Wh-What...? Take It Off...?
"Wh-what...? Take... take it off...?" Carmel clutched her elbows, her face pale with shock. It was a defensive posture, betraying just how cornered she felt.
"W-why is that even necessary? You said you wanted the truth! Why on earth do I have to... take off my clothes..."
She likely knew that protesting was futile. Even so, unable to accept the reality of her situation, she was desperately trying to buy herself even a sliver of time.
Instead of answering, I simply stared at her with a faint smile. She already knew what my response would be.
"Ugh..."
My desire was to satisfy both truth and entertainment. Realizing this, Carmel's head drooped, defeated.
But a moment later, she snapped her head back up and glared at me, her eyes burning with resentment and a fierce determination not to yield.
"F-fine. I understand. B-but I have a condition of my own. Set a limit on the number of questions. You can't expect me to keep answering forever."
Perhaps because her hatred had been refilled so recently, she was quick to recover. I was quite pleased to see her showing some spirit.
Besides, it was a reasonably fair demand. An infinite number of questions would be objectively unfair.
"Hmm... Very well. Let's limit it to five questions. In exchange, I might play a few rather wicked pranks on you."
"...Fine," Carmel replied quietly, steeling herself.
"Then, shall we begin undressing? Heheh, my heart is already fluttering at the thought of seeing Mother's body after all this time."
Carmel glared at me with deep-seated hatred, then began to undo her buttons one by one.
Layer by layer, the queen's garments, crafted from the finest fabrics, fell away. Beneath them, her incredibly erotic body began to reveal itself.
Once her upper body was completely bare, she stood up to remove her lower garments. Her tightly pressed lips and trembling hands made it obvious how much resentment she was swallowing.
Having stripped completely naked, Carmel sat back down. One of her arms was draped across her chest to cover her breasts—though they were far too large to be hidden by a single arm.
Her other hand rested demurely on her thigh, positioned as if to block my blatant gaze from drifting between her legs.
It was a body that never failed to elicit admiration. It was as if the very concept of sensuality had been sculpted into human form.
"Heheh, oh, Mother..."
I stood up and moved to sit right next to her. Pressing my thigh flush against hers without hesitation, I admired her exquisite skin from point-blank range.
"Ah..."
At this distance, it was utterly impossible for her to block my view with her hands. I could easily change my angle of vision with just a slight tilt of my head.
The resolve she had shown when she first started undressing seemed to have already evaporated. Well, it is rather difficult to maintain a haughty attitude when you're completely naked.
Of course, I had no intention of stopping here.
"Now, let's begin the questions. Are you ready?"
"...Yes."
"First question. What is your connection to the Black Goat Society, Mother?"
"I already told you. I know nothing about them. I've never heard of them in my life..."
"How unfortunate, but I cannot believe that. In that case..."
I reached out toward Carmel's thigh. Placing my entire palm against her soft skin, I gripped it with just a hint of pressure and began to stroke it.
"Ngh..."
Carmel grimaced in displeasure. But I didn't miss it—the sweet, fleeting expression that crossed her face just before she forced herself to look disgusted.
"If you want me to stop, prove that what you're saying is the truth. Otherwise... I will keep going until I am satisfied."
I had said earlier that all I wanted was the truth, but that was only half-true. I didn't actually need her to spit out the truth right away. In fact, I secretly hoped she would hold out as long as possible. That way, I could prolong our little 'playtime' for much longer.
"W-wait. I swear I've never heard the name 'Black Goat Society' before. But... I might have belonged to it once."
Her soft flesh was a pleasure in itself. Teasingly caressing her inner thigh, I asked again.
"You might have belonged to it once...? What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means... back when I was a child. The person who raised me—my mother—she might have been one of them..."
Carmel's mother. No such detailed lore had ever been described in the original novel. This story was proving to be just as stimulating as kneading Carmel's breasts.
"Her mother... I see. Please, do go on."
My hand caressing her thigh drifted deeper and deeper. Toward the completely bare space between her legs... Sensing the impending danger, Carmel spoke in a panicked, hurried voice.
"That thing—Mystylia—and the sealed box containing it, I received them from my mother. She told me never to forget my hatred for Lustier..."
"...I see."
I stopped touching her thigh. I felt that she was telling the truth. I didn't have any concrete proof, but if Carmel were making up a story, she would have crafted something far more seamless. The excuse of 'being raised by the Black Goat Society but not knowing its name' was almost too clumsy to be a lie, which made it ring all the more true.
When I actually stopped my 'prank,' Carmel seemed slightly relieved. Even though the judgment relied entirely on my subjective whim, I had shown her that I would still play by the rules.
"Now, for the next question..."
The moment those words left my mouth, my vision suddenly warped. The surrounding sights and sounds began to recede, as if I were sinking underwater.
What is this? Did Carmel do something...?
No, Carmel was looking at me with a puzzled expression, wondering why I had suddenly stopped speaking. Besides, if she were going to pull something, she would have done it before stripping.
Like a train hurtling through the night, the scenery shifted in an instant. The lavish, opulent Lustier Royal Palace was gone, replaced by an entirely different place.
A crude building constructed of rough stone. It wasn't Lustier's architectural style—likely that of a foreign tribe. There, a scrawny young girl and a tall woman stood facing each other.
Then, in an instant, the surroundings snapped back to normal. Seeing the naked Carmel right in front of me brought me crashing back to reality.
"W-what is it? Why did you suddenly... space out without saying a word..."
It seemed only a split second had passed in the real world, even though it felt like half a day had gone by inside that vision.
Was that really Carmel's memory? Or was it an illusion she showed me to prove she was telling the truth?
No, that couldn't be it. That would be too cheap a trick. Besides, if she had tried to cast an illusion, I would have sensed her mana. But there had been absolutely nothing.
If what I just saw was indeed Carmel's memory, then that tall woman must have been Carmel's 'mother' and a member of the Black Goat Society.
Even in that brief moment, I could feel a powerful malice radiating from her. A dark, murky malice that sought to force hatred for Lustier into Carmel when she was nothing but a little girl.
She was probably the one who created Mystylia as well.
I looked back at Carmel. Her breathing was still slightly ragged from having her sensitive areas touched just moments ago.
The moment I saw her like that, a completely different question slipped out of my mouth—not the one I had prepared.
"Mother... do you still hate everything about Lustier?"
Without realizing it, my voice had turned completely serious, stripped of any playful mask. Hearing this, Carmel hesitated.
Why was she hesitating? Right now, Carmel's hatred for Lustier should be at its absolute peak due to the curse of Mystylia. Her answer should have been a foregone conclusion.
Normally, this question of mine would have been a waste of a precious opportunity...
I gently slid my hand between Carmel's breasts. Then, I began to knead the soft flesh filling my palm to my heart's content.
"Answer me, Mother. It's not a difficult question, is it?"
"Ngh..."
Carmel was still hesitating. It was a question she could have answered simply by being honest with her feelings. There shouldn't have been anything to ponder.
Even as her breasts were being wantonly toyed with, Carmel's eyes locked onto mine, staring straight into my soul. It was as if she wanted to convey something, or perhaps as if she was desperate to keep something hidden...
Just as I began to knead her breasts like dough and pinch her hardened nipples, Carmel finally squeezed out a brief response.
"Ngh... N-not... all of it..."