3. A Night Like Juliet's Magic
"I'm sorry, try again."
"…I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?"
"…Well…"
After my sister had gone ahead and soaked the carpet down there with her juices.
The cleanup turned out to be simpler than expected.
I just poured a bottle of liquor from my room all over the spot where she'd squirted.
It was a waste of good booze, but after she'd already pissed herself to come to my room, admitting she'd done it again felt off.
…Of course, I knew it wasn't piss, but still.
"…For pretending it wasn't piss after pissing yourself…"
"Again?"
"For getting off on it but still begging me to rub your belly…"
"You know it well enough."
Looking at my sister standing in the corner on her knees, arms glued tight to her ears as punishment, all I could do was sigh.
This was my sister. What kind of brother writes fiction in his stories that she can't even believe, leading her to pull that stunt?
First time I'd ever seen someone so curious about a belly punch that they self-inflicted it.
Did she think she was some self-destructive female lead from a ruinous romance or something?
Just hitting your own body hurts and that's it—obvious as hell.
No matter how much you pound your own abs, it's never gonna match a guy who actually works out.
"And you pissed yourself again."
"That was…"
Her dragging out excuses only when it suited her was starting to piss me off.
"Sis."
"…Yeah?"
"You know why I use formal speech with you, right?"
"…"
Yuli nodded quietly.
"You said it sucked that you couldn't act like the family head, and now that you're standing in as baroness, you asked me to use it. So I did."
"…Yeah."
"But is an adult who pisses the bed fitting?"
"…"
I watched her shake her head no.
Glancing at her lower half, hidden under the long negligee dress hem, brought another sigh.
No panties down there right now.
Our acting baroness, hands raised in punishment, had soaked them through with her pussy juices.
Of course, I couldn't just hand them to a maid coming to swap the carpet, so I'd secretly chucked them out the window.
They reeked. Even if the composition's a bit different from piss.
"…Haa."
"…"
"One more question."
"Yeah…"
"Why'd you ask me to punch your belly?"
"…"
"Sis."
"I-It was just…"
"If it's really like in my story, and a woman's… that kind of weak spot is her lower belly, shouldn't you not be asking me?"
"…Huh?"
"Think about it. Bitch switch, right? Why flip it with me?"
"…"
"That's incest, sis."
"Th-That's…!"
"That's what?"
"…"
She looked like she'd run out of words. She'd probably realized it herself.
After seeing the heroine in the novel fall from a few belly punches, she runs straight to her little brother begging for the same.
"You could've asked some other guy."
"…Where am I gonna find another guy?"
"Just snag one."
"No way. Scary."
"No sign of remorse."
"…"
She glanced at me, then slowly raised her drooping arms again.
I wasn't planning on letting her off easy anymore. Pissing was pissing, and leaking because of me was because of me.
"Lower your hands."
"…For real?"
"Before I tell you to raise them again."
She whipped her hands down to her thighs so fast, I could only chuckle dryly.
Just yesterday, I'd thought it weird hearing the social circles didn't treat her like an adult.
Now? I might actually get it if I heard it again.
"Come here."
"What?"
"Into the covers."
"…For real?"
"You gonna sleep there?"
"…"
No answer, but her face lit up as she slipped right under my blankets.
Staring at me from the side, eyes intense under the covers—it was kinda heavy.
"Stop staring."
"Where should I look then?"
"Just sleep."
"No."
"…"
Watching a full-grown adult talk like this wasn't exactly hilarious.
It'd be a lie to say I didn't wish she'd act her age.
"It's… just, it's been forever since we slept like this together."
"…"
"Like old times, chatting about this and that…"
…Put another way, she was still holding onto some innocence.
Worlds apart from me, who'd seen all the shit at the academy.
Her responsibilities had just gotten heavier, but she hadn't felt the weight yet.
Her skills had carried her so far, but now it might start biting.
"…Fine."
"Huh?"
"Ask what you wanna ask. Not like I'm dying to start talking."
"…For real?"
"Yeah."
Her eyes sparkled, and she jumped right in before I finished.
"So, how'd you start writing?"
"…You blocking me from the casino."
"Eek."
"For real. I was bored with nothing to kill time."
"…Th-Then why write that kind?"
"…"
I pondered for a sec.
Sure, I'd been disappointed in this world's sex drive and wrote to vent.
But did that mean I had to enlighten the whole damn world?
I could've just lived it up, sucking and fucking my fiancée in ways no one here dreams of.
…If she sucked, I'd have cheated. Standard for debauched noble guys in romance fantasies.
Info? My head's packed like Noah's Ark.
Did I really need to write?
"Back at the academy."
Digging through memories, one person popped up who'd turned me this way.
"There was this artist who drew insanely well."
"…Artist?"
"Different department, never saw 'em in person. But… their drawings? You just know. This person's a pro."
That style still burned fresh in my mind.
"…How good?"
"Insanely, by my standards. You might not get it."
Nah, she wouldn't.
It didn't fit this world's taste.
If I had to place it, it'd be like a 21st-century Japanese mangaka.
Not that it'd fly in a romance fantasy world.
"Not still life or portraits… not even oil paintings like you'd know."
"…Then? Just sketches?"
"Kinda."
Black and white, comic-style format.
"Academy doesn't teach art, right?"
"Not from that track. Imperial studies, I think."
"…Imperial studies?"
"Just rumors, not sure. Overheard and went, 'Ah, got it.'"
No face, no name.
Not even gender.
Just the art style.
"What's that got to do with it?"
"…I've said it before. I'm from another world. Wanted to recreate what I saw there. First drawings, now words."
"…"
"What? Answered?"
"…Tch."
She smacked my shoulder lightly.
"Who'd buy that?"
"…Yeah. No one would."
Sis was always like this.
Anyone in this world would react the same.
No one's believing I'm from another world, that this is a novel world…
No need to scream it if they don't get it.
The original novel's a peaceful one—no demon lords, no catastrophes.
Not saving the world, just sucking honey.
"…Jealous."
Her quiet murmur caught my eye.
"Of what?"
"Stuff in your head, you just write it out. I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Just… no talent for it."
"Sis."
"…Yeah?"
"You can't put it in words like me, but you act it out."
"…Act?"
"Only you read my stuff and self-punch your belly—"
"Hey!!"
Her weak shoulder smacks somehow hurt like hell.
"Y-You wrote it all weird…!"
"And you believed it straight up?"
"I did…n-not?"
She trailed off, circling her words.
"Huh? Not done yet?"
"…?"
"I-I proved you wrong, didn't I?"
"…Proved?"
"Women's weak spot is the lower belly. Bitch switch. I proved it with my body!"
"…Sis."
"What?"
"So that means you got turned on because of me, right?"
"…"
"Getting horny for your brother is incest—"
"Shut! Up!!"
She went from smacks to frantic two-handed flailing, but it barely hurt.
When did sis get so weak? Did I get stronger?
Was she always this frail? This small?
After all that pointless chatter, I fell asleep with her that night.
The weekly Wednesday salon reading circle was basically irrelevant—no one gave a damn.
Capital ladies were always told to attend, but they'd blow it off for outings.
Not anymore.
Ever since that book stirred up the social scene, everyone was dying to share their takes.
They knew the stuff described was embarrassing.
But trends are weird as fuck—ugly, bizarre acts get packaged as "the vibe" and suddenly it's fine.
Like that old rumor: "Pre-marital sex with your fiancé boosts marital bliss." Salons buzzed with sex talk after.
"My fiancé likes it when I'm gentle."
…Stuff like that's still floating around, 'cause the book is straight-up about sex.
Nothing this blunt and raw in imperial history.
Adrian, as a romance fantasy native, wrote as euphemistically as possible, but to nobles used to beating around the bush, it hit like a brick.
"But the White Knight… or his slave in the book, they weren't gentle."
"…"
This reading circle's theme: the new release.
The veiled White Knight author's second book, name revealed.
A Night Like Juliet's Magic
"…So, I'm thinking of having a deep talk with my fiancé about stuff like in this book."
Kiara de Montr, who'd snagged the new release fastest, smiled happily at the ladies' chatter.
Being trendsetter feels good anywhere, anytime.
"Lady Montr."
"Yes?"
"Last time… you said your fiancé was gentle, right?"
"…Y-Yes. That's right."
Even better: while they obsessed over secret fiancé stuff, she'd done things none had.
With someone clearly lower status, getting sexually excited—just like the book.
Ahead of the pack? Her smile wouldn't fade.
"Hoo… hoo…"
…Even in a room of elegant ladies.
"Eek?!"
The lady next to Kiara jolted, nearly toppling.
A woman with wild, uncombed hair stood behind her.
Talk of secret acts trailed off; eyes locked on the mess.
Opheli de Quiliar.
Duke Quiliar's youngest.
"…Long time no see, Lady Quiliar."
"H-Hehe… E-Everyone okayy…?"
She aped an archaic tone comically, scanning for a seat at the round table.
Ladies had shifted one seat over each, leaving no spot.
As if forgetting she outranked them all.
"…Looks like the duke allowed you out."
"Hehe… B-Ban lifted t-todayy…?"
"…I see."
"I-I know what y-you're talking ab-bout…"
One line showed how vast her reach was, rivaling imperial blood.
Banned or not, info flowed easy.
"A-A seat…"
Ladies finished shifting; one spot left.
Opheli sat lightly, hehe-ing at her neighbor.
Kiara's trendsetter glee turned uneasy.
"Y-You're… K-Kiara, right…?"
"…Haha. Yes. That's me, my lady."
"A-And the first in this s-salon to read… th-this book?"
"…Yes. Somehow…"
"S-So… you had time to th-think about the ch-characters a l-lot…?"
Opheli slipped a hand into her dress.
Ignoring Kiara's averted gaze, she pulled out paper.
"I-I think this… wh-what do you think…?"
"…"
Kiara eyed the paper Opheli offered.
And the art screaming Opheli's skill.
"Truly…"
Kiara bit back "grotesque as hell."
Hard to call it a portrait, even to herself.
Colorless aside.
Eyes huge for a human.
Blatant dialogue, no room for imagination.
And…
"Didn't she just… draw the pussy straight up?"
Biggest issue: vulgarly direct.
Like first reading White Knight.
But she couldn't lump her savior White Knight with this.
Kiara groped for euphemism.
"…Avant-garde."
"He-Hehe… R-Right…?"
Seemed safe—till.
"I-I sent this to the a-author tooo…"
"…The author?"
"Eh… D-Didn't you know?"
"…Know what?"
"Wh-Where the author l-lives… in some t-territory…"
"You know?"
"Y-Yes… S-Since you do… g-guess only I know…?"
"…"
Kiara swallowed the demand to spill.
One slip, her salon cred crumbles.
"Young master. Letter from Jang."
"…From Jang?"
Why's the bookbinder sending me this?
"…Precisely, a letter to your other name. Two of them."
"…Two?"
I snatched them from the butler and bolted to my room.
Ripped 'em open, cold sweat pouring.
How'd they know where I live?
"…?"
Then, familiar art.
"…It's that person."
Exact academy style.
One scene from my novel, illustrated.
Dearest Author,
I entrusted this to the bookbinder, so I trust it reaches you intact.
I've roughly pinpointed your residence otherwise, but visiting uninvited lacks decorum, so I send this letter with illustration instead.
Always awaiting your works. — O. C.
P.S. If you wish to see me, come via the address left with the bookbinder.
…And another letter.
No frills this time—just a lone postcard-sized paper.
Why send art with one and this separate?
…Different person?
One stalker knowing my spot's bad enough; two? I'd faint.
But the content.
Blasted past the first in shock.
"What the hell is this?"
First glance: lips? Or macaron?
Dip in lipstick, stamp—bam, that shape.
Then it clicked perfectly.
"…A pussy print?"
Some real psycho had latched on.