81. Rose Garden and Lap Pillow
A noble's garden.
Gazing at the roses visible beyond the weathered gate, I was invited inside by the master of the house—an elderly man.
It was a small space, but countless pale yellow roses bloomed vibrantly, bathed in sunlight. The garden was impeccably maintained; clearly, the owner had nurtured them with great care.
Summer was approaching its peak. Roses shouldn't be blooming this time of year, yet somehow he'd coaxed them into flower.
In the center of the garden sat a white table and chairs, where Ira and I were seated.
The owner who'd welcomed us didn't say much. He brought tea and pastries, gave me a knowing wink about getting along with her, and left.
Ira seemed fine, but walking hand-in-hand through town had drawn stares and murmurs—I was relieved to escape that. Honestly, it was a lifesaver.
And what fine tea it was: fragrant and full-bodied, not straight but infused with some flavor. The pastries looked like simple slices of bread at first glance, but they were moist and rich, with roasted nuts and the sweetness of dried fruit in perfect harmony. A hint of cinnamon lingered on the tongue.
"This is delicious. Do you know what these pastries are called?"
"Stollen."
Ira answered. So this was stollen, one of my "four heavenly kings" of treats I'd heard of but never tried. I wanted more as souvenirs, but I couldn't bring myself to ask so shamelessly.
As I pondered that, Ira wrapped a piece in paper and hid it.
"For Cecily?"
Ira nodded.
"That's cheating. If I did the same and said it was for Fam and the others, you'd get mad, right?"
"I'd be furious. You're on a date with me."
We'd decided to leave Niren the next morning.
When I suggested adding Fang and Doris to the caravan, it turned out Mateo Merchant Company had vacancies from the recent battle at their local branch—they needed to leave guards behind. So Fang and Doris would join the caravan as temporary Altail members. Altail was Aver's adventurer party, but really just mercenaries hired by Mateo Company.
With an extra day, we'd follow the women's agreement: today was for Ira and me alone. Now here we were, surrounded by roses in elegant repose.
"Ira, once you're freed from slavery in Fulft, what do you plan to do?"
Would she say she'd go back to Lead? I wanted her to keep adventuring with us. The uncertainty gnawed at me.
"You've never mistaken me for Myra. Why is that?"
Ira dodged my question, changing the subject blatantly.
"Yeah, you tried tricking me once. But I won't fall for something like mole positions. I can tell you two apart at a glance. You're totally different."
No way I'd mix up their breast shapes and sizes. Back then, I was too excited and blurted it out—but I'd keep quiet now.
"People always confuse Myra and me. Even now. You don't because you like Big Sis?"
Ira sometimes called Myra "Big Sis." Usually she stuck to Myra consciously.
"Not just Big Sis. You too." I made sure to add that.
"Yet you barely talk to me."
She pouted.
"I can't read you at all. Are you even having fun with me? You like girls, right?"
"That's not it. It's just Cecily. Gender doesn't matter."
She replied.
"So Cecily's number one? I'm second?"
"You're around twenty-seventh. Right below yesterday's priest."
"Ouch, that's harsh. And such a realistic number—cut me some slack. At least top five!"
I couldn't say it, but I hoped my ranking beat Lead's. Please.
"I'm grateful to you, Mash. That day, I finally confirmed things with Cecily... But after, we drifted apart again."
She wanted love advice? Girl-on-girl romance was beyond me. And Cecily didn't see women that way.
She sighed, gazing at the sky—a brilliant midsummer blue. Our spot was perfectly shaded, and the dry air with a breeze from the west kept the heat at bay.
"...I liked things as they were. Staying a slave was fine."
She murmured.
"You said to get freed."
"Because you're gonna die soon anyway."
"..."
She just said it. I wanted her to know that hurt. But I had at least another decade, minimum.
"Mash, use the slave crest to order Cecily to stay by your side. Then I'll stay too."
"No way. And you don't mind not being by my side?"
"Yeah. As long as I'm near you, I still have a chance."
"...What does that mean?"
"Mash, try ordering me with the slave crest?"
Ira said something outrageous.
"Why? No thanks."
"You don't know how it works. Even if you never use it, better test it once."
True—slaves were used in combat often. Knowing their traits helped.
"Fair, but... the first thing I think of is something lewd, you know?"
"Make it the lewdest. Something irreversible."
She nodded at my words.
"Alright, just a little. Overcome your fear of bugs."
She stared at me deadpan for a second.
"Pfft—what?!"
Ira burst out laughing, clutching her stomach as she lost it.
"...That funny?"
"Fufu, ahahaha! You said it with such a straight face, haha—ow, it hurts, ahaha!"
Had any woman ever laughed like this with me? Mixed feelings.
Noticing my face, Ira stopped.
"Why the long face?"
"Nah, first time someone's laughed that hard talking to me. Feels like I made a friend."
I never imagined Ira laughing like this.
"...Idiot. So, what's the real order?"
I didn't want to order anything, but one idea hit.
"When we first met. I was injured from goblins. You patched me up, but there was something else I wanted more."
"More than healing?"
"A lap pillow."
During sword training with Aver, how many times had I dreamed of her lap while peeking at Mizuki's upskirt?
Hearing that, she stood, went to the grass, and sat sideways.
"Go ahead."
She patted her thigh.
Drawn in, I approached and lay with my head on her lap.
Soft, warm with her body heat. And her ample breasts shading me.
She stroked my head.
"Mash, it's fine if I stay a slave. I'll stick with you. Fight till the end."
A butterfly, lured by the rose scent, fluttered by.
It sought rest and landed on Ira's shoulder.
We'd overstayed.
Thanking him, he said we could enjoy inside too. I declined politely, and he gave Ira a rose for her hair, plus stollen as souvenirs.
A thank-you for saving the town.
I tucked the rose into her black hair—it suited her perfectly.
"The stollen's for you and me. You can share with Cecily only when I'm around."
Myra's warning not to sneak ahead.
Hand-in-hand, we walked through town again.
We headed east-ish.
An old town. We saw repairs from the monster attack, but plenty of pre-existing damage too.
Like the roads: cobblestones, but deep wheel ruts.
Fewer people than Rishel. The market was sparse—maybe the attack's fault. Hoped it'd bustle again someday.
Lost in thought, we ran into Momoka and Chihiro.
"Wha, rare pair, huh?"
"Is it? We're always together?"
I glanced at Ira. She kept a straight face.
"Saw Fang an' Doris. Asked 'bout Izark."
"Yeah?"
Momoka nodded at me. Probably gathering info on the mage who fled with the mirror.
"Izark was in a guild east o' here. We're headin' there."
"Fulft?"
She shook her head.
"Fulft's south from here. You lot goin' downriver to Migurut, right? We're takin' the land route."
"The war-torn town?"
"Nah. Izark's place is before that."
I nodded, but geography escaped me—no sense of location or distance.
We'd go south to Fulft, downriver east, then north to Migurut. Momoka and the wanderers straight east to Migurut, passing Izark's town and the war zone.
Unlike a caravan, her group had no loot to steal and could fight—land route safer for them.
"Changin' subjects, but Mizuki's last name... Yamase?"
"You know it?"
Momoka nodded.
"Prolly. Lived east for a year in elementary—parent stuff. Her weird talk caused some friction."
Kansai folk stay Kansai anywhere.
"Did Mizuki bully you?"
Imagining it almost made me chuckle.
"Ya know that's not it. Yamase helped me. Different class, but she chatted me up tons. Thought she looked familiar—it's Mizuki. Rings a bell now."
Momoka muttered oddly, convinced.
"Yeah, she'd help anyone she saw getting groped."
Justice incarnate, or reckless. World was small—they knew each other? Mizuki never mentioned; probably forgot. I'd ask later.
"Heard from schoolkids after—she was famous. Guys from other grades crushed on her."
Then Momoka's face clouded.
"Elementary Yamase was tough, but more..."
She trailed off.
"What?"
"Nothin'. My imagination. She's yer partner—watch her proper."
As I went to reply, Ira squeezed my hand. Jealous? Unexpected.
"Ah, ruined yer date, huh?"
Noticing, Momoka cut it short.
"One last thing: Doris was Izark's slave. Might wanna watch out."