Chapter 12 | The Assassin Makes Beautiful Raiments
The work wasn’t too challenging once the loom was built. I wasn’t sure building the device for a pair of garments was worthwhile, but it proved to be the right call.
The two finished products were a little larger than necessary because Dia and Tarte were still growing. It wasn’t too necessary for Dia, but Tarte’s chest could get even larger, hard as that was to believe. I wanted to make extra camisoles if possible, but little of the Puppeteer demon’s thread remained. There wasn’t enough to spare, considering what I wanted to craft next.
“This is crazy. It’s totally see-through,” Dia remarked.
“…Wearing this is going to take a lot of courage,” Tarte said.
They both blushed as they inspected the finished camisoles.
“The demon’s threads are nearly invisible, probably because they needed to catch people off guard… Weaving it together resulted in transparent fabric.”
Transparent thread was an incredible material. See-through camisoles existed in my old world, of course, but they were created with thin thread and weaving that left many gaps. The material itself wasn’t see-through. A genuinely transparent item of clothing, one created with no spaces, could function as defensive equipment. Such a thing was unthinkable in my old world, though.
Dia put a hand to her chin. “Can you color these? That would make them even nicer.”
“I tried to dye them because I was worried about the transparency, too, but the color wouldn’t stick,” I answered.
I applied a red dye to one of the camisoles to demonstrate, and it slid right off. I’d attempted several methods to color the garments, including soaking them in paint and baking the paint into them, but all ended in failure.
“Huh. Well, guess it’s not possible. We’ll be wearing them under our clothes, so it doesn’t really matter,” Dia said.
“Um, that’s fine for me, but in your case…” Tarte trailed off.
Dia’s ears turned red. “Don’t say that in front of Lugh!”
“S-sorry.”
I had an idea of what this was about. Camisoles were supposed to be worn above underwear. Tarte had a developed chest and needed to wear a bra, but Dia could get by with just a camisole. Wearing a transparent camisole over her bare skin wasn’t going to work, however.
“How about this? I’ll use my Natural You connections to find you some small and cute underwear,” I suggested.
Dia had a chest. It was growing little by little, and she’d probably reach a B cup before long. She didn’t need a bra, but I thought it’d be better for her to have one. I’d have Maha choose something soft and comfortable to wear.
“Mind your own business. I have bras, for your information! I just don’t use them ’cause they’re a pain. It’s much easier to wear a camisole.”
Dia could be surprisingly lazy when it came to anything other than magic. She could play the perfect noble lady in public settings with exquisite etiquette that befitted her birth, but she took it easy in her private life wherever she could. It was just like her to wear a thick camisole over her bare skin.
“I know you do, but the fabric is low quality, and they don’t fit you right… And uh, I don’t think you’ve noticed, but you are growing. You should take this chance to buy something nice.”
“Wait, really?! Wow…”
I broached the topic nervously because of its delicate nature, but Dia shamelessly rubbed her chest in front of us.
“I think they have grown… I’d given up hope! Yep, you can buy me underwear, Lugh. I’ll tell you my size later.”
“You amaze me, Lady Dia…” Tarte’s praise was likely meant for Dia’s boldness, not the increase in her chest size.
“You got it,” I responded.
Viekones grew and aged slowly. That’s why my mom still looked young despite being in her late thirties, and Dia came from the same bloodline. She was turning seventeen soon, but her physical age was fourteen or fifteen. There was a chance she would keep growing.
“Also…,” Dia began.
“What is it?”
“Remember those fake boobs we used for my disguise? I want those, too!”
“Don’t even think about it. Once you start exaggerating your appearance like that, you’ll never be able to stop.”
“I don’t like the sound of that, but…”
Dia was asking for a padded bra. I made one for her as part of a disguise when we sneaked into a party in the royal capital. I had a collection of tools for altering appearance, and I was able to make the large chest look perfectly natural on her. I was sure she could use it to fool everyone into thinking her breasts were large. The problem was that she couldn’t just claim her bust shrank one day. There were two choices: wear the fake chest for the rest of her life or admit to using padding. It was a curse.
“Then forget it.”
“You’re mean.”
“I’m not saying it to be cruel… Anyway, let’s call it there for today. You two can go back without me.”
“You’re staying here?”
“I prioritized your equipment, so I’m not done repairing my bulletproof vest. Once it’s done, I’ll head back to the dorm.”
“You should’ve made a camisole for yourself, too. It’s more comfortable.”
“I’m stronger than you two, so I want the added defense of a heavier piece of gear.”
The camisoles weren’t much different from the vest when up against slashing attacks, but only a vest could achieve the level of impact resistance I wanted. That vest was my lifeline—I always wore it under my clothes.
Now that I was a saint, I’d be the target of great jealousy. Some nobles would try to eliminate me if they couldn’t bring me under their influence. I didn’t want to die now that I lived as a person instead of a weapon. I’d finally found happiness.
“I’d offer to help…but I’ll only be in the way. See you later,” Dia bid.
“I’ll prepare supper for you,” Tarte added.
They both held their camisoles to their chests and left. Knowing they’d wear those eased my fears, if only somewhat.
I hadn’t forgotten about myself while working on those two garments. Dia and Tarte just had a higher chance of becoming targets than I did. When trying to take down a formidable opponent, it was common practice to go after their loved ones. That’s why I prioritized their safety over mine. No matter the world, the malice hidden within everyday people was more terrifying than anything.
“Okay, one final push.”
I had a plan to experiment with the Puppeteer demon’s thread to improve my bulletproof vest.
I lost track of time as I worked on improving the vest and ended up returning to the dorm in the middle of the night. It was well past Dia and Tarte’s usual bedtime. And yet…
“Welcome back, my lord.”
“What took you so long?”
…they’d both waited up for me. The girls were wearing comfortable nightgowns that we’d bought in Milteu, which they slept in regularly because of how soft and loose-fitting they were.
“You could’ve just gone to bed,” I said.
Dia shook her head. “I would’ve felt guilty… And I have something for you. I couldn’t help with the defensive equipment, but it felt wrong to relax while you worked, so I made a new spell.”
I took the piece of paper Dia offered me and read the formula written on it.
“Huh. This is interesting. Did you come up with this on your own?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t be worthy of being called a genius if I let you do everything,” Dia replied.
I was truly surprised. She didn’t have the advantage of being reincarnated like me; it was incredible that she came up with this alone. The spell had limited use, but it could turn a situation around when one was backed into a corner.
“I can’t make anything like that, so I put extra effort into my cleaning and cooking,” Tarte said.
I nodded. “Thank you. I overtaxed my brain, so I’m craving something sweet.”
Improving the vest was difficult, and my brain wanted glucose. I took a bite of a cupcake Tarte had made. The sweetness suited my tastes perfectly, as was always the case. Tarte had even adjusted the recipe, using soy milk instead of cow’s milk to make the cupcake lighter because it was a late-night snack.
Tarte was hardly the best cook in the world. I was more skilled than she was. But no one understood my tastes the way she did—not even me. That was because every meal she made since entering my service was for me.
“We have one more gift for you,” Dia announced.
“Um, Lady Dia, are we really doing that? I will do my best if it makes Lord Lugh happy, but…,” Tarte said.
“It absolutely will. Lugh may not look it at first glance, but he’s a total perv. He just likes to play it cool.”
“Ouch. Wording, Dia.”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t deny it. Becoming more human was my goal after reincarnation, so I wanted to give in to my budding desires on occasion. Was there anything wrong with that?
“If you say so. Here we go!” Tarte declared.
Dia and Tarte both dropped their nightgowns, stripping to nothing but their underwear. Actually, no—they were wearing the transparent camisoles as well. Tarte’s underwear was simple, but the elaborate design of Dia’s drew my attention.
I’d never seen the underwear Dia was wearing before. Judging by its design, it wasn’t fit for everyday use. A careless wash would ruin it. That meant it was made for…other purposes. I struggled to imagine Dia purchasing this. I suspected my mother’s involvement.
“What do you think?” asked Dia. “I thought I would treat you to a look at me in this camisole. Isn’t it cute?”
“Urgh, I’m so embarrassed,” Tarte groaned.
“It’s strange. You look sexier with the transparent camisoles than you would with your underwear alone,” I observed.
“Don’t analyze us like that, my lord!”
I only made the camisoles to protect them, but they did look really nice. The sight of Dia and Tarte in them appealed to my base instincts.
“Thanks. I feel totally refreshed,” I said.
“Is that all?” Dia asked.
“No. I’m a man. I can’t look at you in those outfits and not be aroused. But it’s late, and it’d be rude to invite one of you to bed when all three of us are here.”
I had a pubescent body, and Dia and Tarte were my adorable fiancées. Seeing them this way filled me with desire. However, taking one of them would be rude, and I’d have to be really shameless to request that both girls join me.
“Then I’ll ask. Are you opposed to that?”
“No, it’d make me happy, but—”
“Then let’s go to my room.”
“Wha—huh—I—huh?” Tarte panicked.
Dia smiled at her, taking my hand. “Tarte, I’ll hog Lugh forever if you don’t say what you want. Words don’t seem to be getting through, so I’m going to bully you like this until you learn to speak up.”
I smiled wryly. Dia really was an excellent big sister. Fixing Tarte’s passivity demanded drastic measures.
Dia and I went into her room, leaving Tarte behind, looking like a child whose toy was taken. It had been a long time since I’d made love to Dia.
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