“……”
Members of the emotional loincloth crew were now giving each other hugs. They’d called him Meister, but honestly, this was starting to feel more like a cult. The Cult of the Loincloth. I would not join, even if it was free.
This all-male cuddle—sorry, sweaty, masculine contact—was hardly the wildest thing here.
“Mwa-ha-ha! Let your body absorb this soy ☆ protein!”
“Yikes.”
I must have looked horrified; I should really learn to school my face in the future. Oh well.
The former head of the Ascorbic Domain’s fist clan, Tiger Nexamic, carried a basket of grain on each arm. He was wearing short tights pulled way up his crack. Is there some oppressive law here that men must all sport a wedgie?
The man in his homemade thong spotted me and flashed a muscly smile.
“Mwa-ha?! You’re Asako! Did your heart yearn for my hamstrings?”
Nexamic didn’t hesitate to flaunt his buttocks in front of the fairer sex. You could tell he did this all the time.
Having thoroughly shown off his ass with no noticeable interest in anything I said, he directed my attention to the harvest in the baskets.
“Mwa-hah! Observe, Asako!”
“Soybeans?”
“Got it in one! Behold my hamstrings! Soy protein builds a wiry body!”
He looked thoroughly pleased with himself.
I wasn’t sure what to say, but Merthophan didn’t wait for me.
“Flesh of the fields and in such quantities! Wheat, soy, tomatoes, leafy vegetables—if we can stabilize them all, they’ll be far more self-sufficient.”
“Mwa-ha-ha! In due time, we’ll get the wheat and corn needed for feeding livestock, and that’ll be all she wrote! Get that milk and make some whey protein! Watch my hamstrings grow!”
The presentation was appalling, but the plan seemed sound. I was impressed despite myself.
Much like in Profen, their role was to keep things stable, ensure a steady food supply, and hold down the fort till a new ruler took control. Still…
“Agriculture!”
“““Typhoon!”””
It kinda felt like Merthophan already was their new king. Given the abject poverty here, the populace would care about food more than anything else.
While I was thinking this, the people I was actually here to see arrived.
“Merthophan, Nexamic, you’d best get back to the castle— Oh, Asako.”
“My! It’s been ages.”
Choline and Rol were also on loan from Azami.
Thrilled to finally meet someone sensible, I bowed. “It’s been a while, Choline, Rol,” I said.
Well aware of my predicament, they shot me sympathetic smiles.
“You got accosted by these two right after you hit Jiou? Don’t you wanna tell ’em to at least put some dang clothes on?” Choline spat.
“I know.” Rol smirked. “I can’t imagine anyone falling in love with them.”
“You shush.”
Choline was torn between pleasure at Merthophan’s success and exhaustion that the Cult of the Loincloth had been accepted.
“I’d love to take it to the next level, but not if he don’t put some pants on.”
“Might as well ask him to sprout wings and fly.”
It was tragic to think how faint that hope was.
But before she wore herself out, I got down to business. “Do you have the documents I asked for?”
“Oh, you bet! You’re one eager beaver, Asako.”
Choline handed over a booklet summing up what had happened in Jiou. She’d readily agreed to my request.
Rol was nodding along. “That’s a promising start, Asako. The imagination alone will not suffice. You’ve gotta read some hard numbers, pick where to add color. That’s when it gets worth reading.”
The opinion was a mite patronizing, but I faked a smile.
“Why so smug?” Choline asked.
“What, has your brain shrunk? Do you know how much my books earned?”
“Oh…those books…” She grimaced.
“I’m a bestseller.”
Rol had written an autobiographical account of Rokujou’s corruption, especially at the Sorcery Academy and Ministry of Magic. It had proven a big hit.
And the explosive sales of her tell-all had made the publishing industry eager to release more books like it, which had resulted in chaos.
As Rol preened, Choline muttered under her breath, “One-hit wonder.”
The rawest nerve she could hit.
Rol’s face instantly turned near demonic, veins throbbing. “Am not! My second book just stumbled a bit! I got two—three ready to go!”
But Choline sounded very sure.
“The first was nonfiction. You were fueled by vengeance against Rokujou’s corruption! Now that your goal is achieved and your wallet is fat, you’ve gotten soft.”
“Hrghh…”
“The vitriol in your words was the whole point—and it’s gone. Your second book was neither nasty nor nice. So nobody cared.”
She had really hit the nail on the head.
Rol was reeling, trying to argue the point, but it was clearly a blow. “Yeah, so I’m going back to my roots for the next work!”
“I know better, Rol. You’re writing a romance. Whose roots are these?”
“Urghh!”
Rol was the one making bank, but it wasn’t doing her any favors at the moment.
Merthophan and Nexamic spotted them bickering, and they joined us. Choline didn’t even flinch at their half-naked approach. She was inured to it, I guess.
“Mwa-ha-ha! Humans crave money most—but influence and power are close behind.”
This was an unusually astute remark from the muscleman—which meant it landed extra hard.
“What?!” Rol pounced at once, finger pointed accusatively. “How dare you, you mound of muscle!”
“Mm? Why the sudden flattery?”
“I wasn’t flattering you, I was—! Yes, the money I earned from that book fulfilled my long-held dream of remodeling the orphanage. But you think I’m after power?! Influence? Those come my way without trying.”
That was a supremely confident declaration, so why did she look so sad? No, you don’t need to explain.
“Oh, right,” I said, electing to salt the wound. “Anzu asked me to pass along a message to Satan.”
“Hrghh?!”
Exactly the reaction I’d hoped for.
“Anything I should tell him for you, Rol?”
Choline was not one to let a train of cruelty leave without her.
“Yup, you gotta stick your oar in, Rol.”
“Wh-wh-whatever do you mean, Choline?” Rol dithered a moment, then turned back to me. “T-tell Satan hi for me, then.”
“That’s all?”
“Mwa-ha-ha! Just like your daily toning, relationships require the little things.”
“……You two stay the hell out of this one,” Choline growled.
I’m sure those words failed to make any impact on Merthophan.
But while they were arguing, Rol said, “A-and next time…”
“There’s a next time?”
“Perhaps…dinner? Just a suggestion.”
I heard her out, then glanced at Choline. “What’s the score?”
“I’d go with sixty-five, normally,” she said, “but given Rol’s ass-backwards personality, I’ll go as high as eighty-five.”
“Mwa-ha-ha! Add a decent reason for the dinner, and you might break ninety!” Nexamic commented.
“Pick a restaurant with tasty veggies, and it’s a perfect score,” added Merthophan.
No one asked either of them, so we ignored their input. I waved the documents and bowed to the ladies.
“Choline, thanks for the data. Rol, I’ll let Satan know.”
“Tell me if you need anything. I’ll be back in Azami before too long, so let’s have tea.”
“……Actually, forget I said anything.”
It’s a bit late for that, Rol, I said with a look.
She clearly got the message, but I couldn’t quite read her response; Choline later claimed it was a meal and she’d feasted on it for days.
I started getting ready to go.
“Heh-heh.”
“Mwa-ha-ha.”
Merthophan and Nexamic were getting suspiciously mirthful.
That couldn’t lead anywhere good, so I hastily bade farewell. “I’d better—”
Before I could finish, Nexamic interrupted, “Wait ☆ A ☆ Hamstring ☆ Building ☆ Minute! Listen to yourself, Asako!”
“You’re going back to Azami through Kunlun, right?” Merthophan added. “I’d like to burn his gallant figure into my eyes and loincloth. You must take me with you.”
Clearly, they both wanted to come.
“Uh, do I have to?” At least get dressed first…
“Come on, Asako.”
“Mwa-ha-ha! Safe ☆ Driving, please!”
The point didn’t seem worth arguing.
Psssht.
“……”
Kunlun, the edge of the world, a pastoral landscape.
I took a deep breath. The air always felt so clean here.
“Mwa-ha-ha! My Kunlun ☆ Arrival!”
“Agriculture! Kunlun! I have returned!”
I’d have enjoyed that deep breath were it not for them. Two shirtless dudes in their skivvies just made that impossible.
With the half-naked men in tow, I headed into Kunlun proper.
The villagers soon spotted us coming.
“Oh, Asako! How you been?”
This was Grandpa Pyrid, the man who’d raised Lloyd.