67

The letters in the book I was reading—Ashiru called them “Furon language,” not Fullretos.

What did that mean?

My first thought was that Imperial people had migrated elsewhere and the country’s name had changed.

But before celebrating, I needed to confirm the facts.

So I asked Ashiru for details about “Furon language.”

“Huh? You don’t know about the Furon Council? …Well, I guess it’s weird for a monster to know the name of a country anyway.”

A country—yes, she had just said country.

So, even if the Empire had fallen, its people had survived.

Thinking calmly, the Empire’s population had exceeded ten million.

Even if an explosion had destroyed the capital and surrounding cities, that would not have reduced the population by half.

In that case, a mass migration to another country was perfectly possible.

“Well, simply put, that big country called the Fullretos Empire, which had existed here in the Great Forest, fell. Its people moved south in droves. And then, they took over the country that had been there. That’s how the Furon Council was born. Some call it the Furon Council-State, but I just say Council.”

I organized her words while watching Ashiru boast proudly.

(South would mean Reberen and Haile. No matter how many civilians poured in, I know exactly how those countries would react. Which means—the Empire must have carved out the south with its remaining military forces! And there, they formed a new nation!)

After seeing the blast site, it went without saying that the Imperial family’s survival was doubtful.

Since maintaining the form of an Empire had become impossible, they must have continued under the new name of “Furon Council.”

(The Imperial bloodline had not been extinguished.)

It was even possible that my own family’s descendants existed.

If one of them had left the capital and joined the southern migration, it was realistic to imagine.

Emotion welled up in my chest.

(Has there ever been anything this joyful?)

If this body could shed tears, I surely would have.

To express that joy, I placed both hands on Ashiru’s shoulders, slid them down along her clothes, and lifted.

“Wha—what are you doing—”

Then I licked her pale, soft skin all over.

Yes, I slobbered all over her.

Her breasts, slippery with drool, changed shape and bounced under my tongue.

Incidentally, the reason her words had cut off was because I had started by licking her face.

(Ha ha ha, don’t hold back! This is a reward! Of course, not for her Dame Oppais—but for myself!)

I had endured much in this monster body.

Now that even the faintest light of hope had appeared, how could I not rejoice?

I laughed inwardly, and aloud, roaring “gagaga”—until suddenly I calmed down, as if a switch had been flipped.

(Ah… I forgot. I haven’t had mood swings this strong in a while. I totally forgot this could happen.)

I gently set the drool-covered Ashiru back onto the floor, her face and upper body soaked.

Then I shoved a note in front of her exposed chest, scrawled with, “Your smug face was irritating.”

She wiped her face with her hand, shook it, and flicked the saliva onto the floor.

Clearly, she prioritized her face over her chest because she had been holding her breath.

Once she wiped off enough, she gasped for air with a loud “Pwah!”

But her eyes were still stuck shut, so her hands wandered, groping around for something to wipe with.

She was probably planning to smear it on me, but I had no intention of allowing that, so I quietly moved away.

Sensing my movement, she staggered forward like a zombie, arms outstretched.

Resigned, I grabbed a towel within reach and wiped her slippery chest before she snatched it and wiped her face.

“What the hell was that for!?”

I showed her the same note again, and she punched me.

Then she clutched her fist in pain—truly a Dame Oppai.

Feeling a little sorry for her, I held out another note: “Dinner or bath first?”

“Both! But bath first!”

She shouted angrily, but I tilted my head, stuck out my tongue sideways, and crossed my arms in an X.

Sorry—no bath here.

Realizing I was teasing her, she kicked me.

And again, clutched her foot in pain—the Dame Oppai.

Still, I didn’t want to deal with someone covered in drool, so I pointed toward the shower room.

Learning there was running water, Ashiru ran off.

Her breasts were still bare, but she probably didn’t want her clothes stained with saliva.

Since I couldn’t enter the shower room, I shuffled toward the storeroom to get her a towel.

Right then, her scream rang out from the shower room.

(Well, the first water would be murky. Getting splashed with that would make anyone scream.)

Since I couldn’t reach that spot, she would need to let it run until clean water came out.

“Stop screwing around already!”

A completely naked Ashiru stormed out, pointed at the shower room, and yelled at me.

I sighed and beckoned her, leading her to another faucet.

From a cracked washbasin in a ruined toilet, I let clean water flow and showed her.

I wrote, “If you let it run for a while, clean water will come.”

“You should’ve said that first!”

Then she kicked me again and collapsed, holding her foot.

I thought about calming her down by groping her, but she was near her limit, so I just handed her a few towels and saw her back to the shower.

No hot water, only cold. I considered lighting a fire outside, but it was already past lunchtime.

So instead, I decided to hunt for food.

If I shut the door, she wouldn’t go upstairs.

Doubtful she could anyway, but just in case, I left a note: “Hunting.”

I quickly caught a boar, butchered it, and placed the meat on the counter, then washed my hands and went back down.

There, in a white coat, Ashiru sat reading a sheet of paper, a stack of documents beside her.

“Oh, finally back.”

She hadn’t even noticed the sound of the door opening—she must have been engrossed. But could this Dame Oppai actually read Imperial?

To test her, I wrote in Imperial, “Can you read that, Dame Oppai?”

“Who are you calling Dame Oppai!? Anyway, you can write Furon too? …Well, I figured as much since you could already read it.”

An astonishing fact was revealed.

As I stood stunned, she glared at me sharply.

“You’re pretty damn rude, you know.”

Realizing it was unwise to tank my approval rating too far, I showed her a note with just one word: “Food.”

She stood happily, and I grabbed salt and pepper.

Then I carried her upstairs.

A naked body under a white coat wasn’t bad.

Side-boob had its charm, but cleavage in full display was excellent.

And since she wasn’t wearing underwear, the line from her hips to thighs was also a fine sight.

I prepared the meat and cut portions, but she kept nitpicking.

“Hey, I want those pieces. And cut it thinner. Score the meat before you grill it—I’m a delicate beauty, after all. Honestly, you’re so thoughtless. Ugh, trim that fat. And don’t skimp on the pepper! If you don’t have herbs to cut the smell, then use spices instead!”

So much for claiming she couldn’t cook.

She was so annoyingly noisy at my side that when I reached for her, she instantly guarded her chest. So I pinched her unguarded face instead, pressing harder.

“Ow! Ow, stop! My head’s gonna split!”

“What the hell is this girl?”

I muttered as I grilled the meat.

Watching Ashiru happily chow down on the meat, I realized it had been a long time since I’d had lunch.

Afterward, when I told her to clean up, she showed no sign of moving—until I threatened, “I’ll strip you naked.”

Then, finally, she worked.

But she complained, “The griddle’s too heavy.” Clearly, I had underestimated how useless she was.

I ended up helping with the heavy stuff, and once cleanup was done, we went back downstairs.

It was about time to get serious.

“I’ve got a few questions for you. First, why can you read Furon?”

“Oh, that? I just read a lot of books published by the Council. If I waited for translations, they might never come, so I learned it myself.”

I was surprised—apparently, when interested, she could actually put in effort.

I was starting to figure out how to handle her.

Now for the real question.

“Next. Who’s the strongest elf you know? And how many warriors exist on that level?”

My greatest concern—the elven warriors.

The Empire’s frontlines had once collapsed under small but elite units.

Knowing who those warriors were would determine how I approached the elves.

Until now, I hadn’t known how great a threat they posed to me.

That was why I’d taken care not to antagonize them.

But if I could grasp the reality, I could predict “how far I could go.”

I knew exactly what it meant to ask for such critical intel.

(She was handed to me. So she’d cough up everything she knew.)

I gave Ashiru a sharp look.

“Well… the strongest would be Lord Schvard, the Sword Saint grandpa. I don’t know anyone else. I’ve never heard of anyone on his level. And honestly, marrying a warrior means living with endless scrutiny. Why would I ever want that?”

Lying on the futon I’d given her, scratching her calf with her foot, Ashiru answered everything she knew, sounding utterly indifferent.

I probably—no, definitely—asked the wrong person.