This Body's Broke
"......I don't have any money?"
Leon froze as she rummaged through her pockets. More precisely, she didn't have any pockets to rummage through.
"When I stripped it all off earlier......"
She traced back through her memory. She'd had it when she boarded the carriage. She'd had it when she got off, too.
Ah. While peeling off the armor and robe that had been chafing her raw as she ran — nothing fit this body anymore — she'd undone the gold pouch and the leather belt hanging at her waist right along with everything else.
"Sh—it."
There was no telling where it had gone. It wasn't as if gold coins came with their owner's name on them. It could have blown away on the wind. Someone could have picked it up.
The problem was now. In this state, she couldn't even set foot on the street, couldn't pay for a room. Buying new clothes took money too. The most basic of basics — and right now, she didn't have it.
"Hah......"
Leon covered her face with her hands. What her fingertips met was a soft, smaller jawline, eyelashes grown alienly long — and when she dropped her gaze, those breasts were still swinging.
"This pisses me off so fucking much... this is a goddamn disaster. A disaster."
For better or worse, even if she walked out like this, there was nothing that would identify her as who she used to be. But in this body, anything she did would only make her stand out.
So... what was she supposed to do?
The fastest way to turn a high profit in her current state?
After a moment's thought, what surfaced in Leon's mind was—
"......A tavern?"
She didn't have a choice. Solving things with force was hard in this body. Her muscle strength had dropped, and she had no armor. Even the magic that had been outstanding among her abilities was a mess — her mana alignment was completely out of order.
Which meant, in the end, she had to... use this face. This body.
"Damn it......"
It was a choice that smashed her pride to pieces. But she was a freelance mage who wouldn't balk at any choice if it meant surviving.
"Fine. Just three days. ......If I sell a few drinks with this face, I should at least cover a room and travel money."
Having made up her mind, Leon straightened her robe. She tied the torn spots roughly and cinched the waist, trying to cut down the bounce of her chest even a little.
The effect, however—
"......That just made them stand out more!"
Leon Belgard — the infamous good-for-nothing mage, the hellraising scoundrel who'd once even had a bounty on her head — was now heading to a tavern as an absurdly busty beauty.
When she pushed open the tavern door, the air hit her in a rush — cheap spices, sweat, and the reek of alcohol all tangled together. Red-faced drunks slumped over the tables as if they'd lain down on them, and the bartender was wiping out cheap tankards.
In the corner, a musician who'd been plucking a harp took one look at Leon, lost every eye that should have been his, and made a face like he'd bitten into something foul.
"The hell you looking at."
Bristling like a wary wildcat to keep herself safe, Leon clutched the edge of her robe with one hand, pinning down her bouncing chest as she stepped inside, on edge.
Silence fell in an instant.
The stares gathered, just as she'd expected. Sweat trickled strangely from the nape of her neck down to her waist under the gazes of bastards she wouldn't normally give a damn about.
And then—
"Oh my, a young lady I've never seen before?"
A middle-aged woman who looked to be the proprietor came bustling through the atmosphere.
"A face I don't recognize. Don't tell me... you're a customer?"
"No. I'm looking for work. Even something small is fine. Put me to work. ...I can't stay long — just about three days."
Far from being humble, Leon carried herself as if she were the one bringing them a job, dropping her voice as low as it would go.
The old husky voice was gone. What came out was high and soft — a woman's voice from the start.
"......Ugh, shit."
Hearing that, the proprietor's eyes lit up.
"Three days?"
"Any longer than that's tough. I'll be leaving this place soon."
Leon wrapped both arms around her chest and lifted her chin.
"But for those three days, I'll work as hard as I can, so—"
A tap. Leon snatched up a pen rolling on the table, scrawled across some random slip, and held the number out to the proprietor.
"How about this."
The proprietor peered at the note, and the corner of her mouth curled up.
Base pay: 30 silver for three days
Personal-request sales: 1% bonus, paid in full
"Hmm? Have you done this kind of work before?"
"...Well."
What she'd actually done was a tavern guard gig as a kid. Still, it was a reasonably fair rate, and the proprietor sank into thought, tapping the desk with a finger.
"Alright. I'll take it."
"Oh, easier than I expected?"
"I don't do anything that lowers my standards~ But there is a condition."
The proprietor leaned in toward her and dropped her voice.
"You won't refuse a customer's request unless it's really out of line. We don't do prostitution at this establishment, but every now and then there can be... delicate requests, you know?"
Leon raised one eyebrow.
"......What, you just said this isn't a place that sells bodies?"
"It's not. However—"
The proprietor smiled and opened her palm.
"'Miss, sing us a song.' 'I'll just rest my hand on your knee~' 'I had a hard day — show me a smile.' That kind of thing comes in dozens of times a day."
"Damn. That sounds more exhausting than just putting out once."
"But I'm agreeing to all your terms, aren't I? In this day and age, where else are you going to find a place that throws in incentives for a mere three days?"
Leon shut her mouth. The proprietor's words were plainly true.
"......Fine. A 'smiling face,' I'll do that much."
"Contract's done! You start today, miss~!"
"Hmph."
"Ah, right. What's your name?"
Leon had thought it over and spat out whatever name came to mind. The proprietor, as if she couldn't have cared less, pulled something from under the negotiation table and held it out.
"Alright, Seira. This is the uniform. The size... I went generous for now. Roughly based on that bo~dy of yours."
"Ugh."
Leon took the uniform spilling across her hands and grumbled under her breath, but the scent of glittering silver she'd receive in return was a temptation that melted a penniless brain.
"Let's get to work, then?"
The women's changing room, in the back of the tavern.
Leon tried on the cheap uniform the proprietor had given her.
The deep blue outfit, split into a top and bottom, looked less like work clothes and more like a trap built on the premise of seduction. The top barely covered part of her chest, no better than underwear. Below, even with fabric draped down, the little patch meant to cover her sex was so conspicuous it was more provocative than if she'd worn nothing at all.
"...It's a job. A job."
She grabbed the fabric and pulled it up from her legs to her waist. No matter how many times she told herself that, there still wasn't enough of it. Her belly was far too bare, and her chest was so unmanageable the upper hem swelled as if it would burst. And her ass, too—
"Ah, why is it so tight. This is seriously pissing me off."
Clothes with far more skin on display than her tattered robe. And the fact that this was standard serving attire here was even more staggering.
"...Just try underpaying me."
After roughly putting on the accessories she'd been handed as well, she flicked her foot with a swish of fabric — and the moment Leon appeared, the proprietor's mouth curled up all on its own.
"Alright, to Table A~"
Following the proprietor's instruction, Leon sauntered in the direction she pointed. Then from behind, two sharp claps.
"Everyone, introducing our new girl — Seira~!"
The proprietor announced her so loudly that every customer's gaze snapped over at once. Leon — Seira — in the deep blue tavern costume made the word "sexy" sound like an understatement.
A cinched waist and all that volume, long legs spilling through the slit of the skirt, and with every step the firm line of her thighs and hips flashed in between. She could feel the stares sticking to her.
"What are you all staring at?"
Seira, who'd been nothing but brazen until the moment she stepped out, found her face coloring with a strange embarrassment. She spoke with an expression empty of any smile, but even that tone landed.
"Whoa, where'd this girl come from?"
"Wow, she's actually gorgeous......"
"What, a newbie?"
She hunched her chest inward and barely managed a smile.
"I'm temp."
The line was practically ground out through her teeth, and the moment she lifted her arm pouring a drink — a jolt, and her nipple nearly showed.
The men swallowed in unison.
"......Ah, shit."
If it were up to her she'd have blown a hill sky-high, but life never goes the way you want.
And yet—
"Hey, who's this girl? Does she work here every day?"
"Have this girl pour all our drinks, boss!"
"I'd like her to pour more than just drinks~"
It was a short stint of serving, but even the neighboring tables were stirring, and Seira detonated the tavern's atmosphere in an instant. One drink, two drinks — the more she worked the room, the faster her popularity soared.
A stiff, cold tone. And yet at the end of every word, a collarbone flashing as she tipped her neck; volume swaying every time she reached out an arm; a light, dewy fragrance that drifted every time she set down a glass.
"Hnn... um... hey, could I just hold your hand for a second?"
"You grab it, and your wrist goes on the tab. That alright with you?"
"Uh, how much?"
Watching from the back, the proprietor had her eyes half-rolled in delight.
Seira, strangely practiced at working a room, began to show her true worth the more she settled into the place. It was the shameless cheek unique to people who'd had nothing and had to survive anywhere.
She made the rounds of the tables with a drink in one hand and the upper hand in the other. Now and then she'd rest an arm, or let her fingertips brush past — stealing the breath right out of her customers.
"Ohoho! A treasure just rolled right in. Thanks to that girl, we'll make a week's worth of sales in today alone!"
This was a place with almost no one living here permanently, earning entirely off travelers — and as long as she was around, their stays would stretch somehow. Them seeking out this tavern was as certain as sunrise.
Rumors the proprietor had overheard through a crack in the door.
Seira paused behind the serving counter, a towel in one hand, and wiped her sweat. She swiped away the droplets that had rolled down over her chest, not giving a damn about anyone's eyes, already pulling her breasts apart through the gaping fabric.
"Damn, miss! Open up for this side too!"
The tavern was packed all day with laughter, with sighs, and with the words Seira's the best!