The Bet (8)
"From what I can see, Ariel, you seem to have a pretty narrow-minded way of thinking."
Terria pulled an intermediate pharmacology textbook from the bookshelf. He didn't even glance at the magic books.
"What's that got to do with this?"
"Looking at what you wrote, it seems like you're trying to brew a potion that activates mental magic to suppress the target's sexual desire."
"Yeah."
"But in the end, it's saying that implementing a sex-drive suppression spell is too hard. You don't even know how to construct the formula. So just give up on magic."
I stared at him blankly, my eyes wide. We were both standing, so I had to tilt my head up slightly to meet his gaze. It suddenly hit me how long it had been since I'd discussed research one-on-one with someone. And not me explaining to them, but someone explaining to me. What a joke. To outsiders, it might look like a tender mentoring scene. But in reality, we were mortal enemies to each other. I wasn't sure if Terria saw me that way, but I sure as hell did.
"Instead of magic, use an existing potion. Most drugs can produce the opposite effect depending on how you combine them. You learned that in Intro to Alchemy, right...? Hey, are you spacing out?"
"Oh, no... I know that. It's basic stuff I already know..."
"Anyway. And existing aphrodisiacs aren't magic. They're purely chemical—not some mental spell that induces heat in the target. So depending on the mix, you could suppress heat, right?"
"Uh... that's it?"
I let out a hollow smile, feeling a bit dumbfounded. It was like struggling over a complex math problem while someone watched with that 'why go through all this trouble?' look on their face—only to realize it was something a ten-year-old could solve.
"That's it."
"I thought... there'd be something more complicated. If it's that simple, like you say, why hasn't anyone made it until now? Someone must've tried and failed, right? That's why there's no record."
I said it like there had to be some hidden catch—almost willing it to be true.
"It's not that they couldn't make it; they just didn't. There was no need. Who the hell would ever need a sex-drive suppressant?"
"Yeah... I guess."
"So, was that helpful enough?"
"Wait, just give me a sec. Can you step out for a bit? Let me check it myself."
Terria obligingly left the lab, saying he'd wait as long as needed. I shoved all the mental magic books off the desk and hauled out every herbology text, advanced potion-making guide, and pharmacology tome I could find. The desk was instantly buried in books—no room left even for a cup. Of course, most were irrelevant; barely a tenth were actually useful for research. It was petty stubbornness on my part. Deep down, I knew he was right, but I hated admitting he'd thought of something I hadn't. This was my small, spiteful rebellion to prove him wrong somehow.
That rebellion didn't last half a day. The result was simple: he was right. All it took in the aphrodisiac brewing process was the right ratio of present-root extract. No room for magic at all.
My pride stung. I knew this was a shift in perspective, and coming up with ideas like this wasn't easy. But the fact that he had thought of it before me made me feel pathetic.
At the same time, my heart was racing. It was surprising even to me that these contradictory feelings could coexist. Once I acknowledged the clear gap in our levels, it felt like I'd finally found the skilled partner I'd been searching for. I imagined him taking on the role Fabian—long dead—once filled: sometimes a rival, sometimes an ally, pushing me forward.
I got why swordsmen seek out opponents stronger than themselves. But it was also regrettable. Why did we have to connect like this—through me getting hurt? We could've built a relationship in a kinder way.
Anyway, Terria's help was undeniably effective. I wasn't the type to let pride get in the way over something like this, so I headed to the living room to ask what he wanted in return.
It was already dark outside. Past dinnertime, so maybe he'd eaten already? But he wasn't in the living room—he was in the kitchen. Even with his back turned, he seemed to sense me coming and busied himself more. A savory aroma tickled my nose.
"Whatcha making?"
"Something delicious."
True to his word, the bubbling pot looked mouthwatering just from the sight. We didn't have set mealtimes; we ate whenever we got hungry. I occasionally cooked for him, but not often. I didn't know many recipes, and repeating the same ones might bore him. Besides, his reactions were always so neutral—I couldn't tell what he liked. He just ate whatever I gave him. And he ate a lot. Plus, he seemed to enjoy physical activity, often heading out for exercise, so he ate four or five meals a day. Total opposite of me. Even before the swap, I hated going out and ate light. Now with this smaller body, two meals was a lot.
So we rarely sat down to eat together. But today, he was cooking for me. It looked labor-intensive, so I approached.
"Need help? Anything you want?"
"Nah. Almost done—just sit at the table."
He kept his back turned, not sounding angry. More like he was enjoying it but saw me as a distraction.
"Okay..."
"By the way, we're low on stuff. Let's hit the market later."
He seemed focused, changing the subject, so I didn't push. I sat at the table, watching him cook. It felt weird seeing a man in Ariel's body—originally Terria's female form—fussing in the kitchen.
Soon he came over with the pot. Meat stew, by the looks of it. Late evening, and I'd skipped meals all day—my stomach growled. I'd already set out plates, so we just needed to serve. But he headed back to the kitchen. As I watched curiously, he returned with red wine and two glasses.
"Let's drink together."
He handed me a glass like it was the most natural thing, then poured.
Pretty high-proof for wine, I thought—then realized we'd never drunk alone together before.
"Didn't you say you hated alcohol?"
Before the swap, when I'd asked, that's what he'd said. Even at the conference, he'd only drunk out of social pressure. Seeing him drink in the lab was a first.
"Dunno. I feel like drinking now."
"...Thanks for the meal."
We ladled stew into our plates and dug in. His cooking skills were improving. I murmured, entranced.
"This is good..."
Not flattery—genuinely delicious. Terria grinned playfully.
"First time Ariel's called my food 'good,' I think."
"Huh?"
"Before, it was always 'not bad' or 'edible' at best."
"N-no, it was good back then too..."
No malice in his smile, so I relaxed and clinked my glass against his. We sipped. The wine paired perfectly with the stew, surprisingly. No toast—just drinking. But the mood was right for it. He'd dimmed the living room lamps, leaving only the crackling fireplace glow and the bright table lamp. Cozy darkness.
We ate in companionable silence for a while. I got full first; he was still going, but slower, so I spoke up.
"Hey, you were right. I get it now, following your advice."
"Told you. Just a difference in perspective."
"Yeah... So, what do you want?"
"Hm, I'll tell you after we finish eating."
What could it be that he was dragging it out like this? Maybe not table talk. Or just teasing me. I dazedly watched him eat, the red wine bottle, the flickering fireplace, sipping my wine. This wasn't half bad, surprisingly. Drinking with him... no, drinking with someone. Like Clechia, say. But who else did I have? No one. I didn't think I was lonely, but right now, it felt a little empty. If only it weren't just him sitting across from me.
"One more?"
Terria polished off the huge pot, then fetched another bottle. The pleasant buzz made me nod. We cleared the table, grabbed snacks, and moved to the living room.
"Why'd you turn off the lights?"
"Mood. It's fine, right?"
"Yeah, but..."
Terria killed all the lamps. The fireplace provided enough light to read by. He sat on the sofa; I took the matching chair by the table. Drinking in silence felt odd, so I tossed out random topics: magic research, imperial politics, books, cooking—avoiding personal relationships. It felt awkwardly forced. We lived together but never shared interests.
I couldn't hold back anymore.
"So, when are you gonna tell me?"
"Hm, come here first."
"Huh?"
He patted the spot next to him on the two-person sofa. Like how I'd sit pressed against Clechia. I stared, flustered.
"W-why? What is it?"
"Sit here."
His low, deliberate tone sounded like a command—irresistible. I had no choice but to obey, inching over and sitting as far from touching him as possible. The moment our bodies met, something irreversible would happen—I felt it instinctively.
"What're you...?"
"You really have no clue? Can't even guess?"
Terria draped an arm over my shoulders and pulled me close. Suddenly nestled against him, I set my glass on the table and pushed at his arm.
"What the hell—stop...!"
"Ariel, you have zero awareness, huh?"
"Awareness?"
But resisting his strength was impossible. Tilting my head up, his reddish-brown eyes reflected my face so clearly I jerked my gaze away. Dark premonitions crept in. He was smiling, but his voice held no mirth.
"Y-you don't mean... you want me too...?"
No answer. That silence wasn't denial—it was affirmation. And with no reason to refuse, my voice trembled faintly.
"No, you're not, right?"
He wanted my body.
"Liar? I'll do anything else—anything. Please?"
"Hah, Ariel. You've felt it too, haven't you? I've been clear since the conference what I want. Don't play dumb."
"I-I don't want to... You don't either—you can't want someone like me."
I whined like a child. Futile resistance, of course. I'd long realized I couldn't win against his logic.
"Then who should I do it with? Who else is there? If I went to a brothel, you'd freak out like last time."
"..."
"And why do you assume I don't want you? You think I'm just desperate and picking you because no one's else around?"
"Not that, but... it's weird from the start. You're a woman—why would you want to do it with me?"
Now I grasped at gender.
"You know that's contradictory, right? If I'm a woman, you're a man—so fine. If I'm a man, you're a woman—so fine."
Crushed by identical logic. Mentally and physically, we were opposites. Even if he were gay, I couldn't refuse.
"...Got a question."
"Shoot."
"If you want me, couldn't you just force it?"
I sensed the inevitable and resigned myself. Might as well clear up my doubts first. My body went limp; his arm still held me firm. I leaned on his shoulder, mumbling with my head down.
"Even if I say no, you could just do it anyway. I have nowhere to go, can't resist—why haven't you until now?"
"Then you wouldn't enjoy it."
"Enjoy? What do you... hnng..!"
Spotting my lack of resistance, Terria moved the hand on my shoulder to tease my ear. The sensation—long forgotten—sent shivers down my spine. No artifact in the lab, so my ears and tail were visible. He observed my twitches, methodically finding sensitive spots.
"Better to feel good while we're at it, right? You enjoy it too—that's the point. Force it, and it'll just be more unpleasant."
"Just don't do it at all. What's the difference from forcing me now? Ngh, hnn... I don't want it."
"You really think that? That I'm forcing you?"
"...Yeah."
"Don't lie. You're the one pretending, Ariel. It's your promise. Your terms. You can't act like this situation just happened to you out of nowhere. Right?"
No rebuttal came to mind. I wanted to blame the alcohol dulling my thoughts, to believe his logic had flaws. But I knew better. I couldn't call this rape. When he'd asked for one wish in return, I hadn't anticipated this. Sex hadn't crossed my mind. I'd vaguely suspected, but dismissed it—he could force it anytime, yet hadn't, so I assumed he didn't want to.
"Answer me, Ariel. Say it's not rape."
"...Y-yeah. It's not... rape..."
"Just accept it. I'll make sure you can't think straight."
"Haaah..."
Terria whispered low into my ear. His voice burrowed in, tickling the fine hairs, hot breath slipping between my lips.