Chapter 83
Chapter 83
Saint, You’re So Vulgar! – Chapter 83
Asher dreamed.
It was a dream of ten muscular men in pink dresses grabbing each other's hair and brawling on some random hill.
-You fuckin' bitch! You're the one who started it!
-Fuckin' whore! Die! Die!
-Kyaak! You pulled my hair out! What do I do!
-Mooommmmyyy!!!
-Fuckin' bitch! You're dead meat when my bro gets here!
The muscular men wailed in high-pitched voices, sobbing their hearts out.
Some shrieked viciously like pee-pee sounds.
Asher was trying to stop them.
In Versia's form, no less.
"E-Everyone. Please don't fight!"
Suddenly, they all froze, turned serious, and stared at Asher in unison.
Asher halted in his tracks.
He gulped dryly.
-Hateful bitch.
-All about your own happiness.
-While we're dying alone like this.
"Eek?!"
The background shifted.
The hill turned into a swamp oozing dark slime, and the muscular men melted down into monsters.
Startled, Asher bolted without thinking.
From behind came monstrous screams that sounded like nothing but shrieks now, their presences chillingly grabbing at his ankles.
Asher quickened his steps, eyes welling up.
And that was the end.
"Ughack!"
Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath him, sucking him somewhere.
"Wak!"
When he opened his eyes again, he was on his bed, drenched in cold sweat from head to toe.
Asher panted heavily.
Recalling the dream, his face twisted.
"What the hell?"
What kind of dream was that?
Aftermath from facing Gester's drag?
No nightmare had ever been this bad.
Asher let out a hollow laugh.
He staggered out of bed.
And the moment he stepped into the bathroom for a shower.
"N-No way?"
The curse on his lower back had grown as long as a pinky nail.
It had passed the narrow waist and now reached his shoulder blades.
Asher's eyes wavered.
He remembered it was a curse stimulated by sexual things.
That nightmare was actually a wet dream? Did he have that kind of taste?
'No, no!'
Despair that wasn't quite identity crisis.
Asher faced the worst morning.
* * *
Asher staggered out of his room.
The first person he ran into was Versia.
"You okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine. J-Just had a nightmare."
"What kind?"
A dream where drag muscular men chased me, and when I woke up, my pussy had grown longer.
No way he could say that.
Asher just gave a vacant smile, his face full of doubt.
They hadn't fully figured out the mechanism yet, but it wasn't a huge change.
Honestly, even adding up every little bit Asher had contributed, it didn't reach half of what Versia had racked up in one go when she briefly returned to her original body.
Versia suddenly seemed annoying.
As he glared at her with a ziiing, they reached the living room, where Halia, Diego, and Gester were.
"Everyone's up! Well, it's a busy day, so getting up early is right! Mm!"
Halia looked cheerful.
Today was the day they entered the palace.
The tournament had ended, and so had the awards.
With that, they'd received palace invitations as the stars of a banquet with lodging included.
"Once we arrive, all the Big Ten leaders will be there. Royalty too, and who knowsmaybe even the witch you're after somewhere in the mix."
"She won't be that out in the open."
"Who knows. I suspect they might've borrowed her power to pull off that coup in a day."
"Artificial witches have only been around for less than a year. That coup was over ten years ago. Timelines don't match."
Gester clamped his mouth shut, but he didn't look convinced.
Lately, there'd been a bit of these opinion clashes.
Asher had to admit, that coup's success felt fishy too.
The sandstorm taking the palace and dragging out the king had been too smooth, almost off.
But claiming a witch pulled it off? Asher couldn't buy that either.
Ten whole years. Sure, Baern was an independent fringe nation outside the alliance, but if witch influence had reached that far, Baern wouldn't still be intact now.
Historically, anywhere witches touched turned heretic-infested within three years.
Too much of a stretch to call this an exception.
Having someone to blame made thoughts veer that wayit was understandable.
"Ugh, sorry."
Gester apologized. The mood settled, and they ate the breakfast Diego prepared.
No denying his cooking skills were top-notch.
After a hearty meal, they prepped to head straight to the palace.
Escorts were waiting.
"Blue Sword mercenaries?"
Arrogant royal guards.
Meaning Sandstorm mercenaries.
They nodded, and the guards jerked their chins toward the carriage.
The rudeness was expectedthe Blue Swords had tarnished the Lion Corps' rep in this tournament.
As members, they couldn't help feeling salty.
Only Halia might snap, but today as winners lording over losers, even she held back.
"Heh, can't even bark, just yipping away. Quite the sight."
"Lady Halia, you look kinda evil."
"Evil? It's just winner's perks!"
Was calling this woman a saintess really right?
Asher couldn't shake his awkward smile.
* * *
Looking back, his life had been far from banquets.
Most childhood memories were with the Terbion mercenaries, and later as a holy knight, it was all rolling in the dirt daily.
But not all of this felt alien.
"The palace. Truly."
Gester murmured low. Asher silently agreed.
Like home.
As Lion Corps, they'd come here tons. Gester had spent his boyhood inside.
That garden yonder? Sword practice grounds.
The east annex? Warehouse crammed with treasures.
The west library held Baern's history. He'd pored over hero tales there, dreaming big.
The palace was that kind of place.
Where beautiful times lingered in memory, turning bittersweet on reflection.
As he indulged in nostalgia.
Asher snapped to.
'Enemy territory. Stay sharp.'
The witch was here somewhere. Time to hide identities perfectly and memorize every detail.
He scanned for changes.
Surface-wise, not much.
Barring dynasty flags, the palace retained its historic grandeur.
"Change. We prepared the clothes."
Just like Asher remembered.
No way mercenaries had formalwear ready.
Tournament winners historically attended in palace-provided garb.
Asher parted from the group and followed maids to a room for dressing.
That's when it started.
The trouble.
"Why are all the clothes like this?"
"Pardon? Oh, you're outsiders, so you wouldn't know. Baern women's formalwear is generally like this!"
"."
Asher's eyes wavered.
No helping it. Still a cleric. Neighboring kingdoms favored ornate styles, so thin banquet clothes hadn't crossed his mind.
Way too sheer. Silky fabric. White off-shoulder dress, semi-transparent, everything showed through.
Underneath was a one-piece covering only from chest to hips.
'Why's there a hole in the stomach?'
Even fully dressed, navel exposed in public.
Asher's face flushed beet red. Eyes teary.
Come to think, Hwaran wore stuff like this.
Unavoidable.
Asher shuddered, then squeezed his eyes shut.
No choice.
'Mission!'
He steeled himself. "Ch-Changing alone. I'll do it."
"Oh, but we need to add ornamentsyou can't do it solo!"
The beaming maid oddly overlapped with Dalin back at the order.
Thinking back, since becoming this body, hadn't it always been like this?
Frequently sacrificed to women's dress-up games in their prime.
The maids' hands reached out.
Asher's body stiffened.
"Th-That."
"We'll make you pretty~?"
"Eek!"
Asher's disastrous makeover began.