I Shouldn't Have Taken That Nun's Habit... — From Sirmiia's Diary of Regrets
I must have been dragged along for quite a while before we finally arrived at the reeducation chamber.
These fucking ignorant bastards.
If even savages like these could strut around as cathedral knights, I could already guess the current state of the Church.
"Haa..."
The young knight removed the gag from my mouth. I had plenty I wanted to say about this situation.
"Huu..."
I drew in ragged breaths, my lungs still starved for air, and tried to explain this ridiculous mess. The knights didn't even pretend to listen. They looked at me like a barking dog.
Wasn't this too much?
In the end, I was left alone without any help. Seriously. What a goddamn life.
Once the knights had all left, I turned to the mirror to resolve the question that had been nagging at me since earlier. The moment I saw my reflection, a startled yelp escaped my throat.
Long, glossy hair that cascaded down my back. A height that had shrunk by nearly twenty centimeters to around 160. A slender waist and a full chest. The handsome face I'd once possessed was nowhere to be found. I had gone from a pretty boy to something dangerously close to a pretty girl—missing only one letter.
At least the blue eyes and navy hair I'd inherited from my parents remained unchanged. That was the only mercy.
Olga of the Four Heavenly Kings was nowhere in the mirror. Only a girl with a cold, aloof expression stood there.
Meanwhile, the shirt I'd been wearing as a man now hung precariously over my chest and shoulders, while my pants and underwear clung to my hips in a strangely seductive way.
No, wait. That wasn't the point right now.
The real question was how I'd ended up like this.
"Don't tell me... I got hit by Demian's magic right before the teleport?"
Thinking back, I vaguely remembered Demian shouting something just before my vision flickered out.
"Ah... ugh. Ah."
The words wouldn't come out properly. It was too damn frustrating. I'd fled to protect my chastity, only to lose both the morning eggs and the sausage. Had I ever seen anything this absurd?
"Aaaagh! My body, my boooody!"
I screamed and thrashed in panic for a long while. Then came a heavy pounding on the door, followed by a threatening voice.
"Shut your mouth, wench! If you keep making noise, I'll gag you again."
"Shut your own mouth! I'm not a wench!"
The iron door creaked open and the knight commander stepped inside. Startled by his menacing presence, I instinctively tried to gather mana and manifest a sword. But he was faster. With a vicious expression, he strode over and forced the gag back into my mouth.
I thrashed in resistance, glaring at him.
"Mmph! Mmmph!"
"How vulgar. You must be a demon after all."
The commander said this, then turned to leave. The door had barely closed before it opened again. He tossed a set of clothing at me.
"A nun's habit. You look indecent. Change into this."
I was speechless.
Who does he think he is, some kind of tsundere?
Be honest, you bastard.
And why should I wear it just because he says so?
Still, I couldn't stay in this state forever. I wasn't some exhibitionist. I channeled a bit of mana into my hand, shattered the annoying gag, and reached for the clothes. Or tried to.
What the...?
Something was wrong with the habit. Even just looking at the hem, it was short enough to be mistaken for a micro-skirt. Cognitive dissonance hit me hard.
This is supposed to be a nun's habit?
Even succubi in the demon realm wore longer skirts when they worked.
"What the hell... What is this?"
I stormed over to the iron door and knocked furiously.
Thud thud thud.
"Hey! What kind of habit is this?!"
"What's the matter?"
The door swung open and the knight commander entered once more. He glanced at the broken gag on the floor, then asked in a perfectly calm tone,
"What seems to be the problem?"
"What do you mean, what's the problem? Can't you see the length of this skirt? You call this a nun's habit? It's a whore's outfit. Even a succubus wouldn't work in something this short!"
The commander frowned and sighed.
"Demon wench. Such foul language. This design was personally approved by His Holiness the Pope. It has been praised for its practicality, convenience, and safety—superior to the old habits in every way. A demon like you has no right to complain."
"So the old pervert really was a pervert. More importantly, stop calling me a demon. I'm human! I only ended up here because of circumstances!"
"Hmph. I'm sure. If you don't want to wear it, hand it over. I'll take it back."
He extended his right hand, expecting me to return the habit. I started to give it to him, then hesitated. I looked down at my current clothes, then back at the habit.
Honestly... wasn't my current state even more indecent?
"Ah..."
"What are you doing? Give it here."
Comparing the two, I couldn't bring myself to hand it over so easily. Annoyed by my hesitation, the commander snatched the habit away.
"W-wait—"
"What now?"
"Still... just..."
"I can't hear you."
My face burned red.
Why do I have to say it out loud?
Shame flooded through me.
"...I'll wear it."
"Tch. Making up your mind and changing it again. Disgusting demon wench."
He slammed the door shut and left. Even after he was gone, I stood there for a long time, staring at the habit spread out on the floor.
I... have to wear this, don't I?
I seriously questioned whether putting it on was the right thing to do. I was a man. I was Olga, one of the Four Heavenly Kings of the Demon Realm. I repeated it to myself like a mantra. The mere thought of wearing a skirt made me feel sick.
"Maybe I just shouldn't wear it..."
Even imagining the title "The Four Heavenly King of the Demon Realm Wears a Nun's Habit" was ridiculous. It was practically blasphemy.
Ah, whatever. I'll just wear it and commit blasphemy.
I wasn't the type to agonize over things like this for long. I was about to strip off the bothersome shirt and undo my pants when a very serious problem occurred to me.
I had no underwear.
The boxers I was currently wearing had loosened at the waist and no longer served their purpose. Did that mean I had to wear this absurdly short habit without any panties?
Hmm...
The thought alone made me uncomfortable. Frowning, I pulled my pants back up, slipped the slipping shirt back on, and knocked on the door again.
"What is it now?"
"I don't have any underwear."
"What? Are you some kind of exhibitionist?"
"...No!"
Irritated by my strong reaction, the commander told me to wait with a thoroughly displeased expression before shutting the door. A few minutes later, he returned with a blank-faced nun.
"She will assist you."
With that, he left the room. The nun and I were alone.
Leaving me—a suspected demon—with a nun in the same room? Was he not worried about a hostage situation? Or was he that confident?
She kept her veil on and maintained an expressionless face the entire time. At first glance, her cold demeanor might have made her seem unapproachable, but her sapphire-blue eyes and the refreshing light-blue hair actually harmonized beautifully with her blank expression, giving her an air of mysterious charm.
While I was having that idiotic thought about "a cold cathedral woman," the Ice Saint spoke first.
"Hello. My name is Angelica. I'm a nun serving at Notre Dame Cathedral."
"I'm Sirmiia."
"That's a lovely name. Your parents must have cherished you very much."
It was a name I'd just made up on the spot.
"Yes, they did."
My mother had died giving birth to me, and my father had gone to war when I was six and never returned.
"......"
Once the greetings were over, an unbearably long silence settled between us. I was seriously considering what kind of joke I could make to break the icy atmosphere when she spoke again.
"Could you tell me your sizes? Top and bottom, including underwear."
"Th-three?"
Crap. I'd blurted it out in panic.
"Ahem."
"Your usual underwear size, I mean."
"...I-I'm not really familiar with that sort of thing. I always had my maids help me dress, so..."
How the hell would I know the underwear size of a body I'd only just acquired? Even I knew it was a stupid excuse, but I went with it anyway. What was she going to do about it?
"Ah... I see. In that case, let's measure everything again and start from the beginning with how to wear them."
I had no say in the matter. I could only nod blankly.
Fortunately, Angelica was extremely efficient. She immediately asked me to remove my shirt. But with her watching, I suddenly felt embarrassed and couldn't do it. While I hesitated, she frowned and yanked the shirt off me in one swift motion.
That overwhelming force made me decide it was better to just obey quietly.
Her personality was just as prickly as her expression. After checking my bust size, she found a similar cup size and helped me into a bra. Then she used a measuring tape to take my underbust and overbust measurements.
Hmm...
Angelica, a stunning beauty, was pressed right up against me. Sure, her ridiculously large chest was pressing against my body without mercy, but strangely enough, my mind remained as calm as a still lake. Not even the slightest trace of lust stirred.
Why...? Olga, you crazy bastard! Get a grip... Has your head turned into a woman's too?
By the time she'd finished measuring my hip circumference as well, I was left with nothing but a crushing sense of self-loathing and the question of what exactly I was doing with my life.
"Your cup size is 80C. Since you have a bit of width in the hips and rear, you'll want size 95 for the panties."
"Yes..."
I didn't really understand what she was saying. I just wanted it to be over, so I nodded.
After that, Angelica forced me to learn how to put on a bra properly. She even inspected me putting on the underwear by myself before finally waving and leaving the room.
Her perfection was draining. I felt like I'd just lost 99% of my masculinity.
I'm exhausted...
Standing around in just my underwear was starting to feel cold, so I picked up the habit from the floor to put it on. The moment I touched it, a new question arose.
"How the hell do you even wear this thing?"
Year 76 of my demonic life. Once again, I found myself facing an unprecedented dilemma that would haunt me for the rest of my days.