Murder to Silence (1)
The instant I caught sight of Nia's bare body, a flood of past moments came rushing back.
There was the time I'd accidentally touched her chest and felt something hard, almost like a man's. And then there was the fact that I'd changed clothes in front of her more times than I could count — hell, I'd even lounged around completely naked.
Sure, I'd never seen her naked, but I'd figured maybe she was just embarrassed about having a small dick or something.
But wait — where the fuck did those tits even come from?
Fantasy world or not, that was one hell of a leap. Those things were practically Orca-tier, weren't they?
"Ah — aah…!"
"No, sorry. I genuinely had no idea…"
Fuck. Even if she was a guy, I never would have forced myself to look if she didn't want me to. I just honestly hadn't expected her to be here.
If there'd been any sound of running water, I wouldn't have walked in. But of course, the exact moment I stepped through the door was the exact moment she was coming out of the bath — toweling off, halfway into her clothes.
What I saw was Nia with one leg already through her panties, balanced on one foot, about to slide the other leg in.
She recovered fast enough, yanking the underwear up in a hurry — but not before I'd gotten a full, unobstructed view of her pussy, pubic hair and all.
And wait — how the hell was her pubic hair growing in the shape of a heart?
Honestly, I was so busy taking in Nia's radiant female body that my cock was already starting to respond. Her naked form radiated the kind of raw, male-baiting allure that could only be called perfect.
I'd always thought she'd look absurdly good in women's clothes — of course her figure was flawless. And those massive breasts I'd never known about? More than enough to shake a man's heart to its core.
And on top of everything, inverted nipples.
Whether she'd been born that way or whether years of binding them flat with bandages had done it, I couldn't say. Either way, those cute little nipples tucked shyly inward looked so inviting I wanted to get them hard and draw them out right then and there.
Damn. She was so beautiful that past the initial shock, I found myself calmly drinking her in.
She was fucking gorgeous.
That face and hairstyle I'd always filed under "pretty boy" — once you put them together with that body, it was impossible not to see her as simply a boyish girl. The occasional oddly high pitch in her voice, the flustered cry she'd just let out at the sight of me — all of it had been a girl's voice. Realizing she'd been deliberately pitching her voice lower this whole time locked the truth into place in my head automatically: she was a girl.
And given how often those kinds of fantasies had already crossed my mind about her… finding out Nia was actually a woman didn't hit me with some earth-shattering shock.
Honestly, after half a year living together, I'd entertained the possibility more times than I could count. What really stunned me right now wasn't that she was a girl — it was how enormous her tits were.
No — if anything, there was even a little relief mixed in.
Every time she'd done something girlish, my body had started to react, and I'd found myself thinking dangerous thoughts like, Maybe even a guy that feminine could get me going. But she really was female. My cock's radar hadn't been wrong after all.
"Wh-what do I do…?"
"N-Nia?"
"What am I supposed to…"
Nia bit her lip in that cute way of hers, clearly wrestling with what came next.
Thinking about it, we'd gotten so close I'd almost forgotten — she was the Crown Prince. If the fact that the Crown Prince was a woman ever got out, the entire world would flip upside down. Was this even okay right now?
Wasn't this actually incredibly dangerous?
The second that thought crossed my mind, Nia's hands moved. She cast Dual Casting, and magic bound me in place. I tried to thrash free on pure reflex and failed — she had me completely restrained.
When the hell had she finished mastering that and kept it ready to go!?
"I-I'm sorry, Cali. It's not because I hate you. It's the opposite — I… I really liked you."
"W-wait, Nia! I won't tell anyone, okay? Just calm down! Please?"
"For me and His Majesty — no, for the Empire — please die, Cali. I'm sorry…"
Fuck. This time I was actually screwed…
I'd grown complacent.
After so long living in the dorms with Cali, I'd gotten far too used to him spending all his time at the club and never coming back at this hour. I hadn't taken even the most basic precautions — nothing to make sure I'd notice if he walked in. I'd just stripped out of those stifling clothes, washed myself clean, and focused entirely on the relief of stepping out refreshed.
Student council work and everything else had been piling stress on me from every direction lately. This was the one happy stretch of time that let me unwind — and I'd gotten dangerously careless about it.
It was such a stupid, inexcusable blunder that I wanted to hurl every curse I knew at myself.
And yet, even now, Cali was so absurdly kind that instead of recoiling at the discovery I was a woman, he was fretting over me and apologizing. I was the one who'd been lying. He was the one who'd stumbled onto the secret by accident — and still he was thinking of me with that gentle consideration. It was so completely unlike any "human" behavior I knew that a wave of emotion washed over me before I could stop it.
…Don't think such foolish things.
Even if Cali could say that now — would he still say the same later?
I'd seen it countless times in the world of politics: people who started out kind, only to turn around and betray His Majesty in the end. Cali wasn't powerless. He was the heir to House Gladis. There was no telling what he might demand later, using this as leverage.
No matter how I turned it over, reason told me the best option was to kill Cali here and somehow bury the truth.
"Wh-what do I do…?"
"N-Nia?"
"What am I supposed to…"
I didn't know.
What choice was I supposed to make?
Follow reason — kill Cali if that was what it took to protect this secret? Or trust him, and live with whatever came of that choice?
And in the middle of that, Cali seemed to sense what I was wrestling with. He shifted his weight, as if preparing to edge backward.
I have to stop him from running first.
Panic sharpened my focus. I used the Dual Casting I'd been practicing only moments ago and bound him as fast as I could. The chance of failure should have been high — but somehow it worked, and I was grateful for that. Against Cali, I never would have been able to overpower him any other way. I knew he'd trained in swordsmanship, after all.
"I-I'm sorry, Cali. It's not because I hate you. It's the opposite — I… I really liked you."
"W-wait, Nia! I won't tell anyone, okay? Just calm down! Please?"
"For me and His Majesty — no, for the Empire — please die, Cali. I'm sorry…"
There was no other way.
If some ordinary commoner had walked in on me, they would have had no real voice — no one would have believed them. But Cali? Once he became head of House Gladis, he would be someone who could formally raise the issue and force the Empire to confront it. Risking that kind of liability for the sake of my own feelings alone could never be a sane choice.
Killing someone already restrained didn't require particularly advanced magic. A compressed fireball at my fingertips would be more than enough. Drive it straight into Cali's heart, and ending his life would be simple.
"Ni… a…"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…!"
If I'd just been more careful — more present — none of this would have happened. And if I hadn't insisted in the first place that sharing a dorm with a boy was fine, that no one would ever find out… if I'd just quietly taken a room alone, I never would have had to kill Cali like this.
All of it was my fault.
Overrating myself — claiming I could pull off something I clearly couldn't. Using exhaustion as an excuse to indulge in complacency. Every last bit of it came from my own moral failing.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Cali. All of it — all of it is because of me. So… hate me as much as you want…"
The magic I'd just activated glowed at my fingertips. Slowly, I moved that hand toward Cali's heart.
One thrust, and everything would be over. Cali would die resenting my stupidity, and I would regret this — over and over again. But that regret would belong only to "me," and in this life, someone like "me" wasn't needed.
"Don't… cry."
"Eh…?"
I had steeled myself. I was about to drive the magic home — and then Cali said something completely unsuited to a man about to die.
Startled, I lifted my other hand to my face and felt the back of it grow wet with tears.
…I was crying.
"Fuck, is that… the face of someone about to kill a person?"
"I…"
I didn't understand. In my head, the calculation was already finished — end it here, and it would be done. But looking at Cali's expression, more pity for me than fear of his own death, my hand refused to move. As if something had bound it in place.
"Go ahead and kill me. Honestly, I don't know what kind of shit is going on with the country. But if I'm dying because of that fucked-up nation, then so be it."
"Dying… because of the country…"
I clenched my teeth at the resentment in his eyes — resentment aimed not at me, but at the Empire. I wished he would just hate me instead. That look, as if he already understood everything, kept tearing at me.
"Hey. Killing me is fine, but let me leave one last will."
"…What?"
"Tell my father for me. Tell him I really was 'Siwoo.' That drawing — not swordsmanship — was my true calling all along. Tell him not to feel bad that I died without carrying on the family's sword tradition."
"…Huh?"
What was he talking about all of a sudden?
Cali… Cali was the artist Siwoo!?