Amelia's Massage
Rina guides me to what she calls the barracks restaurant, but it's nothing like what I imagined. Just a clean-looking building on one side of the east gate street, right outside the guard barracks.
"This is the barracks restaurant?"
"Yep. Didn't you know?"
"Uh... no."
I had no clue. I'd seen guards coming and going while walking around, but I never dreamed it was a restaurant. I figured a "barracks restaurant" meant some cramped spot inside the barracks, but my guess was way off.
"Lucky timing—no crowd, so you can eat in peace."
"Got it."
I don't mind crowds, but I nod and head inside with Rina anyway.
A few soldiers sit eating hearty stews packed with meat or salads.
"Have a seat over there and wait a sec. Oh, what do you want from the menu?"
"Anything's fine—I'm not picky."
"Ugh, that's the hardest order. Okay, got it."
She parks me in a quiet corner and slips into the kitchen. Soon she's back with a massive tray loaded with food.
"Rina, are you a mage by any chance?"
"Huh? No, I don't know any magic."
"Then the chef's a mage?"
"...???"
"Nah, just kidding."
I tried for a light joke, but her blank blinking tells me it bombed.
Anyway, the food's a stew, salad, and perfectly grilled slabs of meat.
"Oh, no booze here—just water. That cool?"
"Yep. Love water."
Back at the guild, I always preferred water over bland beer. Lately I've had milk, but water's my default.
"Dig in!"
"You too, Rina."
"Hehe, yep!!"
She starts eating with a girlish grin she hasn't quite outgrown. My gut's rumbling like an idiot, so I shove food in fast.
A few frantic bites later.
"Uh... try this too."
"Thanks."
I take a thick chunk of meat off her outstretched fork.
She feeds me a few more bites of meat or salad-dipped forkfuls. Before long, the plates are spotless.
"Whoa... you ate tons."
"I have a big appetite."
"Wow..."
Not sure, but Rina and the other guards around stare at me like I've lost my mind. Was my eating that weird? Yeah, I did go overboard. Kinda embarrassing now.
I clear my throat. "Ahem. Hey, Rina? I've got guild stuff to do."
"Ack!! Hold on!!"
She grabs the empty tray and dashes to the kitchen, back even faster.
"Ready!! Let's go!!"
"Uh, yep."
Thanks to her escort, I make it back safe.
"See ya!!"
"Take care."
"Yep!!"
No one's dumb enough to attack a guard like Rina, but hey, someone worrying feels nice.
I pat my stuffed belly and sneak back to my room through the rear door.
"Man, it's empty."
Just a few lonely wood logs. As the owner, it kinda hurts.
"What was that skinnywood again?"
They all look like scrawny-ass sticks no matter how I squint. I give up and dump the whole pile into my material storage.
I spot the skinnywood and a few random scraps, then close the window.
"Fuck, only 300g from those logs? They looked like 10kg chunks. What a scam tree."
Unlike the stockings, my new registered item needs at least 2kg of main material.
"2kg isn't heavy, but for a bow, shouldn't it be lighter?"
Whining won't help. The issue's sourcing more skinnywood.
Easiest is asking Giena, but...
"Better wait for Siron and have her grab some. No way I'm suffering that hell again."
Sitting still for half a day listening to bow talk? Hard pass. I shake my head.
"Wonder when Siron's back."
I blacked out earlier, wasting time. Sun's already dipping low. Could craft a new holy artifact, but I haven't named the new one properly, and unlike last time, I kinda get the approach now—no rush.
Bottom line: I need some spark of inspiration.
"Too late for a workout."
Using the training ground would bug other adventurers. Simple room exercises exist, but not feeling it today.
"Nap to recharge?"
Not sleepy, but lying down might do it.
"...Oh."
As I perch on the bed, a crucial memory hits.
"Dodged a bullet there."
Forgot Amelia's massage? Nearly got my head on a pike.
"Help her out downstairs?"
I suck at cooking, but serving's easy. Gotta earn points—she rags on me for freeloading.
I slip out quietly, down the back stairs to the kitchen. Evening rush—everyone's prepping like mad. Naturally, sis lounges near her usual spot, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Sis."
"...What. Why're you here."
"Thought maybe I could help."
"What help from a guy? Noisy ass—go upstairs."
Why's she so prickly today?
"And kid."
"Yeah?"
"If you're gonna fuck, do it at night. Why start at dinner and make a racket?"
"Huh?"
"The fuck. What else? You and that bitch screwing? Ceiling creaking like mad. Bed okay? Floor at least?"
"Uh, well..."
Head spins. We got rough last night, but the ceiling creaking? No way. Explains the receptionists eyeing Siron jealously this morning.
"You assholes got the girls all horny last night—total shitshow. Got it?"
"Ahem..."
Yeah, my room's above the dining hall. But still bullshit—we stayed on the bed. Hard wooden frame too.
"What's with the face."
"Just regretting troubling you, sis."
Unfair or not, I wanna live long and limber.
"Anyway, no help needed—fuck off quietly."
"Wait in your room then?"
"Huh? Why my room."
"Massage day, right? You didn't forget?"
"..."
Her fierce glare twitches.
"Right... yeah. Fuck. Your fault—couldn't think straight after your shit last night, you prick."
"Fair enough."
Ceiling might've creaked a bit. Big deal?
"Anyway... whatever. I don't care, but you're free tonight?"
"Yep. Deliveries start next month, nothing pressing now."
New artifact'll busy me, but massage first for sis's mood—and sneak in favors. Realized Siron's tied up with north street repairs, so no asking her for wood yet.
"...Fine. Wait in my room."
"Got it. Be up there."
I detour to my room first. Scribble on torn scroll scrap with pilfered quill: Off to massage sis in her room—back soon. Stick it on desk and door.
"She worries despite the grumbling. This'll ease it."
Nod and head to her room.
"Coulda lived clean like this ages ago—why the mess before?"
Unlike the old days with empty barrels and laundry everywhere, it's spotless now. Impeccably so.
"What to do while waiting?"
Went down to kill time, but straight back up. Dirty room? Clean while waiting. Too clean now—gotta tiptoe not to mess it.
"Napping on her bed's a no-go."
Tempting with her scent soaked in, but no excuse later, plus bad optics.
"Hmm..."
I poke around bed unders, desk, drawers—hiding spots.
"Nada, huh."
Hoped for naughty stash. Just dust bunnies.
"Wait..."
Eyes land on the un-searched spot: wardrobe.
"Peeked drawers before, but..."
Was too mesmerized by her dark rose panties.
"Men seize chances. When else can I legally snoop?"
Might spark Holy Artifact Creation too.
"Let's see..."
Open wardrobe: white shirts, her fave black/brown leather pants, old scabbard with sword in corner.
Close carefully, open drawers.
"Whoa..."
Huge dark red bra—face-sized.
"All drab colors."
Mostly blackish-red or deep crimson. Dig through neatly rolled undies—no luck.
But...
"Oh... she has these after all."
I unfold a scandalous black rose-embroidered panty—crotch gaping wide, failing basic duty.
"Sis wears this—"
"What the fuck are you doing."
"Hieeek!!"
Her voice right beside me—I tumble forward in shock.
"S-s-s-s-sis...?"
"..."
Her gaze down at sprawled me is icy. Dagger to the heart.
"You... that's in your hand..."
"M-misunderstanding!!"
Survival instinct kicks in—I leap up, fan out the panty.
"Massage."
"Huh?"
Her face twists more. Decision time.
"In my tribe, women wear these undies for massages. So—"
Screw thinking.
"Change into it now."
Even I think it's insane.