“Ellie! Good morning….”
“Uh, uh! Did you sleep well? Good morning. The weather is nice, too. Yup.”
Ellie’s fur and hair, usually well-kept, were a total mess, and the dark circles under her eyes were so pronounced it was almost like makeup. She was dazed, her eyes unfocused, mumbling nonsense.
Anyone could tell she hadn’t slept well. She looked like she was facing an endless dawn rather than a new morning.
“…Did you stay up all night?”
“I didn’t?!”
I had just asked casually, but Ellie jumped and denied it. Seeing that gave me confidence.
“Did you, perhaps, have fun thinking about what you saw yesterday all night…?”
“What, what does that even mean?! Saying such things in the morning…! Huh! What do I do now!”
“…”
Even with just a little suggestive talk, she’s such a sensitive girl. Isn’t that the best?! …I used to think that way.
But seeing it in person was a bit different. If she had acted like that on the bed at night, it would’ve been great, but right now it’s just early morning in a hallway.
“Ah.”
Only then did I realize. I was a person of common sense who knew how to pick the right time and place…!
At the same time, a bit of a ‘wise time’ hit me.
Becoming a sensible human meant that my identity as a writer was dwindling.
There’s that saying about writers, right?
Creativity is a constant struggle, so keep inflicting pain to keep writing, or
Writers need a degree of mental illness, so all writers are crazy.
It’s quite an exaggeration, but cautiously… I somewhat agree with parts of it.
In that sense, I’ve been too full lately.
It’s fine that I’m full, but looking at Ellie still asleep in the subspace, I feel a sense of crisis…
It’s funny to say, but I was scared of becoming a sensible person.
What if this world I created didn’t feel like a piece of my work anymore, but just an ordinary reality?
What if I no longer marveled at the intricate details of monsters, didn’t chuckle at the adventurers’ raunchy jokes, or lost the ability to be moved by extraordinary powers beyond human realm? That terrified me.
Despite all these struggles, the Pan Continent was nothing short of a gift to me.
Yet, feeling weary of that gift.
“…This won’t do.”
“Huh? W-wait, Jonah? Why are you…?”
Ellie, mumbling to herself, started to get anxious, but it really wasn’t a big deal.
If I’ve made up my mind, there’s no need to hesitate.
“Ellie, I’m going out for a bit.”
“N-no! That wasn’t what I meant!”
I lightly tapped her trembling shoulder.
“Don’t overdo it or your bones will rot. Well then.”
I gave her a thumbs up, and she sat there looking dazed. I dashed down the stairs without a second thought.
Writing in a world without a computer requires certain essentials.
The first thing I checked upon leaving Fairy and Silver Coin was my wallet.
“3 silver, huh?”
Due to the gacha I rolled yesterday, that was all the money I had left.
No, I shouldn’t say ‘only’ like that. While my sense of money was slowly getting warped due to gacha, 3 silver wasn’t exactly a small amount.
If I use it wisely, I could live off it for a week. At least it would be enough to buy paper and a pen.
I bought some pens, ink, and a bundle of cheap paper at a random shop and returned to Fairy and Silver Coin.
For some reason, Ellie was drowning her sorrows in alcohol since morning, but it wasn’t the first day she’d been being pathetic compared to her abilities.
Waving my hand dismissively, I shut myself in my room.
“Hmm… So what should I write now?”
I had thought I wanted to write again during this time. I was doing adventurer work, but I always considered writing my main job.
That’s why I could love this world, and probably why the Goddess of Love summoned me.
However, now that I had the pen in hand, my mind went blank.
“Thinking of this as a gender-reversed world really limits what I can write…”
At my core, I’m an erotic writer. And thanks to the Goddess of Love, erotic writing holds a prominent place in this world.
Well-written erotic stories get bought for a hefty price by temples, so that says it all.
I had sneakily read a couple in Ellie’s room, and there were certainly many entertaining ones.
The problem was they all had male protagonists, which made some scenes a bit much for me.
“A young male prison warden being corrupted by the evil female inmates, huh?”
There was a moment where I really doubted Ellie’s taste.
But if you look at the big picture, sexual corruption has always been a popular theme throughout history. Though the details were a bit problematic.
The real issue is that this represents the average taste of Pangrave.
If I just wrote in my usual way, it would end up being a femdom… no, a subculture work for the few.
If that’s the story I want to write, there’s no helping it, but when I’m in a state like now—’I want to write but what should I write?’—I need to avoid it.
I’m not trying to write a diary; I’m trying to write something for others to read.
After half a mindlessly pondering while the ink on the pen dried,
“Ah!”
I suddenly remembered where I had most recently thought I wanted to write.
The Hobgoblin tribe. Two surviving adventurers.
A girl who dragged her childhood friend and lover into adventuring but abandoned him to survive when their lives were at risk.
A foolish man who, by sheer luck, got rescued, thinking his lover risked her life to save him as promised.
What must the girl have thought as she looked at the man who would have to live as a cripple for the rest of his life because his ankle was severed while being captured?
What feelings does one face when confronting the guilt of a crime no one knows.
Honestly, I have no interest in the pain, guilt, or compassion.
What matters to me is the regret, decay, and obsession that will bloom in a distorted relationship.
Though I dislike the idea of consuming someone’s misfortune for amusement… after all, I saved that life, right? I think this much is acceptable.
“Okay. I’m going with this.”
I dipped the dried pen into ink and scrawled the first line onto the paper.
Scratch scratch.
-Stand. That’s all a legless idiot like you can do.
I felt the pulse of a masterpiece.
*
It’s a mess.
Ellie took big gulps of the high-end liquor she was supposed to sell to customers, surveying the raucous interior of the establishment.
After about three seconds of contemplation, half inebriated, she concluded once more that it was a mess.
“Surely, I’ve been found out, right?”
This is a world where any form of sexuality is accepted as long as there’s love involved, and it’s not illegal.
However, that’s only in terms of respecting preferences.
Wow! You get excited seeing your favorite man rolling around with another woman? What sophisticated tastes you have! If it’s alright, can I have your husband next time?
Meaning she wouldn’t say such things out loud.
Surely Jonah was the same! Ellie realized that but couldn’t bring herself to admit it and fled outside! She was cooped up in her room for over half a day for that very reason.
…Ellie had completely forgotten that Jonah kept saying he’d flirt with other women, so she’d likely welcome the fact that she had developed a taste for NTR.
The reason was simple. The perpetually single and awkward Ellie had a slight inferiority complex regarding her virginity.
Although inexperienced, she didn’t want to be looked down on, and that complicated feeling led to rather negative imaginations.
Shivering at the thought that she had been labeled as a complete NTR-loving self-deprecator for a moment,
Ellie ultimately chose a straightforward approach.
“I’m begging you to pretend it never happened…!”
A truly Ellie-esque thought. Determined, she downed her drink in one go, getting slightly tipsy as she focused on her duties.
Even if she skipped lunch, she would definitely come for dinner. After all, it’s that teenage boy who eats a lot.
Should I make pasta loaded with basil sauce today? Or should I fry all the meats and present them with a sweet and sour sauce?
Whichever it was, they were both dishes Jonah loved, so she would surely be able to bring it up in a soft atmosphere.
Once she had that thought, Ellie set aside some ingredients, waiting for Jonah.
An hour passed, then two hours, and as deep night approached and the shop was about to close,
Ellie waited endlessly, but Jonah did not come down.
“Ah, no….”
Anxious and uneasy, Ellie reached a conclusion she normally would never consider.
“In that case… I’ll just pick the lock and go in.”
Of course, I couldn’t do it sober, so I downed a bottle of strong liquor.
And thus, fueled by the courage of alcohol, she headed towards Jonah’s room.
Creak—
The master key I was so proud of was rendered useless as the door simply opened. It had never been locked to begin with.
With her anxiety fading, Ellie staggered into the room.
There lay Jonah, sprawled over his desk, asleep, cuddling a bundle of papers tightly.
“What is this… a diary?”
It was simple curiosity. With a light heart, she peeked at the papers. The moment she read the black letters inscribed on them, Ellie sobered up immediately.
“…….”
Well, if you think about it, the content written felt oddly reminiscent of Ellie and Jonah’s story.
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