Gift (3)
The dawn air crept in through the cracks in the window, inching its way inside.
Spring mornings were still chilly.
Lowen felt the prickle of cold against his skin and slowly opened his eyes.
"Mm... haah..."
Mornings were always miserable.
Waking up early was even worse.
It had been the same back when he was a knight, though back then a sense of duty had at least taken the edge off the misery.
"Looks like things are peaceful enough."
Small incidents cropped up now and then, but compared to the past, everything that happened here was child's play.
Lowen tossed and turned on the bed before stretching.
"Nngh... hah..."
Getting up was still a pain, but a solid night's sleep had left his body feeling refreshed.
Ariel had been quiet yesterday.
He had fully expected her to spend the whole night fondling herself while replaying the memory of them sucking each other off.
But she seemed to have slept soundly.
"Has she finally come to her senses a little?"
Still in his sleepwear, Lowen felt the chill and changed into his clerical robes.
The day was colder than usual, so he draped a blanket over his shoulders as well.
On mornings this crisp, even a brief exposure to the cold could easily lead to a cold.
Lowen put on his cold glasses and headed downstairs.
Preparing breakfast before morning prayers was how every day began.
"Hm?"
The kitchen light was on. He could hear the clatter of dishes, the sounds of someone bustling about, and a flustered little "hawaah" of someone in a panic.
Did she wake up early because she was hungry?
Lowen peered through the crack of light spilling from the doorway.
"Huh..."
The moment he looked inside, his words caught in his throat.
Ariel was cooking!
The fact that she had gotten up early to prepare a meal was surprising enough on its own.
But that was not what left Lowen speechless.
It was her outfit.
A white slip that left her plump, full buttocks completely visible through the fabric.
Garter rings bit into her thighs, making the soft flesh bulge out around them.
On top of that, she had pulled her hair—normally cascading down to her hips—up into a high ponytail, so the nape of her neck, her back, her pelvis, and her ass were all on full display.
The one small mercy was that she was at least wearing underwear.
But even that was not her usual kind; it was a stringy, lewd scrap of fabric that might as well have been nothing at all.
Lowen stared at Ariel, who was practically half-naked.
"That lewd Saintess is..."
Putting him through a trial.
Ever since last time she had been rolling around and casually flashing her thighs; now she was being outright blatant.
Had one little caress gone to her head?
Every time she moved, her ass jiggled.
The feel of it was still vivid on his fingers.
Soft and fluffy like cotton candy, yet springy and chewy like rice cake.
The way his fingers sank into that flesh had stirred a deep hunger, and the shape of it—like a peach bursting with juice—had been utterly mouthwatering.
Even now, looking at it brought back the memory of kneading her ass while she gave him a blowjob.
He had been trying so hard to scrub that from his mind.
Lowen made the sign of the cross, seeking peace of mind.
Had some actual faith finally taken root in him?
He managed to calm himself, at least a little.
He stepped into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Saintess."
At Lowen's greeting, Ariel—who had been completely focused on the pan—let out a startled "Uwaaah!" and spun around.
"Ah... L-Lowen, Bishop... g-g-good morning."
Whether from the heat of the stove or something else entirely, her cheeks were already flushed a rosy red.
"......"
Seeing her from the front, Lowen frantically made the sign of the cross in his mind over and over.
The front was even more obscene than the back.
A smooth belly with a long vertical navel running down its center.
The butterfly-shaped stigma on her lower abdomen was proudly on display, and the string underwear that had looked like mere straps from behind was now stretched so precariously over her sex that it barely covered her labia at all.
And her breasts!
Those massive breasts that dominated her entire presence.
They were covered by the lace slip, but looking closer, he could see her soft pink nipples peeking through the petal-like lace.
Oh, for heaven's sake...
"Today... I was preparing breakfast myself."
Spatula in hand, Ariel looked up at Lowen with the most natural smile she could manage.
It was not quite a "Breakfast is me...!" situation; she was making the omelette Lowen had taught her yesterday.
"Hah..."
Lowen closed his eyes and pressed hard on his brow.
"Preparing breakfast is fine."
He opened his eyes again, deliberately looking elsewhere, and pointed a finger at her.
"But what is that outfit?"
Ariel seemed well aware of how absurd she looked. At his words her entire face turned scarlet, and her lips trembled.
"Th-that's... Miss Clea... said it was sleepwear you wear when you want to express gratitude... and she gave it to me as a gift..."
The image of that slyly smiling merchant witch flashed through Lowen's mind, and his temple throbbed.
When had she given her something like that?
It was the kind of outfit a bride wore on her wedding night to set the mood.
And she had even slapped some ridiculous meaning on it—"sleepwear for expressing gratitude."
Well, strictly speaking, it was not entirely wrong.
Someone might prepare an event like that to show a man how thankful they were.
But the important point was that it was not something a Saintess should be wearing.
"Does it not suit me...?"
Ariel peeked up at Lowen with moist eyes.
Honestly speaking, it suited her far too well—that was the problem.
A lewd body plus lewd sleepwear multiplied the effect on a man's heart by more than three.
Factor in her status as a Saintess and the added thrill of taboo, and it became six.
"Saintess...!"
Lowen grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Hic!"
Ariel clutched the spatula to her chest with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut.
This was not what she had been hoping for, but she had read similar scenes in novels before.
The moment the male lead grabbed the heroine's shoulders, he would kiss her and then take her right there on the spot, pounding away from behind.
"Ah... you can't, Bishop Lowen. I'm... a Saintess, so... if you do something like that......"
As she murmured in a trembling little voice, a warm blanket settled over her shoulders.
"Huh...?"
Ariel cautiously opened her eyes.
Lowen had taken the blanket from around his own shoulders, wrapped it around her, and carefully fastened it in front.
"The weather is still cold. Dressed like that, you will catch a cold."
Exhaustion cast a shadow over Lowen's face.
"Preparing breakfast all by yourself... you really are a good girl."
Once the blanket completely covered her lovely skin, he gently patted her on the head.
"I will go wash my face for a moment."
Lowen turned and left the kitchen.
The instant the door closed behind him, he leaned his back against it and raked a hand through his bangs.
"Hah......"
He stared into empty space with weary eyes, letting out one heavy sigh after another.
"A year might be far too long......"
The omelette Ariel had worked so hard on was a mess of a shape, and one side had burned black.
"I'm sorry..."
Faced with the sorry excuse for a meal she had served, Ariel hung her head low over the omelette.
"Not at all. For something you made right after learning it yesterday, you did remarkably well."
Lowen cut the omelette into small pieces and dipped them in tomato sauce.
The sweet-and-sour flavor of the sauce covered for it somewhat, but the omelette itself was extremely sweet—as if she had dumped in a mountain of sugar.
"You don't have to eat all of it..."
Watching Lowen's plate empty, Ariel felt both guilt and a swelling sense of fullness deep in her belly.
The first meal she had ever made alone—a complete disaster—and Lowen had called it delicious and eaten every last bite.
It was a feeling she had never experienced before.
She did not know what to call it.
It was like a caterpillar crawling over her skin, a ticklish shiver, and a tight, aching squeeze somewhere deep inside her body.
"So what sudden wind blew you this way?"
Having cleaned his plate, Lowen looked across at her.
"This omelette, and... that earlier as well..."
Now changed into her usual dress, Ariel fidgeted before finally speaking.
"I wanted to express my gratitude to you, Bishop Lowen."
"Gratitude?"
"With the cat last time, and in everyday life too... I'm grateful for so many things."
Only then did Lowen roughly understand the situation.
Wanting to make an omelette together yesterday, getting up alone this morning to cook one, and even putting on that scrap of fabric she had been told was "sleepwear for expressing gratitude"—he could finally see how it all connected.
"You do not need to express it that way."
Lowen poured warm black tea into Ariel's cup.
"I already know perfectly well how grateful you feel toward me."
"Huh...?"
"Just seeing you smile so brightly when you eat the food I make is enough. And when you sit on the floor I scrubbed clean and take a peaceful nap, or when you put on the clothes I washed and flutter around happily—I can always feel how thankful you are."
Lowen closed his eyes and nodded.
"Your expressions of gratitude are more than sufficient. There is no need to push yourself like you did today."
"Yes..."
Feeling as though she had been scolded, Ariel nodded dejectedly.
"Still... having a meal you made for me every now and then is not so bad."
Lowen smiled gently.
"When the chance comes, please make something for me again next time."
The gloom that had settled over Ariel's heart like fog was swept away by a spring breeze.
A fragrant floral scent spread through her.
A refreshing spring wind reached out and touched the heaviness inside her chest.
The spring air was still chilly.
But the warmth blooming in one corner of her heart told her—yes, this was spring.
I liked this chapter so much that I doodled Ariel's butt!
I'm posting it here because it might break the flow if I put it in the middle.
I wanted to draw her looking a bit slimmer, but all I can manage are voluptuous female bodies, so her thighs came out thicker than I intended;;
And the slip I had in mind was a bit more sheer and sexy, but because of the limits of what I can express—and in case it might get cut—I ended up drawing it more opaque.