Well, simple enough, as I realized that I’d forgotten to loosen his tail.
For one brief, satisfying moment, Ramtak’s face turned an impressive shade of crimson as Futamata’s tail tightened around his neck before slipping free.
A pity. Almost.
Ah well, I thought, he was the one trying to flirt with my wife. A little oxygen deprivation seems fair.
With my prize secured, I folded my hands behind my back, hiding Futamata neatly from view, and addressed the scene as if nothing at all were amiss.
“Hello, Tia. I came to fetch you.”
“Eh? Lord C-Cecil?” Bertia blinked, startled. “Oh my, did we have an appointment I forgot about?”
She tilted her head, clearly puzzled, her eyes flicking briefly to the space behind me where Futamata squirmed in my grasp. But she caught the unspoken “don’t mention it” in my expression and wisely said nothing.
Her confusion, though, remained perfectly genuine.
I hadn’t even been hiding this time. I’d walked straight up to them in plain sight. But it seemed Bertia had been too distracted by “Senju-Mata mode” Futamata to notice me approaching, or perhaps the blur of his writhing necks had formed such a dense wall of afterimages that I’d been effectively invisible behind it.
Before Bertia could say anything, Cynthia—ever the quick thinker—swept her gaze over Bertia, me, and the prince, instantly grasped the situation, and stepped forward with perfect composure.
“Her Highness was scheduled to enjoy her stroll through the gardens together with Prince Cecil,” she said smoothly, without even blinking.
“Oh? Was that today? My apologies, I must’ve forgotten!” Bertia replied, entirely convinced.
Bertia, I sighed inwardly, one day you’ll have to learn to question people at least a little. And ideally, to read the room before agreeing to whatever story’s being spun for you.
Ah well. That’s what I’m here for, after all.
I turned my attention to Ramtak, who was still coughing faintly, one hand rubbing at his neck where the serpent’s tail had been. I adopted a polite, mildly surprised tone, as though I’d only just noticed him standing there.
“Oh my, Prince Ramtak. What brings you here?”
He spun around, eyes wide, the picture of guilt and confusion. “P-Prince Cecil!”
Straightening hastily, he smoothed his clothes, cleared his throat twice, and summoned that same practiced, insincere smile I’d come to expect from him.
“Ah, well, I happened to encounter Her Highness the Crown Princess by chance, and we were simply enjoying a brief conversation.”
“Enjoying a conversation,” you say? That’s an interesting way to pronounce “flirting shamelessly.”
“I see,” I said aloud, my tone still friendly. “Then I appreciate you keeping my wife company. I’m sure you must have many obligations, though, so please don’t trouble yourself any further on our account. I’ll take it from here.”
In other words, I added silently, you may go now.
Futamata was in my grasp, Bertia was safe, and Ramtak’s usefulness in this scene had expired entirely.
Much to my mild annoyance, the prince lingered, eyes darting toward Bertia again before forcing a reluctant nod.
“I understand. Ah, but Prince Cecil, there was a matter I wished to discuss with you privately. At your convenience, of course.”
Honestly, spending time with Ramtak was tedious at best and exhausting at worst.
Still, keeping an eye on his movements was necessary, if only to prevent his brand of trouble before it began.
“I don’t mind,” I replied, keeping my tone cordial. “I’m not particularly busy at the moment.”
“Ah, splendid! Then I shall send a messenger later to arrange a convenient time.”
He looked positively pleased with himself as he bowed and strode off.
I smiled until his back disappeared beyond the hedge, and only then did I let out the quiet sigh I’d been suppressing.
When I turned back, Bertia was waiting, bright-eyed and unsuspecting.
“Now then, Tia,” I said with a smile. “It’s time for a lecture.”
Her face went pale. “Eh?! Wasn’t this supposed to be a garden stroll?!”
“We can still do that. After the lecture.”
Judging by her expression, she had absolutely no idea what she’d done wrong.
She probably hadn’t even realized her Futamata remarks had become the latest palace gossip, nor that her casual outburst had effectively labeled a foreign prince as a “two-timing scoundrel.”
To her, it had likely been nothing more than “Oh look, Futamata’s here again.”
Calling it a “lecture” might’ve sounded harsh, but she needed to at least understand how others heard her words.
Futamata, on the other hand, would receive something far less lenient.
Because, unlike Bertia’s innocent ignorance, his behavior reeked of intent.
Even as Bertia cast pleading glances up at me, eyes wide and shimmering in an almost unfair way, I held firm.
“Zeno,” I said quietly, “please give us some space.”
With a knowing look, Zeno gestured for Cynthia, the maids, and the knights to withdraw. They all retreated a respectful distance, just far enough that no one could overhear.
Through Zeno’s dry, diplomatic “translation” of Futamata’s hisses, the picture became clear. Bertia had simply spotted him and called out his name, excited as ever.
That was all.
Because Futamata had chosen to appear openly, she’d forgotten that most people couldn’t see spirits—and worse, that the existence of spirits at all was something meant to remain hidden.
When I finally explained to Bertia what “Futamata” actually meant in the common tongue, she went scarlet from ear to ear. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized that everyone thought she’d been walking around shouting “two-timer!” at random intervals.
As for Futamata himself… Well, the Serpent God had been sulking. To vent his irritation over his “unflattering” name, he’d started seeking out unfaithful men, deliberately appearing beside Bertia whenever she passed them, knowing she’d cheerfully call out his name.
Normally, one would expect him to direct his anger toward the person who gave him that name in the first place. But because it was Bertia, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at her. Instead, he twisted the situation into a kind of divine mischief.
At first, he’d disliked the name. But after hearing it from her lips again and again, he’d grown attached to it. Now he couldn’t bear the thought of changing or losing it, yet every time she said it, he still felt vaguely insulted.
His victims, meanwhile, were exclusively male, apparently because, as he put it, he “hated show-offs who got too much attention from women.”
The man was a jealous little god.
As for Prince Ramtak, since he had a small harem of women orbiting him, Futamata had decided to make an example of him, hence the whole spectacle at the fountain. He’d been quite proud of himself for it, too. In his own words, he’d “made the harem man feel the weight of a thousand cold stares.”
Upon realizing that she’d accidentally become the voice of a “two-timing oracle,” Bertia looked so shocked and guilty that I didn’t have the heart to scold her further.
A gentle warning was enough.
Futamata, on the other hand, earned something much less merciful.
After my lecture, I handed his sulking form into Kuro’s waiting arms, with the words, “Do as you please.”
The serpent went stiff with horror. Kuro, meanwhile, purred happily, her tail flicking in open delight.
I had no doubt the punishment would be… thorough.
As for Prince Ramtak, the aftermath was poetic justice in motion.
Even though he never truly understood what had happened, the number of women surrounding him mysteriously began to dwindle.
More and more of the palace ladies started to “happen” to be elsewhere when he passed by.
Word of the “Thousand-handed Two-Timing Prophecy” even reached the Queen of Seahealby, who promptly instructed his attendants to keep a much closer eye on him.
Of course, his rank still protected him. As the first prince, no one dared show open disdain. A few women—Margone and Princess Bistona among them—remained loyally, if calculatingly, by his side. But even they had grown cautious.
No one turned their backs on him, exactly. They just made sure not to linger too close.