Kill Me (1)
Hello there.
I'm Sasha, an employee at Lyuba Tavern.
Lately, I've been worried about Irina Unnie. She's been acting strange.
"Unnie, you've been putting your cream on awfully thin these days."
"Ah, well. The powder smell's been getting a bit heavy, so I'm trying to cut back."
"O-oh. I seee."
Something is truly off here.
No customer in existence hates the smell of face powder — the more of it, the better. So why on earth would she cut back?
And that wasn't even the strangest part.
"Unnie, has something good happened lately?"
"Hm? No? Why do you ask?"
"You were smiling just now..."
"Me? I wasn't smiling."
She absolutely was smiling.
Staring blankly into empty air, giggling softly to herself. Though the moment anyone spoke to her, she'd snap back to that usual deadpan expression like nothing had happened.
Even an idiot could figure out who was responsible for this. After all, Tia has been dropped into her lap practically every single day.
"Yulia. You're up. Go take the table."
"Uuuugh! Just when I thought I'd finally get a decent break!"
"And, um... would it be all right if I played with Tia while you're out?"
"Do whatever you want."
I saw it, you know.
The moment Yulia left the break room, Unnie let out a tiny little yesss under her breath, a faint smile blooming across her face.
Tia is adorable, no argument there — but was babysitting her really something to secretly cheer about? This was the same Irina Unnie who used to scowl at the mere sight of Yulia in her field of vision, like the girl's existence itself was an irritation.
Something clearly happened between Yulia and Irina Unnie.
I have absolutely no idea what it was yet...
But one thing is certain: somewhere along the way, a trust grew between them — the kind of trust that lets Unnie alone look after Tia.
What exactly is their relationship?
It's far too early to speculate on such thin evidence.
And so, I set out to gather more.
"Whoa. This place is a total dump."
I went to the house where Yulia lives.
I heard it used to be a storage shed, and honestly, calling it a condemned ruin would be generous. Our Master is one of those people where, depending on the day, you can't tell if he's overflowing with generosity or just plain rotten. If he's going to hand someone a house, hand them a proper one — who gives away that?
"There she is."
The instant the door creaked open, I ducked my head down behind the bushes.
Silver-haired Yulia emerged into view.
Unfortunately, gorgeous as ever today too. Alongside her came Tia, fully armored in a fur hat.
Planning to take Tia out to the market, perhaps?
"Huh?!"
But then, another person stepped out from inside.
With that tall frame and flat chest, I mistook her for a man at first — but no. It was none other than Irina Unnie, walking out while rubbing her lower back?
I nearly shrieked on the spot and had to clamp both hands over my mouth.
"You really need to get this house fixed."
"It's fine. I'm not planning to live here long. Pouring money into it and then leaving would just be a waste."
"The wind blows straight through it and you're planning to live like that for the time being...?"
"Pile on enough blankets and it's honestly livable."
What on earth were the two of you doing in there?
My delusion circuits kicked into overdrive, and my head flushed hot in no time at all.
After cooling down for a bit, I threw myself straight into tailing the pair.
It was still early — more than two hours until our shift. Where exactly were the two of them — no, the three of them — headed? I couldn't begin to guess.
"A clothing store...?"
The first stop was a clothing shop.
I couldn't see a thing from outside, so I ended up having to follow them in, wearing a disguise.
"How does this coat look?"
"Absolutely terrible. What even is this plaid? Plaid? You are hopeless with clothes."
"Tch. Then you pick one for me, Irina."
"Hehe. Give me a moment."
They were shopping for coats together?
Winter was coming, so maybe they were just preparing for the cold. Apparently Yulia had despaired over her own catastrophic fashion sense and turned to Unnie for help. When you really look at her, Yulia seems clever enough — right up until you hit that one baffling blind spot.
Up to that point, all well and good.
Just fine, and then—
"An underwear shop?!"
Why did they head straight to an underwear shop next? Since when were they close enough to shop for underwear together?
Dying of curiosity about what kind they might pick, I slipped in after them — only to be dazzled into a dizzy stupor by a full parade of shamelessly lewd garments that covered none of the important regions, and I fled. Who knows... maybe Unnie or Yulia had something like that under their clothes too...
Ah. I imagined it and now I have a nosebleed.
What utterly shameless destination could possibly come after the underwear shop?
Don't tell me — straight to a motel?!
Tia's with them, though?!
"How about this one?"
"Isn't that a beastfolk hat?"
"Yep. That's why there's a little gap poking up here for the ears. Hats like this are trendy among humans lately, so Tia can wear one without it looking odd."
"Oooh..."
Thankfully, the next stop was a hat shop.
They appeared to be picking out a hat for Tia. Watching from a distance, the two of them looked genuinely, thoroughly happy.
Especially Irina Unnie — smiling nonstop in a way I'd never seen before. It was honestly unsettling.
But still. Helping pick out a child's hat, on top of everything else? At this point, didn't they look exactly like a couple who'd promised each other a future?
This can't go on.
I had sworn off spinning delusions about my own coworkers.
But today, of all days, I simply couldn't hold back.
Two women, each widowed and sunk in despair, who found each other and now soothe one another's wounds, filling the empty places in each other's hearts...
Ah. There goes the nosebleed from the other side now.
But by this point, wasn't this less a delusion and more a perfectly reasonable suspicion?
Am I... a terminal yuri addict?
Impossible. I've done nothing wrong.
If anyone's at fault, it's the two of them for behaving so suspiciously. Look at that itinerary — what part of it reads as coworkers hanging out? That is, unmistakably, a lush and sticky lovers' date course.
That said, I would never do something as foolish as exposing their relationship or interrogating them about it.
No — I shall simply cheer them on quietly, from the shadows.
Before I knew it, our shift was approaching, and the three of them began making their way toward the tavern.
At some point, Tia had ended up cradled in Unnie's arms.
Ah. So sweet. Sweet enough to rot my teeth.
Lost in bliss, I decided to slip inside a little after the three of them.
And then — a strange, uneasy feeling washed over me.
So I nudged the door open a crack and peered through the gap.
"H-haha. Then... might I ask why you have deliberately declined baptism?"
"..."
The atmosphere inside was not normal.
A priest stood there in full ceremonial vestments, and both Yulia and Irina Unnie were glaring at him with eyes that brimmed with a strange hostility.
What on earth is going on?
.
.
.
"What is that?! Don't tell me you bought that thing planning to wear it in winter?"
"Huh? Yeah..."
"There's no fleece lining inside — that's not a real coat, it's basically an accessory! Return it. Now."
"Can you even return things?"
"If they won't take it, I'll raise hell for you. Clear your schedule tomorrow. We're going somewhere before work."
And so, through a series of events beyond my control, I ended up making plans to go out with Irina.
The coat I'd bought because it seemed decently thick — and therefore reasonably warm — turned out to be a sham. It seemed that when it came to cold-weather technology, this world lagged far behind modern Earth.
So we went out together and bought a proper winter coat first thing.
"What about clothes for Tia, Yulia?"
"Hmm. I suppose I'll have to go shopping. She grows so fast, anything I buy her stops fitting right away."
"Tell me about it. Ugh. She feels heavier than she did yesterday."
"Do demons just grow this quickly?"
"Honestly, I'm not sure. Well, here — I'll make Tia's clothes myself. My kids' old clothes are still sitting at home untouched. Alter them as she grows and they'll last her quite a while."
"Really? Thank you, Irina!"
Thanks to her, I could stop worrying about Tia's clothes.
Next up: underwear.
The only underwear I owned had fabric so thin that attaching sanitary pads to it was nearly impossible, so I needed some new pieces.
The moment I stepped into the shop, I couldn't find a single place to rest my eyes, and I nearly died of embarrassment.
Still, the fact that my mental state reacted that way reassured me a little. My mind, at least, was still a man's.
Next came Tia's hat.
Somehow the conversation turned to Tia's horns slowly growing in and needing a hat to cover them...
I'd been picturing a thick fur hat, but on Irina's suggestion we settled on a beastfolk hat — one with little spaces poking up along the top where her ears could slip through.
It made sense, actually. Beastsfolk wearing snug hats would have to keep their ears folded down all day, so of course they'd come up with designs like this. It was fascinating.
They say it's proper etiquette never to touch a beastfolk's ears uninvited, so with a hat like this, there'd be far less risk of someone fiddling with Tia's horns without warning and exposing her.
Of course, people with no manners and no decency exist everywhere, so I couldn't let my guard down completely.
"Master! Clock us in, please!"
"Me too... Hm?"
The moment we stepped into the tavern, Irina and I both froze in place.
A very unusual customer had arrived.
A priest in white vestments — middle-aged, by the look of him.
He swept his gaze over our faces one by one, then rose from his seat.
Sensing something off about the whole situation, I quickly took Tia from Irina's arms and held her close. Tia, apparently having woken from her nap, began to squirm.
"Greet him, girls. This is Father Alexander."
"Hello..."
Pressed by the Master, we gave a small bow of greeting.
A priest in plain white vestments, wearing round glasses. His face didn't match the priest of our local church, so he must have come from somewhere else.
I almost asked what business a priest from another region had in a diveside tavern like this — but stopped myself.
Priests have appetites too, after all.
Still, did he really need to put on his full vestments and announce "I am a priest" so conspicuously?
While I was hesitating, Irina clasped her hands together, fitted on her most gracious customer-service smile, and stepped forward.
"What brings you to our establishment, Father?"
"Nothing so grave — I am searching for a certain person, and stopped in briefly."
"What sort of person? If it's within our power, we'll do our utmost to help."
"A person called the Saintess."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
The Saintess — wasn't that me?
For an instant, my heart plummeted straight through the floor.
Just then, Tia obligingly burst into tears.
Feigning a flustered mother, I stepped back a little and began to soothe her.
"The Saintess, you say...?"
"Yes. The one chosen directly by God, blessed with a body that absolutely cannot die. That is who I mean."
The priest's gaze slid toward me as he spoke, and I flinched and trembled despite myself.
Then again — absolutely cannot die?
Was it truly impossible to kill her, no matter what means were used?
I couldn't take a priest's word at face value, but neither did I care to test it by dangling my own neck in a noose.
"Has something happened to the Saintess?"
"No, nothing of the sort. We merely wish to find her and pay her our respects — but her whereabouts are unknown. We don't even know the name she goes by now, which makes the search rather difficult."
"Oh dear... I'll pray you find her."
"Thank you."
The priest's eyes flicked my way once more.
I braced myself, half expecting him to light up at the sight of me — but he didn't. It seemed he truly didn't know the Saintess's name, let alone her face.
Still... wanted to find the Saintess and honor her, was it?
If I revealed myself now, wouldn't I get to live in luxury and ease?
Do you actually want to die? Have you lost your mind?
I shook my head and threw the thought away at once.
As long as I had Tia — that little burden of mine — attached to me, I could never reveal the truth to anyone.
If the Church ever learned that the Saintess had birthed and was raising a demon child — no, the offspring of a dragon — they would be forced to quietly assassinate me for the sake of their own authority.
No. With a body that regenerates infinitely, I wouldn't even get the mercy of death. I'd simply be locked away forever, unable to die.
That would be far, far more horrifying than dying.
"Excuse me, madam?"
"Yes?"
"Might I have a brief look at your face?"
"..."
I had been quietly angling toward the second-floor stairs when he caught me.
I let out a small sigh, turned, and faced the priest.
No telling whether my expression was still under control.
"What is your name?"
"Yu... Yulia."
"..."
The priest seemed to be thinking it over, and silence stretched between us.
I swallowed nervously.
But when he broke into a warm smile, all that tension melted away in an instant.
It seemed he really didn't know the Saintess's name.
"What a handsome child. A general in the making, I'd say."
"Everyone says so. She's my daughter."
"My apologies. Has she been baptized yet?"
"No."
"Then shall I perform a simplified baptism for her right here and now? As it happens, I'm carrying holy water with me—"
"I must decline."
Lest there be even the slightest misunderstanding, I made my refusal firm and immediate.
As I cupped my hand over Tia's head to shield it, I felt the hard ridges of her horns beneath my palm.
Touching the child's head would be unavoidable during a baptism.
There was no way the horns would go unnoticed.
"H-haha. Then... might I ask why you have deliberately declined baptism?"
"..."
But the priest's mood had turned strange.
His mouth was smiling, yet his eyes carried an unmistakable trace of displeasure.
Glancing around, I saw that Irina and the Master had both gone pale, shooting me anxious looks.
Only then did it dawn on me.
I'd made a mistake. Something, somewhere, had slipped.