Dawn Peep and Bathroom Blunder
After handing the "Who's the Winner Here?" incident over to the local unit, we headed straight back to the dorm for some rest. Of course, "straight back" is relative—it came after wrapping up all sorts of statements. It was late at night, so they sent us off with instructions to call us back if questions arose during their investigation... but the situation made that tricky.
The downside—not really a downside—of healing magic is that injuries heal completely. It's usually great, leaving no scars—though some macho women hate losing their badges of honor—but it causes issues for preserving the scene. Did Berele, that rabbit beastkin, unilaterally murder someone? Or was it self-defense after feeling her life threatened? By the time we handed her over to the guards, the slash wound on her throat had already vanished. Sure, there was plenty of blood, but it could be someone else's. No DNA testing in this world anyway. Her stomach still bore burn marks and the scars from cauterizing them... but even those aren't impossible to fake.
That made my eyewitness testimony crucial for judging the situation. The most reliable approach would be hearing from the parties involved, but Berele was unconscious when we found her, and perjury was always a risk. We needed cross-verification witnesses. So the detailed questioning dragged on, and by the time we got back to the dorm, it was deep into the night. With schedules the next day, we washed up and crashed right away. That was a few hours ago.
Still dim predawn. But after tossing and turning without real sleep, my eyes felt wide awake. I rubbed them lightly and let out a long yawn. Too early to get up. Maybe catch a bit more shut-eye? As that thought crossed my mind, I suddenly remembered waking at a similar hour during the last expedition. Of course, that time it was Riley squirming beside me. And much later than now. This could be called "waking up a bit too early" depending on how you spin it, but back then it was the dead of night.
'Strike out this week?' I turned my head left. Riley was sprawled in the spot she'd rolled to last time—but facing away this time. Far from me, collapsed in some bizarre pose. What a shame. It had been so nice last time. With that sentiment, I eyed her form. Like a squashed frog...? Knees splayed the opposite of a frog pose—what's that called again? Anyway, face-down like that. Cheek mashed into the floor, hips slightly raised by contrast. A thoroughly disheveled cat pose, maybe?
"……."
I stared at her for a moment. Riley sleeps in her underwear. And that "underwear" is barely scraps of cloth unfit to call clothing. Already skimpy tribal string panties, but high-leg cut at a dizzyingly dangerous angle. Depending on the view, her plump cheeks hid it, ramping up the peril. I glanced at Beni, then back to Riley. Confirming both soundly asleep, I carefully sat up. Then crept toward Riley as quietly as possible. Not beside her, but below. Right behind those upraised hips. I squatted there cautiously.
Gulp.
I swallowed without thinking. Muscles and fat in perfect harmony—that ass. True to her self-proclaimed imperial heir status, once freed from those tight jeans, it rivaled Her Majesty's by a good margin. Ah, I want to be crushed under it. Sit on my face, please. Ideally after a full day strutting around, right after peeling off those unwashed jeans. Not sitting on people with an ass like that is a waste of resources, right?
"Mmngh…"
"……?!"
Lost in admiring the artwork, Beni's murmur from the side jolted me. I scrambled back, heart pounding. Glancing at her with shaky eyes... seemed like just sleep-talk. Beni breathed steadily, face peacefully asleep. Unlike her usual uniform, she wore clingy long underwear. Early spring nights were still chilly. Fleece-lined inside, she'd said. She's sensitive to cold. When academy scholarships came, she bought stacks for herself and family first. Reminded me of Koreans buying thermal undies for parents with their first paycheck. Coincidence here, though.
One in micro-bikini territory right next to someone bundled in thermals—what a bizarre sight. Beni wasn't that cold, though. Blanket down to her legs, top ridden up exposing pale skin. Mild tossing compared to Riley.
'She’s got some nice lines, though...' A bit short, but clingy clothes highlighted her proportions. Long limbs. Pretty slender... that work? In my past life, those breasts would've been big. Three years in the empire inflated my brain's tit standards. See too many subculture girls, real giant racks don't impress... maybe that's it. Compared to her chest, lower body was sturdy. Academy uniform's stiffness downplays her upper half, but legs and hips stand out. Waist cinching sharply to wide hips. Thighs below were impressive.
'Huh, suddenly feeling like a total creep.' Teacher ogling sleeping students' bodies? Burn at the stake wouldn't be enough. Sure, same age as students. ...Mental age? Hey, I'm a nineteen-year-old beauty. No slander. "……." ...Tsk, but I can't hold back. I quietly stood and headed to the bathroom. Risky, but unavoidable. Even Priestess Myurin in heaven would approve. Kids woke later last time—plenty of margin. Slept later too.
I shut the bathroom door and clapped, channeling aura into my palms. The cramped space's sound vanished instantly.
×
When she woke, Beni flailed at empty air without thinking. Blame the nightmare she'd thrashed in moments ago. Chased by a blood-soaked ghost, she slipped off a cliff. Not drenched in cold sweat, but heart-pounding terror lingered. Why such a dream? Obvious.
"……."
Yesterday's incident. To defend her honor, Beni wasn't the type to freak at blood. Surprisingly resilient to gore. Rural life meant frequent beast or sea-thing attacks nearby. Or disasters closer than modern Earth. Builds tolerance. So her near-faint wasn't the blood. Just shock at a "about-to-die" person bursting out suddenly. Pity for the dying is natural; the jump-scare... some fear ghost stories more. Gore-proof but horror-averse type. ...Can't deny that's still cowardly.
So nightmares after trauma? Normal for her. Awake, it was laughable nonsense. Patient bleeding out approaching—what's scary? Dreams defy logic, though. Messy enough Yura appeared. Unconscious pick: "most reliable person." Brief relief at hero's stirrup. Then Yura chased her. No clue why. Pure dream logic. Probably Yura turned monster. Heard scary sea-things mimic humans.
"Ugh."
She shivered. Not sea-thing fear.
'Bathroom...' Lower belly clenched. Eyes still gummy, she groped through darkness. More waddle than walk. Precarious—dream's falling sensation could've loosened her enough for a continental flood. Relieved at averting world peace crisis, she dashed in. No hesitation: yanked down undies and pants, sat swiftly. Trembling release and relief. Followed by pattering—
'Water sound...?' Why so quiet? Forced eyes open, stared at her crotch. Stream fine—no, stronger than usual, splashing toilet water.
"Huh?"
Dream? Pee dreams are bad luck. Voice slipped out. Or tried.
'Frozen?' Hazy mind snapped alert at "did I die in dream?" panic. Grasped situation easily. Beni looked up in shock.
"……."
"……."
"……?!?!?!"
Eyes met Yura Konstantia's—buck-naked, awkwardly in shower corner, maybe pre-shower. Both panicked. Wide eyes, arms covering chest and privates.
"S-sorry… urgh."
Beni equally flustered. Stand? But...
...Can't rebuild a breached dam. Face burned as stream gushed. Realized her exposure.
"L-let's just both close our eyes."
"Y-yes…!"
Bladder ignored her; tears welled behind squeezed lids.
"S-sorry…"
"...No harm. Accidents happen when desperate."
Gush slowed from torrent to trickle, ages later. Mana-chatted, Beni groped door blind, fled. Silent slam despite force. Squatting outside, she groaned.
'Pretend asleep... pretend asleep...'
Can't stay. Yura'd emerge; no face to face her. Better feign sleep already. Fling blanket over, head to toe—feet poked out. Dry body, so pretend post-wash... still urgent.
'Huh?'
One doubt: 'Why were clothes scattered on bathroom floor?' Probably ditched for later stacking on lid. Till then, it nagged, ruining sleep.