Dungeon Crafting (7)
Normally, I did everything in my power to avoid calling Karia an old maid or a spinster.
Whatever spilled out involuntarily thanks to the Mesugaki skill's forced translation was one thing, but I'd genuinely planned to keep that kind of talk to a minimum.
But when she grinned while holding out that bunny girl outfit? I just couldn't hold back.
'Wrinkled, catty, AND a disgusting pervert♡ Have you finally decided to live alone for the rest of your life?♡ That's right. You'll be alone no matter how hard you thrash around, so you might as well accept it♡ Very wise of you!♡'
'Who said I gave up?! I'm still in my prime! In the springtime of my life!'
'Don't scrunch up your face like that♡ You'll just add more wrinkles♡ You're old enough already—one more growth spurt in the age department and you won't be a spinster auntie anymore, you'll be a grandma who never married♡'
'Ughhh! Come oooon!'
I'd traded insults with Karia as she slammed her fist on the desk and leapt to her feet like her heart had been shattered, but that didn't mean I could refuse the bunny girl outfit she was holding out to me.
I didn't want to wear it. Honestly, the moment I laid eyes on the thing, all I wanted to do was tear it to shreds on the spot. But nullifying a promise made in the past now that it had come due? Not happening.
So with a resigned sigh, I stuffed the bunny outfit into my inventory and asked Karia whether that jewelry was really as valuable as she claimed. I'd never once heard it suggested that anything crafted by the Art Cult could be less than priceless.
'I wasn't joking. That apostle is a pervert lower than a worm, sure, but the ability he actually possesses is the real deal. Jewelry processed by the Pervert Apostle is precious enough to be presented as a royal birthday gift.'
To confirm this, I went to find Joy and asked if she knew about jewelry made by the Art Cult's apostle. She tilted her head as if to say, why even ask something so obvious?
'They're things money can't buy. In high society, simply showing up wearing an ornament crafted by the Art Cult's apostle is enough to become the talk of the entire gathering. Even I have thought about how I'd love to wear one someday.'
'You think the students will like it? I assume there's no one who wouldn't. The noble young ladies and heirs go without saying—even the commoner students would be overjoyed to receive one. And even those with no interest in jewelry would realize they could sell it for a fortune, so they'd chase after it with their eyes blazing.'
Curious just how much money we were talking about for Joy to say that, I asked—and it turned out the price was genuinely whatever anyone was willing to pay. That apostle of the Art Cult. I'd written him off as nothing but a disgusting pervert, but it turned out he was actually quite capable.
Although really, all that meant was that he'd evolved from a plain pervert into a capable pervert.
Anyway, having concluded that if we could secure the jewelry, placing it as the dungeon's clear reward was the best possible move, I decided I'd have to make a request to the Art Cult's apostle.
And then, the next morning.
The moment I arrived at the forest where the Face-Connoisseur Fox lived, the fox appeared in human form.
"Ah, you've come. I've been waiting."
With only the faintest lift at the corner of her mouth, her perfectly composed bearing was so beautiful the word 'elegance' rose unbidden to mind—but that impression didn't last long.
The upward curve of her lips melted away, and in the same instant the dignified woman vanished, replaced by a revolting, nauseating pervert.
"Ahh. A face I see every day, and yet seen through my true body's eyes, it holds a different beauty entirely. If my heart had its way, I would gather you into my arms and never let you go."
When she asked me to stay in her forest forever, promising to grant my every wish, there was only one answer I could give.
"Really?♡ You'd do absolutely anything I wish for?♡"
"Of course! If I could have you by my side, I would grant you anything!"
"Then please just die♡ I think this forest would be so much nicer once a disgusting pervert like you is gone♡"
"Hrk... haaaark... Could you not ask me to die a second time? Look upon this one with those eyes! The eyes that gaze upon me as if I were a revolting piece of trash!"
"Drop dead♡ Bite your tongue and kill yourself♡ Apologize to this forest for making a disgusting pervert like you its master, and die a miserable, wretched death♡"
"...Mmh. So this is what it feels like to die of happiness. Had the goddess not been waiting beyond, I believe I truly would have passed on to the great beyond."
Watching her bleed from the nose in an unbroken stream, too excited to contain herself, I found myself praying—please, just die already.
If she hadn't been a powerhouse on the level of a Lord of the Forest, I'd have happily walloped the back of her head with my mace and sent her to the afterlife myself.
I was busy fiddling with my mace and lamenting my own weakness when the Face-Connoisseur Fox wiped her nosebleed away with her sleeve and scattered her power into the air around us.
"One cannot leave a guest as precious as you standing outside. Come, let us make for the manor."
The instant she finished speaking, the scenery around us flipped.
From the tree-thick edge of the forest to the interior of the Face-Connoisseur Fox's manor, where I'd visited once before.
Not so much as the faintest whiff of teleportation side effects—just a perfectly clean transition.
One of the authorities a Lord of the Forest could wield within her own domain, I supposed.
"Wait a little, and that pervert will arrive here as well. In the meantime, let us have some tea."
'Is the apostle-nim near the forest?'
"That pervert apostle is near this forest?"
"No. He is cutting straight through the forest, making his way here even now."
'He's inside the forest? Then...'
"He's inside the forest? Then why don't you just go fetch him yourself, you Face-Connoisseur Fox?"
Hearing my question, the Face-Connoisseur Fox wore an expression so grave it bordered on outright revulsion as she replied.
"And why, pray tell, should I exert my power on behalf of a revolting man?"
Oh, so it's a biological impossibility for her?
I know that feeling well. It's literally what I think every single time I look at you.
And here I thought a pervert with zero self-restraint like you would never understand such an emotion. Turns out you do, huh?
Wow. Amazing.
But then why can't you spare a shred of that empathy for my feelings, you perverted piece of trash?!
Watching her discriminate against her own kind briefly lit a fire under me, but instead of blowing up, I just let out a long sigh.
Experience had taught me that no matter how furiously I expressed my rage, it would only delight the Face-Connoisseur Fox further.
"Pay that lout no mind. Simply tell me what tea you would like. For your sake, I am prepared to surrender even the most precious of treasures."
'I'm fine, thank you. I'll pass.'
"No~ thanks. How do I know what kind of weird stuff you might slip in there, huh? I'll pass. Drink it alone until you burst."
Having rejected the Face-Connoisseur Fox's offer, I ignored her desperate protests that she had no ill intentions whatsoever and slipped into a suitably empty room.
I secured the door.
I blocked out all sound.
I even raised a barrier of divinity so her perverted antics couldn't reach me. Then I pulled the bunny girl outfit out of my inventory.
Coming face to face again with an outfit I'd assumed I'd never wear for the rest of my life wrung yet another sigh out of me.
I'd thought it before, and I'll think it again now—this is not clothing.
How is this a garment when it performs precisely none of clothing's function of covering your skin?!
I curse the me of the past who shouted over his monitor, "Yeah! THIS is what clothes and costumes are!"
...No, honestly, as long as it wasn't me wearing it right now, I'd probably still say exactly that.
<What can you do, child? This calamity is one you summoned upon yourself.>
'Oh. Right. Grandpa was still here, wasn't he.'
<Hm? Child? Child?!>
The Face-Connoisseur Fox had me so rattled I'd nearly forgotten Grandpa existed.
Ignoring Grandpa's cries to wait just a moment, I stuffed the mace back into my inventory, sighed once more, and pulled my top up over my head.
Maybe if I bonked myself over the head with the mace afterward, I could blast today's memories right out of my skull.
Frete had been compelled to attend the festival when the Art Cult threatened to cut off his support if he did not work in his capacity as their apostle—and it was there that he encountered the miracle called Lucy Aln.
The girl was, quite simply, a living, breathing work of art.
Eyes more vivid and luminous than any jewel.
Skin whiter and smoother than polished marble.
Hair like scarlet silk that scattered with every step she took.
A voice that seeped into the ear like the singing of angels.
The moment he committed her existence to memory, a flood of artistic inspiration burst through Frete's mind—and in the same instant, the goddess's revelation brushed past his ear.
'My apostle. Sing the praises of the child whose beauty will make this world shine all the brighter.'
The moment he heard that voice, Frete answered the goddess without a flicker of hesitation—he would gladly shoulder this sacred duty—and then he set about carrying it out.
The instant the Partran Festival ended, he departed the territory, and beginning at the Art Cult's grand cathedral, he spread across the world the song that proclaimed the beauty of Lucy Aln.
Had the goddess not descended a revelation commanding him to repel the apostle of Tariki, Frete would likely still have been wandering the land, singing to this very day.
And when he encountered the miracle bearing the name Lucy Aln once more in the Burrow Territory, Frete came to understand that her beauty did not end at the surface.
What a righteous, virtuous heart—to sacrifice oneself so willingly for the sake of saving others!
The moment he saw her smiling proudly with all that pain wrapped around her, Frete realized his song had failed to capture any of it, and he resolved once more to spread her beauty to the world.
The fact that Lucy served the Chief God meant nothing to him.
The vermin of the Chief God's church, who feigned devotion to the divine while lining their own pockets, and Lucy Aln—a being rightfully called a miracle wrought by god's own hands—were creatures of entirely different stock.
And then, not long after.
The instant he laid eyes on Lucy—her charm elevated a full tier along with her standing—Frete knew with absolute certainty that proclaiming her beauty had become one of the great purposes of his life.
That form, so radiant that even daring to meet her gaze felt like sacrilege, had never once left his mind in all the days since.
Even now, in this very moment as he crossed the forest to reunite with Lucy, her image shimmered before Frete's eyes.
"O Goddess. Can one such as I truly capture her beauty properly upon the canvas?"
Yet the smile carved into his mouth was stiff. To be going to meet the Young Lady of House Aln—a living recreation of the very word 'miracle'—was of course a joyful thing.
Were it left to his heart, Frete would have wished to stand at her side all year round, drinking in Lucy's beauty without end.
And yet Frete could not feel pure joy, for the burden carved into his shoulders was simply too enormous.
It was well and good that he had been granted the chance to render the Young Lady of House Aln's beauty upon canvas. But could he, truly?
Could a worthless scrap like him?
Could this fool, nothing more than a humble mortal?
Possibly capture, in perfect form, the beauty of the Young Lady of House Aln—a beauty that rivaled the goddess herself?
For this very moment, Frete had brought the finest equipment he could prepare—but even now, he lacked conviction.
That bewilderment stayed with him, unbroken, all the way to the moment he arrived before the manor where the Lord of the Forest dwelled.
"So you've come."
The Lord of the Forest hid none of her displeasure at Frete's presence.
Frete understood her feelings perfectly.
He was, after all, an intruder—a nuisance who barged in at the very moment she wished to commune alone with the embodiment of beauty.
Had their positions been reversed, Frete would surely have worn an expression much like hers.
"O Lord of the Forest. Where might the Young Lady of House Aln be?"
"Changing her clothes within. Wait a moment."
Creeeak.
"Ah. She's finished chang—"
The instant he turned his head toward the sound of the opening door, Frete felt every last trace of doubt drain from his heart.
Lips pressed tightly together in embarrassment.
Eyes darting this way and that, weighted with hesitation.
Cheeks tinged faintly pink.
Scarlet hair spilling down over bare white shoulders.
Sharply defined collarbones.
Delicate shoulders that defied all imagining of her usual strength.
Arms pressing down the fabric at the rising curve of her chest.
Silky-smooth thighs, and at their end, toes wiggling restlessly.
Having drunk in every last detail, Frete closed his eyes with a smile of absolute, unutterable contentment—and his soul-abandoned body toppled backward like a row of dominoes.
'Mmph... Armadi! To monopolize that child, how dare you! I too wish to laugh and chatter merrily with that adorable, precious, beautiful girl! Would you not consider a trade?! Our child is no slouch in masculine beauty either, I'll have you know...'
Amid his fading consciousness, some voice seemed to reach him—but Frete could not bring himself to listen.
His mind was already filled to bursting with the sight from mere moments ago.
Ahh. Even if I were to die now, I would die without regret.