The Algorithm of Law's Betrayal
Why is this happening again?
The moment my vision shifted and an entirely different scene unfolded before me, I went cold with shock.
I'd already confirmed that nothing like this happened when the other girls received Affection Gifts. So why was it only me?
...Because I'm a transmigrator?
That didn't quite fit as a clean explanation. I tried to pin down the real cause, but nothing useful came to mind no matter how hard I thought.
At first I'd taken the prickling along my back for the affection gauge lighting up. Looking closer now, though — it was just the Stigmata on my back hurting.
"You okay?"
"Yes. Please don't worry about me so much, Master."
Was I injured?
I hadn't been able to move, so I hadn't really considered it — but looking at myself now, my body simply wasn't responding properly. Given how wrecked I felt, I must have gotten hurt in combat.
...This never happens in the game.
Some games make you treat character injuries. Princess Fourmi never had a system like that. You just kept throwing units at the problem.
Anyway, the Stigmata that powered this body had itself been damaged, and that was where the pain was coming from. Recovery was going to take a while.
But hadn't this been a situation that would raise affection?
...Is this the part where he nurses me?
I had enough similar experience to know that kind of care stirred warm feelings. Even now I could feel something creeping up through me, and I was crushing it down with the thought that I wasn't really hurt.
...Still. The fact that I could suppress it at all meant this was a pretty manageable situation.
"I'm sorry. It's filthy, isn't it?"
"It's not. But you've got too many wounds. I can't leave you like this."
"That's..."
"Hold still. I'll wash you."
...Did I just mishear that?
A line dropped that blanked my brain white on the spot.
You crazy bastard — wash me? Wash what, exactly?
H-he just means my hair, right?
Please let it be that. Just the hair, the way he always did. Wouldn't it be better to let the wounds fester and just die than to have my whole body washed?
Get a grip.
Uh. It's just another guy washing me. That's all.
Fuck, thinking of it that way made it even worse. Wouldn't it be better if it were some random woman?
No matter how hard I screamed for rescue inside my head, none of that voice made it outside. And my clothes began to come off, slowly.
"Ngh—!"
Ah, fuck.
Thinking about it, maybe this wasn't even the time to be fretting over that. Holy shit, that actually hurt like hell.
"Sorry. You okay?"
...He was so unnecessarily sweet about it that the second I showed any pain he stopped and fretted over me. Honestly, the way that made me feel like I could relax around him was the scarier part.
No — to be honest, it wasn't that he was scary so much as...
I'm scared of myself, getting washed like this...
I knew perfectly well he wouldn't hurt me. He was doing this because he genuinely wanted to help. But even having my hair done for similar reasons was already hard enough for me to endure. If I was naked on top of that, and being touched...?
"Ngh—!"
"Sorry. I'll be careful. But this is a wound — it needs to be cleaned and disinfected properly."
My body wouldn't move, so I couldn't cover anything. I had no choice but to show him everything, bare and unguarded. I thought I might die of shame — and yet he just calmly examined the wounds on my body and kept washing me, eyes steady.
At first, the way he boldly put his hands on me and rubbed made me wonder if he'd lost his mind. But the motions were as clean and methodical as when he washed my hair, and that settled me a little. The mortification faded too, bit by bit — because he wasn't looking at me with lust. His gaze was serious, worried. It felt as if his genuine concern for me was reaching me so completely that even my body was being soothed into calm against its will.
"Mm. That should do it. Let's get you dried off and put some medicine on."
Ordinarily, a Major Unit's wounds healed fast and left no scars. You didn't even have to worry about infection — the Stigmata's mana handled all of it. But when the Stigmata was this damaged and couldn't function normally, that immune activity shut down too. You started to look a lot more like a Minor Unit without one.
"Hah—!"
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"A little."
It fucking hurt. Shit. My body really had been one step from dying.
Even so, having Master — no, the protagonist — looking after me like I was a baby made me feel oddly secure.
"Ehehe..."
I was grinning stupidly while he stroked my hair, still naked, when a sudden sensation climbed up my spine. That must have been as far as the first memory went.
"I'm fine now, really."
"Even so. You shouldn't push yourself."
Apparently some time had passed in the scene. The pain and heaviness in my body were gone. Not that I could control my own body any better for it.
...So now the situations are chaining together.
I still didn't understand why these fake memories were this detailed. Last time there'd already been so many little sweet moments that I'd felt like I was melting, and I'd only held on by forcing out revulsion...
Even if I hadn't seen this coming, maybe I should have been more careful. Get a concentrated shot of syrupy memory this fast and of course you'd turn into an idiot.
Why does he have to be this warm even here...
And at the root of all of it was how consistently sweet he was. In reality and in here alike, he looked after me with those pure, clear eyes, and the moment I seemed to be struggling he put me first in every way. My heart couldn't help but race. The tenderness threaded through that racing was so sweet I felt like I might break.
"Rest your head on my lap."
"Hm?"
"You've spent days washing me and taking care of me. You've worked so hard."
"It's nothing. It's what I should be doing."
"Then taking care of Master is my role too — so of course I should. Come here and lie down."
Of course I was grateful, but most people wouldn't take it that far, would they? Or... would they?
Through the other me moving my body, I could see how worn out he looked, and I found myself empathizing a little. ...Out of sheer guilt, I wanted to give him something back.
"Ngh..."
"Even if it tickles, hold still."
Nothing too weird, though — she was just cleaning his ears.
...This was actually kind of fun. I was always the one on the receiving end with him, but watching him squirm because it tickled was a little cute. It reminded me of myself flinching every time he did my hair, and the sense of sweet revenge felt good.
...G-good, my ass.
That was the problem. That was why I'd gotten drunk on these memories last time. Soft little things mixed in, and they eroded me under the guise of this much is fine, I can relate to this.
...I really had to keep my head on straight.
"Mmnh...?"
When I woke, a hazy softness wrapped around me. Fresh out of sleep, the feeling was a tangle of clear-headed and exhausted all at once.
...Mmm. I just wanted to keep rolling around in bed like this.
"Master?"
"Yeah... I'm up..."
Master came into view, just as thoroughly steeped in sleep as I was. I laughed playfully, pulled him into my arms, and tumbled with him across the bed.
It had become our ordinary routine by now — a morning that belonged only to the two of us, and felt completely natural.
...Though, probably because of a certain physiological reaction, something seemed a little bigger than usual. I was hugging him without thinking when an unfamiliar pressure brushed against me and I flinched. Of course, once I noticed how Master twitched every time that part of him touched me, it was so cute that I pressed myself even closer instead.
"You worked hard yesterday."
"Not really. All I did was stand there and give orders."
"Do you have any idea how important that is? ...Anyway, I'm just glad the research institute girls all listened so well yesterday."
"The monster we took down yesterday was pretty high difficulty. Its name was Peter, was it?"
"Yes, that's right. The tentacle patterns were so nasty."
We traded light talk about the day before, and I began to savor a rare, deep day off. I always poured every scrap of focus into the fight itself, so the next day I tended to be so wrung out with fatigue that I couldn't do much of anything else.
"I'll make breakfast."
"You, Master? You're tired. We could just order something."
"We just moved in. I want to show off a little."
"Well, now I'm looking forward to it."
Really, I was the one who ought to be serving him. But Master's cooking was good enough to make you forget something that obvious. I waited expectantly, handing him whatever he needed and doing nothing but assist.
"Wow. I never thought this table would ever be full."
"Yeah? I think this is about right."
Who sets out a full banquet for two people living alone? I wanted to call him on it — but eating well felt more polite than picking a fight, so I quietly picked up my utensils.
"...Wow. As expected, this is no joke."
"Good to hear."
After the meal, it was just an extension of the morning. Honestly, I had no intention of going out today, so the greatest happiness was simply the two of us rolling around in bed and resting. There couldn't be anything happier than feeling the warmth of the person you love while still a little soft and dazed with sleep.
"...I love you."
"I love you too, Master."
Hehe. Being able to trade even words this embarrassing so casually made me happy somehow. It felt like I'd given him more of myself.
"Was the food good?"
"I already said so about a dozen times. It was incredibly good."
"I'm glad."
"It makes me want to repay you a whole lot."
"Repay me? I did it because I wanted to."
Hmm. What would be good? Master gave me something to eat, so I wanted to give him something similar in return. Was there anything I could offer him?
"Ah. I think I know what to give you."
"Hm?"
"Master. Say ah."
"Ah...? Mmph—!"
I hope my lips and tongue are to Master's taste. Of everything I can give him right now, this is the most delicious thing I have.
From Jasmine, who loves you, Master.