Bubble Breasts and the Northern Call
The Young Lady scooped up handfuls of frothy bubbles, blowing on them with a soft "poof," her face lit up in a smile.
"Hee hee hee..."
She seemed utterly relaxed after the bath's soothing embrace, showing no signs of leaving the tub anytime soon.
"The bubbles are so fluffy..."
"Having fun?"
"Yeah. Feels like I've gotten ten years younger."
The Young Lady had always loved baths. After playing with the bubbles for a good while, she molded them into two massive mountain peaks and turned to me with a grin.
Taut, jiggly bubbles. She poked at them with a finger and said,
"Ricardo, doesn't this look familiar?"
"No."
Her sly smile put me on edge. The Young Lady's artistic creations always defied my expectations. The prime example? That Membosha fiasco with the paper crane mask. Having once insisted a rectangle was a paper crane, I figured this held some profound meaning too.
She wore a serious expression as she piled on more bubbles, making them even bigger.
"Think about it..."
"I have no idea."
"Fluffy and jiggly..."
"Yes."
"And huge."
Unable to pinpoint the answer, I leaned in closer to inspect her artwork. Bet it feels just as jiggly to the touch.What could it be?
In my brief contemplation, my gaze drifted innocently astray. Call it instinct—I hadn't meant to, but it pulled like a magnet.
The Young Lady's treasure pouch, glistening with trickling droplets. The reverent sight made me bow my head and snap my eyes away.
No way...
I shook my head at the earnestly serious Young Lady. No way something made with that expression was that.
...But nothing else comes to mind.
Her work was beyond a mere commoner's grasp, I decided. Pouting, she fixed me with a grave tone as I floundered.
"It looks like boobs."
"...Hah."
"Super soft and super big."
"Oh, for..."
I splashed water fiercely at her face. As her creation crumbled with a flick of her tiny hand, she clutched her chest in world-ending despair.
"My boobs!"
"What boobs?!"
"Eeeeek! Ricardo ruined my boobs!"
"No...!"
Was it because this seductive villainess only learned the naughty stuff? Her flirting was spot-on. Beaming at my flushed face, she burst into bright laughter.
"Kyaa! Why so red!"
"Who makes boobs bigger than watermelons?! And why make them at all!"
"Hee hee! It's fun!"
Baths always amped up her energy. After crafting various bubble sculptures, she lost interest and flicked the yellow duck toy floating in the tub, turning to me.
"Hey, Ricardo."
"Yes."
"I've been thinking about where to go on our trip."
"You've put thought into it. I figured you'd just pick anywhere."
"Eeeek..."
She shot me a tiny glare, pursing her lips. Then, head drooping sullenly, she hid her words behind a gloomy facade. I smiled faintly at her.
"So, where'd you decide?"
"...Well."
"Yes."
"You know, it's just..."
She hesitated. Probably picked somewhere pricey—she couldn't leave the floating duck alone, hugging her knees and stealing glances at me. What could make her fret like this? Blunt as it sounds, if even she, who checked Gomtang's mood more than mine, was this conflicted, it wasn't some easy jaunt.
I crouched beside the tub, observing her grand bosom while awaiting her answer. Staring at her face would just embarrass her.
No funny business. I swear on my conscience.
*Stare...*
"..."
"Pervert Ricardo."
"..."
A villainess's eyes see right through you. With a sigh, she cautiously spilled her hidden wish.
She'd thought long and hard about a destination—what did I think?
"I really mulled it over. Where'd be fun."
"You worked hard."
"Yeah. If I left it to you, you'd pick dragon territory or some barbarian wasteland."
"...Didn't you like that stuff? I had it all planned out roughly."
"Eeeek..."
She tilted her head at her own words, mumbling, That might be fun too... Knowing her tastes so well felt good, but I listened intently—she looked serious.
"It's just..."
She peeked at me, then gripped the floating duck tight.
*Squeeeak!*
The duck let out a death squeal at her grasp. I nearly laughed at the oblivious toy's cry, but her shy, troubled face killed the urge. Laugh now, and she'd chuck it at my face.
"Don't say anything when you hear it."
"Of course."
"For real."
"Yes..."
She opened her mouth gingerly.
"See..."
"Yes, you see."
"I thought about it a lot. Sea, mountains, valleys..."
"Very wholesome picks for you. Surprising."
"Ung..."
"I'd planned a dwarf kingdom raid or unauthorized elf invasion."
"You could do that?"
"If you asked."
"Ugh... No, later for that."
"Tell me whenever."
"Ung."
She shook her head vigorously, then ventured carefully.
"Really, don't get mad."
"Yes."
"Really really—you told me to pick."
"Yes."
Head bowed deep, in a shy whisper:
"I wanna go somewhere super cold."
"Pardon?"
"The North..."
"Uh..."
"I wanna see the North."
Her words hit harder than expected. The North right now wasn't fit for humans. Freezing cold. Swarming monsters. Heretics too. And...
"..."
Yuria's hometown. I gave a wry smile, tousling her wet hair.
"Perfect timing. Weather's warming up—ideal for a trip."
"Not mad?"
"Why would I be?"
"It's super cold."
"You want to go—why get mad? It's not some weird spot."
"...Still."
"I thought you'd say the sea. You mentioned wanting a bikini last time."
She poked her hidden belly fat under the bubbles, shaking her head. Not time yet.
"Sea after I slim down."
"You're plenty slim now."
"Hee hee..."
Everyone inside her—villainess or saint—loved the weight topic. Nodding at our settled destination, I said brightly. At least lodging would be cheap.
"Convenient. Desmonts have a vacation home up North. No money worries."
"..."
She clamped her mouth shut. I chuckled softly.
"Don't they?"
"...Dad sold it 'cause we're broke."
Desmonts looked extra pitiful today.
*
A chilly wind swept through a Northern village.
"..."
Yuria's father, James, rubbed his stiff shoulders and stretched.
"Wonder if Yuria's doing okay."
His worries always turned to his daughter. From the North to the capital—would she manage? He knew foreign life was tough better than anyone. A father's commonplace fretting. Easier living than the frigid North, but no home.
With a daughter, peace of mind was fleeting; James fretted whenever free.
*Dad... Eat breakfast even without me...*
*Don't cry, Yuria. Dad's fine. Go worry-free.*
*Quit your job too...*
*I will.*
James broke his promise, working. Hunting the sudden monster surge. Retired adventurer due to injury, but restarting to send pocket money to his Academy daughter—a small father's wish.
He chuckled ruefully at his monster bite scar.
"Yuria'd scold me."
These moments made her absence ache more.
James had two jobs: adventurer, and his main—but lower-earning—gig as Yuram Inn owner.
North drew summer tourists. Snowcapped peaks birthed stunning vistas; summer mirages danced in the sky. Spring was slow, but summer funded Yuria's allowance handsomely—until the monster flood halved profits.
Rolling his sore shoulders, he sighed.
"No guests for a while."
Tourists now? Crazy, he thought. No one picks pretty views over death.
As bitter thoughts flitted by—
*Hee hee hee...!*
A wheeled chair barreled down the Northern mountainside, emitting weird giggles.
A chair. Not a sled—a chair.
Incredulous, James rubbed his eyes and gawked. Over thirty North years, no such lunatic.
"..."
*Hee hee hee!!! Eeeeek! So fast!*
A white-haired girl whipped past, hair flying, too quick to track. James blanked.
Then, spotting the red-haired man chasing her pace, he nodded calmly.
"Hallucinating? Time to head home."
He couldn't comprehend. Hoped they weren't guests.