That Special Day (1)
When I was little and Father told me I would go through heat as well, I truly thought the sky was falling.
Back then, heat to me was that terrifying thing where no matter what thoughts I held, just catching a man's scent would bleach my mind white and set my lower belly trembling and throbbing.
Father had also told me never to go near any unknown men during heat, so I figured what I was imagining must be right, and there were times I trembled in pure fear.
But when I actually went through it, it wasn't like that at all.
It was more like a pink fog settling over my head, making me a little stupid, more conscious of other people, and just a bit more sensitive.
Trailing after the captain of the guards for a day and pestering him, or snuggling into Mother's arms to be stroked—that was the heat I experienced, and it would simply pass.
So even without Mother or the captain of the guards around, I figured it wouldn't be a big deal.
As I wriggled in bed, I felt my clothes bunching up against me.
Why am I wearing clothes? It didn't take long for the reason to surface. Yesterday, calling Dogeon's name had left me so mortified that I went straight to bed. Looks like I fell asleep without even taking them off.
I had wrung out every last drop of courage just to manage calling his name, yet Dogeon had worn an expression as if he felt nothing at all.
He was handsome and had a good personality, so he'd probably had plenty of girls call his name before—no wonder he wasn't particularly surprised.
…Now wasn't the time to be thinking about that guy. Even as I lay there, my clothes were getting wrinkled in real time.
When I took them off and gave them a sniff, thankfully the smell wasn't too bad. I could wear them a few more days and then drop them off at the laundry.
It was free, and if you just told them your room number they'd even deliver, so I figured I could leave it without any burden.
But I hadn't washed properly yesterday, so my body was sure to smell.
Mother and Father always said I didn't smell much, but that was probably just parents saying formalities.
When I was a boy, if I skipped even one day of washing, they'd immediately tell me I reeked and order me to go wash.
After becoming this body, I hadn't needed to bother with any of that. For most things besides actual washing, I could simply ask God.
The floor was a bit cold, but that was just right for clearing my head. I knelt and offered a prayer for purity to God.
—I beseech thee, O God. Cast out all impurities from this body.
…Huh. Why isn't it working. Is it broken? Even when I offered the prayer again, there was no answer from God.
Ah, right. God's condition had been terribly bad. How could I forget that? I wasn't even an idiot.
I fretted for a moment that if God woke up He might overdo it for my sake, but it seemed He was in a deep sleep.
That was a relief, but the fact that I smelled remained unchanged.
So the only way left was to wash with water like in the old days—except there was one problem.
I didn't know how to wash a woman's body. After all, I'd always maintained cleanliness by praying to God. I'd never once doused myself with water.
I just instinctively recoiled from it. They say tigers don't avoid water, but just the thought of falling in or getting doused with it sent chills down my spine.
But I had no choice now. Being mocked for smelling was scarier than getting soaked. I had plenty of related bad memories—more than enough to push past the instinctive fear.
I never thought I'd actually have to go into the bathroom. Complaining all the while, I took off my underwear.
A naked girl was reflected in the mirror, but I felt no excitement or anything of the sort. Since it was the body I'd seen since childhood, it didn't feel particularly sensual.
If there was any appreciation to be had, it was something like, Well, the places that should stick out do stick out, I guess?
I picked up the thing that screamed "I'm a showerhead" and looked at the faucet, but there were no hot and cold water indicators.
Having a shower was one thing—since this world was originally from a novel, I could accept that—but not labeling which side was hot and which was cold? What was that about?
Left is hot, right is cold, I guess. I had no preference for washing in cold water, so I turned the faucet to the left.
You're supposed to wash starting from the crown of your head. When I turned on the water, cold water poured out.
With no time to even be startled by the ice water cascading over my whole body, I immediately shut it off.
…I thought my heart was going to drop. This continent is so unfair in the weirdest places. The bizarre etiquette, and now this too.
With trembling hands, I turned the faucet the other way. But I didn't mindlessly pour it over my head like before.
Having been burned badly once, this time I planned to adjust the temperature by pouring water onto my palm.
True to this continent of unfairness, this time it was almost boiling hot. Only after turning the faucet this way and that to produce a lukewarm temperature could I finally wash.
After enjoying the warmth for quite a while and finally getting ready to wash, I saw there was an awful lot of stuff.
I knew what body wash and shampoo were, but the rest—treatment, rinse, and so on—there was so much of it.
Don't touch what you don't know. I just soaked a shower towel with body wash and rubbed it on my body, but the sensation was strangely weird.
“…Hnn.”
Ticklishness was the closest feeling, I guess. Every time I rubbed my body, I got a strange sensation.
Maybe it was because I didn't have that green ball right now and my condition was off.
Weird little sounds like "hit" or "hnn" slipped out every time I brushed a sensitive area, but anyway, it was because of my poor condition. And also because it was the first time in my life washing with water, so it was unfamiliar.
Come to think of it, they say women need to use a lot of shampoo when washing their hair. How much was appropriate? One or two times didn't seem like nearly enough.
Even when I thought this much should be fine, once I washed it, it was still lacking.
Only after pouring it on until I was completely covered could I make enough foam to be satisfied. Even I thought I'd used a bit too much shampoo, but for someone washing their hair for the first time, I did pretty well, I thought proudly to myself.
“Hyaat…?!”
Except for the water going into my ears while rinsing the foam.
To cut to the chase, I succeeded in getting the water out without major incident. Though I twisted my whole body ungracefully and nearly slammed my head into the wall.
Looking at my reflection in the steamed-up mirror, I looked exactly like a wet cat.
When I came out of the bathroom, the sun had risen at some point. It had still been dark when I went in—just how long had I been washing?
I was still lost in that impression for only a moment before a transmission reached me—so faint I would have missed it if I hadn't concentrated.
Back when we'd spoken in the gymnasium, I could hear Him clearly even without focusing. The thought that I might have weakened God by borrowing His power left me dejected.
Then what on earth had left God this weakened? I wanted to ask, but God showed no intention of telling me.
If it had been a person I might have pried until I found out, but since it was God's will, I could only respect it.
I was so shocked I forgot I was speaking with God and dropped into polite speech without thinking.
I'd thought this god was in such poor condition that He kept sleeping—yet like the others back home, He had been watching me?
That meant He had also seen me revealing my original self to Dogeon under the claim of friendship.
I was so embarrassed I could die. I buried my face in the towel, and somewhere a breeze rose and dried my hair.
Thank you, God… but could You leave me alone for a while?
Forming a contract with a god—did that even make sense? Yet God didn't seem to be lying. My questions only multiplied, but since God had departed, I had no choice but to keep them to myself.
And then something more important than those questions rose to the surface. God had said He had seen my original shut-in loner self—that was a major issue.
How was I supposed to speak to Dogeon in front of other people?
Treating him the same as usual wouldn't be a problem in itself, but if I did, I would inevitably get tangled in troublesome rumors.
A princess being warmly familiar with a commoner was, even I had to admit, a juicy piece of gossip. I had no desire to hand other girls the ammunition to trash me for hanging around with a low-status guy.
His face alone was top-tier, but that was a separate matter. My thoughts kept drifting in strange directions today.
Father had told me never to show my true self in front of others. So when it was just the two of us, I could speak casually…
In front of others, I should still behave the way Father taught me.
I thought I would be able to settle my policy once I finished dressing, but even after putting everything on, I still couldn't decide perfectly.
Still, since we were friends, calling him by name at least would probably be good.
When I stepped out of my room, by some miracle Dogeon was coming out of his at the exact same moment.
All right, then…
“Han Dogeon. Come here.”