Let's Play at the Ducal Estate (5)
Looking back on it, I had completely forgotten.
Before she ever set out to make me her lover, Irene had proposed we start with a different kind of relationship. She'd said so from our very first meeting.
But after that, Irene had somehow veered hard onto the romantic track, and I'd forgotten the whole thing entirely. The relationship I'd been so sure would never come to pass.
A master-and-servant relationship. And that was exactly what Irene was demanding of me now. Of all things—
"Ugh… uuuugh."
"Frey, what are you doing? Hurry up and wash me."
"Haaaah…"
I sighed without opening my eyes. Because standing before me in the estate's grand bathhouse were two women wearing nothing but towels.
"H-how could—we aren't even married yet, and this is—!"
One of them was Irina Varian. She was… a total kid. Just a little kid, pure and simple, so I felt absolutely nothing. I could have tossed her into the cold bath and splashed around with her for all I cared.
The other, of course, was Irene.
This was a problem. A serious problem.
Irene was in the same space as me wearing nothing but a single bath towel.
Back in the grimoire's pocket dimension, we'd been trapped naked in a bathtub together—but strictly speaking, that had been the young lady's body. Not Irene's own.
This time, though, it was unmistakably Irene herself who was undressed. Was I even allowed to open my eyes in this situation? If I, who was already feeling strangely romantic toward Irene, actually looked at her…
It would be a catastrophe. An indescribable, absolute catastrophe. But I had no choice. I had to open them.
"Don't tell me you're just going to ignore me like this? Aah, the name of Katram will weep. You spent all that time before the game talking about making me feel inferior this and that, and now that you've lost, you won't even give me a single reward?"
"Hooo…"
Right. In the end, I was the one who'd lost the game. Looking back, every word I'd thrown at Irene before we played could have gotten me arrested for insulting the Imperial Family. She was clearly offering to let it slide in exchange for a simple reward.
I'd gotten so comfortable around her that I kept forgetting, but she and I were of fundamentally different stations. If I'd been posing as a direct descendant of the Katram line, I might have had some ground to stand on—but as a distant branch of a branch family, I was clearly the inferior one here.
I had no choice but to open my eyes. And what I saw made them go even wider.
Irene's voluptuous figure was on full display. The towel draped over her did nothing to hide the curves of her body. Her skin was as soft as a baby's, yet her figure was that of a fully mature woman.
The most devastating part was her chest. Those enormous breasts looked like they could have held two extra human heads! Irene had always looked slender when dressed—taking her clothes off only made them seem even bigger.
And that was the real problem. Her feminine figure, her smooth skin—none of that particularly bothered me.
But those breasts. Those breasts.
They were identical in size and shape to the young lady's. Completely, perfectly identical!
How could two people match that closely? Come to think of it, Irene was the same height as the young lady too. And the same weight… wait, huh?
"…?"
"Frey? What is it? Did my body leave you speechless?"
"Ah—um. No. No, of course not. That couldn't be."
"What are you talking about?"
"Uh… you asked me to wash you, right? I'll start with you, Irene. Do you need a shower cap?"
"Wh-what? Why did you suddenly calm down?"
"Hmm. It's nothing."
My head had gone cold. I washed Irene's body with mechanical efficiency, then carefully escorted her into the bath.
"Huh?"
"Next is Irina, I suppose. Will you be all right?"
"O-of course! Th-this much is fine!"
The moment I took her arm, Irina's face turned bright red and she fainted on the spot. Ah. So this one was the bashful type before marriage.
I called the maids and instructed them to wash the unconscious Irina and take her outside. Irene watched the whole scene, giggling.
"Aah. What a wonderful show. Frey, can you believe it? That fiery Irina Varian, reduced to a state like that."
"You have terrible taste. I don't think it was much of a show at all."
"Frey."
"Yes?"
"I'm asking again—why did you suddenly calm down?"
"Well, we're friends, aren't we? Is there any reason for friends to blush over something like this?"
Of course, that was an excuse. The real reason was a strange sense of unease I couldn't quite place.
"Really?"
"For now."
"Hmmm."
Irene looked at me with a dissatisfied expression. One glance told me this whole setup had been a scheme to leave me flustered and weak-kneed.
It would have worked, too. No matter how loudly Elena screamed "player!" inside my head, stopping the body's reaction was another matter entirely. Even if I hadn't fully fallen for it, some part of me would have been affected.
But the whole scheme had been buried under a question far too large to ignore.
Height and weight—sure, they were the same age, so those could match. But breast size and shape, perfectly identical?
How was that possible? Could two people's physical specs really match that closely?
"Frey! Frey!"
"Ah."
"What's wrong? You haven't even gotten in the bath and you're already dizzy?"
"Hah, I'm sorry. Something suddenly occurred to me."
"Hmm. What kind of something?"
"I was wondering if there's any game left that I could actually beat you at."
"There isn't, so that was a waste of time. But aren't you getting in?"
"You ordered me to play the servant, didn't you? What kind of servant climbs into the bath with their master?"
"That's true enough. Aah, Frey—when will the day come that you get in with me?"
"We already did once, in the grimoire."
"I don't mean under forced circumstances. Oh, and your servant duties last through tonight, all right?"
Irene beamed at me. Why did that smile feel so strangely off?
Irene finished her bath. After a light dinner, we headed to the guest rooms. Irene linked her arm through mine and waved at Irina, who would be sleeping in a separate room.
"Sleep well alone, then. Young Lady Varian—more fragile than expected."
"…!"
Irina puffed out her cheeks and worked her mouth silently. She looked furious, but apparently couldn't unleash it in front of Irene. Irene gave her one more amused look, then led me into the room.
"Today was so much fun. What should we do tomorrow?"
"How about working on your assignments?"
"I finished all of those on Friday. Haven't you finished yours?"
"How truly regrettable. Same here."
Trying to pin her down with homework was pointless—both Irene and I were far too much the model students.
"Shall we have some tea, then? There are plenty of blends good for sleep."
"Never mind that. Change into your nightclothes, Frey."
"It isn't bedtime yet. And right now, I'm your servant."
"Your master is giving you an order. Aren't you going to change?"
"Just so we're clear—I won't follow any unreasonable commands."
"I don't like forcing people either, so relax."
That was a relief. When the person who could shred adamantium bare-handed decided to force something, there was no real way to resist.
"I'll go change, then."
"Can't you change here?"
"Please don't sexually harass me."
I slipped into the adjoining room and changed. "Nightclothes" amounted to a simple short-sleeved shirt and shorts.
When I returned to Irene's room, she had lifted the blanket with one arm to make a space, and was patting the empty spot with the other.
"Come lie here?"
"I told you I wouldn't follow unreasonable commands."
"We'll just hold hands while we sleep."
"I feel like the gender of the person delivering that line got swapped."
"That's gender discrimination, Frey. This is a world where even imperial princesses compete in the succession."
Well. She had a point there.
"Still, sleeping together is out of the question."
"Then just lie down and talk. We'll sleep separately. Can't you at least do that much?"
Irene looked at me with pleading eyes. Was it because I'd seen her cry over me in the infirmary last time? Resisting that gaze was incredibly difficult.
"Haaaah. Fine—but we are not sleeping."
"Great!"
I carefully settled into the space Irene had made. Guilt crept up with every movement of lying down. Sharing a bed with someone other than the young lady—and in the Katram estate, of all places!
But my heart belongs only to the young lady. Please forgive me. If I defied Her Imperial Highness's words, it would bring harm to House Katram…
I was endlessly steeling myself when Irene spoke.
"Why are you staring at the ceiling?"
"Isn't that what people do when they lie down?"
"I said I wanted to talk. Will you look this way?"
I looked toward the outer edge of the bed. Irene grumbled, clearly annoyed.
"I obviously meant the other way. Ugh!"
Irene grabbed my head and turned it toward her.
Jewel-like eyes were far too close. Every feature of Irene's face was startlingly clear.
Somehow, having her face this near made my heart race more than seeing her nearly bare body in the bath earlier.
"Conversations are held face-to-face. You learned that, didn't you?"
"…I might not have."
"I know you did, so don't lie. Hmm. What shall we talk about?"
"Since you suggested it, you should pick the topic too, Irene."
"That was the plan."
Irene stared straight at me. Looking at her like that, I wanted to ask about the unease I'd felt in the bath—but.
That would be a direct hit.
I could hardly blurt out, "Your chest size and shape are completely identical to our young lady's—how is that possible?" I might get punched by hands that could tear adamantium.
So I waited. Knowing Irene, she'd start talking about how much she liked me, or something along those lines.
But something was off.
Five minutes passed, and Irene still hadn't opened her mouth.
Was this some kind of endurance test? If I spoke first, would she declare, "You're disqualified as a servant!" and start pounding my shoulders?
It was another ten minutes before Irene finally spoke.
"Frey. Don't hide anything—just listen."
"Yes?"
"Before you turned seven… did something terrible ever happen to you?"
"…Excuse me?"
It was a very strange question.