The Black Knight Swore to the Blind Saintess

I took Eve out for lunch.

A noodle house near the plaza.

I'd read her mind — she was craving noodles — and brought her here. Come to think of it, I always left noodle dishes off the menu. They go soggy the moment you package them for delivery.

Eve looked around the inside of the shop as if everything fascinated her.

Was a commoners' eatery really that novel? When I checked—

[Outside. I'm actually OUTSIDE!!!]

—it turned out she was just thrilled to have set foot out of the shop at all.

Thankfully, Eve had changed her clothes before coming out.

A crop top that showed a sliver of her navel instead of her usual underboob, paired with a long skirt that reached her ankles. Compared to what I'd been dressing her in lately, it was practically the outfit of a proper, modest young lady.

And yet, out of everything in the shop, Eve had deliberately picked the one outfit that bared her lower belly.

Thanks to her chest, the bottom hem of the top floated up like a curtain, refusing to sit flat.

I spoke from across the table.

"I don't think you need to be walking around with your stomach out even when we're outside the shop, Eve."

"Ahaha. It's just a little warm today, is all..."

Eve looked awkward, stroking her bare midriff.

"It's chilly out today, though?"

Eve leaned her chest against the table and tipped her upper body toward me.

"The chest you love so much, Master? In weather ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like this, the sweat collects underneath it."

"Whoa."

Eve's sweat-slicked breasts. I wanted to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lick them this very second.

The male patrons in the shop kept stealing glances at her.

She'd drawn every eye on the street on our way here, too. And no wonder.

A big-breasted, transcendent beauty, wearing the womb tattoo that marked a flesh slave across the Empire.

Everyone who looked at Eve would then glance once at me.

Every single one of them wearing the same expression: who the hell is this guy?

For her part, Eve simply wanted to wear her flesh-slave certification mark out in the open and proclaim with her whole body, I'm not the Imperial Princess!

[No one suspects I'm Evangeline Loreline]

Knowing this, I teased her.

"Funny, coming from someone who didn't even want it showing in the shop earlier."

"Well. I've gotten used to it now, so it's fine."

"Keep wearing it out like that for a few days and there won't be a soul in the city who doesn't know you're my flesh slave."

"Master, do I perhaps embarrass you?"

"Hm? Why on earth would I be embarrassed? If anything, I'd love to show you off. It's just — Eve, if word spreads that you're my flesh slave when you're not actually mine, I'd worry it might ruin your chances at a good marriage."

"I... don't really care about that."

Apparently she wanted to be seen as a flesh slave out in public so badly that no one would even dream of calling her the Imperial Princess.

Our noodles arrived.

"Eat up."

"You enjoy yours too, Master."

While we ate, the conversation from a table a good distance away drifted naturally into my ears.

"Did you hear the news? Sounds like the war's about to end."

"Oh?"

"Some young adventurer with red hair — Sieg, I think his name was — took down one of the demon army's commanders. The one that had been giving everyone headaches. They say the whole tide of the war turned because of it."

"With a feat like that, the man's made his fortune for life."

"Isn't it a shame, though?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Think about it. A feat like that, at a time like this? Back before all this, there might've even been talk of marriage with the Imperial Princess."

"Ah. True enough."

"Tch. The Blue Jewel of the Empire can freeze to death. The demon's lapdog. A traitor to the Empire, that woman."

Eve's chopsticks stopped moving.

"Even the constabulary's given up on catching her, it seems."

"She wields black magic. How would they ever catch her? She must have fled the capital ages ago."

"And here His Majesty doted on her so. I suppose black magic corrupts a person something dreadful — look at what she went and did, putting her own seat as Princess at risk."

It came up in the novel too.

Evangeline had been the Emperor's favorite.

But framed as she was, she'd never even been able to plead her innocence to him — she'd had no choice but to flee the capital like a hunted criminal.

And with good reason: the Empress and the First Prince had ensnared her in an airtight trap, determined to be rid of her for good.

She'd eaten cookies they'd given her as a "gift," and when she opened her eyes, she was standing blood-soaked atop a black magic circle piled with dozens of corpses.

To make matters worse, a high mage of the imperial court caught her at the scene. She tried to protest her innocence, but—

—the rumors about you being unable to handle mana, how you'd fallen to dark magic because of it... so they were true after all.

When even the sole witness — that high mage — turned out to be in the Empress and the First Prince's pocket, Evangeline realized the truth. Rather than be burned at the stake on false charges, she chose to live on bearing the accusation instead.

[Can I... even clear my name? I have nothing. I can't even handle mana, let alone black magic. Even now, the only reason I have any freedom at all is by playing the Master's flesh slave. Will I really have to keep living as 'Eve' forever?]

I waved a hand in front of Eve's vacant eyes, a noodle still hanging from her chopsticks.

"Eve?"

"Yes?"

There was a faint sheen of moisture in her big round eyes.

"Not good? I thought it'd be to your taste."

"What? No! It's delicious, really?"

"Is it? Good to hear, then."

After the meal, we decided to head to the main thoroughfare and do some shopping.

"Thank you for the meal..."

Eve murmured it beside me, her voice almost crawling into the floor, as I paid the bill.

Imperial Princesses were supposed to be haughty, imperious creatures with no notion of how the world worked — that had always been the image in my head.

So why was this one so damn cute?

"Come again."

I slung an arm around Eve's shoulders and grabbed one of her breasts, bold as brass.

She flinched hard.

"A flesh slave shouldn't just say thank you — she should think about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠repaying with her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠body."

Startled, Eve shot a glance at the other patrons in the restaurant and answered quickly, hushed.

"...Yes, Master."

As we stepped out of the restaurant, I caught a snatch of the gossiping men's voices behind us.

"I'm more jealous of that guy than of that red-haired Sieg fellow, whoever he is."

"Seconded."

Even after we left the restaurant, I kept fondling her breasts as we walked for quite a while.

I could feel the sidelong glances of passersby.

Eve's face flushed crimson, her fingers fidgeting, but she couldn't bring herself to say a word to me.

A flesh slave has no right to defy her master and tell him to stop touching her.

I finally let her breasts go as we neared the main street.

Eve whispered to me.

"Masteeer. What was that, out of nowhere? You startled me. Honestly."

"'Master,' you say?"

I went rigid with mock seriousness and wrapped my arm around Eve's slender waist.

"Hhk."

Then I whispered into her ear.

"Eve. From now on, act like my flesh slave whenever we're outside. If the rumor spreads right, it's free advertising for the shop — and I bet it'll keep the shop's troublemakers away, too."

For Eve, who wanted nothing more than to be publicly known as my flesh slave, it was a tempting offer.

"I... suppose so—?"

Eve said, cheeks going red.

"Master?"

We made the rounds of the shops along the boulevard, and I bought Eve clothes, cosmetics, hair dye, books, and the like.

"You're really buying me all this? You're not going to dock it from my wages, right?"

"I'm buying it because you've been doing good work. The wages are nothing to write home about, but feel free to expect a bonus. You've been selling a lot."

"Hehe. Thank you, Master — I mean, Boss — I mean, Master."

Eve walked pressed close against my side.

As if asking me to put my arm around her waist again, like before.

[Ian Castollini.

If I'd met him while I was still the Princess, we'd never have ended up like this, would we? No — we probably never would have met at all.

He's got a bit of a coarse streak, but he's a good man. Undeniably.]

Ohh.

Affection boost: success.

I wrapped my arm around Eve's waist. By now she accepted my touch as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

We crossed the plaza in front of the Grand Cathedral.

Worshippers were filing into the cathedral for mass.

Rose.

Today was the day I was finally supposed to meet Rose again.

Finally get to see her after a whole week. Though I said I'd figure out a way to see her more often, no matter how I rack my brain, nothing decent comes to mind.

A crowd had gathered at one edge of the plaza.

It was where the notice boards stood.

"What's going on?"

Eve and I pushed through the throng.

A large public notice had been posted.

"They say the winner gets a Count's title and appointment as an Imperial Knight?"

"Maybe I'll give it a shot myself."

"You can really feel the war winding down, can't you."

The onlookers each murmured their own take.

Hold on a moment.

This.

This was in the novel.

Sieg enters this tournament.

He doesn't win, but he catches the Emperor's eye and joins the imperial knight order. After that, he takes to the battlefield, distinguishes himself, and is formally appointed an Imperial Knight.

Imperial Knight.

Not one of those play-knights where nobles gather like it's a social club, clink swords together, and snicker about being "knights." These were men who truly knew how to take up a sword and fight.

In a word, it was like a license — the Empire's formal certification that you were a recognized fighter.

Not bad.

Being an Imperial Knight didn't mean you were forced onto a battlefield, either. If you wanted money and glory, you simply took on the work yourself. A kind of freelancer, really.

You got social recognition on top of it.

And above all—

The moment Rose accepted me as her own knight, I could see her whenever I pleased.

In the novel too, Sieg becomes an Imperial Knight, swears his oath to Rose, and becomes her knight.

Hmm.

A knight tournament, is it?

Worth entering, I'd say.

Beside me, Eve looked at me.

"Boss — no, Master."

"Hm?"

"You're not actually thinking of entering, are you?"

We made our way back toward the shop.

"Why? Is there a problem?"

"It's not that there's a problem... I just can't help worrying you'll get hurt, going in for nothing."

"Fair point. Every dangerous blade in the Empire would be flocking to it, huh?"

"Exactly. Master, have you ever even trained with a sword?"

"Nope?"

"Then you're entering just because you covet the Count's title?"

"Not exactly.

Who knows? If I make it to the semifinals or the finals, I might get to be graced by His Majesty the Emperor's presence. And if I play my cards right, I might even get a chance to speak with him."

We arrived in front of the shop.

Eve looked at me with a serious face.

"If that's your reason, then all the more reason not to enter.

I really am worried about you."

[Because if something goes wrong and you actually die, I'll suddenly be a flesh slave with no master.]

"I didn't realize you worried about me this much, Eve."

Eve gave a little snort of laughter.

"What other employee does this, huh? You picked a great employee, didn't you?"

I said it as I unlocked the shop door.

"You worrying about me like that made me so soft I decided to serve you."

"?"

I reached under her skirt and grabbed her ass.

"Eve, these days just the sound of your words gets my cock standing, you know?"

"How is that my fault...?"

Eve said, exasperated.