Even Skeletons Are Women in the End, Young Master
“Here like this… and this spot, just a little trim…”
“…Skeleton. How long are you gonna keep this up?”
“Please bear with me just a moment longer. Close your eyes and count to sixty, Young Master.”
“I've already done that ten times! What's the problem anyway?!”
“There's no problem, but to better highlight Young Master's exquisite charms, I'm refining your appearance. Just a bit more…”
Tak, tak.
The skeleton lightly brushed my shoulders, tugged at my hem, and adjusted the angles with care.
Her meticulous, passionate efforts looked admirable, but somehow, the results just weren't coming together.
I couldn't take it anymore and slyly peeked open the eyes I'd squeezed shut.
…Huge…
The admiration slipped out unbidden.
Her breasts—what are they made of…? Even bigger than Serdi sis's?
Plump enough to give Mom and Adelaide a run for their money.
Her height had struck me even in skeleton form—impressively tall and broad-framed, long-limbed. But seeing her like this, I couldn't help a wry chuckle at just how massive they were, and this was her look from two hundred years ago.
How could guys leave a woman with this face, this figure, this stature alone…?
—I devoted my entire life to research in magic and scholarship. I had no papers on how to connect with the opposite sex, so…
…It suddenly made perfect sense.
And as Elania sis had mentioned, tall women appeal greatly to men, but big breasts can actually intimidate them?
With tits that size, no wonder guys steered clear. It really hit home how different the values were in this world.
Anyway…
“…Skeleton.”
“Ahem.”
“Nothing's changed! And the outfit design is weird…”
“Guh…”
She gaped at my words, hit right where it hurt.
What were these gaudy trimmings? Didn't they say people bad at fashion pile on the weird accessories?
And above all, a skeleton who could barely talk to the opposite sex trying her hardest to doll me up…
“…Get a dark elf in here.”
“Y-yes… Understood… Sniff…”
In the end, she bit her lip hard and slowly pulled her hands away.
Her face was etched with agony, like she'd just lost the opportunity of a lifetime.
…She didn't have to try so hard.
“…I like you a ton, Skeleton, so you don't have to put on a show for me or anything.”
“P-pardon…? Y-you like me…? R-really…?”
“If I hated you that much, I wouldn't have nicknamed you Skeleton! And now you're basically family. It's fine to say you like family, right? Hmph.”
I crossed my arms and whipped my head away.
Puffing out my cheeks with air, I tilted my head slightly.
“…Cough… Hack… Gack… Glrk…”
Suddenly, she clapped a hand over her mouth and started hacking up a storm.
Her face flushed beet red, like a fever, and her breathing turned ragged—I could sense it.
“Huh?!”
Startled by the abrupt change, I rushed to her side.
“Y-you okay? What's wrong all of a sudden? Are you hurting? Is it from suddenly fleshing out?”
It reminded me of myself a year ago.
Always bedridden, coughing up my lungs.
Seeing echoes of that old me, I looked up at her desperately.
“N-no… Glrk… It's just… too stimulating…”
“Q-quick, lower your head. Hurry…”
“Pardon…? No, I'm fine—”
—Thwack.
I pressed my hand to her forehead.
Back when I was sick, my fevers ran brutal, so I wondered if she might be the same.
“?!?!”
Her face turned an even deeper crimson.
There was a slight fever… Which worried me more. Her body stayed ice-cold even in human form.
Biting my lip in concern, tears welled up unbidden.
“Y-you have a fever… W-what do we dooo… Are you okay, Skeleton…?”
“……”
—Drip…
A red line slowly traced from her nostril.
“…Blood.”
My breath caught.
“B-blood…! Skeleton, are you really okay?!”
“…I'll fetch the dark elf at once.”
“W-what are you saying! Wipe the blood first! You're hurting bad right now! I'll do it, just hold on—handkerchief, where's—”
“Right now. I'll bring her.”
She shook off my hand and spun away urgently.
Before I could say another word, she flung open the dressing room door and bolted.
“…W-what do I dooo…”
I clutched my lapels tight.
Hearing what sounded like groans from outside made my head spin worse.
.
.
.
“Skeleton… You okay? How're you feeling…?”
“…Seeing you, Young Master Kael, made me feel awful again, but I'm fine now.”
“Huh…? What does that mean…?”
“…Don't worry at me with that face. It only makes it worse. Please restrain yourself. I'm fine. Very, very fine.”
After the dark elf finished dolling me up.
I still gazed up at her anxiously.
She'd rushed out like that—was calling the elf too much for her?
As I fidgeted, she shook her head, lips quivering.
“…The Founding Festival opening ceremony is soon.”
Forcing her expression straight.
“We should hurry and depart.”
“Uh, o-okay…”
“……”
I swallowed hard, nodding in disbelief.
She looked down at me, took a deep breath, then gently stroked my hair with her bony hand.
Her trembling touch felt laden with fierce resolve.
Her gloved hand in its sleeve caught my eye.
“I'm truly fine. It's not a health issue—above all, I'm undead. How could a dead being have health problems?”
“Got it…”
“Yes.”
With me calmed, she opened the door.
I followed slowly behind. Maybe because my legs were short, or she was so tall.
Clack.
Tap, tap, tap.
…Slow. I was too slow.
To match her stride, I had to take three steps to her one…
“…You're going too fast…”
I muttered softly.
“Ahem.”
Sensing me, she cleared her throat politely a few times, shortened her steps, and walked beside me.
“Now, now, though the Imperial Family hosts this Founding Festival, in my judgment, Young Master Kael will be the star.”
“Huh? Why?”
“You'll see when we get there. Let's go. The Patriarch and the ladies have already arrived.”
“Okay!”
She boarded the waiting carriage first.
Once settled gracefully, she extended a hand to me.
“In carriages and such, it's etiquette for the lady to take her seat first and lead the gentleman.”
“I've heard that so many times, how could I not know?”
“Heh, the fruits of teaching Young Master Kael.”
I took her flesh-and-blood hand politely and climbed in.
* * *
The Founding Festival.
A day to exalt the Empire's glory and honor, commemorating those who contributed to its prosperity.
Countless figures came and went, tangled in myriad interests.
And inevitably, among them were factions desperate to shatter the era of peace between monsters and humans.
“…So, today at 1 PM, the kid shows? The one that traitor hero babies?”
“Yeah. Rumors of the birth were everywhere, but this is the first public appearance.”
“But killing him won't be a bitch then? That traitor's spawn and the Demon King's brat? Forgot how monstrous the firstborn was already?”
“Put the worries aside.”
Foul breath. Acrid tobacco smoke.
“Didn't you hear? That bitch popped him out, and the traitor got wrecked after.”
A deep, dark alley hid a dimly lit bar untouched by sunlight.
Even in this age of peace, prejudice against monsters lingered beneath the surface.
Savages who once tore into human flesh.
One such hardliner group, gathered to reclaim their power, status, and fear.
Resistance
A monster covered head to toe in scales, shotgun slung on his back.
Orc-lizard hybrid. Lizark.
Before him, a wolf monster chuckled while gnawing on a mangled lump of what looked like human meat.
Lizark tapped ash into the tray.
“If not for that Demon King fucker, we wouldn't be choking down rotten corpses like this.”
“Heart still pumping is when it goes down best.”
“Choke on it and croak.”
“What? Like you can even eat anymore.”
“…Anyway, what was that? The Reaper fucker bit it?”
“Gulp… You didn't hear? Word trickles in now and then.”
Reaper.
A position with only one per generation.
Whose duty is to reap lives fully and judiciously—no room for two.
Passed down through males across the ages.
And if such a Reaper sires a son, the original vanishes.
The wolf swallowed tough sinew and raised a finger.
“That son’s the new Reaper.”
“…Pfft. Khk… Then how many more undead spawn?”
“Beats me? Who cares? Point is, no better setup to end this shitty peace.”
Symbol of peace. Demon King and Hero.
Their child slain by someone's hand.
The fallout would be unimaginable.
“But how? Bound to have guards.”
“Opportunity's obvious. Sword Bestowal Ceremony, right?”
“…You mad fuck.”
Lizark's face hardened.
“Kill him at the Sword Bestowal? Got a merc? Imperial event—who'd pull that?”
“Hey. Money buys anything.”
The wolf snickered, shrugging lazily.
“…Who'd you hire?”
“Pure human. Old imperial general bloodline, even. No wars lately, so their clout's fading. Probably pissed.”
Lizark scoffed.
“Think a human'll listen? Idiot. They already got plenty of power—”
“Human greed's bottomless.”
The wolf's eyes chilled.
“More idiots digging their own graves than you'd think.”
“…So, the plan?”
“Simple.”
The wolf wiped his hands.
“You see who handles those swords. Half are poseur bitches. Kid picks his blade, steps on stage with it.”
He slashed his hand across his throat in the air.
“Head off. Done.”
.
.
.
“…?”
In the carriage rolling toward the Empire's heart.
Kael shuddered inside.
Body laced with Reaper blood. Thus, acutely sensitive to the scent of murder.
“…Skeleton. At the Sword Bestowal Ceremony.”
“Yes. Preparations are complete.”
“…Mom's there, right?”
“Of course. The ladies, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor, Her Highness the Princess—all attending.”
“Mom's there? Then it's fine. No worries.”
Kael nodded, a hint of unease on his face.