Crushing Pressures
Thump-thump—the bathwater, now heavier with the added mass of two women, kept rippling before gradually settling down. But as the waves calmed, the heat from the two bodies sitting right beside him became all the more palpable.
Why'd they have to sit right next to me...?
A soft, feminine scent wafted subtly toward him from both sides—similar yet slightly different fragrances mingling together. His young body reacted almost immediately. Theresia, catching sight of it, burst into snickers.
"Hahaha! Come on, Master, open your eyes like a man!"
Thwack-thwack. Theresia on his left said that as she started slapping his back. It wasn't hard for her, but to an ordinary body like his, the impacts were tough to endure. He nearly opened his eyes without thinking but desperately held back. Seeing him squeeze them shut, Theresia clicked her tongue in boredom.
"Master, weren't you turning sixteen this year?"
"......Seventeen."
"Oh, what? Already old enough to have a kid, huh. Got any experience?"
His soul was at least ten years older, but this body was probably seventeen. When he corrected her, Theresia pulled his head into a headlock like that settled it.
The pain of the headlock was overshadowed by the sensation of something soft pressing against the back of his head. He barely registered the discomfort, lost in that mysterious softness.
"Wh-what are you doing?!"
Ah.
Anna yanked him free from Theresia's embrace. Just as regret started to creep in, an even larger mass of soft flesh smothered his face.
"Have you forgotten how much stronger your body is than Master's!? Look! His back is all red!"
"......That doesn't seem like my fault?"
"What are you talking about—! You were just thwacking away at him!"
Anna gently stroked the sore spot on his back where Theresia had hit. A slightly firm touch followed by a cool, inexplicable energy enveloped his whole body.
"Master, are you alright?"
"Mm, mph......"
With his face buried in her chest, Ian could only nod slightly without opening his mouth. Anna let out a relieved sigh. Theresia, of course, wasn't about to stay quiet.
She'd already thought up several ways to tease this self-proclaimed holy knight with her rigid sense of chastity.
"Oh ho, talking big like that but awfully bold, aren't you?"
"What......? What nonsense are you spouting now?"
"You said you feel no lust for Master, but what's this—rubbing your chest all over him?"
"I mean, that's not wha— Ah, aaaah—."
Only then did Anna realize she'd buried Ian's face in her bosom. Instead of pushing him away, she pulled him even closer. Better to stick tight so no one could peek.
Crushed by the pressure, Ian felt his breath cut off and started tapping her arm frantically. No way that flustered signal got through. Finally realizing he could just unsummon them, Ian endured the suffocating squeeze until he sent both back.
"Hah, hah, hah......"
Whew. Finally free, Ian splashed bathwater on his face and slicked his hair back. The hot, humid bath offered little oxygen. Figuring he'd had enough of a soak anyway, he started to stand—only for someone to open the door and enter.
"Still here, I see."
"......Your Grace?"
"Been a while?"
"No, not long."
"Stay a bit longer."
"......Pardon?"
Regardless of Ian's fluster, Duke Iritz stepped into the bath and took a seat. Thankfully, in this vast space, he didn't plop down right next to him. But the awkward silence was unavoidable.
Whoosh—the lion-head statue kept spouting water into the bath. The clear stream supplied fresh water with a crisp sound echoing through the silent space. The only noise in the quiet bathhouse.
Uncomfortable...
Bathing with his summons had been awkward too, but in a pleasant way. This silence, though? Pure discomfort. Seeming aware of it, Duke Iritz spoke up in a low voice.
"Got a lover?"
"......Pardon?"
"Figured not. Stella wouldn't go after someone who's taken."
His sudden personal question caught Ian off guard, leaving him silent. Unlike the kids a decade younger than him, this man had lived as long as Ian's original life. Even in the real world, their dynamic would be strained; facing him in this young body made words hard to find.
"Then someone you like?"
"No......one."
"Ho, really?"
"Yes."
"Nonsense."
"......Pardon?"
"You've got my daughter. Denying you're smitten? That's a lie."
And just like that, all of Ian's illusions about the man shattered. He was a classic doting dad.
Hypnos stared at the ceiling, lost in nostalgia.
"The day she was born..."
From there, the duke unleashed a torrent of boasts and praises about Stella. The once-silent bath filled with his voice. Who knew he was this loud?
But the more Ian listened, the more a disconnect grew.
"......Stella doesn't seem to see it that way."
"—And what do you know about her?"
"Well... sometimes peers feel closer than parents. Anyway—."
The duke claimed he'd loved her deeply and spared no support. Yet Stella saw him as a stern father burdened with noble duties. Where did this gap come from?
"You don't show her this side, do you?"
"......No. Can't be helped. I'm Duke Iritz, and she's the lady of Iritz."
A doting dad and a stern duke couldn't coexist. He'd chosen duty over family. Under the weight of protecting humanity, Stella had been suppressed.
"Why tell me this...?"
"I told you—don't cross the line."
"Yes."
"I've changed my mind. Become my son-in-law, Ian."
"Wait, this suddenly...?"
Just days ago he'd been hostile. What changed him? Even the duke seemed displeased, his face half-twisted like giving Stella to the likes of Ian was a waste.
"Truth be told, I still don't like you."
"Then why...?"
"Because I know you're an exceptional summoner."
A 3-star summoner who could claim vast lands and a barony anytime. Summoners were always in short supply. He'd pull one into his territory by any means.
"Stella's worth ten times more... but even yielding a hundred—no, a thousand-fold, you don't match. For humanity's sake, though, I can endure."
In this primitive world without proper summoning knowledge, a 3-star summoner was prime stock. Stella had lucked into hers; pair her with another, and their kids might summon 3-stars too. Baseless eugenics, but nobles clung to any hope.
However.
"I'm sorry."
"......You're refusing my request?"
"Yes."
"Ho, mind if I ask why?"
"Simple."
The duke's plan was long-term: have kids, grandkids, strengthen humanity over generations. Noble thinking for bloodlines.
Too slow.
"Too slow."
"Slow...?"
"Yes. Waiting for kids to grow and summon? No time for that."
By then, 'Ian Clark' would overwrite his identity. His life was already packed; marriage and kids on top?
"I'll end it all in three years."
"Ha, haha. Ian, do you grasp what you're saying?"
"Support me hard, Your Grace? Then you won't have to marry off your precious daughter to trash like me."
Hahaha. Ian and the duke laughed in unison, their voices filling the bath. Then silence fell.
"Amusing. Truly. Thought you just had talent—wit too."
"Thanks for the praise."
"Not praise. But... yes, you seem worth investing in."
"......That offer?"
"You said your family doesn't support you?"
"Yes."
With bated breath, Ian watched. Hypnos puffed his chest and spoke.
"When you leave, get a card from my attendant. Don't worry about money."
"......Thank you."
Ian bowed sincerely. Broke life was hell... now freedom. Father-in-law's pocket money... gratefully accepted!
The duke usually ate alone simply, but today he summoned Stella for a private meal. Facing his daughter, he sliced his steak with a stern expression. Only the clink of knife on plate filled the dining hall.
Hearing it, he cleared his throat at her.
"Mind your manners. Need to relearn etiquette from scratch?"
"......Sorry."
Stella stopped cutting, wiped her mouth primly with a napkin. Always like this. He was so strict she froze before him. Heart squeezed, even breathing was a chore.
"Be careful."
"......Yes, Father."
The primal fear she'd forgotten at the academy crept back. Out there, she was Iritz's lady; here, a mouse before a cat.
Mouth dry, she reached for her water. As she sipped demurely, the duke spoke.
"Marry Ian."
"Pffft—!"
Cough, hack! Choking, she sprayed water over his face and kept coughing. When it finally stopped, she stared at his saliva-splattered visage.
Oh crap.