The Royal Party and the Forest Vigil
The air went still.
Nobles who moments before had been clustered in their little circles, trading gossip. Ladies who had been asking one another where they had found their jewelry. Every mouth fell open as three figures stepped into the party garden.
Those are the Wolf Mercenaries?
Impossible. Beauties like that?
And that child—what is he? He's adorable!
I want to take him home!
The men were captivated by Lillian and Priscilla's beauty. The women, by Kaisent.
Where the two women ensnared men with looks alone, Kaisent drew desire with both his beauty and the pheromones that rose from his bloodline, whispering temptation straight into the mind.
"Ahem. Greetings. I am Count Benegal. Care for a drink?"
"We are grateful for Court Count Benegal's kindness."
Count Benegal held no lands of his own, yet he possessed a measure of authority—a court aristocrat who, under the king's command, assisted in governing the capital and the royal demesne. By royal order he had been tasked with receiving the members of the Wolf Mercenary Group upon their arrival.
At first the thought of having to speak to crude mercenaries had irritated him. Now he was glad of the assignment.
Lillian and Priscilla accepted the glasses he offered with elegant grace, dipping into a light curtsey and bowing their heads in a soft, perfect performance of a lady's etiquette.
"I have heard that Court Count Benegal plays a great role in the royal administration. As befits a man of such important work, your generosity is remarkable—to greet even humble mercenaries such as ourselves."
"Heh heh heh. Indeed—those who shoulder great duties naturally radiate dignity. I have learned something valuable today."
Lillian lifted him first; Priscilla laid the gold leaf on top. Hearing praise in the two beauties' entrancing voices, Benegal had to fight desperately to keep the corners of his mouth from climbing.
"Still—I was told the captain of the Wolf Mercenaries was a man…"
"A disguise, of course, to conceal that she is a woman. Female captains are not unheard of among mercenary bands, but as you can see, my face is rather… cute. While searching for a helmet to hide it, I decided that if I was going to cover my face anyway, I might as well pass as a man."
"I see. With looks like that, trying to lead rough mercenaries would leave you little choice."
"Thank you for understanding, my lord Count."
As the conversation continued, Priscilla tipped her glass and took a sip of wine.
"Hmm~ Soft, steady, embracing. This is Linezed wine of the Empire."
"Oh? And can you tell the vintage?"
"Alas, my experience is limited. Still—if one digs into the depth of this flavor… I would place it between twenty and twenty-four years."
"Twenty-four is correct. To name the aging by taste alone."
"I am relieved I avoided embarrassment. Even so, I find the light, clean wines of the Halrot Kingdom better suited to lifting a party's mood than the Empire's."
She had identified the wine's origin, matched its aging by palate, and finished by praising Halrot's own vintage—displaying a refinement no ordinary mercenary could claim.
Naturally. She had come from a lineage noble enough to marry into a royal house, and had tasted such fine liquors often enough to make it possible.
Was she not underage then?
In this world the threshold of majority differed, and even minors were rarely scolded for drinking.
In any case, the moment she showed a discernment, an antique courtesy, and a polish no mere mercenary should possess, the nobles who had fretted that these guests might soil the evening came flocking in a rush.
Above all, the women's beauty—now that they knew men, yet still free of vulgarity, carrying a natural, effortless allure—was the greatest reason the male aristocrats crowded close.
"Phew."
Kaisent barely slipped free of the press of nobles and began searching for somewhere quiet.
Part of him wanted to peel every aristocrat off his wives, but they had all anticipated this exact situation together. What he needed now was a still place to settle the uncomfortable feeling in his chest.
Even so, those who had taken an interest in him blocked his path.
"You're the mage of the Wolf Mercenaries, aren't you?"
"Y-yes? Th-that's right… Ah—no! That is correct!"
Young ladies who had dressed themselves to the nines, using the royal party as a chance to hunt for husbands, had closed in on him.
"Heeheehee."
"You needn't speak so stiffly."
"B-but…"
"When you're with us, you can talk comfortably."
"Y-yes…"
Except for those who already held ill will, or those whose will was strong enough to master their own minds, Kaisent's constitution made every member of the opposite sex take an easy liking to him—and here, too, it shone.
"My, your hair is so soft."
"And your skin—so white, not a single blemish. Smooth as silk."
"…"
Caught by the noble young ladies, Kaisent was stroked and fussed over like a doll, showered with every kind of doting affection.
"He's embarrassed!"
"Kyaa~ What is this~ So cute~"
"P-please don't tease me…"
"…"
When Kaisent flushed, squeezed his eyes shut, and resisted with a plea not to be teased, the young ladies surrounding him went blank for a moment, staring.
"Hey—won't you come to my house? I'll feed you and keep you."
"No, their house is nothing special. Come to ours. I'll take full responsibility for looking after you."
"What? We're both viscount houses and you're calling us nothing special?"
"Our family is far better off, you know."
And the assault grew fiercer than before.
His resistance had been so adorable, so endearing, that it set the young ladies' desire to raise him for life blazing high.
Even in his original world, elder sisters with the combat power to invade an entire planet alone had begged him to live with them forever so they could care for him—that was the cuteness and loveliness Kaisent carried.
As a scramble for him among the young ladies threatened to turn the mood ugly—
"S-sisters… please don't fight…"
Thinking that if this continued the atmosphere would sour because of him and ruin the party, he used the method he had once employed to stop his own elder sisters from quarreling.
The angle of looking up plaintively at young ladies taller than himself. Eyes wet with moisture. A soft voice.
The moment he used the technique his body still remembered, the young ladies froze mid-argument, staring blankly at Kaisent—then scrambled to explain themselves.
"Ah—no. We're not fighting. Right?"
"Yes! We're not fighting at all."
"You're not fighting? I'm so glad…"
"Ugh…!"
"Hhk…!"
The boy let out a breath of relief and smiled as the tension left him—and that alone melted the ugly mood of a moment before.
When word had come that the Wolf Mercenaries would attend, and that their mage was an otherworlder, every one of these girls had thought the same thing.
No matter what happens, I will never approach some filthy otherworlder!
"Here—won't you try this?"
"Aah~ Nom. It's delicious, sister."
"Try this one too."
"Wait. It's my turn next."
"If you've given him sweets, you have to feed him something else. If he only eats sweet things, he won't taste anything properly."
Now they clustered around Kaisent, fretting to feed him this and that as if he were a darling pet.
To the nobility, otherworlders had brought the crisis of power being stripped away by commoners. That had been the work of people from twenty-first-century Earth—but even allowing for that, otherworlders from other realms still tried to force the common sense of their own worlds onto this one.
People hear what they wish to hear.
Not every otherworlder was wicked, yet for nobles who already thought poorly of them, every problem born of otherworlders leapt first to the eye.
At least the eastern reaches of the Western Continent, including the Halrot Kingdom, remained relatively moderate. Nations on the far western edge of the continent had suffered so badly when otherworlders seized territory and founded unauthorized states and factions that they had officially legalized otherworlder hunting and enslavement.
But none of that held the slightest weight for young ladies who had melted before Kaisent's cuteness.
And so, as Lillian, Priscilla, and Kaisent seized the party's atmosphere and rose in a heartbeat to its center—
Entering now: Guardian of the Royal House, who defends the kingdom against the Saryeong Kingdom—
Countess Akina Karayden
A servant announced Countess Akina's entrance.
"What?"
"Countess Akina?"
"The Margrave who has never attended a single party—why?"
Countess Akina, who once defended the Halrot Kingdom from Luciarkenel and now from the Saryeong Kingdom, was famous for attending no parties at all. Even royal gatherings she routinely ignored, citing the need to guard the realm against Saryeong.
They had still sent an invitation out of courtesy. This time, for some reason, she had come.
Every gaze gathered as Countess Akina revealed herself.
She did not wear a gown like the other noblewomen. She wore trousers and a coat that looked like a customized military dress uniform—white, with gold ornament and red accents, cut slightly tight for ease of movement. Not clinging, but close enough to show the lines of her figure.
"She's huge, no matter how many times I see her."
"Wearing trousers like a man to a royal party."
"She doesn't even feel feminine."
In this world, a woman in trousers at a noble party drew cold looks. And Akina, massive from birth, stood nearly two meters tall with a frame to match—enough to make the party feel off-balance.
But that was this world's gaze.
What is wrong with all of them? How can they look at someone that beautiful and say such things?
Mysterious silver-white hair. A face that held both strength and beauty. And until now he had only ever seen her in armor—so he had not known. Beyond the uniform, a bosom larger than his own head swelled full.
Yet even with a chest that size, the fierce warrior's temperament she carried kept any sense of vulgarity from rising.
Watching nobles tear down a beauty simply for being tall and wearing trousers left Kaisent nothing but baffled.
Why don't they understand that a frame like hers makes a uniform-style dress suit her perfectly?
While he questioned everyone else's sense of beauty, Akina scanned the room, found Kaisent, and came straight toward him.
"Eek…!"
The young ladies who had been doting on Kaisent could not withstand her presence. They scattered like a swarm of ants.
"It has been a while."
"Yes. It has been a while, Countess Akina."
The two of them exchanged greetings with quiet smiles.
"I heard the stories. You made quite a name for yourself, didn't you?"
"But I still have a long way to go."
"Good. If you had grown cocky over a few merits, I would have come to spank you myself."
Still eyeing Kaisent with open interest, Akina found satisfaction in eyes that held no arrogance despite his growth—and nearly smiled. Then her face hardened again.
"And I have bad news."
"You didn't find her."
"Yes. It is certain now that the woman called Dang Seol-yeong remained in that forest."
"…Thank you."
"Are you all right? You needn't push yourself."
"Looked at the other way—it means that once we identify that forest, we can find her."
Despair would have been natural. Instead of sinking, Kaisent took hope: find the forest, and finding her would be easy.
"For now, tell me everything you remember seeing and experiencing in that forest."
"Pardon? No—it's fine. You've already helped me this far. I can't keep asking for more…"
"No. Having come this far, I mean to see it through. And it serves my purpose to place you in my debt."
"…Truly, thank you, Countess Akina."
Until the king arrived, Akina spoke with Kaisent and fixed in her memory every detail of the forest he still held.
"But…"
"Hm?"
"That isn't the only reason you came to the party, is it?"
"Sharp, aren't you."
"All of this could have been exchanged by letter."
She stroked Kaisent's hair and turned her gaze toward Lillian, who was drawing the attention of the male nobles.
"There is someone I need to speak with about something important."
"Kyaaaah!"
A gigantic two-headed wolf vomited black blood and collapsed.
"It's been a while. A monster daring to invade my territory."
A woman in tattered clothes and a savage garment of unidentifiable beast hide approached the wolf, a dagger of bone carved from monsters she herself had slain held in her hand.
She had been startled when both heads belched fire—but she had closed the distance and driven poison into it, and finished the kill.
Rip— riiip—
She split the softest part of the belly, drew out the organs, then began cutting the meat into portions with the bone dagger charged with inner energy.
After rinsing the blood in a stream near the edge of her territory, she set some of the meat aside for cooking and hung the rest on drying racks.
"Ulp."
She skewered meat on a bone spit, roasted it over the fire, and ate. Even in this flesh she could feel the poison.
This forest is a true demonic realm. Every living thing carries poison.
The only food free of toxin was a handful of tree fruits and mushrooms. Everything else was venomous—as if that were the bare minimum required to survive here.
But I still have to eat. I have to hold this place until Young Master comes.
The woman began to eat the fire-breathing wolf's meat.
She was Dang Seol-yeong herself—the one Kaisent so desperately sought.
Yet whatever she had endured, her appearance had changed in many ways.
Once she had been white-skinned, with green veins of flowing poison. Surviving in this forest by eating poisoned food had filled her with every kind of toxin. As a side effect, her entire right eye had turned red, and parts of her skin and veins were blackening.
Absorbing every unsorted poison had written itself across her body.
She carried a lethal dose that would have killed tens of thousands of ordinary people—yet raised as a poison master, she was only grotesque to look at. It did not greatly hinder her living. If anything, those poisons had let her secure her territory all the more firmly.
She checked the wooden palisade that marked her domain, refined her toxins, and closed another day.
"Young Master…"
She held fast to the place where she had been teleported—for the day Kaisent would follow and arrive.
Dang Seol-yeong's time had stopped on the day she fled Kang Myeong-cheol.
Part of her longed to leave this forest. But the barest hope that Kaisent might, like her, be teleported here and arrive held her legs in place.
She wanted to see his face once more.
To feel his warmth.
To hear his voice.
It was not as if the thought that he might be dead had never crossed her mind.
He is alive. I cannot explain why, but I feel it. If I wait, Young Master will come for me someday.
"Seol-yeong will wait for Young Master to come. Please… find me soon."
Clinging to the vague hope that tomorrow Kaisent might arrive, Dang Seol-yeong curled small beside the fire.