Twelve Days Later: Bound by the Full Moon

Three weeks, ten days, and two more days had passed—a total of twelve days.

During this period, which could well be called a temporary break, Laura had spent her time in peace and serenity. But today, she left the dormitory brimming with tension, setting out to find the address Ferzen had given her back then.

Rosenberg wasn't far from the capital, but because of the Full Moon's Curse, Laura couldn't return to her territory. Like it or not... for the time being, her fate was to be bound to Ferzen.

'Is this... the place...?'

Staring at the modest, unassuming exterior of the small house on the capital's outskirts—a structure that made Brutein's wealth seem almost laughable—Laura reached out and knocked.

Knock knock.

'No signs of life...'

She pressed her ear to the door, listening intently, but when passersby shot her strange looks, her face flushed red, and she pulled away.

Suddenly—

Bang!

"Ah..."

The door swung open. Standing there was her past self—Isabel Ron Pierre Genova, now in Ferzen's servitude.

"Close the door and come in."

"Y-Yes... s-sir..."

At the sound of Ferzen's voice, Laura shut the door behind her and stepped inside.

The room contained only a small bed and a table. Well, not quite only that.

Because atop the bed, just big enough for her to lie on...

"..."

Lay thick, unyielding ropes that showed no sign of fraying, a ball gag, spare clothes, and underwear.

"Th-Those..."

The moment her eyes took them in, the room's atmosphere shifted palpably. For an instant, Laura wanted to bolt out the door.

But the sunset was fading, and soon the full moon would rise. If she wasn't by Ferzen's side, she'd become a pleasure-killing maniac, slaughtering innocents and prowling the streets.

"No need to fear. They're just tools to get you through the night smoothly. The clothes... I guessed the size roughly. Once the curse takes hold, the pleasure it brings makes them irrelevant anyway."

"Th-That's tr-true, b-but..."

"My arms are like this too. No helping it. The sun will set soon, and the full moon will rise. Don't dawdle."

"..."

She had plenty to say, but Laura resigned herself and slowly approached the bed.

"Ah... before that, hand over your rosary altar."

"H-Here..."

Thorough as ever.

She removed the rosary necklace and handed it to Ferzen, then hesitated before turning back.

"Wh-While I ch-change... c-could you st-step out...?"

"I'll close my eyes so I don't see. You came here avoiding prying eyes— if I leave after you enter, it defeats the purpose."

"Th-That's... st-still..."

"If you don't want to change, don't. It's your choice."

"..."

Staring at Ferzen, who had his eyes shut and spouted nothing but irrefutable logic, Laura pouted and glared at him... but as the twilight deepened outside, she had no choice. Turning her back, she stripped.

Swish...

Soon, Laura's snow-white nudity was revealed. If her pigmentation had been any fainter, it might have been an eerie pallor, but it wasn't. It was the body of freshly fallen snow, stirring a primal urge to leave footprints in a pristine world, marking it indelibly.

"Ah..."

"What is it?"

"N-Nothing..."

The outer clothes were baggy, but the underwear fit perfectly—sending an inexplicable chill down her spine. She cracked her eyes open, stealing a glance at Ferzen... but his eyes remained closed. His impeccably straight posture chased away her fleeting suspicions and discomfort like a stern reprimand.

"I-I'm... d-done..."

She folded her old clothes neatly and hid them under the bed, then cautiously called out to him.

"Good. Sit on the bed, then."

"Y-Yes..."

As she sat, he picked up the ropes with her past self in servitude and bound her waist tightly.

"Eek!"

"Too tight?"

"Y-Yes...!"

Since he was binding her himself, she figured it was a mistake. Ferzen loosened the ropes slightly and tied them to the bed leg.

"That... I-I'll... d-do it m-myself."

As Isabel reached for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nearby ball gag, Laura snatched it first, stuffing it into her own mouth and securing it.

'...'

If a third party saw this, it would tarnish Ferzen's reputation considerably.

'Or with Brutein...'

They might say he's too perfect, lacking humanity, and blame him instead.

Either way, whether for her or Ferzen, getting caught in this scene would be disastrous.

"M-Mmph...!"

Saliva dripped from the ball gag's small hole. Panicking, Laura wiped it with her sleeve.

"M-Mmph... mmh...!"

She tried sign language at Ferzen, begging for a handkerchief... but

"You'll be like that all night anyway. What's the point of wiping?"

It fell on deaf ears.

"..."

As Laura's saliva dripped steadily like sand in an hourglass, night fully descended outside. Beneath a cloudless sky, a crystalline full moon rose.

"M-Mmph...! Mrrgh...!"

Instantly affected, Laura lost all reason like a legendary werewolf, thrashing to kill the man before her.

'As expected...'

Her altar was confiscated, and the only corpse available was Isabel. Laura poured all her mana to forcibly seize control.

But when factors were equal, a fundamental gap in mana quantity and quality made seizure impossible, no matter how hard she tried.

"M-Mrrgh..."

With saliva trailing long, mana-exhausted Laura slithered off the bed toward him.

"Grrmph—!"

But the taut rope at her waist halted her. She snarled viciously, struggling to untie it.

Judging it time, Ferzen tested if the keyword he'd implanted last full moon worked.

"Charles."

"M-Mrrgh..."

Laura froze, staring blankly at him as she clawed at the ropes.

"Charles."

Repeating it, she naturally flipped onto her back on the floor, pawing the air playfully like a pet begging for attention.

"Haha..."

The absurd sight drew involuntary laughter from Ferzen as he stood.

No reconditioning needed, it seemed.

"You're such a good, obedient girl."

As he approached and sat on the bed, she eagerly rose, wrapping her hands around his neck and squeezing.

Did she derive pleasure from trying to kill him? Her crimson eyes curved sweetly, saliva dangling longer from her mouth.

Expecting the clothes to get messy anyway, Ferzen calmly endured the cat-like kneading on his throat.

And Isabel Ron Pierre Genova, Laura's past-life corpse, stood vigil nearby, ready for any clawing.

"M-Mmm...!"

"Yes, pressing the center airway makes strangulation harder. Even mindless, you've mastered that well."

"M-Mrrgh..."

Her technique improved, but her frail innate strength made it bearable, if uncomfortable.

Thus, the full moon night deepened.

"..."

As morning brightened, Ferzen was unfazed, but Laura looked awkward and uncomfortable, like a woman regretting a drunken tryst.

"My eyes are closed again."

Nod.

Silently nodding, she retrieved her hidden original clothes from under the bed.

Fatigue weighed on her, but not as severely as her first full moon.

"Ah..."

Stripping off the saliva-stained nightclothes, then lowering her panties...

Squelch.

"..."

The embarrassing sound echoed faintly. Laura hurriedly changed and shoved them into her subspatial pocket.

"The stuff inside will smell now."

"N-No... it w-won't!"

Denying it, she grimaced at the room's heavy feminine scent, body trembling.

"Um..."

"..."

"Th-The cl-clothes... I'll... p-pay for th-them..."

Dark stains marked Ferzen's knees—likely from her sitting there all night. His shirt was no better.

"These were meant to be discarded anyway. No need for compensation. Now, early morning—leave this place..."

Before Ferzen finished, a faint purple aura enveloped the room dreamily, undulating like a synchronized dance, beginning to play a melody.

"..."

It was the White Out piece Ferzen had performed before her—near perfection.

'This is...'

A blessing from the Five Blessings Gods of this world, specifically the god overseeing art.

...Exquisite music indeed. It ensnared the listener instantly, leaving a celestial echo.

"Y-You... really r-received a bl-blessing..."

"Laura."

"I-I sent the sh-sheet music in a l-letter... Pr-Probably my f-father to the t-temple..."

"You did something needless..."

Ferzen pressed his forehead. In his mind's eye appeared the piano in A Dormitory's music room.

"..."

Lacking personal instruments, the art god had blessed the piano he first used for that piece—ensuring it never broke until his death.

'Damn it all...'

Only the player could produce sound from the blessed instrument, so he'd have to move it to his capital mansion. Altering its 73 keys to 72 was impossible; it'd remain eternally indestructible.

Ridiculous. No one should create such an inhuman, loathsome thing.

"Laura."

"Y-Yes...?"

"Rosenberg is the holy land of art and culture."

"Y-Yes..."

"Donate that blessed piano to Rosenberg."

"P-Pardon?"

"No refusals. You must remove it from the capital and transport it to Rosenberg. Understood?"

"..."

Laura panicked. She'd thought he'd be thrilled... but his disgust baffled her. Beyond like or dislike, the instrument's value was incalculable—a divine blessing, offered freely.

"This way, Rosenberg will complain less when I make future demands."

"..."

"And... time's up again."

"Huh?"

"Stop questioning everything. No progress again, and I'll assume no effort—then spank you."

As Ferzen's crimson eyes glared, Laura instinctively shielded her rear with both hands.

"V-Violence is..."

"Not violence—discipline. Show progress, no punishment. If you've worked hard, no need to fear."

"Ah—!"

Pulled by her past self—Isabel—onto his lap face-down, Laura flailed, but post-forced-awakening fatigue sapped her strength.

"A whiny pup stays whiny even barking, a barking pup stays barking even whining. Now... recite it."

Ferzen lifted her chin. Trembling, Laura forced her lips open.

"B-Bark... b-bark..."

Overly tense, her stutter worsened; she gazed at him pitifully.

Smack!

"Eek—!"

"Four weeks in, still no progress."

Smack!

"Hic! It h-hurts..."

Sniffling, she clutched his clothes. But Ferzen couldn't forgive her—the one who'd birthed that damned piano—showing no progress on his tasks.

"St-Stop... p-please st-stop! St-Stop...!"

Smack!

"Kyaa!"

Her desperate cries fell on deaf ears. Only after six spanks from Isabel did Laura finally break free.

The holy land of art and culture, Rosenberg.

"Wife, repeat what you said then."

"..."

"You said we couldn't trust our daughter but could trust Brutein! But what is this?!"

A week later, staring at the god-blessed piano delivered to Rosenberg, Laura's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠father and current head, Baden de Charles Rosenberg, was aghast.

The shock began with the letter: her deep affection for Ferzen. His wife had assured him Brutein's heir, already married, wouldn't touch her casually. But now!

"Look! This is clearly a betrothal gift for taking her as concubine! Why else gift a divinely blessed instrument for free? And her not visiting now is suspicious! Th-they must've met secretly! That's why this...!"

"Darling—!"

"..."

Unable to bear more, his wife's sharp cry silenced Rosenberg's lord, Baden.

"Suspecting without proof... isn't good. The Claudia-Alfred wedding is soon at the capital cathedral. We're invited—I'll go talk to Laura myself."

"How can you be so calm...? You want her as concubine, not even wife?"

"Honestly... it depends on the man, doesn't it?"

"Wh-what?! No! I won't allow it! Not even Brutein's second son! No concubine!"

"But... his wife is just some frontier lady from Ruerg. Who knows why Brutein's son married such low status—it makes 'wife' meaningless. As concubine..."

"No—!"

"My ears hurt. Fine, you win..."

Understanding her husband's doting on their frail daughter since childhood, Rosenberg's lady sighed and shook her head.

Either way, it was mere speculation. April 27th—she'd investigate in person then.