1

In the basement of the tavern, stairs down from behind the counter, were a handful of more private rooms, along a narrow underground corridor. Those rooms had baths where the guests could wash away the dust and sweat from their travels. There was no hot water available in the upper floors and delivering it by hand would've made things unnecessarily laborious and time-consuming, so the architect solved the problem in this fashion.

At this time of the night, the baths rarely saw use, but one of them had now been readied again for the sudden guests' use. Although they were baths in name, what awaited Izumi was quite unlike the bath houses she was accustomed to in her land of origin.

Before her eyes stood a simple room with dark stone floor, walls coated with red tiles and thick, bare metal pipes. Light steam hung in the air. There was no furniture beside a few basic, wooden stools and benches. In the middle of the room, bolted on the floor, stood a large bathtub, skillfully forged from brass, filled with steaming hot water. Some scented soap had also been added, giving off a sweet fragrance that spread in the room. And...petals of roses?

What kind of tavern had they signed in to?

According to Yuliana, the fee for the night had been absurdly cheap, but that didn't match the level of service...Perhaps Izumi's innate grasp of the value of things, based on the standards of her old world, didn't serve too well here.

She decided not to think too deeply about it.

Izumi wanted nothing more but to get rid of her wet, heavy clothes and jump right into the tub, but there was a slight problem…

—“Is something the matter, madam?”

The maid girl, Riswelze, remained standing behind the woman, a towel in hand, seemingly with no intention of leaving.

You are the problem!

“No, it's just...Rise dear, are you going to stay there...?” Izumi asked.

“Yes, madam, rest assured,” the girl answered, completely missing the point. “I have a robe for you to change into, while I’ll hang your clothes to dry. It was raining, wasn't it? What a terrible night to be outside. You had better undress quickly before you catch a cold. It could be deadly at your age.”

That stings. It really does.

“I'm fine by myself, though,” Izumi muttered. “So there's really no need for you to wait around...”

“You mean, I should...leave?” The girl looked a little taken aback. As if she had been told she was something filthy, an eyesore. Was being attended even during a bath really the usual custom here?

“I-it's not that I hate you being there personally, or anything,” Izumi hurried to say, “but, well, how should I put this? Could you face away for a minute, at least? Since it's...just a bit embarrassing...”

Riswelze's expression softened a little and she quickly responded with a smile,

“Please pay it no mind. I'm only doing my job, so be as if I'm not even here.”

That's impossible!

“This tavern's sure got some grandiose service, doesn't it!” Izumi laughed, trying to hide her nervousness.

“This much would be perfectly normal, I think,” the maid responded. “After you are done with the bath, I can give you a massage as well. It's included in the fee.”

“A m-m-m-m-massage? There really is no need to go that far, I think...!”

Again, it seemed Izumi had picked her words poorly. Riswelze's expression immediately clouded again, and, as if offended, she hurried to argue,

“Why not? Is it because I look young and inexperienced? I think I can give pretty good massages, madam. No one has complained so far. It feels good, doesn't it? Please give me a chance and I will show you. You will definitely not regret it.”

“T-that's...”

The situation wasn't developing in a good way at all.

Naturally, the maid had no way of knowing what really went on in the strange guest's head.

The truth was that Itaka Izumi, a dateless old maid from the modern, sterile, distant society, was—to put it nicely—“unattuned” to the proximity of other people.

To be more accurate, she had grown exceedingly sensitive to it.

It was mysterious how the human mind worked, Izumi thought.

When she had practiced the art of self-defense in her youth, her body had collided with other practitioners countless times, and she had thought nothing of it. Those weren't social occasions. You wouldn't feel weird hugging a punching bag. Similarly to using the shower room at a public pool, or wearing a bikini to the beach in the summer, no one cared about being exposed to strangers when the context was not intimate enough.

But here, forced to strip under the gaze of a cute younger girl in this steamy, rose-scented room, where no one else could see or hear—if this wasn't “intimate”, then what was? It felt like a perverted play, a sadomasochistic punishment game.

Moreover, during the years Izumi had spent as a shut-in in her later years, her mindset had undergone a subtle, gradual, but nevertheless profound change. Arguments like, “we're both women” had lost meaning along the way. No matter who it was, being touched, being looked at, felt absolutely unbearable, even fully clothed.

Yet, it didn't seem like Izumi could get the maid to leave without insulting her…Only imagining those pretty, brown features distorting in anger and humiliation brought cold sweat to Izumi's brow.

It was a complete stalemate.

In the end, she chose what she perceived as the lesser evil.

“...I'll be taking off my clothes then...”

Swallowing her pride, Izumi turned around, set down the greatsword and began to unbutton her shirt.

Inhale. Exhale. Clear your mind. Pure, flowing water. Kuwabara, kuwabara…

Peeling off her sticky, damp shirt, Izumi dropped it on the stool beside the bathtub.

It was no good. She couldn't help but be overly self-conscious. It was like her every movement had become somehow erotically charged and was sending all kinds of unintended, subliminal signals around.

What's the matter, really? Rise is a veteran at customer service. It's not like she'll see any “signals” and assault me! In her eyes, I might as well be a potato! La, la, la...Wonder what Yule's doing right now…?

Trying in vain to distract herself, Izumi moved on to her skirt.

Closed only by a little hook, it was easy to take off. In theory. In practice, the wet cloth clung to her round hips, as if it had shrunk, and demanded considerable effort to pull off, little by little. How obnoxiously thick and lewd her body now seemed! Izumi hadn't worried about her appearance for a long time, but now she suddenly became painfully conscious of every little bit of it that was off.

The skirt brushed her legs as it finally fell down, sending shivers up her thighs. Her knees reflexively quivered. Did the maid notice? Just an illusion, didn't happen.

She was down to her underwear. Next, the bra...

Gosh, it's not like I'm a lesbian myself, it doesn't matter even if she's looking. Why am I being so fidgety? Massages are perfectly normal, nothing erotic about them. Being touched and caressed by another girl, a maid all over does nothing for me, haha…

It was a lie.

The word “maid” alone was enough to fill her mind with forbidden thoughts. After so long, wasn't every cell of her being practically begging to be touched, pleased, by anyone? Gender had stopped being a limiting characteristic long ago. Izumi just wanted to stop being so cold and alone.

Then, dropping the bra, letting her large chest loose, Izumi's mind suddenly cooled down. As if hit by a magic spell, she reached a new level of self-awareness, looking at her veiny hands and the bony fingers.

You've got some guts, still calling yourself a “girl” at your age, Itaka Izumi. As if anyone would want to touch a wrinkled, saggy old bag like you. A cute kid like Rise the least of all. Maybe when I was Yule's age. But that time's not coming back anymore, is it? It's only going to be steeper downhill from here...Gross. I'm so gross. My wish finally came true, but I'm so far past my heyday, no one's going to confuse me for a hero anymore. I won't even qualify as the constantly kidnapped sidekick at this point. Rather, I'm the stepmother everybody's dying to get rid of!

The onslaught of depression broke her tension.

Feeling her age heavier than ever before, Izumi unceremoniously took off her underwear and dropped the pair of black panties on the stool, on top of her other clothes. All her underwear were always black. Not because she wanted to look sexy, but because you couldn't tell so easily when they were dirty and so didn't need to be washed as often. The will to be appealing simply played no role in her everyday decisions, hadn't for many years.

And it was crushingly sad.

Now fully naked, Izumi happened to glance briefly behind, at the maid.

As she did, Riswelze quickly averted her eyes.

What? Was it her imagination, or was the servant's face a bit flushed? It was the steam playing tricks on her vision, right? Right?

That shy look was too much stimulation for Izumi.

At once, her Buddha-like tranquility and resignation from a minute back were gone again.

In a panic, she quickly escaped by jumping into the bathtub.

“Wah...!”

The water was hotter than she had expected. Way too hot.

But that was only because her body had gotten so cold. As she slowly grew used to the water, her tense limbs relaxed. Even had she boiled alive, there was no way she would've had the courage to get out and stand before Riswelze's eyes again.

“How's the water?” the maid's voice asked. “If it's too hot, I can adjust it for you.”

“No, it's fine...”

“Then...would you like me to wash your hair for you?”

“Um, if that's alright...” the woman muttered.

It was embarrassing, but Izumi wanted to hide her weird behavior by acting against her nature. Not to mention, washing her hair was a hassle to do by herself. It had grown too long. She hadn't been to a salon since she turned twenty, yet every time she had tried to cut it herself, her courage had faltered.

Izumi leaned back in the tub, which was shaped to allow one to comfortably do so while resting arms on the rounded edges. She didn't relax to that degree, however, seeing that her chest floated in the water. In shame, she folded her arms to cover herself. Fortunately, the water was foamy enough to hide the rest of her disgraceful form.

“Please lean back a bit more.”

Without a word, the servant wet Izumi's hair in a separate bowl that could be attached to the tub's rim, mixed something oily in her hands and got to work.

For a while, neither said anything.

This really is happening, huh, Izumi thought.

She really was in another world now, in a parallel reality completely different from where she had come, filled with magic, unknown races, and mysterious creatures. Her dream had come true so suddenly she still had trouble believing it was real. Sure, lots of boys from her class had harbored similar fantasies in the past, yet she was the one who had had her way. Who would’ve thought?

Was it a genuine other reality?

Or an elaborate computer simulation?

Or a particularly strange dream?

Izumi recalled all those books she had read where the protagonist was thrown into a strange world, and the wild twists the authors would add in to spice up their vision. What if she had only dreamed her life on Earth and was only born a few hours ago, created from nothing by the Divine's spell? All the memories of her past life were false, conjured...What a silly theory.

Did it even matter?

During her school days, Izumi had written a long list of things she had wanted to do and try in a fantasy world such as this.

Defeat the Demon Lord, join forces with various amazing heroes, challenge the hardest dungeons sporting the strongest monsters, maybe create a guild of her own, become a living legend...All those innocent, energetic wishes only seemed bothersome and ridiculous to her adult self now.

Did this world even have a Demon Lord? Defeating one would've made for a noteworthy achievement, perhaps, but it also seemed like a huge hassle for no benefit. Had the evil beings here even done anything to warrant being destroyed?

No. At this point, Izumi was content with simply having made it here.

Anything was better than the place she had come from.

It had been her first day as an intern at a little florist's shop. The job had been forced on her. Her boss and employees treated her like she was somehow impaired, an idiot, because she hadn't had a stable job before. That was the kind of people they usually had, as part of whatever social rehabilitation campaign sponsored by the government. They didn't take her because they wanted her, but because they got compensated for it, and could build a reputation as a company that did their part in the society.

Unlike her. She was dead weight and people left no confusion about that.

All Izumi could do was obediently endure it with a smile.

Yes, endure.

Endure.

Endure.

Endure. Endure. Endure.

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Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure.

Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure. Endure.

Such had been her whole life on Earth, every last day of it. Enduring the pain of trying to appear normal, while clinging onto an impossible escape route.

And now she was here.

Divine salvation had happened.

The moment she had gripped the Amygla in her hands, Itaka Izumi had felt so completely liberated that life and death themselves had lost all meaning to her.

Even as the strange knights had charged at her with the intent to kill, Izumi had been barely able to contain her joy. She had reached the climax of her existence. She could have died any moment now, with not a single regret left. Everything that came after this point was only a bonus.

But this didn't mean Izumi was completely free of fear.

Yes, even at this moment, a fear kept nagging at her ecstatic heart.

Not the fear of death or starvation, pain or humiliation.

But the fear that she should wake up in her dark, depressing apartment again tomorrow morning, at the ring of the alarm clock, only to find that this happiness had indeed been but a mirage, meaningless and shallow, blown out like a candle without leaving one memory behind.

Until it happened, she desperately wanted to savor every last second of her experience to the fullest.

“This is the best...” Izumi sighed.

“Pardon me?” the maid asked. “Did you say something, madam?”

“No, nothing at all.”

“Is that so?”

Rise's fingers felt good on her scalp. Strong, yet gentle. Perhaps she should rethink that massage?

“You have such gorgeous hair, madam,” the girl said. “I see you've taken good care of it.”

“A woman's hair is her life, after all,” Izumi absentmindedly replied. “Take care of yours.”

“I try to.”

From their brief conversation, Izumi's thoughts returned to Yuliana?

What should she do with the girl? She did consider giving back the sword, for a moment. A moment only. Letting the princess go die by herself on such a reckless quest seemed only like a waste. Neither did Izumi have any interest in helping her either.

I wonder if I have any main character status to protect me here? Wouldn’t be a good idea to count on it, huh. If I go play with godly powers, I’ll probably only either die or worse—get sent back home. And I haven't seen nearly enough of this place yet to rush forward with the story quest. Do I even get to save?

Though she reasoned the matter to herself in rather surreal terms, she also recognized that neither she nor the princess could go on like this, dragging each other down. It seemed there was no choice. If the princess could agree to buy her a decent new weapon for questing tomorrow, then they could peacefully part ways.

There's no way to make her give up on going to that place and come with me instead, is there...?

—“Your companion, she's very pretty,” Riswelze suddenly spoke, as if she had seen through Izumi's thoughts. “Is she your daughter?”

“Eh? Yule, you mean?”

I look that old, huh...

No matter how and how many times her age was brought up, it never failed to make for a critical hit. For a second, Izumi considered playing along with the idea, but they looked and dressed nothing alike. Claiming they were related was going to be too suspicious.

“No, um, she's my....bodyguard!” she quickly lied. “Yes. I happen to be a noble, you see? Not a princess, no, but real buddy-buddy with the court, through a cousin or two and I have a nice mansion and stuff behind the mountains. Don't tell anybody, but I'm actually on a top secret mission to deliver a super important message to the prince and the young lady serves as my noble escort. Yes.”

Izumi's imagination got the better of her and the lie somehow blew out of proportion as it was being told.

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” the maid said. There was something strange about her tone. It was almost painfully cynical. “But if she's your guard, then how come you're the only one of you two to carry a weapon?”

Messed up, huh...

“T-that's because...it's a magic sword!” Izumi answered. “It can only unleash its true potential in Yule's hands, but she's still too young and inexperienced to fully control its might. Which is why she can only wield it with my special permit. You know, when it's a life-or-death situation with absolutely no other way out. Otherwise, who knows, she might end up blowing up the whole town by accident. Yep.”

“I see. It's a mighty weapon you have then. But isn't it a little careless of you to take a bath without your bodyguard, or leave her without any means to defend herself?”

It was an excellent question, but perhaps a bit weird coming from a simple servant.

“Oh, Yule can look after herself,” Izumi kept up with her story. “She's actually a tenth degree black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu—her body itself is a weapon! If she carried a sword too, any human opponent would be completely obliterated…! And that would bring too much attention to our, uh, secret mission. Yes.”

“Right. Good thinking,” Riswelze said. “But you want my opinion?”

The girl suddenly leaned over and brought her lips close to Izumi's ear.

“I believe you're not giving me the whole story here, auntie.”

“...”

Without pulling back, the girl continued to whisper in a lowered, venomously sweet tone that was like another person’s entirely,

“See, I heard this really delicious rumor just a while ago. That the famous heiress to Langoria’s throne has run away from her castle, outwitting a whole platoon of royal guards, and is on her way to Luctretz as we speak. It's been a few days since her sudden 'departure', who knows, maybe she's already here? Yes, here, in this very town, maybe renting a room at this very tavern, and we wouldn't know it. Seeing as Grelden happens to sit so close to the border, along the only route out of Langoria by north. That would be pretty bad, if true. Because there are lots of shady people out there who don't like royalty too much, you know? It so happens somebody has already put a huuuge bounty on the princess's head. 'Dead or alive', it says, even. If there also happened to be somebody in dire need of quick coin in the neighborhood, somebody who always keeps her eyes and ears open, you could be dead certain she would take a shot at this princess the first chance she gets. What do you think about that...your highness?”

“Highness…?”

“Yes. You are not just any average noble, are you? Princess Yuliana Da Via Brannan. It was pretty clever to have your guard wear the royal armor while dressing like a lowly cur yourself, but you don't really think people are that stupid, do you? No, you probably do. Having lived your whole life behind the walls of your stupidly huge castle, how could you have any idea what life is like on the streets? Well, guess what, auntie? Even if you didn't go blabber about it like a moron to whoever asks, it's obvious to anyone by a glance which one of you has the squishy, soft body of a sheltered, pampered royal wretch, and which has worked herself to the bone in the service of the people. You aren't used to being stared at by filthy street rats, are you? Gets you all hot and bothered, doesn't it? Oh, and for your information, as you clearly have no idea how this currency thing works—paying four full silver without question for a room that's hardly worth sixty coppers is going to make you look pretty damn desperate to anybody.”

Having said that, the servant, Riswelze, straightened her back, pulled a weapon resembling an ice pick from under her apron and raised it to strike.

“Nothing personal, your highness. But they don’t pay maids like they used to.”

“On second thought, this place really has terrible service,” Izumi said.

Riswelze stabbed down her dagger, aiming at the woman's exposed neck.

Functionally, a bath such as this was an ideal place for assassinating a person.

Down here, no one would interrupt them. The thick walls would muffle all sound. The blood could be thrown away with the bathwater, the body disposed of the same way. And not even the victim’s clothes would be damaged.

It wasn't Riswelze's first kill, nor was it likely to be the last.

A business transaction, nothing more.

A part of her did feel slight, passing reluctance in the act. She was still too young to have rid herself of the weight of conscience entirely. Even though she assured herself that ridding the land of corrupt nobles and politicians was a righteous act, in principle, that didn't mean she took special pleasure in the act itself.

But the bounty more than made up for where the will was lacking.

Those soft of character had no place in this world. When the opportunity presented itself, it had to be seized. Or someone else would.

Still, regardless of means and motivations—there were times when jobs simply went bad. Tonight turned out to be one of those times.

Suddenly, there was water everywhere.

An explosion of water. As if the walls themselves had abruptly liquefied.

Before she realized, Riswelze found herself lying on her back in the bathtub, following a fit of dizziness.

As she was trying to comprehend what kind of bizarre magic had hit her, she realized she had become completely immobilized. Powerful legs wrapped around her thighs, and snake-like arms wrung the spike from her grip. She struggled to free herself and get up, but the strength binding her was absurd. The more she resisted, the deeper she was pulled into the hot water, sapped of stamina bit by bit. As if she had been caught by a humanoid octopus and now faced a slow, painful death by drowning—powerless to do anything about it—a primitive terror took away the girl's breath.

“Mistake number one,” a dreadfully gentle voice whispered in her ear, in a bewildering swap of roles. “When stabbing someone beneath you, bend your legs, not your back, or else you might lose your balance.”

“Gh...a...”

“Mistake number two. If you really need to give a cool one-liner when murdering somebody, please do it only after you've actually stabbed them. Not before, and certainly not at the same time, or it will mess up your pacing.”

Frightening pain intensified on the assassin's arms, as her shoulders were being twisted slowly backward, at the same time as her chest was pushed forward, pressure gathering on her neck and back. Riswelze looked in vain for a way to escape—and saw her own distressed image reflected on the polished bath tub's inner surface. Shocked, she realized the tub had acted as a mirror, reflecting her every move to her victim.

“By the way,” Izumi cheerfully continued, relishing the type of close contact she was most familiar with, “I'm a third dan in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Now, Rise dear, could please tell me in detail what this bounty business is about?”

2

Yuliana had fallen briefly asleep and was startled awake by the sound of someone at the door. Realizing her grave mishap, she quickly sat up on the bed, a hint of embarrassed red taking over her upper cheeks.

As expected, in stepped only her companion from the other world, dressed in a gray bathrobe the maid had apparently given her, drying her lengthy hair with a fluffy towel. On the woman's refreshed face was a wide, cheerful smile.

The transformation was uncanny.

This was the first time Yuliana saw Izumi in good lighting, clean and dried, and she looked like a different person entirely. Her hair was fluffier, she looked larger and taller. Sparkling. The robe was left loose on the front, apparently because it was too tight around the chest to be fully closed.

Catching herself staring at that opening, Yuliana turned her face away.

“Sure took your time,” she said. Though she made her tone reprimanding, she was only relieved the woman hadn't sneaked away with the Amygla while the princess had slept. Or ran into any trouble. The possibility that it could've happened, she convinced herself, was the true source of her restless pulse now.

“Wow, what do you know, massages really are something~!” Izumi beamed as she stepped in and kicked the door shut behind her, one hand taken by the towel and the other by the sword and her belongings. “Though, as I always thought, I do prefer to be on the giving rather than the receiving end.”

“Massage?” The princess frowned. “What folly are you talking about, at a time like this...?”

“Don't call it folly, it's good for you! Hurry up and get going,” Izumi urged her, like a mother her daughter, “The bath's not open all night. The road's been cleared, if I may say so.”

“Hm? Did something happen?”

“No, not at all! Hurry, hurry. I'm going to sleep now. Don't you peep. And don't wake me up before ten, okay?”

“Ten?”

What expression of time is that?

Yuliana would have preferred to go back to sleep as she was, but her civilized upbringing compelled her to stand and go wash up. But as she stepped towards the door, her glance drifted to the sword Izumi had set to lean on the wall next to the bed.

“Would you consider letting me take the Amygla?” she asked. “It may only be downstairs, but I don't feel safe going unarmed. Leaving myself defenseless at such a vulnerable moment would be inviting problems.”

“You're not any more vulnerable naked than you are clothed, you know?” the woman nonchalantly answered her. “It's all in your head.”

“You still think I'm going to steal off with it?”

“There's this saying in my world. 'Opportunity makes a thief',” Izumi said, raising her finger to imitate a teacher. “I'm only protecting you from the temptation.”

“What a coincidence, there is a saying like that in our land too,” Yuliana responded. “But I don't want to get told that by a thief. In my opinion, it's not thievery, if I'm only taking back what is rightfully mine.”

“Which you obtained by stealing.”

“How many times must I tell you, I did not 'steal' it! Technically. I walked right into the vault where it was stored under the castle, openly announced my intentions to Lord Aiwesh, pulled the sword out of the stone with her approval, and then walked out. I was neither hiding nor lying about it. No mischief. That vault and everything in it is my family's property. So I'd like to think calling it a 'retrieval' would be more appropriate.”

“A sword in stone, huh,” Izumi listlessly repeated. “Never heard that one before...”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Nope. Not at all. Are you still here? The water's going to go cold~”

The woman's carefree attitude was getting on Yuliana's nerves big time.

Standing in the middle of the room, doing her best to maintain her composure, the princess quietly weighed her options. Shortly, she came up with what she felt was a good compromise.

“Then, how about this,” she faced Izumi and said. “I swear an oath. On my honor as a knight, I swear I recognize the sword as yours for the time being and will never attempt to take it from you against your will. If, in turn, you are willing to lend it to me at times when I need it, for my own safety. That good enough for you? In our land, oaths hold exceptional power. I will not be able to break it without consequences.”

“It's a no,” Izumi rejected the humble offer without even considering it. “If it's only for peace of mind, why don't you go get a cooking knife from the kitchen? That would be a lot more useful in a bath. And I told you there's no danger (anymore).”

“...You really don't trust people, do you?” Yuliana sighed.

“Of course not,” the woman immediately responded. “Not one bit.”

“Whatever happened to make you that way?” The princess asked in a snide tone, trying to provoke the woman. “Was it perhaps some bitter betrayal you suffered in your youth?”

“I wonder! What could it have been?” Izumi chirped, unaffected.

Useless, is it?

Frustrated, Yuliana grit her teeth and moved her gaze between the woman drying her hair, seated on the bed, and the sword. It was clearly outside Izumi's reach. She wasn't even paying attention. With just one long step, Yuliana could grab it and walk out. Izumi probably wouldn't chase after her, in only a bathrobe.

It was an underhanded thing to do, but when words failed, it was time for actions. Perhaps Izumi would begin to trust her a bit more after she would return and show that there was nothing to worry about.

No, did Izumi really even care? The stranger's every action so far only spoke of complete indifference towards whatever happened around her. She was probably resisting so much only out of stubborn, selfish childishness.

“I don't know about your past,” Yuliana said, stepping casually forward. “And I can see there is probably no way for me to convince you with my good will. And for that reason—”

She made her move and darted forward. The princess was certain she would make it. But she had underestimated her opponent. There was no need for Izumi to reach the sword, so long as she could reach the girl. Before Yuliana’s fingers could touch the Amygla's hilt, Izumi's iron grip had already caught her wrist like a flash of lightning and pulled her away.

“Ah!” A sharp pain flickered along Yuliana's arm, making her wince. That arm still hurt from the fall before. Distracted by it, the girl tripped on her weary feet and stumbled blindly forward.

Although, there was only one direction she could fall, the way her arm was pulled.

When Yuliana dared to open her eyes again, she realized that the consequences of her prank, as harmless as it had been intended, were far graver than she had imagined.

The princess was half lying over the woman, whom she had unwittingly pushed down onto the bed. She had tried to avoid falling on Izumi by taking support with her free right hand, but that hand had unluckily missed the bed in the heat of the moment, instead landing on Izumi's voluminous chest, through the open robe front.

In terms of feminine assets, Yuliana herself had hardly any need for shame, despite the arduous lifestyle of a knight. The food at the castle was always rich in fat and delicious in taste and she'd had a hearty appetite, further augmented by the long days of outdoor training, riding, or overseeing the many activities of her kingdom. As a matter of fact, the princess had often received more or less open ridicule over her bustline, from her fellow students, knights, servants, and relatives. From the court tailor in particular, for having to fix up her dresses ever so often, to keep up with the maturing of her figure.

But at this moment, she tasted overwhelming defeat.

As expected, grown women were in a league of their own.

The knight princess's hand, sculpted rough by the military way of life, was utterly incapable of grasping the full shape of what it held. The limits of its form escaped her like the curvature of the worldly horizon, as seen from the mast of a voyaging frigate, hiding unknown worlds beyond.

Stunned, absorbed by the gravity of that chest, she completely forgot about herself and her purpose—until the voice of the person beneath her brought her back to her senses.

“Your highness,” Izumi icily said. “How about you book another room?”