The Suddenly Revving Black Mage (8)
The hand gripping the collar was no longer that of a slender woman—it had transformed into something resembling the massive talons of a raptor that could tear a bull apart, covered in scales. It was a unique ability possessed only by demons: Bongma, the temporary unleashing of another form to unleash brutally savage power. That was one of the reasons the Demon King's army had been the strongest in the world.
"Refund."
Pelle, who had lifted the clothing store owner into the air, growled in a voice like scraping metal. A yellow stream trickled down between the suspended owner's dangling legs.
Idwild was panting under the scorching sunlight when Pelle emerged from the store, money pouch in hand.
"Just drop the clothes right up ahead."
"Huh...? On the ground...?"
Pelle personally wheeled the cart over, bundled up Idwild's clothes, and tossed them in front of the store. After dumping all the clothes, she flung the money pouch at Idwild.
Idwild flailed her hands, but the pouch slipped through and hit the ground.
"Got your refund for those clothes. Buy new ones and get a haircut."
"You got a refund...? How...?"
"Doesn't matter."
Idwild wondered if it was really necessary to use Bongma just for a clothing refund, but Pelle didn't regret her choice. Otherwise, she'd still be arguing with that sleazy store owner. Even if he called the guards, there were no witnesses—what could they do? And if it came to that, Pelle planned to use Bertrand as her shield. From what she'd observed, Bertrand didn't tolerate anyone touching what was inside his fence, whether it was property or people.
"Follow me."
They kept walking along the road. Passersby curiously eyed the demon leading a donkey and the black mage.
Idwild's shoulders hunched under the stares.
Pelle headed to a proper salon in the city—not some hack joint that just hacked away, but one with spotless plate-glass windows flashy enough to draw women's eyes. Naturally, Idwild hesitated to go in.
"Go on in. What're you waiting for?"
"I've never been to a place like this..."
To Idwild, a salon was as terrifying as a temple brimming with holy power. It was another world—a space for women who knew how to groom themselves, utterly unlike her.
"Then go hole up in your room corner. You'll hear the innkeeper and mage rolling in bed next door just fine."
Saying that, Pelle wondered if she'd gone too far. Fortunately, instead of sulking off, Idwild clenched her fists like she'd made up her mind.
"O-okay... Let's go..."
A while later, Idwild emerged from the salon with a short bob, looking glum.
"Feels cooler now, right?"
"Yeah... but it's weird..."
Next, Pelle dragged her into a "normal" women's clothing shop and bought outfits. Idwild recoiled at every one Pelle picked.
"You planning to wear a hat with a dead bird on it? These play up your strengths. Try 'em on."
"What strengths...? I don't have any..."
Pelle silently pointed at Idwild's chest.
"Better to highlight assets than hide flaws."
And so Idwild underwent a near-total transformation and returned to the inn.
As they led the donkey back, Idwild hesitantly asked Pelle, "But... does a haircut and new clothes really change anything...?"
"Depends on what the innkeeper decides. But to me, you're plenty attractive now."
"But Brione's slim and pretty, and her personality matches Bertrand's..."
"So you're just gonna give up without trying? What do you want? Peek through the door crack while they embrace and roll around, shedding pathetic tears?"
Imagining that scene, Idwild bit her lower lip.
"Sitting still waiting for things to change is stupid. Blaming yourself for unchanging circumstances is idiotic."
"Yeah... okay..."
"You can't do it alone, so I'll help. Have some confidence, black mage. You're pretty enough. Way better than that bitchy mage."
Idwild mumbled disagreement but shut her mouth at Pelle's glare.
"And I'll tell you what to do tonight." Pelle whispered the plan into Idwild's ear. Idwild's face flushed deeper and deeper.
"Do we really have to go that far...?"
"End it tonight. Strike first before that bitch does."
The hall was packed later than usual that night. Normally, after dinner, folks would thin out for some breathing room, but the customers lingered over their drinks.
I knew why. It was because of Idi bustling around the hall.
Even amid the raucous chatter, when Idi crossed the room, conversations hushed and all eyes followed her. The contrast of her pale, softly jiggling cleavage half-exposed, her swaying hips, and that small face with its slightly droopy, eerie eyes was driving the men wild.
In a regular inn, some bastard might've groped her ass or tried pulling her onto his lap as she passed, but with me arms-crossed at the bar watching, they held back.
Why? Because right before, the prick who'd blatantly asked Idi her price got dragged out by me and beaten senseless in the yard.
Stealing glances at a pretty girl with a killer body? Instinct, can't help it. But treating my staff like whores? Fuck that.
Della and Idi were already famous in town, and Pelle—demon or not—had a hot figure and cute face, so she drew crowds too. New girl Marim had elf blood, making her a stunner.
That's why our inn outdid the new one across town. Probably weirder customers incoming, and more harassment attempts on the girls.
Maybe move Ammugar and Orkog's workshop here outright for security. Think on that later.
Anyway, Brione sat at the bar nursing a beer where I stood.
"Dressed up like that, she finally looks human."
Brione glanced at Idi casually.
"Remember first time we met her? Buck naked in that filthy basement, soaked in sweat and grime... Working here plumped her right up, huh?"
"Jealous she's gotten so pretty?"
"Jealous? Of what? Why would I be? What's she got that I don't? Why jealous?"
Hit a nerve—she snapped back repeatedly, then chugged her beer in frustration.
"When you leaving anyway? Wasn't it today?"
"Planned to, but seeing her, maybe stick around. And it's been years—feels wrong skipping out."
"Pent-up 'cause you can't fuck?"
"Damn right. Gave you my first, and not once since? How could I not be?"
"Bullshit."
Then Idi approached.
"Bertrand... any wine out...? If not, I'll grab from the cellar..."
"Yeah. Go for it."
Her plump rear heading to the cellar held my gaze captive. Brione followed my eyes and muttered.
"Look at that sweaty back. Bet she stinks."
"No sweat smell. Soap."
"How the hell you know what she smells like?! You actually did it?"
I ignored Brione completely.
That night, Celereja—still tipsy—clutched her head and stumbled straight to her room. Can't hold her liquor, yet she pounded it away.
Marim sneaked down for "just one beer"—I poured, she downed it giggling, and scampered up. Poor half-elf... hooked on late-learned booze? Tsk tsk.
Hildeva said she'd be late, so no one else coming to the hall.
Idi's transformed look kept flashing in my mind. That gloomy girl blooming so vibrantly...
Brione jabbered on over her beer, but her words went in one ear out the other.
"Hey! Bertrand! You listening? What're you thinking?"
Idi's tits kept popping into my head, making ledger work tough. I shook my head hard and scribbled.
"When you finishing the books?! Hurry up!"
Then, coincidentally, Idi descended in a huge robe.
Our eyes met; I startled for no reason.
"Idi? What's up?"
I'd ignored her but spoke to Idi—Brione pouted.
"See? Big tits win. Ignores me nonstop."
She glared daggers, scanning Idi up and down.
"Girl. What're you wearing? This ain't a bathhouse, and you haven't gone since we met..."
"Bertrand... got time...?"
Idi cut her off; Brione's face hardened.
'This bitch dares?'
"Yeah. What's up."
Brione fumed but wasn't dumb enough to butt in and embarrass herself again. She clamped her mouth and eyed us alternately.
"Haven't done holy water bath yet... Pelle accidentally dumped the water... Can you redo it...?"
"Of course. Let's go."
Grabbed the Holy Sword from the wall and headed to the third floor.
"Hey? Bertrand! When you coming back?!"
"Head up first."
"Ugh...!"
Opened the room door; a dim candle on the nightstand filled the space with thick soap scent.
Bed against one wall, screen in the middle hiding the tub beyond.
I carried the Holy Sword around to the tub. Steam rose from full, hot bathwater.
Dumped the water? What?
"Hey. This..."
Turning to Idi, words failed; I stared blankly.
Idwild shed her robe.
"You... what the hell's that outfit...?"
"Saved it for a time like this..."
Idwild—wearing nothing but string bikini—breathed excitedly.