Some Meaningless Dirty Talk
Time passed in a suffocating blur, so intense I barely registered where the food went. And then night arrived.
The day's memories were too vivid for sleep to come easily. I figured tonight would drag on forever.
...Maybe I should write a letter.
Come to think of it, Yuli probably still doesn't even know I'm alive. Shouldn't I at least tell her that much?
I was mulling over what to write—sleep wasn't coming anyway—when a soft swish sounded like fabric being drawn aside. I lifted my head slightly.
...An unwelcome face came into view.
"...Why are you here?"
Opheli stood in the doorway, a strange cloak pulled over her nightgown like she was trying to hide her presence.
"Wh-what are you doing...?"
"Writing a letter. Haven't sent one to the territory yet."
"Hee...?"
"So, why are you really here?"
"Th-that... I, I don't think I can keep our promise...?"
"Promise...?"
I racked my brain, then nodded once I remembered. It must be about becoming my illustrator.
"We're f-far apart... g-getting f-feedback on illustrations is h-hard, right...?"
"Just do it by letter."
"Th-that takes f-forever."
"...?"
"F-feedback takes th-three days r-round trip...?"
She didn't want to spend that long on edge, I got it. I understood the feeling, but had no quick fix, so I just nodded.
"St-still, I can't stay long...?"
She rummaged under her flipped-up cloak and cupped something in her hands, offering it to me.
"H-how about th-this...?"
"...?"
It looked exactly like a slime. No, it was a slime—squishy and liquidy against my palm. I held back the thought that it was softer than breasts.
"Y-you know about f-familiars...?"
"Yeah. I do."
"Th-this is one too... it recognizes its master by b-body fluids, and c-communicates...?"
"...Communicates, you say?"
"J-just a sec...?"
Opheli sliced the slime on my hand in half, then lifted her nightgown slightly. One breast spilled free. She peeled off the patch on her nipple and dripped a few drops of milk onto the slime.
Brrr...
The slime shuddered as it absorbed the milk, then morphed into something like a tiny radio.
"Ahh."
—Though it felt more like a phone than a radio.
"It w-works like th-this, see...?"
"...Did you really have to use breast milk?"
"Familiars r-react best to l-life-related fluids...?"
"Hm...?"
"Y-yours is already r-recognized... sh-should work right away...?"
Skeptical but curious, I focused on the slime. It twitched, then bubbled and shifted into an old dial phone in an instant.
Bubble bubble—
Strange to wield magic without knowing any. If only I'd done this sooner instead of stubbornly picking swordsmanship at the academy because I hated studying.
"R-recognition complete...?"
Opheli looked awkwardly pleased. A sudden question hit me.
"But, Lady Opheli."
"Y-yes?"
"Doesn't it recognize through body fluids?"
"Y-yeah...?"
"So how'd you get mine? No spit or blood."
"Well...?"
Her hand drifted to her lower belly. I knew exactly what she meant and waved her off, saying I got it.
Fuck. Shouldn't have creampied without thinking.
"St-still... it's c-convenient, right...?"
"Looks that way to me."
"It can even send p-paper if you feed it...?"
Like a fax machine crossed with a phone. A bit odd that only one side initiates, but whatever.
"So you want feedback through this?"
"S-sending writing too...?"
"...Got it."
That seemed to wrap it up. I set the still-phone-shaped slime on the nightstand, ignoring its disinterest in reverting.
Opheli stared like she had more to say.
"...Something else?"
"N-no...?"
Didn't look like no. Sure enough, she hesitantly stroked my hand and asked,
"...C-can we meet again...?"
"No reason we can't."
"True, but...?"
"...?"
"It f-feels like a d-dream right now...?"
I got it. She'd only fantasized about meeting me before, then lost her virginity to me. And I'd even accepted her as illustrator, promising more meetings.
"So... um...?"
"...Opheli."
"Y-yes?!"
"This isn't a one-time thing. We'll meet again, communicate like this."
She was the only one in this world for brainstorming ideas with. I'd always turn to her when stuck.
"...Y-yeah...?"
"No need to worry—"
"U-um...?"
Her face flushed; worry was old news.
"...C-can you call me by name... one more time?"
"...?"
Seeing her so thrilled didn't appeal, but it was time to send her off.
"Bedtime. Opheli."
"...Eek."
"Go sleep."
"O-okay...?"
She bowed awkwardly, flipped her cloak back on, and slipped out.
Silence fell.
Her leaving without a fuss felt so surreal it seemed like a dream. The slime on the nightstand proved otherwise.
"...?"
Enviable tech. Commercialization aside, perfect for contacting Yuli from afar.
"...Sigh."
What good was it? I couldn't even figure out a letter to Yuli.
Mention the pussy print from someone imperial? I'd be arrested. Writing about deflowering the intelligence chief's daughter? Same. Just saying I'm fine felt like faking it when I wasn't.
Maybe delay the letter.
The next day.
As I stepped out with my luggage, a carriage waited. Obviously from House Montr—Kiara's family.
Duke Quiliar must've contacted them fast, as promised. Intelligence chief's letter, or maybe Kiara rushing over herself.
"Adrian!"
Probably the latter. Easier that way.
I handed my bag to the coachman and glanced back at the mansion.
...No send-off.
The chief was at work; Opheli... wouldn't come out for some reason.
No issue. We had the communication artifact now.
Other houses might send the lady out, but not here. I knew from the original romance fantasy how vital the grand mage was.
"...Even though the court mage could never awaken again, she never resented His Highness..."
The woman who earned the grand mage title, entered the imperial court as royal mage. And the intelligence chief's wife. Mrs. Quiliar.
Her "eternal slumber" explained the chief's devotion to linking the original hero prince and heroine.
Not dead, just in long sleep... though no mention of waking.
"What're you thinking?"
"...Nothing."
Just the family's tragic fate. Devoted patriarch loyal to the prince who doomed his wife. Stuttering lady who gave her virginity to an engaged man and loved it. Grand mage...
...Why was she asleep again? MacGuffin? No need to dwell.
Boarding the carriage, languor hit. Tense nights meant poor sleep. Didn't expect to miss my fiancée this much.
"...Happy to be here?"
"Pardon?"
"You look pleased."
Kiara pouted, turning away sharply.
I chuckled involuntarily at her words.
"Wh-what?"
"Nothing."
She's got a cute side, my fiancée.
"...If it's that great, get engaged to them."
"Who leaves paradise happy?"
"...?"
"Heading to one now. That's why I'm pleased, Lady."
"...Adrian."
"Yes."
"We agreed on names last time, right?"
"...?"
I recalled: only once. When I held her collar.
"...Wasn't that just at night?"
"...?"
Her face flushed crimson. I could've teased, but held back.
Screech—
Odd wheel noise, but the interior stayed steady despite bumps. Isolated in silence amid white noise outside, my eyes grew heavy.
Hated sleeping now. Wanted to savor the escape longer.
"Adrian."
"...Yes?"
"...Were you asleep?"
"No, no."
Didn't expect last night's insomnia to hit like this.
I blinked awake to Kiara staring, her mood softened.
"...Sleep if you want."
"...Pardon?"
"I said sleep."
"...?"
Didn't feel like permission. More like 'I'm not mad.' Denying anger she clearly felt, hoping I'd pick up on it.
I stared intently; she squeezed her eyes shut.
"...Seriously. Sleep."
"I'm fine—"
"Come here."
"...?"
She patted her knee. No dress fixings—pillowy thighs would press right against me.
...Might not hold back.
"You won't if you stay put."
"...?"
"So... just sleep."
"I'm really—"
"Want me mad?"
"...?"
Three refusals is rude. I scooted over obediently, flopping sideways.
Turn my head—her breasts in view. Felt like being with a lover. Questioned love in arranged betrothals, but...
...If this soothed my ordeals, fine.
"...What're you thinking?"
"Nothing much."
"...?"
Dubious, she leaned in. Her breast brushed my face softly; resistance faded.
Breasts don't naturally smell like milk, I realized.
And a while later.
Not long after the capital nobility began chasing endless trends.
"Nngh, ah... A-Adrian...?"
Pushed by the crowd, Kiara had to make unforgettable memories with me.
I thought such fads transient, but this time...
"I told you to read it, Kiara."
Me forcing her to read aloud.
Riiip—
Her masturbating before me, dress half-on.
"The huge b-balls... J-Juliet's c-cunt p-palace...?"
Her trembling in pleasure, yet clutching the book.
It all traced back to me.
