Finally, That Day Came
I furrowed my brows and let out a sigh. Ever since becoming Luciefer, I'd been bracing myself for this deep down, so it wasn't all that surprising. Bodily fluids leaking out uncontrollably, defying my control. Gut-wrenching pain like someone was squeezing my insides by hand. Even bouts of dizziness now and then. Where else could you get such a lavish debuff gift set? If this world were a game, I'd march straight to the developers and tear into them—it was that infuriating.
"Feels fucking awful."
I irritably scrubbed my dry face. My period—or menstruation, as it's formally called. The first such experience since becoming a woman. It didn't feel real, but this phenomenon was also proof that a woman could conceive a child. Never in a million years had I imagined a day like this would come for me, a former man.
'Getting caught by Rihart would be a disaster.'
No matter how I felt, that guy would turn it into a joke and tease me mercilessly. If he found out I was on my period, who knew what insane thing he'd pull next? Whatever it was, it'd surely be something to torment me with.
'I absolutely cannot let him find out.'
Rihart was sharp as a tack. And he devoted a ton of attention to me. In other words, he was the type to notice right away if something was off about my condition.
Sure enough, he set aside the book he was reading, gave me a meaningful look, and fixed his gaze on me. His stare was so piercing it felt like cold sweat would trickle down my spine any second.
"Lucy, this might be a bit embarrassing to ask, but..."
"Please, go ahead."
"Are you on your period?"
I was speechless. The question was so blunt. My face flushed red-hot, like scorched iron.
Rihart, seeing my reaction, teased me with a grin. "Blushing like that is cute, too."
"......How did you know?"
I'd thought there wasn't a single clue that could give it away. I'd cleaned the bloodstained nightclothes and sheets spotless (sneaking out at the crack of dawn to scrub them in cold water), and I'd scrubbed my groin thoroughly with cleansing agents. The only possible hints might've been my slightly sluggish reactions and sour expression?
Rihart shrugged it off casually. "I caught a faint whiff of blood from you."
A dog? I knew his personality was dogshit, but his nose was on that level too?
"It could be from a wound, not my period."
"No wounds, though."
His tone was firm, almost certain. I made a sullen face.
"Well, no, there aren't."
"And another thing—your complexion looks worse than usual."
"That could be because of you, young master."
"You, eyeing me so nervously even now, and blaming it on me? Hmm. You only make that face when I've done something pretty bad. You usually avoid doing anything to piss me off, right?"
Damn. He had me pegged from the top of my head down. Did Rihart know me as well as I knew him? Not a pleasant realization.
A queasy nausea welled up, hard to put into words. And it wasn't just the period.
Seeing my disgusted expression, Rihart looked almost pleased instead. "Hit the nail on the head?"
Yeah. If I could hide it and get away with it, how great would that be? But against Rihart, I was freshly reminded how futile and improbable hiding anything really was.
"To read my innermost thoughts so clearly... you're truly impressive, young master."
"I put in the effort."
Why the hell put effort into something so pointless and useless? Watching my reaction, Rihart continued.
"So, when did the period start?"
"......Sometime last night, I think."
"I see."
I watched him anxiously, bracing for whatever outrageous order he'd issue. Rihart stroked his chin, then said,
"No real plans for today, so if you're okay with it, Lucy, how about you take it easy?"
It was a statement considerate of my well-being. Hard to believe it came from Rihart's mouth. I gave him a suspicious look.
"Is that really alright?"
"You're struggling right now, aren't you?"
"It's not enough to interfere with my duties."
Managing this period-wracked body was tough, but bearable. Far worse would be giving Rihart an excuse to mess with me by resting.
He smirked at my forced show of composure. "When you rest, rest properly, right? You won't get many chances like this going forward."
Won't get chances to rest even if I want to. Probably referring to the upcoming journey to the capital. How grueling must it be for even Rihart to say something like 'rest if you're tired'?
Unable to hold back my curiosity, I asked, "Is the trip to the capital that tough?"
"Rihart and Karen will manage, but your stamina isn't the best, is it? Even at full strength, it'll be rough—imagine if you're not feeling well."
With the journey to the capital fast approaching, that was Rihart's assessment. He knew the situation better than I did, so arguing felt pointless.
Whoosh. Rihart suddenly reached out to me. So abrupt and swift that I instinctively flinched and hunched. A conditioned reflex from all the beatings he'd given me.
But contrary to my fears, his hand didn't strike. It simply settled lightly on my head.
"Seeing your headpiece crooked like that—it's not like you, Lucy. Makes me worry."
He straightened my crooked headpiece, then patted my shoulder. Even that touch felt cautious. Practically treating me like a patient.
It was embarrassing, in a way.
"Go on."
"But young master."
"No arguments."
He grabbed my shoulders, turned me toward the door, and pushed. Not too hard—just enough that I couldn't resist.
Click. Rihart even opened the door himself. I turned to look up at him as he pushed me out.
"Young Master Rihart......"
He flashed a bright smile, fresh and vibrant.
"Take good care of yourself."
Bam. With that, the door shut. I stared blankly at it before snapping out of it.
"For real?"
An unexpected day off. Practically sick leave.
"......Am I really supposed to rest?"
Hard to believe. Not April Fool's or anything?
I was dumbfounded. By now, I should've been at Rihart's side, assisting with work. Aside from managing the basement, I spent nearly all my time with him. Which made this pure alone time feel downright awkward.
'So damn boring.'
In the modern world, I'd be on my computer or phone. But this was medieval times—no entertainment, not even anything worth watching.
'If there was just a convenience store, I could've grabbed some snacks and killed time.'
Lying in bed staring at the ceiling? The comfort was nice at first. But humans crave stimulation by nature, and modern folks like me hated boredom even more.
Venturing out for excitement? Rihart scared me too much. I imagined him grilling me.
'Didn't I tell you to rest up?'
Just thinking about it froze me solid. Better to hole up in my room and rest. Avoid anything I couldn't handle the fallout from.
I hadn't realized as a man, but being a woman came with serious inconveniences. No wonder most women got so sensitive during this time.
'Still better than a body missing fingers, though?'
I glanced at my fully functional fingers. Even if my frame was petite and my body griped monthly, I didn't need help with daily life.
Yeah. Think positive. Bored with nothing to do? Then sleep it off.
A rare chance to catch up on built-up fatigue. I got up briefly, drew the curtains to block the sunlight, then slipped back into bed, pulling the covers up to my shoulders.
The plush mattress cushioning me. The blankets warming to my body heat. Combined with the period-induced dizziness, sleep came faster than expected.
How long had I slept? When I woke, my forehead felt refreshingly cool. Wondering what it was, I rubbed my forehead with my left hand and felt a damp, chilly cloth.
'Wet towel?'
I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn't obey. No one was stopping me—it just felt heavy, like a waterlogged cotton ball.
I tried opening my eyes, but my eyelids were unusually leaden today. Grimacing, I forced them open with effort, spotting a blurry figure.
"You're awake."
The voice echoed like it was in a cave. Even so, I knew who it was. With so few relationships in this world, how could I not? Half of them were dead anyway.
"Don't try to get up. Stay lying down."
A man's voice in my room could only mean Rihart. I wanted to ask why he was here, but my throat was parched—words wouldn't come.
Hearing my garbled groans, Rihart spoke calmly. "Looks like you caught a cold on top of it. When I came by, you were burning up. You should've taken better care of yourself."
All because of you. Frustrating that I couldn't snap back.
Rihart wiped my face with the cloth on my forehead. His gentle touch was infuriating. After punching me, kicking me, even choking me—now pretending to care?
Nausea surged. Along with resentment. But I couldn't vent it pure. I'm a coward, after all.
So I said something Rihart would like. "Sorry for worrying you."
Even that was a struggle to get out.
Rihart neither laughed nor got mad at my words. His red eyes simply watched me quietly.
"No need for apologies."
A voice without pretense. Not dry or hollow, though.
"Just taking care of what's mine."
The person I hated most nursing me. It was pathetically sad.