A Shared Secret
"Wh-what... on both sides...? Why must it be shaped like this... and this... this shape is practically a Cerberus...! And this, and this... Ah, how could anyone have such a novel idea...! P-Princess! What on earth is this genius's notebook...?" Juliana's eyes sparkled with an intensity that made it look like she was about to leap out of her seat.
"That is... an idea notebook from a deceased artisan. I happened to acquire it by chance."
I couldn't bring myself to admit that I had drawn those sketches myself. After all, the drawings didn't just depict the shapes of the devices; they also illustrated scenes of them being used on a beautiful, black-haired woman. Even I possessed a shred of shame. Furthermore, I could never reveal the truth—that I had secretly drawn them whenever I felt lust toward Carmel. I used to find vicarious satisfaction just by imagining those items in use. But looking at the quality of the things Juliana created, perhaps I wouldn't have to limit myself to mere imagination anymore.
"You understand why I showed this to you, don't you? I want to recreate the items in there. Even if not perfectly, then as closely as possible. Of course, I will fund all the development costs."
"If that's the case, I should be the one begging you! Ah, Princess Sera... To think there was someone so enlightened in the royal family...!"
She seemed truly deeply moved. It made sense, considering someone had finally appeared to sponsor the research she had been conducting in secret, terrified of being caught. Perhaps I had gained another ally within the Noble Council. Not as a mere blackmailer, but as a confidante who shared the same ideals.
"Just so we are clear, if it is ever revealed that I made this request, or that I am even slightly associated with your work, I will cut you loose without hesitation. Do you understand what that means?"
"Yes, of course. Just being allowed to continue my research is more than enough for me."
"Then let us get down to business. The first item I want you to make is... this."
I flipped to the very first page of the notebook. Drawn there was a double-ended dildo, its shafts extending in opposite directions.
"If it's this... the shape itself wouldn't be difficult to implement even now. But that is not all you want, is it, Princess?"
"Exactly. As expected, you catch on quickly."
What I wanted wasn't just simple simultaneous penetration. Since we were going to the trouble of using high-level magic to create this, I wanted the development to focus on heightening each other's sensations.
"Um, Princess, the fact that you require such an item... could it be that there is someone you wish to use it on..."
Juliana certainly lacked tact. I replied in a raw, freezing tone.
"Refrain from asking useless questions. I do not recall giving you permission to pry."
"Ah, y-yes! M-my apologies..."
Juliana immediately bowed flatly. I sighed inwardly and began to explain the specifications required for the item she was to develop.
The next day, around a lazy afternoon, I was passing near the Knight Order Barracks when I heard the clashing of swords. Was it the knights' training? I still had some time left before my appointment. To pass the time, I headed toward the source of the sound.
On the training grounds, knights were paired up at intervals, clashing swords. Their skills seemed somewhat clumsy, suggesting they weren't seasoned veterans. In one corner, I spotted Filgret and William.
"Seventy... eight..."
A count squeezed out through clenched teeth. William, stripped to the waist, was sweating buckets as he performed a squat-like motion.
"Your voice is too quiet, Viscount. Do it again."
"...Seventy... ei-eight..."
Unlike William's eyes, which were filled with sheer spite, Filgret's voice was the picture of tranquility. To an outsider, it might look like abuse—though such a concept likely didn't exist in this era.
"Ah."
Filgret noticed my gaze immediately. Though perhaps he sensed my scent rather than my gaze. I approached Filgret as he bowed toward me. At least William would be able to rest a little while we spoke.
"You've already started. How is he doing?"
"He is not yet at the stage to participate in actual training. We are currently building his basic stamina and physical conditioning. Do not rest, Viscount. Continue."
"...Seventy... nine..."
William could only greet me with his eyes; he clearly lacked the stamina to speak. At this rate, I doubted he would even be able to walk tomorrow.
"How much have you made him do?"
"Two sets of five laps around the training grounds, and now we are conducting lower-body conditioning."
Hmm, isn't that a bit much? However, I had no intention of questioning Filgret's judgment. He had far more experience in the field of training than I did.
"I see. Keep up the good work, William. You too, Filgret."
"Understood, Your Highness."
I bid farewell to Filgret and the sweat-drenched William, then left the grounds.
My destination was the guardhouse next to the barracks, at the palace's east gate. It was almost the appointed time. As I walked, I saw a maid in the distance attempting to enter the palace, carrying a basket covered with a wrapping cloth.
"Did you have a good outing, Sinia?"
"What's in this basket? Let me take a quick look."
"It's nothing much. Just some snacks and, well, miscellaneous things. It's not like we're strangers, is it?"
"I know, I know. It's just the regulations. Let me just take a quick look..."
"Sinia!"
When I called her name loudly, the eyes of everyone in the guardhouse snapped to me. Upon realizing the owner of the voice was indeed the princess, they all hurriedly bowed low.
"P-Princess, what brings you here..."
"Ah, I sent Sinia on an errand. I heard a famous shop released a new pastry... and I couldn't bear to wait in my room, so I came to meet her. I may take her, yes?"
"Ah, o-of course! Sinia, off you go!"
Sinia quickly pulled the cloth back over the basket, slipping past the guards and running to my side. Once we were far enough that the men couldn't hear us, I whispered to her.
"Sinia, did you get the item?"
"Y-yes... but I was scared to death... ugh..."
Sinia reached under the cloth and pulled out a small, palm-sized box. It was the item I had asked her to retrieve during her outing. It seemed she had executed her errand perfectly. The black mana creeping out from the box was unmistakably the aura of a curse. Though it was incredibly weak compared to Mistylia.
"P-please be careful, Princess. The person who delivered it emphasized multiple times that you must never open the box when you are alone."
"You don't need to worry about that, Sinia. I won't be the one opening it."
Perhaps realizing what that implied, Sinia gasped in surprise and asked no further questions.
Several clergymen resided within the royal palace. This was hardly surprising. Faith in the Goddess was one of the very pillars upon which the Luistie Kingdom was founded. Although they rarely participated directly in state affairs, the Church was effectively a third political force. In almost all royal events, the protocols were structured so that priests played a central role, and they exerted immense influence over public sentiment through their sermons.
Of course, in the original novel, they played no role at all and were easily dismantled by Carmel. Looking back, perhaps it was because the clergy possessed the power to purify curses. Eliminating the most troublesome obstacle first was common sense, hardly even requiring strategic thought.
To First High Priest Moot.
You must open this only when you are alone.
Attached to the small box I held was a slip of paper with those words. At the end of the sentence, the royal seal was stamped.
A sudden decline had struck the health of First High Priest Moot. His body had grown weak overnight, and his eyesight in particular had deteriorated severely. According to rumors, he had stubbornly refused any examination by the royal physicians, though no one knew why.
At this sudden misfortune befalling the highest clergyman serving the Goddess, people whispered rather irreverent rumors. I paid a visit to Moot.
"Your condition seems quite serious, Moot."
"Oh, dear... Princess... I sent word telling you not to come..."
Moot was a reasonably healthy middle-aged man. But now, even sitting up in bed seemed to be a struggle.
"Why are you refusing medical treatment? Your illness is so severe... Even my father wishes for your swift recovery."
At my words, Moot spoke, his voice dry and raspy.
"I do not wish to cause concern to His Majesty... *cough!* Well, I shall recover in due time."
Moot himself must have known. He knew his current state was the result of a curse. If he received treatment, the fact that he was cursed would be discovered immediately. If they traced the source of the curse, it would eventually lead back to the box bearing the royal seal. The use of the royal seal meant someone within the royal family had cursed him.
That must have been why Moot refused treatment—to avoid bringing shame upon the royal family. In other words, it proved he was a loyal subject of the crown.
"That is... strange. You are not the type of person to hold such a useless, stubborn grudge. There must be a reason, isn't there?"
"Oh, Princess... What reason could I possibly have? Even though at my age, one's health is of the utmost importance."
Despite his agonizing physical state, Moot conversed with me with a benevolent expression. I looked at him and said,
"Moot, you know, don't you? That what happened to you... is because of a curse."
The benevolent smile vanished from Moot's face in an instant. With a gaze as sharp and cold as a razor blade, Moot glared at me.
"How... does the Princess know of that?"