The Lewd Heroine's Indecent Daily Routine (2) — The Reverse Bunny Suit
The Reverse Bunny outfit. No one could possibly know which depraved race dreamed up this bizarre getup, one that seemed utterly devoid of any purpose as actual clothing. According to Mona, it was a special attire passed down through generations among succubi, and she'd personally suggested it to Count Melrn. The count had gleefully approved and immediately ordered Emilia to wear it.
By the time Emilia arrived at the dining hall—having heard the full story along the way—she was seething, ready to tear the pair of them apart, her eyes narrowed in fury.
Her current outfit left her chest, belly, and privates—all the places that ought to be covered—fully exposed. What little qualified as "clothing" amounted to stockings that reached only halfway up her thighs. Beyond that: a thin ribbon necktie in place of her usual collar, a headband with cute bunny ears perched atop her head, and heart-shaped patches that barely concealed her most vital spots. She thought the headband was rather adorable, but... this lewd ensemble, utterly meaningless as apparel, had her trembling in mortification, at a complete loss for what to do.
She'd already bared herself to Count Melrn countless times, but this felt even more humiliating than full nudity. What the hell was this outfit supposed to be? What was the point!
"Isn't there ever such a lovable little bunny!"
And there was Count Melrn, praising her effusively in his usual nonchalant, smug manner, heedless of her rage. The bunny ears suited Emilia perfectly, he said. She must have been born to be a bunny. Maybe he should raise some rabbits in the mansion. Her anger and humiliation only swelled, but the count pressed on, teasing her relentlessly as if fanning the flames.
I'm so pissed! You trash!
"Enough joking around. ...Anyway, let's eat. You must be hungry too."
A lavish spread already adorned the table before Count Melrn. Nothing like it sat at the other seats. As always, he intended to share a single chair with Emilia for their meal.
"Come here, Emilia. You must be starving."
"......"
At his invitation, Emilia silently pressed her lips together and approached him. As she moved, she pressed her arms tightly against her chest to steady the heavy sway of her breasts. She reached his side but didn't take the seat he'd indicated. Summoning her will, she offered this faint act of defiance against his suggestion. It wasn't a direct order, after all, and it carried just enough weight that she could resist—for now.
She had questions for him.
"Last night, I heard that His Imperial Majesty the Emperor passed away, Count Melrn."
"...And that my friend, Princess Mine, was the one who killed him."
"...I know I'm in no position to make such a request of you, Count Melrn."
"But please, show some mercy."
"...I don't want to be left in the dark about what happened to my friend—or what on earth transpired last night."
"I'm begging you."
"Please tell me what happened last night. Tell me what you were thinking."
Emilia lowered her hands from supporting her chest to her navel, clasped them together, and bowed her head deeply. Her attire was vulgar beyond measure, exposing most of her skin like some common whore. Yet her bearing—every gesture as she bowed and made her plea—radiated the dignity befitting a noble lady.
"......"
Count Melrn gazed down at her in silence for a moment. He had words he wanted to say, taunts he itched to hurl. But he wasn't so thoughtless as to crack jokes in this atmosphere.
"...Very well, Emilia."
"......!"
Emilia's eyes widened, her head still bowed low. She glanced up cautiously, slowly raising her gaze. The count had turned his eyes away from her, chin resting on his hand, his expression inscrutable as he stared elsewhere. As if he didn't much want to meet her eyes. He even looked a touch displeased.
"It's not like it matters if I tell you."
"Eh...?"
"It'll take some time, though. There's a lot to explain all at once, and I need to sort my thoughts."
His surprisingly level-headed response caught Emilia off guard. She'd vaguely sensed he wasn't some mindless psycho, but hearing such a straightforward reply from him felt strangely off-putting. Still, he was granting her request and explaining as she wished—something to be grateful for.
Just as gratitude began to stir in her...
"But just telling you feels a bit unsatisfying."
His follow-up words put a damper on her thanks. Turning his gaze back to her, Count Melrn grinned wickedly, as if struck by a brilliant idea. A smile perfectly suited to a villain—a damnable one.
Wait, you said it doesn't matter if you tell me!
Then just tell me already! You cheap bastard!
"I'm not saying I won't tell you. Just carry out your daily routine here without a hitch, like always. Every time my darling Emilia works hard and earns a good evaluation, I'll share one piece of information."
"How's that? Not a bad deal, right?"
Her daily routine here. It would mean serving as the count's plaything in his bedchamber or enduring Mona's toying. And she couldn't refuse. She was under the Spell of Submission, after all—incapable of defiance.
Noticing her puzzled look, the count added,
"Ah, I won't use the spell's functions if I can help it. Only if you refuse orders or try something foolish."
"...So, you want me to serve you of my own free will."
"As expected of my darling. So clever."
If she were truly that clever, she never would have fallen into his trap in the first place—but she brushed off the past as water under the bridge.
More importantly... so that's how it was. Enduring these humiliating days of her own volition...
"I'll do it. No problem."
"Straightforward as ever."
"It's for my friend. ...I'm a foolish woman who abandoned my heroic duty for revenge, but I'm not such a pathetic idiot that I can't offer my body for my one true friend."
Emilia's expression was resolute, leaving no room for hesitation. For the sake of her precious friend, sacrificing her own body was nothing.
"......Twisted."
She barely caught Count Melrn's quiet mutter. Even as she pledged to do as he wished, his face somehow still looked displeased.
* * *
And so, Emilia resolved to faithfully carry out her assigned routine. First: breakfast.
As he'd mentioned before and as she'd done until now, she ate with Count Melrn. Perched between his legs, sharing a single chair, they fed each other from the same dishes. It was an intensely intimate mealtime, the kind even newlyweds might shy from—each devotedly spooning food into the other's mouth.
Previously, she'd been compelled by the Spell of Submission, helpless against it as she fed him and accepted bites from his hand. This time, though, Emilia tended to him entirely of her own will.
Her expression remained sour from start to finish, of course. A scowling bunny girl. But the fact that she'd fed him and been fed by her own choice was, in many ways, a monumental feat.
Yet Count Melrn, too, wore a displeased expression throughout the meal.
What's eating him? Emilia wondered, but she couldn't guess. Her service at the table didn't seem to be the issue.
He's been off since our talk earlier.
What exactly had soured his mood?
"Eat up properly, Count Melrn. What's with that face? You're ruining the appetite."
"Says the one whose face isn't much better, Emilia."
"......Now that you mention it, your expression looks fine enough. No need to force a smile while eating."
She wasn't exactly in a position to criticize, so Emilia fell silent. She had no idea what had twisted his mood, but maybe it'd sort itself out.
Thus ended the sticky, obnoxiously tedious breakfast. Normally, the count would depart for work, but instead, he ordered the listless servants to clear only the plates and leave the dining room entirely. Mona departed as well.
Now, only Emilia and the count remained. She was still seated in his lap, and he buried his nose in the nape of her neck, wrapping his arms tightly around her body in a firm embrace.
She knew exactly what he wanted, even without him saying it.
"It's still morning, Count Melrn."
"I'm feeling a bit down, Emilia. Consider it cheering me up—as a favor."
"...If it's a request and not an order, you'll honor our deal from earlier, right?"
Their earlier agreement: he'd share details about the emperor and Princess Mine whenever she submitted of her own will.
Mentioning it, he accepted without hesitation.
"Fine. But only one question."
"......That works for me."
The pact was sealed. As part of her routine, Emilia would serve Count Melrn willingly. Not compelled by the spell of submission or driven mad by the lewd curse Mona had implanted—not losing her reason to lust. Purely, entirely of her own volition, she would offer her body to him as a flesh slave and serve...