The Gloomy Black-Haired Busty Girl (1)
Even after lunch, guests trickled in sporadically. Most were merchants planning to crash here overnight and head out for Fribourg at dawn. The royal palace hadn't even issued an official declaration that the Golruk threat was fully over, yet these guys were boldly cutting through Rosens purely for profit. If it turned out to be just speculators' bullshit or empty hype from windbags, they'd get wiped out by Golruk to the last man. Money truly is mighty—for some folks, worth more than their own necks. As a fellow businessman, I gotta tip my hat to 'em.
I'm not scraping by running this inn out of desperation, and crap like Golruk doesn't faze me much anyway, so I can move without a care. But those guys? One slip, and they lose everything. Yet they charge down that risky road without batting an eye... Anyway, that wasn't the issue at hand.
Merchants shuttling between cities always drag along two or three wagons at minimum, and there were plenty of 'em today. Horses were no problem—the stable's huge, so we could cram 'em in or just tie 'em to the fence. But wagons? No way around their sheer bulk. And we couldn't just let 'em park anywhere; those things were stuffed with valuables worth their weight in gold. So the merchants took turns standing guard, even while scarfing down meals.
Something had to be done...
"Della!"
"Y-yes, Master...!"
Della came scampering over, and I sent her on an errand to city hall.
"C-City Hall...?"
She hesitated a bit at the destination.
"Yeah. Ask Hildeva the administrator if there's any empty lots around the inn—undeveloped land, up for sale or lease. For use as a parking lot."
"You need space for the guests' wagons, right?"
Della got it right away. Smart girl. I'd have gone myself, but with customers around, better for me to mind the inn while she handled it.
"Take this."
I whipped up a simple sandwich and handed it over. Della swapped her shoes and headed out.
Della trotted briskly into town. A few locals spotted her and called out greetings, which she returned with a smile while lost in thoughts of Bertrand.
Looking for land to park wagons? How wise. Master always thinks one step ahead. He doesn't say much, but there's so much going on in that head of his. Acts all indifferent on the outside, but he always asks my opinion on everything.
Truth be told, Della knew from the moment she first crossed paths with Bertrand back at that Bue inn that he was a good man. Most guys would've pounced on a half-naked girl claiming to be a virgin without a second thought. But not him—he handed her money and shooed her out of the room. And that wasn't enough; he even saved her from her dire straits.
Della vividly remembered Bertrand emerging from that rat-infested den. Sure, his face was splattered with blood, looking downright terrifying, but the way he gazed at her... so incredibly warm.
Master's such a wonderful man... Kind, smart, brave, and... so handsome...
"Hehe..."
Della let slip a silly giggle. Lost in such thoughts, she arrived at city hall. But standing before the doors, she hesitated for a long while, unable to step inside. She just couldn't face Hildeva.
It was because of what happened last night.
Woken by suspicious noises from downstairs in the dead of night, Della had crept down to the second-floor guest rooms. The sounds were leaking from the administrator's quarters. Della knew exactly what they were—she'd heard them every damn day at the Bue inn.
But she never imagined hearing them here at the "Crossroads Troll," and from the administrator's room no less. With no other guests, the inn was dead silent, making the noises crystal clear and vivid: calling each other's names, tongues tangling, moans verging on screams, bodies slamming together as the bed creaked furiously.
It was just a young unmarried couple doing what came naturally—no reason for Della to interfere. She could've just gone back upstairs and slept. But her feet wouldn't move. Instead of heading for the stairs, she leaned against the wall and listened intently.
"Haa... Bertrand... I had no idea it felt this good...?"
"You didn't know?"
"If I'd... hng... known... I'd have done this... haang... sooner... Kyaa!"
Hearing their wet, breathless whispers, Della squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. Unthinkingly, she clamped her thighs together tight. A sharp, electric pang shot through her groin. She stuffed her sleeve into her mouth, stifling whimpers as she ground her thighs harder. Slick with heat, she rubbed furiously, imagining the scene beyond the invisible door.
Master straddling Hildeva right now. He's probably looking at her with those same warm eyes he gives me... Hildeva must be pinned beneath him, caressing his face, stroking his chest and waist, kissing him breathless... And Master... so gentle yet so rough...
"Oh? Della?"
"Eh...?"
Snapping back to reality, Della found Hildeva standing in the open doorway, staring at her. She remembered her errand in a flash and pulled herself together.
"What brings you here?"
Hildeva, misty as morning fog, smiled softly. Staring at the mole under her lip, Della's face flushed crimson—as if Hildeva had peeked into her mind.
Della averted her eyes from those behind the glasses and mumbled, "M-Master sent me... to inquire about land..."
"Oh? Perfect timing—I have a moment. Mind stepping aside?"
Della shuffled out of the way, and some folks with business at city hall brushed past. Hildeva urged her inside.
The place was chaos. With the visitor surge, Hildeva had hauled in massive tables and chairs piled with candelabras, stacks of file folders, maps, ledgers. Her desk was a disaster—exaggerating a bit, you couldn't tell desk from floor. One wall was plastered floor-to-ceiling with a detailed Rosens map, bristling with pins and markings like a battlefield commander's tactical chart.
"You must be swamped..."
"Don't even ask. Feels busier than cramming for the central bureaucracy exam."
Hildeva sighed, tucking back a stray lock of hair. A fresh minty scent wafted with it.
"Tea?"
"N-No, I'm fine. Oh...! And this."
Della handed over the sandwich Bertrand had made. Hildeva's face lit up at the paper-wrapped bundle.
"Haven't even had lunch. Thanks, Della."
She tore into it with gusto. "Mmm, delicious. Bertrand's cooking is unreal."
Sauce smeared on her lips, she brushed off crumbs casually. "So, what land? Empty lots, I bet?"
"H-How'd you know...?"
"Obvious. Merchants swarming, no space for their wagons."
Hildeva set the sandwich down and pulled a thick land registry from the shelf. "Ow, ow, my back..."
She hunched over groaning. Della rushed to take the heavy tome.
"Your back... hurt?"
"Nah, not injured. Just overdid it last night, I guess."
Hildeva said it straight-faced; Della was the flustered one.
"Y-You should... be careful..."
Della barely stammered it out. Hildeva swept papers aside on a big table and flipped open the registry, skimming pages to the inn's vicinity.
"Here, here, here. All state-owned."
Della sat and jotted them down. Watching from beside, Hildeva praised, "Nice handwriting."
"Th-Thank you..."
Breathing in Hildeva's soapy scent, Della scribbled furiously. With the administrator so close, last night's sounds kept replaying—she just wanted out. Still, she meticulously noted everything Bertrand might want to know.
While waiting for ink to dry, Hildeva leaned on the desk, munching her sandwich. "How's working at the inn, Della?"
"It's... great. Nice facilities, Master's so good to us."
"Bertrand's sneakily sweet, huh."
"Yeah. Amazing cook, good at everything. Nice voice, always calm, and..."
Della trailed off, clamping her mouth. Hildeva smiled at her. Panicking, Della fidgeted, then stuffed the paper in her pocket and bolted up.
"I-I'll head back...!"
She bowed to the administrator and fled city hall.
Racing to the inn, Della berated herself. Idiot, got all excited and blabbed... In front of someone who's been with Master... Stupid bitch...!
Back at the inn, Bertrand was in the yard playing with Kali.
"You're back?"
"Here. Got it all down."
Della pulled out the paper. Bertrand read it over, then ruffled her hair with a grin. "Good job."
That touch blanked her mind.
"I-I'll go inside first...!"
Della dashed past him into the inn, sprinting up to the third floor without stopping. She slammed her door shut, slumped against it, panting hard from the run. Her hand drifted to her head... then slipped between her thighs. Eyes shut, she curled up and began grinding desperately.
"Gotta pee or something?"
I glanced at the shut door, then reread the paper. Della had listed several spots, narrowing to two right by the inn—visible just by turning my head in the yard. The vacant lot across the street, and the weedy patch between the inn and the Buren River. State-seized, so price was no issue.
Problem was, even parked there, someone had to guard 'em. Leaving it to guests for night watches felt wrong. This was a place to rest up, not split sleep shifts—that'd be a joke.
Needed someone... or something... to stand watch.
And just like that, a brilliant idea hit me.