This Body's Going for the Jackpot
Seira rose slowly from the young master's lap. His fluids and her own slick had soaked into the thin uniform, leaving a scatter of stains — but that hardly mattered.
"So what now, Young Master? Today was supposed to be my last day—"
She planted one hand on her hip, tilting her head as she whispered.
"Don't you think you ought to take me with you?"
"Wh—what?!"
The young master's voice still trembled. His face had gone scarlet and his lips were quivering, but he didn't refuse.
"We were going to meet tomorrow anyway. What's the problem?"
He pressed his lips together and slowly nodded. At that, Seira turned on her heel and waved a hand toward the proprietor.
"Boss. I need to cash out. Everything I've saved up. All of it."
"What, you're leaving right now?"
The proprietor shot her a sidelong look. Seira shrugged.
"I said I'd work through today, so I'm wrapping it up right on schedule. I've earned a decent pile — don't you dare short me. Tally it up properly."
"Hah... I knew it. He's taking her after all."
The proprietor scratched his head with a wry laugh. The young master, meanwhile, sat frozen in his seat, drowning in a torrent of shocked and envious remarks from the mercenaries.
Once the settlement was done, Seira strapped a pouch heavy with gold to her waist. The proprietor still watched her with a look of lingering regret. Around them, patrons soaked in drink and sagging with hunger tried to hold her back — their eyes the kind you'd give a lover you'd spent every night with, not a woman you'd only just met today.
But Seira gave them a single, dismissive flick of her fingers, as if shaking off dust.
"Thanks for the good money, everyone."
At those few words, the men stared at her, stunned. The proprietor sighed and ducked his head, and a few of the working girls stood with their mouths hanging open, as if this had to be a dream. They'd wished she'd vanish every single day. They just hadn't wished for a complete reversal of fortune quite like this.
Seira walked back over to the young master, who was still settling the bill, and caught his chin between her fingers.
"While you're covering tonight's drinks, go ahead and settle the inn as well. That tin-roof place over there. I don't have any luggage, so we can leave right away."
"Y-yes. Anything you want."
"Good. You take direction well."
And with that, she vanished into the changing room. No point wearing the uniform anymore — beneath that scrap of a robe, she put on nothing at all.
"Let's go."
"...Yes."
His answer came out so small and unsatisfying that Seira looped his arm around her waist, as if to say he might as well pretend they were close. The startled flush on the man's face was the only thing that stood out clearly.
The moment the two of them walked out of the tavern side by side, proprietor and patrons alike were left with expressions frozen in place, as if seeing off a one-woman show called Seira. This place had been the last stop of her mercenary work, and though their legs trembled and they made no effort to hide their envy, none of them could follow.
Beyond the sound of the closing door, the inside was thick with heat and jealousy and regret. Outside: a sultry figure that never once looked back, and the man holding onto her with awkward, uncertain hands.
Tomorrow wouldn't have come anyway.
And so her last day of work ended with one hell of a patron clenched firmly in her grip.
The young master's — Alpher's — lodgings were, without question, the largest and most expensive in the area, so well-appointed they didn't even need a private guard. The ceilings were high for this neighborhood, and the proprietor's dedication showed in the chandelier he'd gone so far as to hang. By the window, a double layer of lace curtains swayed quietly.
"Well, well... I knew I had a good eye."
Seira toed off the shoes she'd worn at the tavern, set them in front of the mirror, and dropped onto the edge of the bed. She crossed her legs lightly, tapping her fingers against her knee as she looked up at Alpher.
"But Young Master — sharing a room, just the two of us, with a knockout like me? That's a little naughty. I figured you'd book me a separate one."
Alpher's face went red all the way to the tips of his ears as his eyes darted frantically around the room. Seira, arms folded, hooked a corner of her mouth up and needled him.
That thing of his had looked reasonably impressive, so she'd followed him in on purpose, thinking she might as well scratch her own itch for once. He was a greenhorn, so he probably wouldn't be any good at it — but if she trained him up, well... The important thing was that even if she was going to grab whoever for a few days, a guy like this probably wouldn't come with any diseases.
"...I wasn't thinking. Then even now, I can—!"
"Ohhh?"
Still perched on the bed, Seira let one shoulder drop — and peeled her robe open just enough to show him what was underneath. What the fallen fabric revealed was a body wearing nothing at all. Not even the strings from earlier. Completely naked. Skin glowing pale in the indoor light, and those enormous breasts, crushed inside the robe as if they might burst free at any moment, swaying softly even as a silhouette.
"You know what's under here, and that's how you react?"
Alpher's eyes wavered — he'd been about to ring for a servant. He turned his head for the sake of a gentleman's dignity, but he couldn't turn his gaze. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Seira cupped a hand beneath her breasts and lifted them slightly.
"Hmm. If you're not going to look, maybe I'll show you later. I'm going to wash up first."
Seira rose slowly and strode toward Alpher. The robe fell further open with every step, and she treated that fact as utterly unremarkable.
"But—"
She stopped in front of the young master, tilting her head as she murmured.
"Me going off to wash by myself, looking like this... doesn't that seem a little strange?"
Alpher stood with his eyes fixed on the floor, trying not to look directly at the half-open front of Seira's robe. His hands were clenched at his sides, his lips trembling.
"If you're... worried I might take liberties, I'm fine. I can restrain myself."
At that, Seira's gaze dropped, just for a glance, to the front of his trousers.
A twitch. The fabric jumped. What had already risen again was far too honest.
"Is that so~?"
As if it were nothing, she gave that erect bulge a casual tap with her palm—
"Then why's this like this?"
And with the last word, another tap — this time with a finger. A fleeting contact in passing, but the sensation was far too stimulating.
"S-Seira?!"
"What?"
She walked right past him, stopping at the bathroom door to make a show of untying the robe's sash. Even the line of her back as she stepped inside — her bare skin stamped itself clearly into the young master's vision. The feeling of a silhouette that had been hazy in the light suddenly coming into sharp focus.
Until the door clattered shut, the young master stood rooted to the spot, pressing down on his heated hands and the throbbing at his core. It hadn't been some aristocratic test of his intentions. Those words had been permission — an invitation.
Alpher bit down hard on his lip. His body had already given its answer long ago. A heat he couldn't control with his mind was swelling toward her, ready to burst. He turned toward the bathroom behind him and took a step. Then, gripping the handle, he finally steeled himself and opened the door.
The bathroom, where hot water poured freely thanks to a magic stone, was already thick with steam. The one woman who seized his gaze as if branded into his eyes sat in the tub, showing off that beautiful pink hair. Damp steam, and beyond it, Seira's shoulder as she looked back. She smiled without a word, her back tilted slightly. This was a choice he was making as a man, in this moment — discarding a gentleman's pride and an aristocrat's dignity alike.
Seira's naked body, faintly visible through the steam, showed clearly all the way down her spine to the silhouette of her hips. Alpher closed the door and reached behind himself to quietly slide the lock into place. Then, standing in the doorway, he began undoing the buttons of his shirt, one by one.
"Oh my. I didn't think you'd actually come."
Seira said it in a playful voice, turning only her head. Her eyes were provocative, and yet somehow faintly expectant.
"Young Master. You're a grown man, aren't you."
Seira draped an arm over the rim of the tub and tossed her wet hair back — and at last he saw her upper body, wearing nothing at all. Alpher's vision filled with nothing but wet skin, light scattering across it like scales on water, and he bit his lip without thinking.
He stepped toward her, unable to look away for even a moment. Every time his wet feet met the tile, the soft splash of water sounded like her breath.
"...It goes against all propriety, but."
His voice was lower now, and firmer.
"If you don't mind, Seira..."
Seira smiled, eyes narrowing. That mischievous curve of her lips carried a thrilling welcome for a man who had finally made up his mind.
"You were groping me so eagerly earlier. Come here already."
She lifted a hand above the water and shifted her legs. The surface rippled, and her breasts rose just slightly out of the water. Her wet breasts glittered in the light, that explosive presence even the robe hadn't been able to hide swaying with elegant grace above the water's surface.
He set his clothes quietly on a shelf and slowly knelt before the tub, facing her.
"If I was the one who soiled you, then I ought to be the one to wash you clean..."
Seira looked down at him with laughter in her eyes. Water dripped from the leg she'd extended over the rim of the tub, landing on Alpher's knee.
"My, can I really leave it to those hands of yours, Young Master? They look more used to turning pages..."
"...It's true I'm not accustomed to this. But I will do my utmost."
A brief silence followed Alpher's last, throat-clearing cough. Seira's mouth curved in a playful smile, and she leaned in to whisper against his ear.
"Then you'd better learn. The place you'll need to wash is a little... inward. Make sure you watch closely, all the way there, how I react."
With those words, Seira slowly took his hand and drew it up onto her chest. Two moist, swelling curves enveloped his palm.
"...Ngh."
At a gesture that was the same as before and yet entirely different, Alpher realized he would have to rewrite every definition of the sacred he had ever read in a book.