96

Back at my base, I grilled meat while thinking.

Facing the thorny problem of “How do I get Number Six to wear the underwear I collected?” without an answer yet, I committed the unthinkable mistake for a craftsman—I overcooked the meat.

That was how deep in thought I was, but unlike Dame Oppai, Number Six radiated an intellectual air; if I tried verbal sparring with her, I would be countered for sure.

Therefore I considered what was needed to have her wear it casually, without spotting my ulterior motive.

(It was best to exploit circumstances—that was the tried-and-true method. Then the optimal plan was to hand over a full set when her clothes got wet. But how to engineer that? Hand it to her when she was at the river? That would be way too unnatural. So what situation would soak her clothes through?)

Unfortunately, it did not rain often here.

Even if it did, the forest served as a natural umbrella, so it was hard to imagine Number Six getting wet enough to need a change of clothes.

Talking her into it would be difficult.

If exploiting circumstances was also difficult, then all that remained was to ask, “Please wear this.”

“If only it were that easy…”

I muttered as I chewed slightly charred meat.

My pepper supply had dwindled a lot; I needed to consider replenishing it.

I still had plenty of salt, but come to think of it, I still hadn’t met my goal of improving my food situation.

Too many problems.

I had meant to solve them one by one, but new ones kept cropping up.

(No, more than “problems,” it was my desires. My memories of Imperial days shaped who I was now. Whatever I compared to, I ended up back there.)

I had brought back books in the end, but if asked whether they would “be useful,” I regrettably could not say.

As for technical books, I had a plan to take them to the Furon Council, but unless I knew their current level of civilization, a fair trade would be impossible.

Also, considering “who” might step forward on their side—even against a monster, the fearless woman would absolutely try to talk circles around me if I faced her.

Sincerity only applied between humans.

I returned my thoughts to the task and kept eating.

A straight-up fight left me at a disadvantage.

Worse, if I botched it, she would realize I saw her that way.

That, above all, I had to avoid.

I had to keep interacting with them as a monster, nothing more.

Otherwise it would be hard to sustain Number Six’s interest as a member of the Natural Harmony Committee.

“How about giving it as a present?”

I swallowed a well-chewed mouthful and murmured.

Fortunately, the underwear I had brought back had been in sealed boxes, so it still looked brand-new.

Each piece had been carefully packaged—probably expensive stuff.

“If I frame it as just another type of clothing and gift it along with other items… could that work?”

If I played up the “I’m a monster; I don’t really get these things” angle, it might fly.

No—wouldn’t that be too contrived?

I wrestled with this through the end of the meal, but thinking calmly, I realized: “What would it look like if a monster gave someone underwear?” Result: I scrapped the idea.

However, while reading to kill time at night, I saw a gravure model in a swimsuit and had a flash.

“That’s it! I’ll claim I thought it was like a swimsuit.”

If so, there should be no problem—I was very pleased with myself and slept soundly that night.

The next morning—no way. I clutched my head and abandoned last night’s foolish line of thought.

(No, maybe it wasn’t terrible. But whether Number Six would wear it was another matter.)

At this point, I would settle for Dame Oppai—that compromise flashed through my mind.

But then my earthly desires handed me a new plan.

(That’s right. If it’s “by the way,” it won’t seem suspicious!)

Yes—if I made Number Six, my true target, the “by the way,” nothing would look odd.

I would put Dame Oppai front and center to conceal my real objective.

Conveniently, Ashiru had mentioned her goal of “becoming a model.”

So I would help with that.

I remembered that the facility’s consolidated bookshelf included fashion magazines.

If I tucked one in, it would justify gifting underwear—and then I could include a set for Number Six “as an aside” without raising eyebrows.

I had already researched bra sizes and secured sets for Number Six and Number Eight.

Unfortunately, sizes above No. 9 were essentially custom order, so I couldn’t get those—but I would mix in sizes for No. 5 and No. 7 as camouflage, erasing the oddity of “he knew our exact sizes.”

Both of them knew I had seen them naked; if they thought, “He brought a range that’s roughly our size,” I would win.

(…This could work. I could hand them over without worry!)

The remaining question was whether they would actually wear them—but that was up to fate.

As for seeing them wear it, I ranked the difficulty low, thinking, “Can’t I just watch at the river?”

That might mean I could no longer see them naked… but that was where the little brats came in.

If they could yank off panties, getting a bra or two shouldn’t be a problem.

So I immediately prepared a gift box and carefully laid the underwear at the bottom.

I included the fashion magazines in the box, but stored the pocket watch in its case in my backpack.

That one was for a direct handoff, separately.

All that remained was to write lines on paper in advance, and preparations would be complete.

I had split items into “for gifting” and “for guest changes,” so even if the plan failed, there would be a next time.

For now, since I hadn’t had breakfast yet, I went hunting.

I surfaced and searched the woods for prey.

In about thirty minutes I bagged a fine deer, returned, butchered it, and—as always—started yakiniku.

Watching the griddle, I drafted the text for the notes.

Once I had the content mostly settled, the meat was gone, and I began cleaning up.

I left dishes to air-dry and finished five notes; I tore off one and slipped it into the box.

In brief, it said: “It wouldn’t be fair to give only Dame Oppai something, so I put in a set for Number Six too. If it’s well received, feel free to tell me what you think. I’ll bring more next time I’m coming anyway.”

These were barter items, so I hoped they would add some color to the elves’ meals.

As for the jewelry… I decided not to use it this time.

Thinking it over, I didn’t know the prices for that sort of thing.

And it wasn’t wise to bring out too much at once.

For those reasons, I postponed it.

With cleanup done, I packed up and set out for the elves’ village.

If I took my time, it would be about when Number Six was at the river.

Since I was at it, I would walk while checking the wild plants I had learned.

Taking it easy like that meant I later had to sprint full tilt for a bit.

That’s what I got for taking it too easy.

Near the river, I slowed down and said hello.

Waiting for me by the river were Number Six and the children hiding behind her.

Apparently the brats had yet to claim victory; Number Six’s damp chemise clung snugly to her skin.

(White, so it was perfectly see-through. This was also great!)

I gave a little nod her way with an inward thumbs-up.

Seeing that, she exhaled in relief, pressing a hand to her chest.

(Oh, right, there was that alarm-like thing. I see—so she moved the children behind her.)

I wondered if she had no escorts, but there were no monsters here that would trouble elves.

There was a “monster” named Argos, but I was behaving like a gentleman, so all was safe.

“Did you read the letter?”

Number Six called out to me from there.

I nodded, took out the note I had prepared, and stepped into the river.

“These were excellent fruits. I’d like more—do you have a surplus? Also, I have something to give you.”

After showing that note, I added one more line there:

“It isn’t urgent. Take care of things here first.”

Having read it, Number Six called the children over.

I kept my distance and washed myself downstream, then caught fish—drawing the kids’ eyes the entire time.

Thanks to that, the brats never made a play at Number Six, and the river lesson ended with her not stripped at all.

After she finished changing, she called to me, and I left the site.

When I noticed, I had quite a haul of fish swimming in a simple stone-bordered pen; when I pointed at it, she scolded me:

“If you’re not going to eat them, let them go.”

Apparently I was the one in the wrong—the kids were laughing.

When I trudged over to break the pen, one of them ran up, perhaps because they finally lowered their guard.

“You look lame!”

I snatched the brat’s leg with a quick tail-flick and sentenced him to the “upside-down hanging punishment.”

He didn’t cry or apologize; he whooped with delight.

Kids were incomprehensible—this was enough to send their excitement soaring.

The upside-down brat swung and squealed, while Number Six flustered over what to do.

Scoring goodwill points with the elven children, I walked alongside her.

It seemed she wanted me to come along to the village.

I had missed the timing to give her the pocket watch… well, I could do it after we arrived.