Gloomy Black-Haired Busty Girl (7)
To start with, the statue was incredibly beautiful and brimmed with dignity. Its limbs stretched out boldly, its body rippled with muscle, and its shoulders were broad and solid. The black sword draped over those shoulders pointed straight ahead, as if ready to cleave through all the evils of the world. The statue stood with one leg cocked casually, gazing off into the distance. Those eyes seemed fixed on some lofty ideal no mortal could ever touch. Thick brows and a straight nose hinted at unyielding resolve, while the firm-set mouth spoke of a man cautious and grave in every word and deed.
No matter how I looked at it, this statue didn't belong in this rundown wasteland. It deserved to stand proudly in the grandest hall of the royal palace. Just look at that noble, artistic glow...!
But there were two problems. First, no matter the angle, it looked just like me. Second... it was buck naked. And the depiction of its manhood was shockingly explicit and detailed... not to mention absurdly thick and long. Like a horse's!
I turned to Idwild. Her face flushed red, eyes sparkling as she awaited my reaction.
"That... that's me, right...?"
"Y-yeah..."
"Then why's it naked... and that thing..."
I pointed at the monstrous appendage dangling nearly to its knees.
"Why's that described in such detail...? You've never even seen it. And why's it so damn long?!"
"I... I remember from my dream... you trying to put it in my back..."
"Agh..."
Kali, who'd followed behind me wagging his tail, circled the statue curiously before sniffing at the tip of that dangling monstrosity.
"Don't sniff it, you mutt!"
I pinched my forehead and sighed.
"Anyway, it looks good enough... So how does this thing work?"
"It's set to stand guard here and attack if it detects anything suspicious..."
At Idwild's gesture, the statue's eyes suddenly blazed black. Kali yelped in surprise, curling his tail and bolting to my side. The statue turned its head with a grotesque creak, spotted us, and slowly raised its sword—as if to say, 'You're in for it today.'
Then it charged at us, sword raised, thudding heavily with each step. When it got right up in my face, it swung the blade at my neck in a whoosh.
I eyed the incoming sword. Idwild, assuming I'd dodge, panicked and frantically wiggled her fingers.
Kiiing...!
The blade halted just a fist's width from my throat.
"W-we almost had a disaster...!"
"Moves pretty fast."
I gave a casual assessment and inspected the sword. Though carved from marble, its edge was honed sharp enough to lop off a man's head with ease. But I didn't need a killing machine—just something to chase off thieves. A good beating was fine; outright murder would bring legal headaches.
"Can you swap the sword for a club and slow it down a bit? I'd rather it not kill anyone."
"Easy enough..."
Idwild went on to explain. She'd set up a barrier along the boundaries I'd described for the wasteland, linked to the statue. Anyone crossing into it would trigger the statue to activate and pursue.
"How do we distinguish carriage drivers or inn staff?"
"If they carry one of these, it won't react..."
Idwild pulled something from an inner pocket of her robe sleeve—a few cards etched with bizarre runes.
"These are the passes, huh?"
"Y-yeah..."
"They don't have some weird effect like those Sansa things, do they...?"
"N-no... really..."
Good. Then I'd fence off the area and lock the gates. Della or I could carry a pass to open up only when carriages came and went. Any lunatic hopping the fence would get handled by the statue. Perfect.
"Alright, make those changes I mentioned quick. Club instead of sword, slightly slower movement."
"Well..."
Idwild fidgeted with her fingers, stalling.
"Bullshit."
She clamped her mouth shut, saying nothing. Reading her intentions, I sighed.
"Fine, one more night of sleep."
"O-okay...!"
Her voice brightened instantly as she waved her hands wildly. Black smoke-like wisps coiled around them like living things, slithering toward the statue's sword. The blade melted and reformed into a club—vaguely phallic in shape, ambiguously so.
"That shape's a bit off."
"A-ah... sorry... I was thinking other stuff..."
"Whatever... drop it. But can't you do something about that?"
I pointed at the horse-like centerpiece dangling between its legs. Idwild shook her head.
"It acts as a counterweight... without it, it'd trip while running..."
"What kinda nonsense is that? The female statues in the castle walked fine."
"Those are bigger, with enough natural weight, and slower..."
"Fine... got it..."
Still, this was more than satisfactory.
"Deactivate it for now. Gotta build the fence first."
"Okay..."
We headed back to the inn. I told Della to fetch a big towel or spare clothes to wrap around the statue's waist. She soon emerged with a threadbare thin blanket. Moments later, a scream echoed from outside.
"Kyaaah! What is this!!"
We three gathered by the fireplace for a late dinner. Tonight's menu was ratatouille—various ingredients stir-fried in tomato sauce. Simple to make, keeps well, perfect for bulk prep.
I introduced Idwild to Della as someone I'd known before.
"Oh, so you're friends, then?"
At Della's question, Idwild hesitated and shook her head.
"F-friends...? N-no... not like that..."
"Then... were you lovers...?"
"Wh-what...? N-no... not that... I mean..."
Idwild flailed like a drowning rat, so I answered for her.
"Worked together briefly."
"Ah, I see... What do you do, Miss Idwild? That statue makes you seem like an artist."
Another answer fell to me.
"Black mage."
"Eeeh?!"
Della clapped a hand over her mouth, jolting in shock.
"A mage... ma'am? Oh my god..."
Her surprise was natural. Mages were rare. Outside royal palaces, ducal seats, or army HQs, one wouldn't dream of finding a lone mage in an inn. Strictly speaking, black mages differed from regular ones... but either way, they were scarce, and to common folk, equally wondrous.
"To think such a noble guest... was roped in by Master...?"
"I'm not noble... full of bad stuff..."
"Nonsense. You're precious, Miss Idwild."
Della beamed kindly.
"And not many have such lustrous black hair and those deep, dark eyes."
True enough, whether sincere or polite flattery. Black hair and eyes were uncommon. Add those outrageous breasts, and she was one of a kind.
Flustered by the unfamiliar praise, Idwild just mumbled incoherently.
"Master... I saw you in a new light today."
"How so?"
"Thinking of displaying a statue of yourself in the clearing... Is that why you bought the land...?"
"Hah... no."
"Hmmm... I see..."
I considered clearing the misunderstanding but let it go. No point dragging it out; once the fence was up, I'd explain the statue's purpose properly.
Della scampered to the basement and returned with a cool bottle of lemonade.
"Perfect idea."
The ratatouille had a slight kick; this hit the spot. Idwild took a sip, eyes widening.
"Wh-what is this...?"
"Lemonade. Lemon juice, sugar, water."
"Ahh..."
She gulped it down eagerly.
"So... good..."
"Have plenty."
"Y-yeah..."
I stared at her guzzling away. How could someone look so deliberately pitiful? Damn... what to do with her... She seemed useful everywhere; it'd be great to hire her cheap. But black magic power polluted surroundings over time. That's why she kept drifting workshops. If not for that, she'd be ideal. Any workaround...?
After dinner, I shoved the dishwashing Idwild up to her room. Della handled cleanup, so I grabbed the Holy Sword and headed upstairs. I lit a single candle, propped the sword against the wall by the table like a cross in the flame's glow.
I knelt before the table, elbows on it, fingers interlaced. Forehead to hands, I murmured a low prayer.
Been a while... Will she come...?
I'm one of the few humans who can commune directly with the Goddess. The others: a cardinal, some unknown figure, and me—three total.
Soon, the Holy Sword flickered faintly in answer. The Goddess whispered.
"Long time no see, hero."
Yes, Goddess. Got a question.
I asked if there was a way to control Idwild's black magic power.
"Sorry, but look for a cheap option..."
She whispered back.
"Water as a medium... neutralizes it."
Ah... yes... that sounds free... But won't it hurt?
The Goddess explained kindly.
"No pain. Water mediates."
Got it... water neutralizes... Thanks.
I rose, grabbing the Holy Sword. Our Goddess is the best. Even a faithless materialist like me, praying only when needed, gets such kind treatment. Surely she's a stunning beauty with a white, voluptuous figure and benevolent smile.
Anyway, solid solution. Tomorrow morning, hire Idwild on the spot.
Next morning, after guests left, Idwild still hadn't come down. I sent Della up. Sleeping in again, probably. But soon Della yelled from the upstairs railing.
"Master! The mage is gone!"
"What?"
Upstairs, the room was empty. No robe, no sweat-soaked shirt. Just a coin pouch on the desk—ten gold pieces I'd given her yesterday, untouched.
"Did she... leave in the night...?"
Della fretted. No way... she'd have taken the money if leaving. Downstairs, I grabbed the Holy Sword and tapped the floor. Invisible traces flared—a sinister black trail like spilled tar, dotted across the floor leading outside. Visible only to me via the sword's power: Idwild's black magic residue.
Guess... she really left...
Several hours before Bertrand and Della noticed, in the dead of night, Idwild climbed the mountain path alone, wearing the new shoes Hildeva had given her.