The Place Where Racehorses Romp
Is there anyone in this world who lives a life without any ups and downs? Life has its rises and falls. No one sails through endlessly on a flat sea without a ripple. Sometimes misfortune crashes in for utterly absurd reasons, and other times luck drops from the sky like a gift when you've done nothing to earn it.
And right now, I, Yura Konstantia, was basking in a stroke of fortune that had rolled right into my lap, vines and all.
I sat straight-backed in the armchair, posture perfect. Even I had to admit it was impeccably neat and model-like. It could serve as an illustration in some far-future textbook under "How Ancient Humans Used Chairs" for a species with entirely different anatomy.
But... I wasn't just sitting there ordinarily. To be precise, I was sitting, but the environment around me sure wasn't.
"Hngh... ugh...!"
It was far too close to call it merely "sitting across from each other." Riley, who'd plopped down right there in a chair, was pinning me with her plump thighs. She wedged my straight legs between hers and crushed them with those firm, taut muscles, squeezing for all she was worth. She wasn't channeling Aura, but aside from that, she was dead serious—groaning involuntarily from the effort.
In short, it was the thigh wrestling I'd seen so often on variety shows in my past life.
"......"
I swallowed hard at the sight of Riley leaning forward, hips bucking slightly. It wasn't that hard to hold out. The rules were no Aura—just pure muscle power. The pressure could probably pulverize a watermelon without breaking a sweat... but this body was blessed by the goddess of this isekai. It wouldn't buckle under something like this.
Ah, I just want to shove my head in there once.
That was the real ordeal—on my end. Those thighs, straining against tight jeans like they might burst the seams at any moment. The fact that they were clamping down on me from both sides stirred something... exciting, blatantly so. My lower belly tingled oddly. Thank god this wasn't a guy's body that could "rise" to the occasion. At least I could keep up appearances of calm.
I schooled my expression as best I could, savoring the squeeze between Riley's legs.
"Urk..."
"Done already?"
"Huuuuh......"
How much time had passed? A short yelp sounded from beside us, followed by a flop onto the mat.
In the corner of the clubroom, on the yoga mat, golden twin tails splayed out. Their owner sprawled with them.
No cell phone timers in this world to set a limit, so we'd opted for a more... spirited method.
"...I can't win no matter what."
Confirming Beni had barely held a one-minute plank before collapsing, Riley let out a ragged sigh. The motion sent sweat beading on her chest trickling down into the valley below.
But we hadn't made Beni our human hourglass just to tease her. If anything, it was the opposite. She was exercising anyway, so we used her as the signal. As for why we were working out in the clubroom... well, that would take some explaining, but the gist was that for the past couple days, Beni had made bare-body workouts here her routine.
She'd somehow realized o-mang-kko-dance wasn't ideal for building riding muscles. But she couldn't pinpoint a better alternative. Which made sense—no one would strike those embarrassing poses in an empty storeroom if they already knew.
So she'd come to me for advice. No other acquaintances to turn to. I wasn't an expert, but I'd been through military training, and I remembered a few exercises from my past life. I taught her leg-focused ones and stretches mainly.
Simple routines that flooded video sites back home with a search, but in a world without internet or videos, each was like a secret training method passed down in elite circles.
Of course, I slipped in cat pose now and then for eye candy... but hey, it still counts as exercise, right? Totally legit.
Anyway, teaching and correcting her form turned the storeroom into an indoor gym. Riley got interested at first and joined in, but her enthusiasm didn't last. True to "three days of resolve," by the third day—today—she was just spectating.
The moves I'd taught were basic anyway; they wouldn't challenge her for long. Given her physique, they'd barely register, and considering her status, she'd likely learned superior methods back home.
So she'd lounged around idly until curiosity about my physique led to this challenge. Since I'd taught Beni lower-body stuff, it naturally shifted to leg strength.
"How do you even get like that?"
"I've been this way since birth."
"Ooh... totally unhelpful advice! Thanks anyway!"
"Mm."
Is this girl actually an idiot? The perfect straight-man setup slipped out unbidden. Riley just stared at me blankly, oblivious.
"Anyway, since Miss Riley lost all five rounds, you'll have to hand over the promised item."
"...Fine."
But that wasn't the point right now. I extended my hand to her next.
Riley sighed softly and stood. I hadn't accepted her challenge for nothing, of course. I'd pay for a five-minute thigh sandwich ticket myself... but I couldn't show that eagerness.
So I'd played it cool: cooperate with her strength test, and if she couldn't win a single round out of five, she'd pay a penalty.
And that penalty was...
"Here."
Returning from a brief absence, Riley held a thick stack of papers.
"Thank you."
I took them and checked the top sheet. An unsubmitted overnight stay application—for the second semester of first year.
One Riley had tried submitting before, only to withdraw it upon learning approvals were per semester. Written by the shadowy figure behind her.
Confirming this would reveal where that shadow wanted to send her.
I glanced at it... then closed and opened my eyes. The letters on the page had all transformed—no trace of Hangul, just the Empire's common script.
As I'd verified before, my translation ability worked inversely for speech and writing. When I speak, I utter Korean for real— that's what powers my yeongchang incantations too. To others, it's illusionary sound and lip-sync.
But when writing, it's reversed. Text appears as Hangul to me, but I'm actually producing Empire script. I can force other alphabets if I try, but unconsciously, it's Angras Empire common characters. Even my hand's motion feels illusory; open your eyes after blinking, and it's moved the opposite way... like some psychosis.
Three years in, I'd gotten used to it.
I examined the application's corner. Faint dots masquerading as letters—likely the mark Dean Myurvel had mentioned was hidden there.
I calmly reset my focus. The text reverted to readable Hangul.
No need to scrutinize details; I wasn't the analyst. Just submit to the dean as-is.
And above all... the real worry was the destination awaiting us later.
The Empire's southwest, vast meadows unfurling. Someone once called it the second homeland of cavalry and gamblers: Safel Dulla.
Why on earth does the shadow want to send Riley there?
The survey site marked on the application.
×
Time passed without major incident until the weekend. Lectures droned on, Beni nursed muscle pain, Riley devoured ice cream—business as usual.
Saki's princess period probably hit too, but no fuss meant she'd failed to open a circle. Oh, and Riley's cycle came; she failed her 2nd Circle promotion too.
...Yeah. Surprising, but true. She'd opened her 1st Circle before enrollment.
Not that shocking on reflection. Opening circles by pure instinct isn't impossible sans theory. If dim wits barred all magic, the Empire wouldn't struggle so against Groomha County. Many spells and shaman arts require an open circle first...
"Good morning, everyone."
And so the weekend dawned. As expected, I greeted the two already waiting.
"Morning!"
"Good morning, Lieutenant."
Beni bobbed her head; Riley raised her hand vigorously. Same as always.
"Packed properly?"
"Of course!"
"Six-Aperture Pod?"
"Get whacked with the cane if I forget the red jade......"
"...I don't hit."
A thin chain linking pouch and strap. Riley pointed to it.
...Being able to joke like that meant the prior shock had faded somewhat.
"Miss Beni too... yes, well packed."
Beni pulled out her pod; one of the six holes held a red gem.
"Then let's head out. ...Wait, what's that?"
Confirming, I started to leave—then froze, eyeing Riley again.
Her "bag"—little more than a sack with a strap, familiar enough. But...
A small pouch dangled beside it.
"Oh, this? Wallet bag."
I asked, puzzled; she answered proudly.
"Wallet? Safer in the main bag, no...?"
"My wallet's in there! No worries!"
"Hm? Misheard?"
Then whose wallet was that? I furrowed my brow at the "wallet bag."
"Ah, others entrusted me with theirs."
"Entrusted? What do you mean?"
"Buy race tickets for 'em at the track!"
"......"
These idiots?
I gripped my cane hard; Beni hiccuped beside me.
"Names...?"
"Promised not to tell this time!"
"You just spilled it yourself."
"Uh... but names weren't part of the promise, right...?"
Absurd, but my fault for not spelling out contract clauses against Riley. I sighed softly and extended my hand.
"Did they say you absolutely wouldn't lose it?"
"Nah. No."
"Then confiscating. If you need an excuse like 'unavoidable force,' I can add violence. Your call?"
"G-Give......"
She quickly untied the small sack from the big one and handed it over. Even Riley wouldn't pick wrong in a "give willingly or get hit?" scenario.
"No need to fret. I won't let you break promises."
"Huh? What're you saying?"
"This money's for tickets. Winnings? Donate to church or city."
Personally, I'd love a win. Only a scam-loss would teach them. Blame lies with trusting Riley's underground lotto.
"Ooh. Sounds good then. Everyone'll be happy if it's for a good cause!"
I sighed again at her beaming smile.