White Whale's Footsteps
Two golden coins roll around in my hand. They're surprisingly heavy for their size, which means they're high-purity gold.
These weren't just in my hand—every mercenary clutched their own gold coins. This was the reward for our territorial war commission. The generous lord had paid two gold per head. The leader and vice-leader probably got a bit more.
I know 100 silver makes one gold, but I have no clue about the exact value of gold coins. Still, I could tell these two were a massive amount for just one day's work, judging by Mel's reaction—her eyes and mouth gaping wide open.
"Uwaaah...!"
She fumbled around, stuffing the coins tightly gripped in both hands deep into her bag, then pulling them out to tuck them into her bosom, repeating the process over and over.
Her thoughts were plain as day. Keeping them in her bosom worried her about pickpockets; putting them in the bag made her fret about losing her luggage.
I approached her from behind and spoke up.
"What's up, Mel? You okay?"
"G-gold coins... I've never actually seen ones before... Ah!"
Realizing it was me, Mel froze stiff. Not hard to guess why—I'd just hinted that I'd caught on to her male disguise.
Truth be told, it was mostly her fault that I'd officially learned her secret. When she joined, I'd boasted about my sharp insight and vast knowledge, so failing to notice that evidence would've been too contrived.
...It just felt too forced.
It was an unavoidable judgment on my part. And Mel's slip-up caught me off guard too.
This morning, as I packed in my room, I realized something was missing. The alcohol from the banquet had dulled my senses—I'd forgotten it too. The booze there was high-proof, too much for Natural Healing to detoxify in real time.
So I headed to Mel's room to grab my stuff while she slept. And when I arrived...
Lucky or unlucky, I discovered she was bathing. The echoing song from the bathroom carried to my ears outside the door.
Seizing the chance, I planned to sneak in and take my things without her knowing. She'd realize it wasn't her room once she finished and looked for her luggage.
Our timings overlapping—me entering and her finishing—was pure bad luck.
"Th-that... uh..."
"Good morning, Mel."
"Y-yes... Good morning to you too..."
After a brief silence filled only with her groans, she finally responded to my greeting. She clearly had no idea how to act around me now.
I decided to ease her mind. She'd suffered enough anxiety to atone for stressing me out last night.
Bending down to her short stature, I whispered softly.
"...I don't know why you're hiding it, but I'll keep it secret from everyone."
"Y-yes...?!"
"That you're a girl. ...Or wait, does that mean you're actually a guy with a cross-dressing hobby...?"
"Hah! N-no, that's absolutely not it...! I am a girl!"
Even so, being seen as a "woman with circumstances" beat "weirdo guy with sexual hang-ups" by a mile. Not like it was a life-or-death secret anyway.
She cross-dressed because, in this world, lone women faced too many dangers—especially pretty ones like Mel.
"S-so... you'll keep it a secret?"
"If you're going that far with the disguise, you must have your reasons."
"W-well... it's not that big a story..."
"I don't know the details. And anyway, I don't make a habit of blabbing others' secrets."
"...You're awfully nice, huh? Oh, right—you were a monk?"
"Not anymore."
I smiled reassuringly, the soft kind perfect for earning trust. I'd used it most on Chris lately.
I considered leveraging the secret for some cash, but decided against it. Antagonizing the "protagonist" could backfire unpredictably. Plus, I already had plans for my two gold coins.
Greedily squeezing Mel for money and souring our relationship? Bad call.
"I'll keep it secret. Promise."
"..."
I leaned closer to her ear and whispered as a mercenary passed by. In the original story, Mel's disguise held until mid-novel. As long as there was even a slim chance her secret leaking could butterfly-effect the plot...
No need to spread it around.
"B-but your face is... too... cl-close...!"
Her head drooped with a plop. Glancing at her profile, I saw the flush deepening.
This distance must've been too stimulating for her. Or maybe my "handsome face" hit women harder than I thought.
"...What'd you put on? You smell nice."
"Ah... J-just a little during my bath..."
"Hmm... Bath talk, huh? Not sure if I should be hearing this."
I feigned slight awkwardness. We weren't that close for bath chats.
She'd blurted it out without thinking—she was already flustered.
"H-haah...! Anyway, back off a bit...! Chris might see!"
"She doesn't know you're a girl."
"...You kept it secret from your lover too?"
"Does that make me look bad?"
"N-no, I think it's great..."
I lifted my head after that exchange. Any longer in that pose, and she'd crumble.
"Gonna head out then?"
"H-haah... Y-yes..."
Leaving Mel bowing her head out of sight of the others, fanning her flushed face. The mercenaries were prepping to leave the village.
The village and surroundings were too peaceful for steady work. No fresh intel like the territorial war from Janet either.
So our destination was set: the capital, where big gigs needing serious muscle clustered.
At least we weren't going empty-handed. Being a decent-sized town under the lord's domain helped—we found merchants heading to the capital.
A tiny caravan, barely three people, but beggars can't be choosers.
"Thanks for escorting us at such a low price!"
"You haggled using our capital route as an excuse... and now you say that? Whatever. I'm satisfied with this pay for a small caravan."
"Y-you saw right through our wallet situation...?"
Janet and the caravan head were both pleased with the deal. Obviously, such a tiny group couldn't afford much.
Huge discounts, they said. Normal rates wouldn't hire even five of White Whale's fifty-odd members, let alone all.
But pocket change beat nothing. Pride? Mercs had it, but in this money-hungry crew, it weighed little.
White Whale and the nameless caravan found a mutually satisfying agreement.
"Fine then—spill some info you know. Intel's key in this business."
"If that's what you want, of course!"
The reliable leader knew info's value. The caravan head, assured of safer roads than ever, was cooperative.
Not with truly lucrative secrets, of course. But that was fine—most were useless to merchants anyway.
For White Whale chasing big scores, even basic heavy intel helped plenty.
The mercenaries surround a single loaded wagon, pulled by horses at a steady trot—faster than a leisurely walk, but no sweat to keep up. These were all superhumans, after all.
Not everyone walked, though. Leader Janet rode comfortably, using "gathering intel" as her excuse.
Glancing at the driver's seat, Janet and the merchant chatted seriously.
"The Empire's magic-tech is years ahead of this kingdom's..."
"Come on? Too famous. Next."
"Right now, the royal court's gripped by anti-Empire nobles..."
"...That's why our starting territory won the war. Think I don't know? Got anything fresh?"
"This is recent rumor: Royal alchemist 'Hersto Geber' died failing to make an immortality elixir..."
"Hm... Not profitable."
The merchant held back easy info, especially moneymakers. Most was roadside gossip.
Janet, veteran at this, pried patiently without snapping.
Fair enough... Info's rarer than gold here.
Dumping it all minutes after meeting? Not merchant style.
Helpful to me, though—original story skipped such worldbuilding trivia.
His casual drops were gold to me; might prove useful someday.
One ear tuned to the merchant's world info flood for memorization, I bantered with Chris beside me.
For some reason, I felt Mel's gaze from nearby. Anxious I'd spill to Chris?
I subtly signaled her—no worries—without Chris noticing.
Mel, catching it, hurriedly looked away, embarrassed her suspicion showed.
"Chanyoung?"
"Yeah? What's up, Chris?"
"You were like this before we left too... You're pretty chummy with Mel now."
"No reason not to get along. We're both newbies."
Post-last night guilt made me pivot topics. We were opposite genders sharing an exclusive secret, after all.
"Why bring up Mel all sudden? You called her 'that guy' casually at the banquet."
"...Maybe..."
"Hm?"
"Maybe you hate me calling other guys casually...?"
She tilted her head cutely, looking up.
...Deliberately adorable. But the cutesy line made it impossible not to fall for.
"Ch-Chanyoung...?"
I stared silently, and her face flushed deeper. Unfamiliar with aegyo, she was mortified.
That expression? Worth the deliberate pause.
Mission accomplished—seeing her embarrassed. Time for a reward.
I gently straightened her hair, ignoring the tickle in my fingertips. My favorite affection, one I'd trained her to love.
But her playful question deserved a straight answer. Restricting even how she addressed other men? That was obsession beyond jealousy.
"...I won't meddle in how you call other guys. Your call."
"R-really...? Uh-huh... Got it..."
"Just... don't get too close. I won't stay casual about it either."
"...Yeah! Promise!"
She nodded vigorously, thrilled by my possessive tone.
Should I like this...?
I'd long known Chris's fixation on me. But she didn't just obsess—she craved my obsession too.
It'd mellowed from early severity, thanks to my constant presence: time together, our Earth spot.
Her words showed it lingered, and time alone wouldn't erase it.
But mild obsession? Not so bad. I couldn't claim zero fixation on her either.