69

It was truly a feast for the eyes—that was the only way to describe it.

I tilted my head as I watched the nude show unfolding before me, but my eyes still followed the swaying twin peaks and the jutting hips each time she changed her pose.

I wanted to record it as a video, but unfortunately I didn’t have the equipment to do so. So instead, I engraved the sight into my memory at a level that would burn it into my brain.

“And here, if you combine this pose… with this one from this page, it becomes like this.”

This shameless elf, proudly flaunting her chest, was completely in her element, enthusiastically imitating and improvising poses she had seen in nude magazines—quite the contrast from yesterday.

How had things turned out this way?

The reason went back to last night.

Even while sulking about how terribly I had treated her, the useless elf—“Dame Oppai”—still ate every bite of the dinner I had prepared. Perhaps realizing things would not go well if she continued like this, she approached me with a question:

“So… what’s the perfect job for me where I can make money easily without working hard?”

In order to drive home the point that nothing could start without fixing her rotten mindset, I decided to put on a little performance.

“You say your body is your pride and your worth. Then couldn’t you make a living doing what the women in these magazines do?”

When I said that, Dame Oppai’s eyes lit up as if she had just discovered some great secret.

Whether elves had photography or not was beside the point. At the very least she could model for erotic paintings, though I deliberately kept that part to myself.

Immediately afterward, Dame Oppai ransacked the bookshelf, pulling out every magazine that had female models. She also dug up adult books and discs from other rooms, muttering to herself as she studied them seriously.

I burst out laughing, but she only gave me a cocky, defiant grin in return.

Maybe she felt some kind of strange rivalry, but really—how pathetic was it to compete with a monster like me?

And then came this morning—after breakfast, Dame Oppai threw down the gauntlet with smug confidence. Which brought us to the present.

Having shed all inhibition about “being seen by a man,” she now showed her bare skin without hesitation. And from the morning itself, I was treated to quite the marvelous spectacle.

In short, all I had said was: “If you have no redeeming qualities other than your body, then why not try being a model?”

And this was the result.

(This Dame Oppai really intends to become a model. True, if she has nothing else to offer, then perhaps it is a valid option. But could such a profession even exist outside the Empire? In other countries they’d probably just tell her to cut out the middleman and sell her body directly…)

I still didn’t fully understand elf culture, but the fact that she hadn’t once thought of “becoming a prostitute” suggested that such a profession didn’t exist among them.

There was a lot to think about… but in the end, I concluded: “Well, whatever—it’s Dame Oppai. Who cares?”

For now, I focused on the naked body before me.

Her explanations about each pose were fine, but I barely listened; my attention was almost entirely on her breasts.

Her body was, without question, a feast for the eyes.

Because of their sheer size, the shape of her breasts shifted dramatically with every change in arm position. Just watching them gave a vivid sense of their softness.

The body of an elf was already aesthetically beautiful, but those unbalanced, aggressively prominent breasts made her silhouette overtly sexual—an attack straight to any viewer’s loins.

(The problem is, my partner down there doesn’t so much as twitch. And no matter how good the body is, if her expressions all look the same, it fails to spark the imagination…)

I recalled something my sister—the one who had been a model—once said, and wrote some advice on paper to hand to Dame Oppai, who at the time was holding her breasts up with her arms.

“…‘Pay more attention to your expressions?’”

Back when I was still human, fashion magazines with my sister on the cover would arrive at our house. She once showed me one of the pages while complaining about the struggles of photo shoots.

Though she called it “just griping,” I remembered how satisfied she looked when she said, “Still, I think we managed to create something good.”

One thing she had insisted on was: “A model needs more than just looks or a body. It’s important to create expressions that match the setting and the styling.”

She explained that simply making faces on command wasn’t enough—a model needed the mindset to challenge herself and bring something out from within.

I thought that advice might actually be useful for this elf. But then—

“Are you stupid? Do you really think there’s a man alive who wouldn’t have his eyes glued to this body? Instead of pointless tricks, I’d rather flaunt my chest so shamelessly that other women sneer, ‘Ugh, too obvious.’”

Yep, Dame Oppai was still Dame Oppai.

I had intended to keep her around a little longer before returning her, but I decided to drop her off with Number Six by this afternoon.

After an early lunch, I finished cleaning up quickly. Meanwhile Dame Oppai, of course, didn’t lift a finger and just lounged about smugly. I handed her a prepared slip of paper:

“Anyway, I get that you want to be a model. But do elves even have that kind of job?”

Her smug grin immediately clouded over.

“O-of course they do… right? If we go to an elf city, there’s bound to be plenty of demand, isn’t there?”

I let it slide with, “Then fine,” but she kept muttering anxiously to herself, “What do I do, what do I do…”

Her wild swings between overconfidence and panic were almost comical.

I held out another paper to her:

“I’m handing you over to the elves today.”

Her anxious face froze instantly. Slowly, she pointed at herself, and I nodded.

“Why!? I’ve been doing my best, right!? I’m attractive, aren’t I!? Look, my breasts are huge—that’s sexy, right!? You’ve been staring at them this whole time, haven’t you!?”

She unbuttoned her white coat and bared her chest, but my decision was unshaken.

I didn’t deny that I had been staring. Nor did I deny that she was sexy.

But still—there were standards.

“Isn’t that only appealing to other elves?”

When she read those words, she froze again.

What on earth did she think I was?

I was, after all, a monster. Unlike goblins or orcs, I did try not to be lumped together as something that would assault anything humanoid.

…Not that I wouldn’t, if I could. In fact, I was starting to understand the internal conflict of that Spider-Man. Which was troubling.

“Wait—I don’t want to die yet! Please, I’ll do anything! I’ll even clean the toilet!”

Back on the first day, when I showed her where the toilet was, she’d snapped, “Why don’t you clean it yourself?” But the truth was, I didn’t even use toilets. My body had no excretory organs at all.

The Empire’s technology was strange and terrifying—food was completely absorbed with no waste. Thinking too much about it was unsettling, so I gave up on that line of thought.

Meanwhile, the feel of her breasts pressed against me as she clung desperately was admittedly pleasant. But pushing her too far would just cause trouble later.

So I revealed the truth.

“Calm down. I’m not giving you back to your village. I’ll entrust you to someone who doesn’t approve of the Zesato clan running rampant. With them, you’ll be safe.”

Her tear-filled eyes searched mine.

“Really?”

I nodded. She asked again, so I wrote down more detail:

“The Forshuna clan.”

Her eyes widened as she snatched the paper from me and brought it close to her face.

“Ah…”

Her hands trembled as she kept confirming it with me. I nodded each time.

Then she beckoned me closer. When I crouched down so our faces were nearly touching, she cried out:

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

She hugged me tightly, pressing her generous chest against my nose, and kissed my forehead.

I let her perch on my hands so she wouldn’t fall, thoroughly enjoying the sensation.

“You’re kind of a jerk sometimes, but in the end you really are a good guy! Sorry I thought, ‘Is this really my fated partner?’ You’re actually amazing!”

Since I was in a good position to build favor, I also explained why leaving her with Number Six would be safe.

“Because the Forshuna clan opposes the Zesato, they’ll see you as proof of Zesato’s tyranny. They won’t kill you so easily.”

“You’re the best! Really, the absolute best!”

She beamed, her eyes shining, pressing her chest against me again before kissing me.

How quick she was to change her tune.

So I wrote one more line: “At least prepare some kind of thanks.”

“Very well! Then I’ll give you my virginity!”

Her smirk said she was certain I wasn’t the type of creature to lust after her.

So I replied playfully: “I’ll take it if I ever feel like it.”

“Anytime, then!”

She shot back, grinning.

Of course, if I got the chance, I would indeed claim it. A new goal had been born.

And with that, I hoisted Dame Oppai onto my shoulder and headed toward the river.

It was nearly time for the “Number Six Show,” so I needed to hurry.

I made sure her breasts were pressed against me for balance, letting me run faster.

Since she’d otherwise look like a total pervert, I grabbed a fresh lab coat from the locker and tied it around her waist.

But just before we reached the river, she suddenly reacted to something.

“Ah—an alarm just went off.”

I hadn’t heard anything, so it must have been magical. That explained why Number Six always seemed so relaxed at the river.

We had to get there before they scattered. I picked up the pace, holding Dame Oppai against me as she screamed.

When we burst out of the forest, we found Number Six standing naked with a staff, shielding the children.

One mischievous boy dropped his loot in surprise, and it floated downstream toward me.

“Argos?”

Number Six’s eyes widened when she saw me.

I picked up the fallen underwear, splashed through the river, and approached her. The children stepped in front of her with arms outstretched.

(Even if they’re small, they’re boys. I respect that kind of spirit.)

Anyway, it was time to get to business.

I set Dame Oppai down and handed Number Six both the prepared letter and the underwear.

Dame Oppai watched with a beaming smile. But as Number Six read the letter, her expression darkened. She glanced at Dame Oppai, sighed deeply.

The useless elf tilted her head, as if her heart was saying, “Wait… this isn’t how I imagined it?”

Well, of course. She was being “returned.”

If she kept grinning like that, of course Number Six would sigh.