LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 32
Chapter 32 – The White Mage (1)
—–CROW—–
The morning after sex was always awkward.
“Damn.”
I woke up, grimacing at the dampness around my waist. I hadn’t realized the bed would get this soaked with cum and pussy juice. This was why people went to motels for sex.
“You’re awake?”
Francesca’s voice came from above.
Preoccupied with the damp bedsheets, I felt a soft sensation against my head and the sight of flesh obscuring half my vision. I realized my current predicament.
“A lap pillow?”
“My mother used to do this for me when I was little.”
Francesca replied, stroking my hair. We had both fallen asleep naked after last night’s activities. I was lying completely nude on Francesca’s bare legs.
“I always wondered why my mother enjoyed looking at me while I lay on her lap. Now I… kind of understand.”
“…Can you even see my face with your breasts in the way?”
“No, I can’t. It’s a shame. My mother was a pure-blooded dwarf, so she didn’t have large breasts like me. I guess I’ll never know what it’s like to see someone sleeping on my lap like that.”
Were all dwarves stocky? This was news to me.
“Large breasts seem to be quite inconvenient.”
“They always have been. Never been helpful. Until yesterday, that is.”
Francesca said with a giggle. I realized a moment later why she was laughing. The anaconda dick in the valley of my crotch, having embarked on its morning hunt, was twitching eagerly.
Oh, my dick. I was glad to see that it hadn’t been nerfed or patched with an expansion pack. It would have been embarrassing if it suddenly shrunk back to its original size.
“All men are like this in the morning.”
“Really? I didn’t know. So it’s not because of me?”
“The fact that it’s still hard is because of you.”
Francesca leaned down and whispered in my ear,
“Pervert.”
—*Squish.*
As Francesca whispered, my mouth ended up pressed against her soft breast. But I wasn’t suffocating or annoyed.
Boobs were always right. No arguments.
Anyway, we got up and dressed. For the first time in this world, I missed wet wipes. Regular tissues existed, but not wet wipes. That made things awkward in an inn room without a shower, especially after… last night.
“Francesca. I’m thinking of going to the bathhouse. Want to come?”
“Um, wait a moment? I actually have a request today… I need to check the time.”
“A request? What time is it until?”
“1 PM.”
“1 PM? We should hurry then. We might have overslept.”
It was inconvenient not having a clock in the room. If it was already noon, we’d have to rush to the public bathhouse, wash quickly, and run out.
Besides, I could just piss and wipe, but Francesca still had my cum inside her. The thought of Francesca having to clean herself discreetly in a corner of the bathhouse filled me with guilt.
—*Tap, tap.*
We freshened up and headed out. While I checked the time on the clock tower, Francesca chatted with the innkeeper.
“Francesca. It’s only 8 AM.”
“8 AM? We overslept.”
8 AM was oversleeping? Was I nocturnal? Recalling my usual wake-up time of 11 AM or noon back on Earth, I marveled at the difference in our thinking.
The innkeeper asked,
“So, did you have fun last night?”
“Huh?”
I avoided her gaze, but Francesca asked again, as if she hadn’t understood.
At the innkeeper’s sly grin, Francesca looked at me, her expression asking if I knew what was going on. I simply stared back at her without saying a word.
“—Oh.”
Realizing the meaning of the question, Francesca turned pale, then bright red.
Well, what the hell. A man and a woman went up to a room together and only came out the next morning. It would be strange not to notice.
But I really wished she would just let it go. It was embarrassing.
“Ah, ah!! Aaaaaah—!!”
Francesca screamed. I wanted to scream too.
“I-it’s not like that! It’s a misunderstanding! You seem to be misunderstanding something!!”
“A misunderstanding? What kind of misunderstanding?”
“W-well, we didn’t do anything like that! We just slept! Like good friends!”
“In the same bed?”
“No!!!!! I!!!!! Slept!!!!! On!!!!! The!!!!! Floor!!!!!”
“Oh, is that so? I must have misunderstood. —But Francesca, did you not know?”
The innkeeper placed a hand on her cheek and said apologetically,
“Our inn has good soundproofing, but the floors are old. Sometimes, the guests downstairs can hear the bed creaking very loudly…”
“I’lljustgotothebathhousenowandthenwork!!”
*Whoosh!*
Realizing she was cornered, Francesca ran off, passing the embarrassment buck to her future self. I watched, dumbfounded, as Francesca bolted out the door and the innkeeper chuckled.
“…Should I thank you for last night?”
I asked. The innkeeper wiped away a tear from laughing and smiled.
“No need. I was just supporting her. It was Francesca who chose you. If you hadn’t seemed responsible, I would have stopped her.”
“That’s a relief.”
In my 28 years of life experience, “nice” meant, “You look difficult to compliment, so I’ll say this instead,” and “responsible” meant, “You virgin-looking sucker probably wouldn’t try anything funny.”
Apparently, things would have been different if I had shown up looking like a blonde, tanned punk.
The innkeeper’s subtle intervention last night probably meant that even in her eyes, I seemed decent.
“People in my line of work can tell what someone is like just by looking at them. And you, you seemed like a pretty good person.”
The innkeeper said.
While I considered physiognomy a pseudoscience, I couldn’t be sure in this world. With things like fortune-telling existing, perhaps physiognomy, like alchemy, was a legitimate field of study here.
In any case, the innkeeper had subtly played matchmaker, so I bowed my head and said,
“My name is Nord.”
“I’m Beina Mutarat. Please take good care of Francesca.”
“Of course. Leave it to me.”
I finished my greeting and chased after Francesca.
The inn “Mutarat’s Children.”
It was a good name for an inn.
***
Bathing culture in Britannia was heavily influenced by Romania.
Honestly, most of the good things in this country were ripped off from Romania. That was the current policy of the Britannian kingdom. Copy everything that looks good from other countries and call it development.
—“We’ll grind our workforce to improve quality-desu!! By following the footsteps of developed nations, a glorious future awaits the great nation of Britannia-desu!!”
You could say Britannia inherited the spirit of plagiarism.
‘While moderate imitation is the foundation of growth…’
I wasn’t in a position to judge Britannia’s plagiarism. Korea also went through a period of growth by copying snacks, policies, and even TV shows from other countries.
The only constant, regardless of world or country, was that when those in power were incompetent, the people below suffered.
‘Shouldn’t these Britannian nobles be focusing on fucking currency reform instead of copying others?’
I knew currency reform was no easy task. But if they were going to copy Romania, shouldn’t they start with that?
As a result, Britannia had bathhouses all over the country but implemented a separate ticket system. If they charged 1 copper per bath, no one would go because of the outrageous price.
Furthermore, Britannia was similar to Earth’s old feudal system, so lords often refused the king’s decrees.
In territories where few people used the bathhouses, the maintenance costs resulted in unnecessary deficits.
Romania was governed by a senate and a citizen’s assembly. If Britannia simply copy-pasted the system without adapting it to their own circumstances, it wouldn’t work.
For the king to interfere with the policies of the nobles’ territories, he would have to wield his royal authority. That was a burden for the king. He would be as wary as a duty officer forcing sunbathing on a short-timer armed with live ammunition.
His beloved Majesty the King had thus adopted a “do it if you want, don’t if you don’t want” approach. It was a prime example of a failed development policy. Truly regrettable.
Fortunately, Sargardis was one of the territories that had adopted and operated Romanian-style public libraries and bathhouses. Their lord was a sensible person.
‘What was his name again? Jo… Joteru? Joteru von Henne?’
Anyway, I was glad I could bathe frequently thanks to him.
Despite the existence of plumbing in this world, it was hard to find showers in cheap inns. Their logic was, “Why build showers when there are bathhouses?” It was the kind of thinking that gave me a headache.
“Do you go to the bathhouse often, Nord?”
Francesca asked as we walked side-by-side.
“Almost every day. What about you, Francesca?”
“I go every day too. That’s what I did in Nidavellir.”
Nidavellir was the dwarven nation. In actual Norse mythology, it was considered another world entirely, but in this world, it was just an underground city in a foreign land.
Honestly, I found the underground city more fascinating than another world.
How did they live underground? What about oxygen? Drinking water? Waste disposal? Wouldn’t they die from diseases due to lack of sunlight? It was a country full of mysteries.
Still, I wasn’t particularly interested in visiting. Unless Francesca wanted to go.
“Oh, but you probably didn’t bring your bath ticket, Nord.”
Francesca said, touching the basket she was carrying. This bathhouse required you to bring your own towels and toiletries.
Bath tickets were 3 for 1 copper. That was about 3,000 won per visit, cheaper than back in Korea. Probably because no one would use them if they were more expensive. I shrugged and said,
“I brought my wallet, so I’ll just buy a new one. I’ll need it eventually anyway, and they exchange one ticket for two towels.”
It was like buying two decent cotton towels for 3,000 won.
“Really? Oh, or should we stop by your inn for a moment?”
“Our innkeeper will probably react the same way as Beina.”
“…I’ll pay for your bath…”
Francesca said glumly. It was a clear sign that she absolutely didn’t want to go back.
Anyway, we arrived at the bathhouse.
*Jingle, jingle—*
The bell-on-the-door custom existed in Britannia too. Lost in nostalgic thoughts, I entered the bathhouse. A young woman was working the reception desk behind a wide, stone counter.
“Hello, sir?”
“Yes, hello. Could I have a bath ticket?”
I said, pulling out 1 copper. The receptionist smiled brightly and replied,
“Of course. But sir? Are you and the person next to you a couple?”
“W-what?!”
Francesca was startled. I was also taken aback by the unexpected question. But I revved up my inner macho engine and replied calmly,
“Yes, we are. We’re in love.”
Francesca had said those words before falling asleep last night, and since I was smitten with her, it was 100% true.
“Oh, uhh…”
Francesca lowered her head as if regretting not bringing her hood. But she tightly gripped my hand.
“…Yes. We’re a couple.”
When our eyes met as I looked at her, Francesca leaned against me, blushing.
Wow, she was so cute. My girlfriend was so adorable I thought I might die.
“Hee hee. You’re a lovely couple.”
The receptionist said, watching us with a warm smile.
“Then, sir? Are you interested in the couples’ bath?”
—–CROW—–