4.5. Epilogue: Healthy Feedback
Whether it was the princess or the empress, someone from the imperial family had sent me a pussy print.
And to survive, I had to react to it somehow.
But... reactions like that are only possible with people of similar status.
They're royalty, after all.
There was no way for me to send a reply, and if I did, my head might roll right off my shoulders.
Just for daring to glimpse the imperial family's private parts.
Still, it's not like there's no way at all.
No matter how lofty their status, barring a lowly noble like me from writing letters, there was one solid fact: they were fans of my writing enough to send a pussy print.
Which meant they'd definitely check out anything by Sade Zahermazoh.
For that reason, while working on my new piece, I needed to figure out a way to respond...
Letters are too outdated.
Directly inserting the incident into the story was out of the question.
If it got exposed, I'd be fucked.
They figured out it was the princess who sent the pussy print—do you think they couldn't track down the author?
So there was only one option.
The author speaks through his writing.
I'd weave the pussy print into the story.
Anyone else would just react with something like, "What vulgar idea is this?" and move on...
But the one who sent it to me? They'd think, "The author saw me!"
"Lady Quiliar."
"Y-Yes?"
"What kind of story should I write?"
In that sense, what I needed most urgently right now was a new story.
I'd considered sending a letter to Sis assuring her I was alive and well, but without certainty I'd survive, it was better not to.
Nothing sadder than a letter saying you're fine arriving, only for news of your death to follow soon after.
"Uh, um..."
Opheli, sitting right next to me at the desk, looked flustered, as if it were a question she hadn't expected.
"A-Anything's f-fine... I-I mean, as long as it's by y-you... hehe..."
I wasn't expecting a productive answer, but it wasn't entirely useless.
Just the fact that it was my writing would draw readers.
To them, my stories were practically a genre revolution.
But from my perspective? Not really.
Honestly, White Knight and Juliet weren't that different.
Just the male and female leads' statuses swapped.
The guy dominates the girl, they fuck, she shudders in pleasure and breaks.
Same basic framework—no big differences there.
In simple terms, self-plagiarism.
In a world with a unique erotic lit scene, sure—but if this were a place with real competition, I'd get flamed with a 5700-character rant like "Writing the same shit again?"
Churning out more of the same for the next story? That'd make me a failed isekai reincarnator.
"How about listing some elements, then?"
"E-Elements..."
Opheli pondered, then slowly stood and scurried to the bookshelf.
She pulled out a notebook stuffed with papers and brought it over.
"I-It's hard to e-explain with w-words... so I d-drew them...?"
She was aware of her poor verbal skills and had chosen her best alternative.
Her drawing talent was top-notch, so no risk of eye-searing disasters here.
And sure enough, she didn't disappoint.
"Hm..."
No single-element drawings.
All mixed various ones together.
I could sense a bit of her philosophy on taboo depravity, like in her illustrations.
Even low-quality stuff combined incest and anal.
She seemed to favor even more depraved acts in taboo situations.
"...?"
But as I flipped through, a weird unease crept in.
Nothing obvious at first glance.
Just... certain elements made the drawings look off.
That explained why her illustrations for me never felt wrong.
"Lady Quiliar."
"Y-Yes?"
"Why... do you draw the male genitalia like this?"
One glaring flaw in her art.
Opheli couldn't draw dicks right.
"I mean, the back of the... shaft doesn't look like that."
Probably learned it was mushroom-shaped and drew actual mushrooms.
Take one illustration as an example.
A woman in ahegao, erect cock resting on her face.
Top-down view, so not too bad.
...Still mushroom-ish, but the least offensive.
Another angle: pounding a woman, about to plunge into her ass.
Pre-insertion, so the dick's fully visible—and that shape...
"This isn't the back; it's the front."
"S-Sorry..."
"No, it's not about apologizing."
"I-I've never s-seen one for real...?"
"Who said you had to see the real thing? Just anatomy books..."
"..."
"...You don't have any?"
"W-Well... wh-when I t-tried drawing from a-anatomy books... m-my face got all w-weird..."
Opheli shrank back a few steps, mumbling.
Even from there, her face turning beet red was obvious.
"S-So... I c-can't draw it unless I s-see it for real..."
"..."
I looked at her drawings again.
...Now that she mentioned it, the men's hands were a bit delicate for guys.
In the pounding scenes, the thighs seemed slim for hoisting a woman that size.
And notably, no drawings fully exposing the male body.
"If you'd studied art properly, this wouldn't happen."
"I-I never s-studied art..."
"..."
"S-So, um..."
I got the gist.
"You posed in front of a mirror yourself?"
"Y-Yes..."
Opheli bowed her head shyly, no creepy grin.
Looking back at the drawings felt off now.
All the women had huge tits, faces vaguely like Opheli's—not a stretch.
So these "drawings" were, strictly speaking, her self-portraits...
Considering portraits usually stop at busts, calling them nudes modeled from her own body fit better.
"..."
Which meant all those lewd poses were ones she'd tried.
Legs squeezed together, stretched high, exposing the parts that'd press against a chair while seated.
One massive breast pulled to her mouth, sucking her own nipple.
Even the one with a decently drawn cock—broken expression with it on her face.
"Lady Quiliar?"
"Y-Yes..."
"What were you thinking, showing these to me?"
"W-Well..."
She twisted her thighs, carefully choosing words, gauging my reaction.
"Y-You... wh-when you write... y-you try it yourself f-first, right...?"
"Who said that?"
"...N-No?"
"How could I possibly try that stuff for real?"
"Th-That's weird... it c-can't be...?"
Confused, then something clicked—she lunged at me.
I recoiled in surprise, but she closed in more.
"Ah... r-right, in Juliet..."
"Can't you back up a bit?"
"It b-bothered me so much...!"
I wanted to push her away as she pressed closer, but she was already stuck to me.
Her huge tits kept brushing my stomach—driving me mad.
Worse, knowing she'd tried every pose in her illustrations.
Kicking her off was the only way now.
"P-Pressing the lower belly... m-makes you feel it less...?"
"..."
I felt it just fine.
Seeing me dodge, her expression turned strange.
Betrayed, maybe.
"Y-You can feel it...?"
"...Yes."
"B-But you say you've n-never tried it...!"
"The order's a bit..."
I'd done the stuff from the book for real.
But not before writing. After.
Stuff like walking my naked fiancée like a dog.
Or pressing and rubbing Sis's lower belly till she squirted.
It's not like I can just decide to do that with anyone.
...But how do I explain that?
"S-So I'm not weird... right?"
"...Right."
Saying "I stripped my fiancée naked and walked her" makes it Kiara's reputation issue, not mine.
"I pressed Sis's belly till she came" tanks the Vallancien name.
Already the smut author—didn't need my image worse.
"A-Adrian does it too."
"..."
"Th-There's no rule I c-can't...?"
"...No."
"S-So... um..."
"..."
Opheli's words slowed.
My gaze kept drifting to her chest.
I forced it up and turned away.
My face burned. I thought I knew why she was acting weird.
"Wh-What's...?"
"...Could you back off a little?"
"This feels... s-sort of..."
Squish...
Whether deliberate or clueless, she kept pressing with her tits.
Problem was, that spot was my lower belly—and below, my raging hard-on.
The pressure through my uniform pants was maddening.
Even Sis's ass hadn't been this bad.
Worse, knowing this woman's lust level all too well.
"I-It... f-fits... right...?"
"...Ngh."
Don't ask when you know. Why are you doing this to me?
Her tits grinding forced my eyes shut desperately.
...Making me hyper-aware of touch instead—backfiring.
Her faint milky scent from close up stirred me weirdly too.
"A-Adrian...?"
"..."
I didn't know when she started using my name, but it screamed confidence—like she was above me.
Doing this embarrassing shit because she thought she could steer things her way.
Knowing I wouldn't refuse.
"Y-You know, b-besides seeing it... I c-can't draw it... "
"..."
"C-Can I see it... once...?"
"...You think I'd say yes?"
"I-I mean..."
Swish—
Her hand reached for my shoulder.
Specifically, the strap of her dress.
Pull that down, and the dress would slip, baring those massive tits.
No matter the messy hair cover—they wouldn't hide.
The tits she'd sucked and squished herself for art.
"I-I could show you mine too... "
"...I've seen enough tits."
"Hehe... b-but not these...?"
"...?"
Opheli slowly pulled her chest from my belly.
But didn't retreat far.
She knelt right there, hand sliding the strap off her slender shoulder.
Gulp—
A swallow echoed—maybe mine, maybe not—then the strap fell limply down her arm.
The dress bodice slipped slowly, catching briefly on her huge milkers.
Then her hand peeled even that away.
A thick waft of milky scent hit then.
...Fuck.
That's when I saw the tips dripping steadily.
"I-It's my... c-constitution..."
Breast milk.
The pale fluid only pregnant women should leak, dripping from the nipples of this virgin who'd never even been engaged.
"Y-You've never seen this... right?"
"..."
As if.
How would I see a non-pregnant woman lactating?
"...S-So..."
Opheli pressed her arms together above her knees, squeezing her tits.
Milk jetted out in a stream from the pressure.
My eyes locked on the dress soaked with it.
"C-Can't I... show you too...?"
After a display like this, how could I refuse?