A New Poll

Sorry this update is late. Between travel and the upcoming holidays, my schedule's been kind of a mess. I am, however, back with a new poll. As promised, it has three options: Merce's chapter of Fallen Brides; the World Guide II short from the last poll; and The Imperator Doesn't Sleep, a novella from the same author as Baphomet Complex. (Which I really need to put together a second draft of at some point.)

As before, I will post more of my translation of whichever story gets the most votes every Wednesday from now until it's finished. After that I'll make another poll. The next poll will include both stories that fail to win this one, as well as a new story. I'll be counting the votes next Monday morning.

Vote Here

A Hill Where Love Grows

Case 5: Merce

The Imperator Doesn't Sleep

I honestly wanted to include a larger section of Imperator and add somewhat to Hill. If I have time, I'll do another bit of each and update this post and the Pastebins Thursday night.

(Texts after the cut.)

The Imperator Doesn't Sleep

By Strange

Translated from the Japanese by OtherSideofSky (http://othersideofskytranslations.blogspot.com/)

A small figure danced in the moonlit garden.

"Wow! Amazing!" A lisping voice cried out in pure delight.

"Look at all the stars!"

There was a radiant smile on the young, excited face gazing up at the sky.

The little girl stretched her tiny hands above her head and jumped again and again, trying to catch dazzling stars. With each jump her dress fluttered, and her hair — which was a brighter gold than the embroidery that adorned her clothes — whirled.

"There are so many of them; it should be alright for me to have one."

The girl's hand, reaching for the stars, clenched tight.

"Oh, honestly!" She complained, upon opening the hand and seeing that there was nothing in it. "They're right there, so why can't I grab them?"

Watching her innocent endeavor, I couldn't suppress a smile.

"Hey! You just laughed, didn't you?"

She spun around, her cheeks angrily puffed out.

The childish gesture reminded me that, however magnificent a dress she wore and whatever gems or precious metals adorned her, she was still a genuine little girl. The pure gleam in her large eyes made them almost miniature starry skies in themselves. I couldn't help staring into them.

"What's that look for?"

The girl's cheeks puffed up still further. I was still smiling, and that must have offended her. She put one hand on her hip, and pointed sternly at me with the other.

"And here I went to all the trouble of bringing you with me without father finding out!"

It was true. We'd slipped out of our rooms in secret from both our fathers and come here, to the palace courtyard. We'd be sure to get a good scolding if anyone caught us. Still, this starry sky was worth the risk.

"Next time, I won't bring you along!" The girl humphed and turned away.

I sensed that it would be a bad idea to offend her any more than I already had and hurriedly apologized. She kept her back to me at first, but as I kept saying how sorry I was, she glanced in my direction, then finally spun around.

"Very well. I forgive you!" She declared, and a new smile bloomed on her face.

The girl's figure stood out under the light of the moon and stars. She looked as beautiful as a painting. I became aware that my cheeks were growing hot and hurriedly shook my head.

"What's the matter?"

She looked confused by my behavior.

"Nothing," I hastily blurted out. For some reason, I felt embarrassed.

The girl stared at me for a little while with a baffled look on her face. At last, she smiled again and started walking toward me.

I was confused. Her smile widened.

"Come on, don't just stand there forever; come here!"

Staring at her innocently outstretched hand, I...

· · · · · · ·

A ray of white broke the solid blackness that filled my vision.

The light woke me and I let out a little groan. With the light came the awareness of morning, and I slowly raised my eyelids. Still half-unconscious, I blinked rapidly.

When I raised myself from the bed and looked around, the familiar sight of my room met my eyes. It was lit by the sunlight filtering through the curtains.

"Morning already..."

I felt like I'd been having a dream. A dream about a long time ago. As I awoke, however, my memories of the dream faded. I could no longer recall the details. All that remained in my breast was nostalgia and a faint loneliness. It bothered me, but groaning about it wouldn't help me remember.

I was still staring aimlessly around the room when a reserved knock called my mind back to reality and my gaze to the door. A young woman's voice came from the other side of it.

"Have you awakened, Master Rofus?"

"Yes. You can come in," I replied.

After a quick "Pardon me, sir," the knob turned, and a woman entered the room. She was one of the maids in service to my family. I knew her by sight.

Upon seeing me, she curtsied, then briskly approached the window and drew back the curtains. I narrowed my eyes against the inrush of sunlight.

"Your meal is ready, sir."

"Got it. I'll be there soon."

"Yes sir. Excuse me, sir."

At my answer, the maid made another curtsy, then left the room. I heard the soft sound of the door shutting as I got out of bed.

Outside the window I could see an expanse of blue sky and the townscape illumined by the morning sun. Beyond the roofs of the houses towered the white-walled palace. My thoughts naturally turned to the girl who lived there, and I let out a sigh.

I don't know when it had started, but I could no longer feel genuinely happy about seeing her. We used to smile so innocently at each other, without hesitation. I doubt the change in our positions was the only cause, but I didn't know what I could, or should, do about it now. I didn't even know if I wanted our relationship to go back to how it had been in the first place.

"An audience with Her Imperial Majesty, huh?"

I repeated my schedule for the day. Saying it felt like spitting up something coiled in my chest, but that only made me more depressed. I doubted I'd even be able to enjoy eating the breakfast that had been prepared for me. My heavy heart formed a stark contrast with the clear morning air.

The crimson carpet muffled my footsteps. The sensation made me feel vaguely uneasy as I walked down the long corridor.

This was the center of the imperial capital. The building, surrounded by a moat and strong castle walls, stood on a hill and towered over the city around it. It was the imperial castle, the very heart of the empire's political and economic administration.

The previous imperator had spent a fortune to renovate the palace, which boasted the greatest beauty of any building in the empire. It's many white-walled and blue-roofed spires soared proudly into the sky, imperial flags fluttering in the breeze at their tops. It's majestic appearance awed not only travelers who saw it for the first time, but even the townspeople who saw it every day. It almost seemed to be glaring down at the city; you sometimes felt you were about to be crushed just looking at it.

When the former imperator repaired the aging palace, he had levied a high tax, squeezing a huge amount of wealth from the people. And not just in money; he had also imposed heavy labor on the citizens. More than a few had been ruined or died as a result.

In that sense, it wouldn't be unreasonable to call the former imperator a tyrant who ruled through fear. It was true that he had been an able ruler and expanded the empire's power to an unprecedented extent, but his methods had been self-righteous and severe — the very definition of high-handed despotism. He drove out all who disagreed with him, however capable or high-born they might be. Those who defied him, he suppressed without mercy. The result was that only those who toadied up to the imperator remained, and his tyranny kept picking up speed.

The citizens cowered in fear. Dissatisfaction was rife, but no one had been willing to face the vast imperial family head-on.

A few years ago, the imperator had been taken by illness. Everyone had expected the country to change, although no one had dared say it out loud.

The people's faint hope had, however, been in vain. She, succeeding to the throne at a young age, had become another tyrant like the former imperator. In some ways she was even more autocratic. The people were even now cowering and suffering under her tyrannical rule. Some of her ministers had mustered the courage to remonstrate with her, but every one of them had met a tragic end.

Beneath its gilded surface, this nation had been ruled by fear for a long time now. A look at the city would be enough for even a child to see how dark a shadow it had cast on the people's hearts. There was fear on the face of every resident who looked up at the palace. No one on the street would speak the imperator's name. Everyone was painfully aware of the consequences a careless remark could bring.

Naturally, more than a few had simply abandoned the country. Many affluent nobles had sought asylum in other nations. Apparently even some of the border guards had fled.

To be honest, I wasn't much of a patriot myself. I doubted this tyranny could last forever. Ruin had to be on the way. When you can see the ship sinking, the smart choice is to get out while you still can.

Nevertheless, I stayed. That was partly because of my position as the eldest son of the Laureth family. More than that, however, it was because the tyrant now ruling the empire was my—

"Halt."

The unexpected bark cut off my train of thought.

Looking around, I realized that I had arrived in the audience chamber.

-

Case 5: Mercè

A Woman's Happiness

By REID

Translated from the Japanese by OtherSideofSky (http://othersideofskytranslations.blogspot.com/)

"You're stepping in too far, Elt."

Elt — one of my men — and I were sparring on the training ground. It's high walls made it look somewhat like an arena.

My halberd parried and blocked Elt's thrusts. He moved just a little too far forward every time he stepped in.

I swung my halberd down, aiming for Elt's right leg. Adjusting my strength to his, of course.

Just before the halberd struck, Elt quickly drew back his leg. He must have judged that he wouldn't be fast enough to block with his spear. It was his best option. But... he was already in check.

Suddenly pulling his leg back threw him off balance. The opening was fatal.

I shifted to a reverse grip and thrust the butt end of my halberd at his unprotected throat, stopping just short.

"...I, I yield..." Elt declared, lowering his spear. He sounded short of breath.

"Are you ever going to fix that bad habit?"

When thrusting with a spear, stepping in is vital. It's best to step powerfully, but you can't let your gait be too wide. It creates a bigger opening, and you'll get the overextended leg swept out from under you. The key is to always put your weight, and force, into the strike smoothly and quickly.

"I try, but as soon as I forget to focus on it... I end up doing it again before I know it."

I'm sure Elt knew that as well as I did, but bad habits don't change just because you're aware of them. He was capable of suppressing the habit and moving properly when he had room to pay attention to it. That's the sort of person he was.

Of course, when he was sparring with me, or in actual combat, he wouldn't have that room to think.

"It looks like you really will just have to force your body to adapt."

It was the natural conclusion. He would repeat the correct movements until his body could make them without thinking.

"I guess that is what it comes down to..." Elt answered. He looked exhausted. He must have become painfully aware that even once you know the trick, there are no real shortcuts to mastering it.

"You've just got to do it; I did too.

"Now, let's call it here for today... and go for drinks! My treat, of course," I announced, stabbing my halberd into the ground and leaning my weight on it.

This was independent training outside of normal hours. I didn't force him, but as a general rule, Elt kept going until I stopped.

"Thank you very much for the offer, Mercè... But please, just let me take... a quick breather..." Elt answered. He walked over to the wall of the training ground and sat down, leaning against it.

He's gotten a lot tougher than he was as a new recruit... but he still has room for improvement. Still, working this late shows he's got more guts than most of the others.

"Guess I've got no choice... I'll go get changed first and wait for you."

He worked hard today; he's earned a quick break. Besides, he always nags me about changing in front of him. I've told him not to worry about it — I've told him not to treat me like a woman — but it seems like he just can't help it.

I walked off, leaving Elt sitting on the ground behind me.

◊ ♦ ◊ ♦ ◊

"Well, cheers."

We ended up at a familiar bar. It was the kind of place where men get together for a drink after they finish work for the day. I could see men who looked like mercenaries and adventurers, so we didn't stick out, stopping in on our way back from training. It was a little noisy, but that just made me feel more at home. I was also glad that there weren't many women patrons.

On the counter in front of me were a few snacks and a tankard of ale. With the hustle and bustle behind me, I gripped the tankard and lifted it slightly.

"Cheers," Elt answered, calmly raising his own tankard to his lips. He looked lively, considering how exhausted he'd been at the training ground. That must have been one of the fruits of his daily regimen.

"It's my treat, so don't hold back."

Elt sipped his drink slowly, tossing the occasional snack into his mouth. That was how he always drink, and I knew it, but I couldn't help prodding him.

"You always say that, Mercè... Please try not to drink too much. It's my shoulder you'll be leaning on if you do," Elt nagged back with a wry smile. He didn't mind as much as he let on; that's the kind of guy he was.

"True, I'm always getting drunk and hanging off you, and you end up taking care of me when it's really bad... But I always treat you, so we're square, right?"

I'm the one who trains you and pays for our drinks; you don't get to complain. Of course... drinking with you does taste better than drinking alone.

"Ha ha... When you put it that why, I guess I've got no right to complain."

"Man... A drink after training really hits the spot."

I tipped my tankard and poured ale down my throat.

The rich aroma, the sweet taste of malt, and the bitter flavor of gruit. I could never get enough of the way it tingled on my tongue. The scent wafted up to stimulate my nose as the ale wet my parched throat. By the time I lowered the tankard, it was half empty.

"Ha ha... As always, you can really down it."

Elt flashed me a grin.

I'm glad you're enjoying yourself; you should always have fun while you drink.

Suddenly, I felt eyes on me from the opposite side as Elt's seat. When I turned to look, my gaze met that of a woman sitting a little ways away. It looked like she'd been staring at my eye patch. She looked away as soon as our eyes met.

...Honestly, talk about rude, I thought and turned back to my tankard. That was all.

I used to really mind looks like that. I'd get so mad about them I couldn't stand it. They were nothing to me now; I could stay calm, even when my eye patch was getting odd looks.

I thought back to the events of a certain day.

◊ ♦ ◊ ♦ ◊

The two of us had remained on the parade ground, as usual. We were in the middle of sparring.

"Ngh... That was a good o—"

Elt launched a powerful thrust. He kept his hips low and his center of gravity steady. It was a model strike.

I tilted my head and avoided it by a hair's breadth. Then, as I began to compliment him on the thrust, my eye patch fell off.

His thrust hadn't nicked it; I just hadn't noticed it was loose. It had slipped when I moved my head to dodge. Not that it mattered.

Half-reflexively, I raised a hand to cover my ruined right eye. It was a mark of that woman's abuse — a symbol of my hated past. How could I not be afraid to reveal it?

"...Mercè?"

Elt froze, then walked over and looked me in the eye. His expression, and his gaze, said that he was genuinely concerned for me.

"...I, I'm fine," I replied, half-heartedly. I had a feeling that looking into Elt's eyes helped me regain a little of my composure. Then his face left my view.

"...Here."

Elt bent down, picked up the eye patch, and handed it to me. It was a natural gesture; there was nothing awkward about it. He didn't stare at my hidden wound, and he didn't look away uneasily, either. He wasn't put off, and he didn't pry.

"Thank you... Sorry you had to see something so ugly."

I turned my face away from him and quickly put on the eye patch he handed me.

My hideous, ruined eye couldn't be a pleasant sight for Elt, either. The thought filled my chest with something like anxiety.

"Not at all."

He looked kind. His expression seemed to sweep away my worries. It made me believe his words.

"I see... Do you mind if I tell you something? It won't take long."

I ended up wanting to confide in him. Just a little. I knew that what I had to say would only trouble him, I knew I should have kept quiet, but I couldn't stop myself from blurting it out.

I was sure that Elt would listen. I was closer to him than to anyone else and I trusted him more than anyone else. That was why I wanted him to know about my past. I suppose it was a kind of emotional dependence.

"Go right ahead. Some things are easier to deal with when you talk about them," Elt answered. His gaze was sincere.

I was sure that he was concerned about me as a person, not as one of my men. I ended up believing that he would accept my weakness.

"...When I was a kid, my mother abused me. My father pretended not to notice."

The dark past I'd never talked about to anyone.

I felt some of my self-control relax. Maybe it was because I was in front of Elt. Either way, as I went back over my past, I felt my tears threatening to overflow.

If I cried, I was sure I would feminine. I couldn't bear anyone — even Elt — seeing me like that.

"In the end... she left me with this wound, and left us for another man. My father was a good man, but after that, anxiety destroyed him, and..."

I faltered, but once I'd started speaking, the words refused to stop. It was like a dam had burst. I wanted Elt to know my past. I wanted to make my heart just a little less heavy by telling him.

In the end, I ended up giving him just the outline of what had happened to me. I didn't go into detail for fear of crying. I couldn't even bring myself to say that it had been hard, or that it had hurt.

"...Sorry for bothering you with a depressing story like this."

"Do you feel any better?" Elt — who had listened in silence up to that point — ask when I tried to cut off cut off my reminiscence before I said any more. The way he said it, it sounded like he was implicitly asking if I'd said all I needed. I'm sure he really wanted to do as much as he could. He really was kind.

"...Yeah."

There were still some things I'd left unsaid, but, thanks to Elt, the load on my chest felt a little lighter. It was enough. It wouldn't be right to make him worry any more than I already had.

"Then I'm glad.

"It might not be any comfort... but as far I'm concerned, you are who you are. So... please, don't drive yourself into a corner. Don't try to hold too much in. I'm not strong like you are, Mercè, but... if you need someone to talk to, I can at least listen."

Elt stared at me with kind, strong eyes.

I was who I was... It was a worn-out saying, but Elt's gaze, and his expression, gave it the ring of truth.

"I guess... you're right. I do feel better. Thanks, Elt."

I was sure that Elt wouldn't mind my past. It wasn't that he wouldn't care about it; he would share my pain, almost like it had happened to him.

And he was telling me that it was alright for me to rely on him more. I'd only let out a little this time, but when it got really bad, Elt would be there. That did a lot more to make me feel better than telling him about my past had.

Before I knew it, Elt had become my emotional support.

◊ ♦ ◊ ♦ ◊

-

A Hill Where Love Grows

By Strange

Translated from the Japanese by OtherSideofSky (othersideofskytranslations.blogspot.com)

The eyelid-piercing light of morning shook him awake.

Sunshine poured down into the room out of the blue sky without regard for the thin curtains, dispelling the dark. Outside the window, birds chirped their joy at the beginning of a new day.

Inside the room, however, it was still cool. Possibly some of the night air still lingered there. It was well past dawn, but still early. Most of the townsfolk would still be in dreamland. And while some might be awake, hardly any could be properly active yet. It's just that hard to overcome one's attachment to a warm blanket.

It was no different for this young man, lying here in his bed. He stirred under the sheets and let out a groan. He was awake, but his eyes were still closed. He groaned again, and pulled the covers over his head, like an insect that hates the bright sunlight. Once his head was covered, a warm softness enveloped his body. The young man let out a contented sigh, and abandoned himself to the bed once more.

His cheeks slackened with contentment as he let himself doze. He felt something springy, yet soft and gentle, pressed against them. It was giving him peace, tempting him into a deep slumber. He felt like he was falling forever, but there was no unease. On the contrary, he felt safe and secure. Just as the young man was about to fall completely back to sleep, however, an odd sound reached his ears. It sounded like someone breathing deeply in their sleep.

It was puzzling. A doubt emerged in a corner of his brain and began to grow, pushing aside his drowsiness. At the same time, a sense that something was out of place — which he hadn't minded earlier — came to the forefront. He was lying face up, so his pillow ought to be under his head, but this springy fluffiness was on either side of it. And he was sure his usual pillow wasn't this big.

"And was that cheap pillow ever this soft?" he muttered, shifting his head. As he did so, the odd sound came again. The doubt continued to grow.

Wait a minute. I feel like I remember hearing that sound somewhere be...

"Ah!"

Before the young man's waking mind could come up with an answer, something lukewarm brushed his cheek. He let out a cry of surprise, but whatever it was didn't seem to mind; it came back for another pass. For a moment he panicked, but he soon realized that there was nothing hostile about the way it touched him, and regained some composure. Besides, he had a feeling that he remembered the soft touch on his skin, as well as the sound.

"...Of course."

The young man slowly let out his breath, relaxed his mind, and opened his eyes. All the tension went out of his body; he felt foolish for having felt it in the first place. In front of his eyes, so close that their noses were almost touching, was the face of a girl happily rubbing her cheek against his.

He sighed, and looked at the girl lying beside him. Shut eyes adorned with long lashes, softly curved cheeks, a slightly downturned nose and a little mouth. She was breathing peacefully in her sleep. The description "truly adorable" fit her perfectly.

The girl's most notable, however, was her hair, and the wool that covered her body, shining pale gold in the sunlight. A pair of large, curled, sectional horns emerged from amid her hair. The ears that peeked out of it were, likewise, shaped just like those of a sheep.

"...Merry. I knew it."

"Merry" was the name of the sleeping girl snuggled up beside him. She was another of the house's residents. As her appearance suggested, she was not a human, but a beastman with the characteristics of a sheep — a type of monster known as a weresheep.

"What am I supposed to do with you, sneaking into other people's beds practically every morning? Honestly..."

The young man stared at Merry with a look of resignation, and prodded her cheek. The weresheep girl twitched her ears at that, and let out a little moan, but she showed no sign of waking up. Deep sleeping was another weresheep characteristic. They were always, and once they did fall asleep, they didn't wake easily. It was partly due to the sleep magic in their wool.

"At least it looks like she's having a nice dream."

"Ehehe... More..." Merry muttered in her sleep, as if in answer to the young man's words. She rubbed his cheek again, still wearing a blissful look on her face. Then, as if to say that that wasn't enough, she rubbed her whole body against his, and held on tight. The bed was narrow, so, naturally, they ended up pressed close against each other. The young man felt the pressure of two bulges, which asserted themselves in spite of their fluffy covering. His cheeks reddened. The touch of Merry's full breasts made him wonder vaguely if this was what was meant by "sleep makes a child grow."

Be that as it may, he couldn't stay like this forever. If he didn't get up soon, it would get in the way of his work on the farm. He'd gone to the trouble of waking up early, so he wanted to avoid wasting time.

"I want to, but as things are..." The young man muttered, unable to extricate himself from the tight embrace. He let out another sigh.

"Mmm... You got me..."

Merry was a sleepyhead at the best of times. It would be a while yet before she woke up. Besides, when he saw her looking so happy, he couldn't help feeling that waking her would be a bit of a shame. Of course, part of that was also his desire to enjoy more of the comfort of her touch. The young man was briefly at Merry's mercy, agonizing over what to do, but not actually doing anything. It was then that another doubt suddenly rose in the back of his mind.

"Come to think of it, Merry being here means..." He started to wonder aloud to himself. At almost the same time, another sound — not from Merry — came from right by his ear.

"Mmm..."

"...Of course."

Even that little sound was enough to make him half certain. Quietly prying loose Merry's clinging limbs, the young man slowly turned his head to look at the side the voice had come from. He saw what he had expected to see. A bit of wry humor crept into his voice.

"I see you're here too, Rico."

Next to him, on the opposite side from Merry, was the face of a girl puffing up her cheeks and glaring at him reproachfully. Rico. She was cute in spite of her expression, but it only took a glance to see that she wasn't human. Like Merry, she was a monster. To be more precise, this girl called Rico was a monster with the characteristics of a cow called a holstaur. The most visible proofs were the furry ears — patterned with black spots on a white ground — peeking through her hair, and the little, pale-yellow horns that parted her short bob. Incidentally, her breasts, although they were currently hidden from sight by the covers, were even larger than Merry's. That was another characteristic of the holstaur species.

...They sure are something.

The young man remembered the times he'd touched them, and his face grew even redder. Rico, meanwhile, was making no attempt to hide her displeasure as she stared at the young man. He stared back, but It made him feel just a little uncomfortable.

"Don't glare like that."

"Moo~"

The drooping jade-green eyes beneath her characteristically white-and-black hair wavered. There was something gentle about her features that reassured anyone who saw her. Now, however, there were faint tears pricking in the corners of her eyes, and the corners of her lovely mouth downturned in a frown.

"B, but..." Rico muttered, pouting. She was normally as calm and gentle as she looked, but her expression tended to get serious when it came to this young man. Especially when Merry was involved. Apparently she felt something like jealousy toward the weresheep, who, despite being a latecomer to the household, was always snatching the best moments for herself.

"Oh, don't cry first thing in the morning. Come on."

The young man roughly scratched his own head, then gently brushed Rico's tears.

"Ah... Ehehe."

Rico seemed taken aback for an instant, but soon she smiled. The effect was like a flower blooming.

"Hey," she wheedled, "do you mind if I hug you?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Yay~!"

No sooner had the young man given his permission than she squirmed up to him under the blanket, and wrapped her arms and legs around him. She was now squeezing him for the opposite side as Merry.

"Honestly. Talk about calculating. A certain somebody who was crying a moment ago is all smiles now."

"Tee hee hee."

Rico disregarded the young man's exasperation, and squeezed even tighter. Her tail was almost certainly wagging under the covers.

"Mmm... I just can't get enough of this."

Rico wriggled herself even closer. Her body heat reached him even through her clothes and fur. It was a comfortable warmth, in a different sense from the warmth of the blanket.

On the other hand, the young man could feel his face rapidly reddening. The barely-contained teats Rico was shoving against him were the cause. The sensation of her springy breasts pressing on him gave him almost violent pleasure. He was in danger of losing his reason. In fact, any normal man would embrace his primitive instincts in the face of that.

"I get it, but..." The young man muttered, feeling the ample chest that could almost be called the proof of a holstaur's identity.

I see. Her milk must be so delicious because it comes from these breasts, the young man thought, half avoiding reality. Just then, something soft pressed against his back. The sensation resembled Rico's breasts, but it was subtly different.

He turned his head to look, wondering, and there was Merry, cuddled up against him. Unusually for the lackadaisical weresheep, her expression was pouty. Merry glared at the young man, making a soft noise like a fretting infant. Apparently she'd sensed the other two flirting, and woken up. A shade of reproach could be seen in her now-open eyes.

"Just Rico's no fair! Me too! Me too!" Merry demanded, pouting, and hugged the young man as well. Soft wool enveloped him, and weresheep man soaked his body, lulling him to sleep. A sense of comfort filled him, like, and yet unlike, the one Rico gave him.

"Hey! No cheating! Just look at me, dear."

Rico, seeing the young man's eyelids droop, put a hand on his cheek, and gently turned his face back toward her. His eyes widened in surprise as she smiled, and pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Hey! I want a lick too."

Merry, who had been forced to watch the scene at close quarters, reacted fiecely.

"No. Kissing is just for me," Rico declared. She hugged the young man's head, and busied herself intently running her tongue over his cheek.

"Mmm... Dear, you're so... mph... tasty."

Rico stared at Merry as she announced triumphantly, her cheeks flushed. Merry, in contrast, stared back with a mixture of jealousy and just a little vexation on her face.

"Oh... Fine then!" Merry muttered. She had been watched what Rico was doing for a little while, but now released her hold on the young man, and slipped under the covers as well.

"What?"

The young man wasn't sure what Merry intended to do, but he soon found out. Once Merry had wormed her way in under the covers, she pulled down his pyjama pants.

"Hey, wait! What do you think you're doing, Merry?"

"Huh?"

Rico broke off her kisses at the young man's sudden panic.

"Wait, you can't... Hey!"

Merry, however, would not hear his call for restraint, and shoved her hand further into his underclothes. He soon found himself remorselessly stripped of his underpants as well. The young man frowned with the unease and embarrassment of being half naked, even under the blankets. He soon guessed her aim, however, and opened his mouth to shout that it was out of the question.

"You can't be... Wait! Stop tha... Oo...!"