Chapter 4
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Carrot and Stick
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Following the Kaen incident, the Saintess incident struck one after another.
With one misfortune piling on top of another, my vision darkened.
I wondered just how much of that book the Saintess had read—from where to where.
From what I could glimpse, it looked like she had made it pretty far into the later sections.
I doubted she had read the early parts in such a short time, but for now, stopping her from reading any more took priority.
I immediately shoved aside the blanket covering me and tumbled out of bed.
The instant I did, something snagged my ankle, followed by a loud clatter behind me.
I hadn't tripped or broken anything of the Saintess's.
It was the mop that had been standing there, toppled by my foot.
Naturally, I glanced back.
There, neatly arranged, were the mop along with the broom, bucket, and all the other cleaning tools I had used through the night.
But one thing stood out as missing.
The reddish-brown notebook I had brought from the reading room. The most important item of all was gone.
What that meant was crystal clear.
The book open in front of the Saintess right now was none other than that erotic novel.
Amid the noisy commotion, the Saintess briefly lifted her eyes from the book and met my gaze.
Her glacier-blue eyes were softly serene. No spark of any emotion flickered within them.
No 'anger.' No 'shock.' Not even a hint of 'disgust.'
Nothing at all.
Now that I thought about it, that was strange.
Take what happened with Kaen earlier today, for instance. Hadn't she immediately bristled her tail and thrown a massive fit the moment she read that notebook?
Yet the Saintess, seated calmly in the rocking chair and looking at me, seemed utterly composed.
If it had been anyone else reacting this way, I might have thought, 'Huh? Is it okay?' or 'Wait, is she the author?'
But because it was the Saintess showing this reaction, cold sweat beaded in my clenched palms instead.
I had no idea what intentions she was hiding.
But one thing was certain: this was no cause for celebration.
"Saintess. Let me explain everything, so please don't misunderstand."
"Misunderstand? What misunderstanding?"
The Saintess tilted her head slightly and turned the question back on me.
"The misunderstanding you're having right now."
"I'm not thinking anything right now. I'm just reading a book."
Her gaze, which had been on me, returned to the book.
Then came the soft rustle of pages turning.
After that, the Saintess let out a short "Ah" before adding indifferently,
"Though... it does make me have some naughty thoughts?"
With those words, the Saintess looked back at my face, her expression subtly changed from before.
Her eyes curved a bit more softly. Her lips turned toward her earlobe rather than straight ahead.
Only then did I catch a glimpse of what that composure meant.
It wasn't hiding anything particularly profound.
She was simply her usual self.
Not the Saintess ().
The sex-fiend Saintess ().
"Luke. I have a question."
The Saintess hummed thoughtfully for a moment as she chose her words.
"Are you the type who gets excited having sex in weird places rather than with proper female parts?"
She kicked off the conversation with her usual sexual harassment.
Unlike her coolly settled eyes, a faint heat laced her voice as it carried the adult topic.
"To borrow an expression from this novel, like the back door or whatever."
"No. I don't have tastes like that."
"Really? The Luke in here is pounding away at a female on all fours from behind, breaking her in."
"...Just because the name's the same doesn't mean it's the same person."
"Ah. I see."
Before entering the academy, the image in my mind tied to the word 'Saintess' had been service, consideration, and piety—nothing more.
Not anymore.
Perverted bitch.
That single phrase summed her up perfectly.
The Saintess was a woman who drained the life out of you with just a few words.
Many women did in various ways, but she was especially so.
Unlike others, where you just had to watch your step to avoid offending them, the Saintess always brought up topics like this.
"It's weird. I wonder who wrote this."
It was a question so transparent I could see right through it.
Which pathetic noble-obsessed guy living out there dreamed of ravaging nobles this badly?
I felt the silent pressure demanding I admit it myself.
"I know what you're thinking, Saintess, but I didn't write that book."
"Gasp. Really?"
Just as I expected.
I told her the plain truth without a single lie, but she fired back with playful sarcasm as predicted.
The faintly curved corners of her eyes now bent fully into a beaming smile.
This was a headache.
"I learned to write with dirt and sticks, so my handwriting's awful, but what's in the notebook is different, isn't it?"
"It's written so prettily. Better than mine, even."
"...I'm telling you again, it's not my handwriting, Saintess."
"Yes. Author. Of course."
The Saintess replied in that same playful tone.
I'd thought proving my innocence would be as simple as comparing handwriting, but convincing someone is never that easy.
Judging by her teasing voice, she might have already pieced it together and was just toying with me for fun...
I didn't know.
I was so exhausted I could collapse right then.
Not figuratively—my vision was literally going black.
"So this is your taste, huh. Hmm..."
"It's not my taste."
"Too bad your tastes differ from mine, Author. I much prefer taking the lead. No plans to write something like that?"
"Why ask me? I told you I didn't write it."
"So which do you prefer, Luke? Taking control? Or leaving it to the woman?"
"...If I have to pick, the former. I don't like anything humiliating."
"Hm. So just like in the novel, you've always dreamed of handling a noble however you please. And here I am, from a count's family. This is trouble."
"Please, Saintess. I was wrong, so can we stop now...?"
I pressed my fingers to my brow and begged, but her voice didn't let up.
"If I ever get raped by you someday, I might end up subjected to the play in here."
"...That won't happen."
"I worry if I can live up to your expectations, since I've never been touched by anyone."
"You don't need to. You won't get raped. Why even worry about that?"
"Who knows? Why, I wonder? I was thinking of giving the author of this novel a little hint..."
With that, the Saintess covered her mouth with the book and slyly looked up at my face.
It was tempting talk for any man, but I had zero intention of falling for it.
This was just another one of her rotten jokes.
Just three days ago, it had been the same.
After that hellish sparring session, when I went to the church for treatment.
We started talking about yin and yang, and it ended with her concluding that her hand meeting my fully erect cock might amplify the healing effect several times over.
It was one of the standard bits of nonsense I always heard when alone with the Saintess.
As a lowly plebeian, my best response wasn't something cheeky like 'That sounds fascinating—let's test it with my dick right now,' but simply nodding along quietly.
Of course it was.
The Saintess always had to remain pure.
That's what a Saintess was.
"No need."
I ignored her joke and placed my hand on the notebook.
She looked up at my face calmly, then relaxed her grip as if to say, take it.
"I enjoyed it, Author. I'll keep it secret from others, so I'm looking forward to the next installment."
"Auth... whatever, fine."
The Saintess obediently handed over the notebook, then delicately sipped the remaining tea in her cup.
I didn't like that last 'author' bit, but I gave up rebutting and gathered my things before heading out.
She really was a woman I couldn't stand.
7 p.m.
Crimson sunset began mingling with dark energy.
All I had eaten up to this point was a few slices of bread, yet I felt no hunger.
Good news.
Nothing happier than saving on food costs.
My steps lightened.
Deep into the central district.
I descended cracked, neglected stairs.
The irritating sunset glow faded—not from time passing, but because countless buildings sprawling like tree branches from the northern district blocked the sky.
Plus, with massive trash bags the size of people occasionally plummeting from above, looking up was out of the question.
If a few drunks were sprawled on the streets, it would be straight out of the Empire's back alleys.
Sighing at the sight, I ventured deeper in.
The plebeian dorm blended seamlessly into that shitty scenery.
Every time I saw it, I worried this ramshackle building might collapse in a heavy downpour.
"If it were floating in the clouds, I wouldn't have to worry about that..."
Reaching the dorm, I turned the knob on room 101.
Despite no key, it turned smoothly.
The lock had been broken for ages.
Inside was a tiny room with just a bed and a desk.
It looked cozy enough to live in.
If it were really just the bed and desk, it might have been tough, but there was minimal space to move.
Turn your head, and there was a shower room barely big enough for two people.
The hot water came out amazingly well—one of my room's few perks.
But now wasn't the time for that.
My creaking body, the moment it entered, was flung straight toward the bed.
And flopped there like a ragdoll with cut strings.
"Ugh... fuck..."
I'm tired.
Need to sleep.
Somehow, I have to sleep.
With all my strength, I'll sleep.
Pulling an all-nighter had cost me more than expected.
I thought a quick nap would fix it, but no such luck.
Today, I just wanted to die in bed. Shower tomorrow morning.
I gave up changing into pajamas, stripped off just enough uncomfortable clothes, and lost consciousness as I was.
—Knock knock
"...Ugh..."
A sound I hadn't heard since enrollment jolted me from deep sleep.
Rubbing my eyes, I saw pitch darkness outside the window.
How many hours had I slept?
The clock's hour hand pointed just past 9.
—Knock knock
"Two hours... ahh..."
Far too short to shake off the fatigue.
The exhaustion in my body felt the same before and after sleep.
My whole body weighed a ton, my head foggy like someone had bashed it with a rock.
—Knock knock
I splashed dry water on my face to clear my mind, ran innocent bangs upward a few times, and headed to the door.
Who the hell knocks at this hour?
No one came to mind who would visit my room.
A passing ghost was the most plausible guess.
Half-asleep, I opened the door.
Worrying it might actually be a ghost.
"...Ah."
A small exclamation.
The voice came from lower down.
Lowering my gaze slightly, something fluffy entered my view.
Jet-black wolf ears.
They perked up, twitched, then went still.
"...Kaen-nim?"
"Ah, uh! Hi, uh, Luke—no, pervert."
Kaen stammered like a broken record, then craned her neck up to look at me.
I wondered what had her so entranced.
All that was in her line of sight was my body wrapped in a wrinkled shirt.
Maybe because my fatigue hadn't faded.
Her cheeks seemed faintly flushed.
"So... why are you at my room this late?"
"Well, um..."
I spoke carefully to avoid mistakes.
The moment I finished, her gaze drifted downward again.
"I was thinking..."
"Thinking?"
"That maybe you got led astray somehow."
"...Ah."
She came to talk about that.
My interest evaporated instantly.
Led astray? Was she going to personally guide me to the right path?
Or teach me how plebeians should treat nobles?
Either way, zero interest.
I just wanted to sleep.
"Do you know about carrot and stick?"
But what came from Kaen's mouth was a bit different from expected.
Carrot and stick.
One of those common theories you hear now and then in life.
Simply put, whether dealing with people or animals, don't just scold—mix in comfort and encouragement when needed.
I could guess what she meant.
"Yes, I know of it."
"As your master, I should have alternated between them, but I think I only swung the stick."
"......"
"Like, after sparring, I should have fed you something tasty sometimes instead of just beating you."
Kaen muttered that explained why I wrote such perverted stuff.
Since she mentioned feeding me tasty things, it seemed like from now on, after breaking my body parts, she'd treat me to a meal as compensation.
Wow. Thrilling.
The spark of interest that had flickered died immediately.
Still, saving on food costs occasionally was nice.
"So move aside, pervert."
"Pardon? Come in?"
"I have to give you the carrots I've been holding back. As your master."
"Carrots...? You're empty-handed right now."
"I-I can still give them...! Something you'll really like! I even practiced a bit...!"
Empty-handed but giving food? What did that mean?
Maybe from fatigue.
I must have missed parts of the conversation.
I seemed to be writing weird erotic novels.
She judged the reason lay with her.
Now she'd alternate carrot and stick.
And right now, give the carrot.
I must have missed something before the 'give the carrot' part.
Thud, thud. Kaen strode right into the room.
I scratched my head once and closed the door.