
Was her way of showing affection beating me with a wooden sword until something broke every time training rolled around?
It was an unexpected compliment I hadn't considered.
Of course, it didn't make me happy.
"You like that stuff? Like... that filthy thing... in your mouth... Urgh..."
"I don't. And I didn't write it in the first place."
I do like it, to be honest, but admitting that now would just shorten my lifespan.
I gave a half-hearted denial and held out the rust-colored notebook to Kaen.
Maybe because she'd thrown it and it had rolled on the grass for a bit, a small corner of the cover was faintly stained green.
"Lady Kaen. Read it once more. This isn't handwriting I could produce..."
"Read it? Are you kidding? A woman licking a man's dick with her tongue—you want me to read that again?"
Kaen's face twisted as she yelled.
Tongue. At least it wasn't throat.
Fortunately, it seemed she'd read the part right before Iramaquio practice, where it meticulously services down to the base of the cock.
No, was "fortunate" the right word?
I wasn't sure anymore.
Anyway, now that Kaen knew about the notebook, burning it to ashes wouldn't help.
With this misunderstanding in place, surviving meant convincing Kaen first and foremost.
I flipped to a random page and searched for the least explicit section.
Something Kaen could see without issue...
Yeah. This should be fine.
"Look. Here."
"Wh-what are you... what are you doing...?"
"His fingers stirred the mucosa in her mouth as he pleased before pulling out—that sentence."
"D-don't shove it in my face...!"
"No. You need to see it."
"Eek...?!"
I forced the notebook in front of Kaen's eyes as she backed away, and she froze in place, her tail standing straight up.
Then her lips parted and closed repeatedly before she swallowed hard and slowly moved her pale purple eyes left and right.
Now's the time.
While she was frozen and not running, this was a chance that wouldn't come twice.
I pressed my furrowed brow to shake off the fatigue and spoke as calmly as possible.
"What do you think?"
"What do I think? Y-you want an evaluation?"
"No. The handwriting."
"...Evaluate the handwriting?"
"It's too neat. I guarantee no plebeian could write like this."
"...Ah, uh... um..."
"You'd have to be at least a noble to write like this..."
"Urgh... R-really...? My handwriting..."
Kaen tilted her head slightly in confusion, still frozen in place.
Even so, her eyes kept darting left and right.
They'd pause in place for a while sometimes, but it didn't seem significant.
Her level of sexual knowledge probably meant her brain needed time to process the weird stuff.
"And why would I carry this around outside? If it were mine, I'd hide it in my dorm desk until graduation."
"..."
No response.
I thought it was a logical point, but Kaen's reaction was lukewarm.
She just kept staring into the notebook, her eyes shifting around in distress.
What now? No good ideas for convincing her further came to mind.
My already aching head was exhausted, and nothing clever surfaced.
If my mind were clear, would a brilliant excuse have popped up?
I'd have burned the notebook already if so.
Useless thoughts.
About 30 seconds passed like that.
Just as a twisted sense of taboo guilt crept in—like I was forcing an innocent girl to read filthy smut—a low voice came from across the notebook.
"...Hey. Pervert."
She'd upgraded from plebeian to pervert, it seemed.
Fine. Pervert, trash—call me whatever, as long as I kept breathing.
I let out a careful sigh she wouldn't hear and waited for her next words.
One of her black wolf ears twitched, and she slammed the notebook shut with both hands.
"I'll... believe you."
"Really?"
"...You said you didn't write it, so as your owner, I should believe you."
Since when were you my owner?
No, fine, be my owner.
She basically held my life in her hands, so it wasn't entirely wrong.
More importantly, that last bit bothered me.
"I'll believe you." People usually said that when they didn't believe a word but would let it slide.
I almost added, "What would it take for you to believe me?" but shut my mouth upon seeing Kaen's face over the notebook.
"...I'll believe you, so let's head to the training grounds now. W-we might run into Baekya..."
Her gaze avoided mine, fixed on my chest, cheeks flushed red—same as before, but the emotion in her eyes was entirely different.
What should I say?
Like she'd made some big resolution... maybe?
I didn't know what conclusion she'd drawn from reading the notebook.
"...Understood."
I just hoped it was a resolution to believe me.
"Pervert. You're lucky it was me who caught you."
"...Yes."
"If it'd been Sern or Baekya, the academy would be in an uproar by now."
"Probably... yes."
"Sern's not at the academy right now, and Baekya's up north—lucky break. I just saved a life."
"..."
Time passed, and Kaen returned to her usual noisy self.
One thing was clear as we walked together.
"No carrying stuff like this outside the dorm again, got it? It could happen again."
"..."
Kaen was clearly ignoring everything I'd said up to now.
To her, I was definitely the author of this smut.
My head throbbed.
If only I'd been calmer.
Or harsher.
Regrets flashed through my mind repeatedly, but it was all in the past.
Now, all I could do was pray she wouldn't tell anyone.
The silver lining: from her words, it seemed she'd keep the erotic notebook secret.
I'd worried she'd spread rumors everywhere with her personality, but she grasped the gravity—that a life hung on this notebook.
Not that it was mine, yet here I was suffering...
What could I do?
It was mostly my fault for collapsing under the tree instead of burning it right away.
"If Baekya asks what it is, I'll make sure she never sees it."
"...Thank you."
Not the best, but a decent second best.
At least my life was safe for now.
I nodded along vaguely and headed east with her.
The scenery shifted gradually.
The towering trees unique to the southern sector faded away, replaced by pale stone walls scarred with claw marks everywhere.
Facing such walls meant we'd passed into the eastern sector of Rpefas Academy.
The open view without tall buildings was refreshing every time, but it also evoked a chill—knowing all the little details around here had been pulverized by sword pressure.
By countless graduated seniors. And now by Kaen and Baekya's blades.
How much effort would it take me to become a swordmaster like that?
Objectively, I doubted I'd even touch that realm in this lifetime.
I hid a deep sigh behind Kaen's chattering and reached the eastern sector's edge.
Even the jutting stone walls were gone.
Instead, jagged remnants of broken walls and a cloudless blue sky filled the view.
A refreshing breeze blew. It wasn't noticeable usually, but here it hit home that Rpefas Academy was one of the world's rare aerial fortresses.
Other sectors were packed with buildings and plants; this was the only spot with a horizon-like view.
Against that jagged blue line, a woman stood with arms crossed, watching us impassively.
Baekya.
She always looked the part—loving white, true to her name.
Her hair, grown out lazily without proper care.
The tiny floral hairpin, far too small to hide it.
Her short top and bottom resembling eastern traditional attire, exposing a bit of thigh.
The two long sheaths clinking against her belt.
She dyed everything white, fitting her name.
One exception.
The pair of blood-red eyes under her cat-like gaze.
...And now, the three wooden swords stabbed into the ground at her feet.
"Luke. Why are you late?"
A soft voice, clipped short.
No emotion in Baekya's tone, as always.
She was always like this.
No hints of feelings in expressions or voice.
They only showed in her actions.
The opposite of Kaen, who shouted her moods with ears and tail.
It'd been uncomfortable at first, but now I was used to it.
Dealing with Kaen's moods made this comparatively easy.
I habitually checked her fingers.
Tap, tap. Baekya drumming her own arm while crossed.
Not too tense, then.
Her gaze indifferently alternated between me and Kaen clinging behind.
First tardy to training had me worried, but she didn't seem mad.
"I... cleaned the library at dawn."
"...Library cleaning. Go on."
"It's so big, it took a lot of time."
"So you just overslept."
"Pardon?"
"I'm the idiot for worrying you'd been dragged off by Yuzu."
Baekya muttered and slowly drew one wooden sword from the ground.
No hesitation—just clean action, like slicing because an enemy was there.
A sudden menacing aura rose; I tried to retort, but realized it was mostly true and fell silent.
Reading noble rape-training smut after cleaning and dozing off sounded worse than the abbreviated version.
Kaen beside me sensed the chill, stiffening her usual grin and glancing nervously between us.
"Luke."
"...Yes."
"Why does training time exist?"
A question I hadn't heard in a while.
And the one I hated most.
I swallowed a heavy sigh and answered stiffly.
"...So Lady Baekya and Lady Kaen can teach me."
"Correct."
Baekya nodded slowly.
But I swear, I'd never once asked for it first.
They'd approached me because my skills sucked.
After that, I'd owed the Saintess who-knew-how-many healings.
"You can't be late to such time. Even if you're tired from hard work the day before."
Utter nonsense.
Her argument only held if I'd requested it.
I wanted to yell to cut the crap and leave me alone.
As if sensing it, she tossed me a wooden sword from the ground and continued.
"Catch. We'll raise the difficulty a bit today."
"...Pardon?"
"I'll use mana too. While keeping the sword nonstop, of course."
Sword nonstop.
Literal meaning.
Professors stopped blades just before contact when teaching.
Simple reason: they could teach everything without blood.
Not them.
Unreadable strikes hit full force; I'd collapse in pain, only to be hauled up again.
Simple reason: swordsmen can't fear the sword.
And overconfidence in not getting hurt stalls growth, or so they said.
I'd muttered "crazy bitch" once without thinking.
If Baekya or Kaen had heard...?
Who knows.
"What're you doing? Hurry up—we both have work after."
Usually Kaen would poke my back with her wooden sword here, but post-smut incident, she fidgeted anxiously.
Unlike her, Baekya casually swung hers to urge me on.
No escape.
I set the mop and bucket far off, hiding the erotic notebook beside them out of sight.
Endure Baekya's three-day stress relief, get Saintess heal, day's almost done.
Ridiculously, half the day gone, but sleep deprivation made it feel triple length.
Back in position, I gripped the crude wooden sword and faced Baekya.
Fight long gone from me.
Just pray this torture ended quick.
"...Acting like you're the only busy one, singing 'busy busy,' but you have time for books now?"
A mocking tone, somehow.
With that, Baekya's sword moved.
—Kwaaaaa—!
"Kuh...!"
Baekya's awakened mana: wind.
Gusts battered around my clumsy grip, threatening balance.
Cold. Sharp.
A bit tighter, and it'd slice like blades.
Worlds apart from Kaen's same wind mana.
She preferred riding the wind herself over tormenting foes with it.
Pure strength aside, as victim, this terrified more.
My sword tip trembled in the wind, shaking spreading hand to body to legs.
Like a virus ravaging every corner.
Nonstop storm too fierce to even swing—barely enduring.
Vision obscured by dense gale—no relaxing.
Crazy bitch.
What did she expect me to do?
As that thought flashed—
A white light flickered upper left.
Kwajik. Cruel sound grazed my ear, swept away by wind.
Like being clubbed full force—worst pain yet hammered my body.
Bones cracking. Snapping. Shattering, shredding flesh.
The sensation spread downward endlessly—
"...!"
I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat to bubbling water sounds by my ear.
Familiar bed.
Familiar ceiling.
Familiar room, seen countless times.
A slightly stimulating tea leaf scent hung in the air.
What was its name?
Saintess mentioned it once, but zero interest meant zero recall.
"Ah. Luke. Awake already? Your shoulder was wrecked today—feeling okay?"
"...Yes. Thanks to you."
"Good."
And a familiar voice beside me.
The Saintess's, none other.
Era's genius with vast holy power and solid mana.
Or era's luckiest.
Or...
"...Just checking, you didn't touch anything, right?"
"How could I touch someone asleep in pain? Others might misunderstand."
"Last time you called it 'treatment.' What's sleeping got to do with it?"
"Oh. Right. But no reactions when asleep."
Just a pervert.
I checked my pants just in case—clean—then carefully sat up.
"First time you've been carried in unconscious, I think."
"Carried?"
"Yeah. Baekya said she misjudged her strength. Worried you might be dead."
Worried? Baekya?
Probably Kaen.
I scratched my ear with pinky and turned toward the Saintess's voice.
A huge rocking chair, like a prank build.
Sunset-lit dazzling silver hair swayed atop it.
Unlike the storm that wrapped me earlier, this was so peaceful it induced sleep just looking.
Her innate laid-back nature created the vibe.
As I gazed at her absently—
"...Saintess?"
"Yes?"
The book she read in the chair.
Familiar.
"Oh. Baekya carried you."
"No, not that—the one you're reading now, is it...?"
"Ah, this? Pretty readable. But no title or author."
She slurped tea, examined the cover, then flipped it open casually and kept reading in the chair.
Rust color.
Faint grass stain at the edge.
Uncannily like the notebook I'd found in the library, pages turning in her hands.